#and wouldn’t let me or Kepler sleep

[the-adventures-of-dave]

My foot has fallen asleep send help

[neoplatinum]

link up - avenoir | yoo 'karina' jimin

summary: jimin has a complicated predicament to deal with — you sleeping with her friend, chaehyun. knowing that you two don’t have an official label sends her in a tailspin

pairing: situationship!jimin x reader

themes: hurt jimin, confused reader, ultimately just dummy reader being beyond stupid, mentions of chaehyun (kepler), jeno (nct)

wc: 1.6k

“jimin do not pick up that call.” yizhou instinctively grabbed the phone straight from jimin. to which aeri let out a giggle and then continued. “it’s doing you no good to continue whatever you have going on with her.” minjeong nodded fervently; the three girls stared at jimin eyeing the vibrating phone with your nickname and photo plastered on the front.

“but what if she’s in danger?” minjeong could feel her blood pressure rising just at the question. 

“jimin, when has she ever called you when she’s in danger,” aeri was always calmer and logical in her responses.

“the only danger she could be in is not getting to eat you out by the end of the night.” yizhou folded her arms and crossed her legs.

“ning!! that’s not the point!” minjeong slapped yizhou and instead placed a comforting hand on jimin’s shoulder. 

“she doesn’t deserve access to you, and you know that! especially after what she did.”

“ESPECIALLY after what she did.” yizhou emphasized before turning off jimin’s phone.”

--

“she’s not picking up.”

yunjin kept singing into the new world with chaewon while sakura was cheering them on. ryujin turns her head towards you, “of course she isn’t picking up! i wouldn’t pick up either!”

“but she always picks up!”

“maybe she finally woke up and realizes how shitty you are.” eunchae shouts as she eats another takoyaki. you shrink further into the couch.

“eunchae!! language!!” sakura shouted and continued banging on her drum ring and cheering on the duet.

“listen, all im saying is that sleeping with her friend is a bad look if you’re trying to get with her!” ryujin tried reasoning with you.

“i thought it would make her jealous and you know…want to be official with me.” you hung your head low.

“how could you possibly think that was the best way to do that?” kazuha rolled her eyes and pointed at you, “you shouldve just asked her whats going on with her and jeno instead of sleeping with her friend!”

“fuck, im so stupid.”

“so so stupid.” sakura said while yunjin and chaewon harmonized a final “so so stupid~”

you let out a sigh and left the noraebang room to grab more soju.

--

“hi.” jimin flatly says.

“hi.” you nervously reply.

yeji groaned and rolled her eyes before stomping out of her dorm with ryujin in tow. when ryujin urgently called you saying that yeji was in trouble in her dorms you weren’t expecting to see jimin face to face after two months of radio silence.

it was all a ploy from yeji and ryujin so you two could finally talk again.

“are you okay?” trying to tread lightly as you're in her room, which could easily mean that she's going to smack you.

“yes, why?” jimin stepped away from you and turned her attention back to her laptop where her essay sat still on her screen. you could feel the panic rise in your body, after begging for a response from jimin, being alone with her caused your brain to blank. you suddenly forgot all the apologies and speeches you spent sleepless nights reciting when stood in her room.

“well?” she continued to type out her essay not sparing you a single glance. this is where you had to be bold.

“jimin, can we talk?”

“oh so you want to talk? after sleeping with chaehyun? yeah sure lets talk.”

you grimaced and pulled yejis chair closer to jimin and sat down. seeing her again after so long tugged at your heart, she was still so so adorable with her shin-chan headband and big round glasses. you recognized that tick in her jaw though, she was tense.

“the only reason i slept with chaehyun was because i thought it would make you jealous and well, get together with me?” you trailed off at the end. to which jimin finally turned to look at you with furious eyes.

“i cannot believe you! how could you possibly think that was a good idea?” she crossed her arms and eyed you.

“it wasn’t a good idea!! i am very sorry, i was jealous because there were rumors that you were sleeping with jeno and i know we aren’t exclusive but, it made me nervous to ask you if its true and well, i wasn’t thinking.” you ramble on and on to which it only infuriates jimin more.

“jeno? so you heard rumors and believed them instead of asking me instead?”

“yes, im very sorry jimin. i know i shouldve asked you and not assume anything but, he kept talking about you and it got to me.”

“shit, i need to speak to him, he knows we’re just friends.” jimin mumbled out. “NOT THE POINT, you still slept with chaehyun.”

“i know, i know, and truly, i really am sorry.”

and suddenly, jimin stands from her chair and stares at the wall blankly before turning to you.

“i’ve heard enough of your apologies i need time to process all this.” jimin says and stands up walking you out of her dorm. you groan and let out a sigh when you dial ryujin’s number.

“how did it go?” ryujin whispers.

“she didn’t hit me, so i think okay?” you walked away from jimin and yeji’s dorm to see ryujin and yeji at the vending machines. you hung up your phone.

“i should’ve kicked your ass for what you did to jimin,” yeji stares at you "but she told me not to, so count your blessings." and with a final nod yeji stomps away.

ryujin gives you a sheepish smile and pats your back. “good luck, i hope you know how great of a friend i am. i convinced yeji to let me do this so she put us on a temporary sex ban.”

“ew ryujin, i do not need to know that.”

“you will know exactly how much i care about you that im not going to be intimate with MY girlfriend for your sake.” and with that you and ryujin walked out of the building.

--

you stare at jimin as she continues playing fiercely on the court, not knowing you are in the stands. you have also been trying to avoid aeri and yizhou’s wrath so you wrap your jacket a little tighter and pull your hood down further. 

as the game ends in a tie, you see all the players spread out to leave the court, you’re hoping to catch jimin alone so you can properly apologize after that conversation in her dorm last week.

“jimin!” you shout at she grabs her jacket and water bottle. she scowls at you but waits for you to reach her. “hi! these are for you!”

“okay?” she grabs the bouquet out of your hands and quickly throws them into a trashcan.

“jimin please wait!” 

she turns to you and watches you expectantly.

“go on, say what you were going to say.”

“okay! i really really like you, i think ive liked you since we first met. and when you suggested we sleep together just because i was ecstatic, the girl of my dreams wanted to be with me even if it wasn't exclusive. i shouldn't have listened to jeno and his stupid man words, it just irked me so much to know how close you two were and when his friends were implying you guys were together, i lost it. it felt like i had lost you and i didn’t know what else to get your attention back. so i slept with chaehyun and i know it looks bad because it is bad, but i really only wanted your attention, im sorry i didnt communicate my feelings for you better and caused all this. i regret so much of what i did but i'll never regret my feelings for you jimin.”

and by now aeri and yizhou have gathered behind you, ready to knock your head down if jimin asked but all you could do is try to convey your deepest feelings for the girl that had captured your heart.

jimin was tearing up and sobbing at this point and you wanted nothing more to hold her but you knew you would be overstepping boundaries, and most likely get a kick from yizhou from behind.

“you really hurt me, when chaehyun texted me that you two had slept together, my world fell apart. i didn’t want to confirm it with you because if you had confirmed it, it would’ve just proved that all we had was simply a fling, and to me it was never just a fling.” jimin hiccups while shes crying and holding her jacket tighter.

“you’re not just a fling to me either, i like you and only you.”

“i do too.” she whispers. “we should stop sleeping together.” she adds on.

“of course, anything you’d like.”

jimin sighs and lifts her head, “we did this all backwards, we should've gone on dates first, maybe we wouldnt be here like this.”

“i would have done any way to be with you jimin.” you speak earnestly.

“stop trying to smooth talk me im still mad at you.” she chastises you.

“okay, ill stop.” a warm smile took over. out of the corner of your eyes, you spot something coming fast towards you.

"you little shit! get over here, i don't forgive you even if jimin has!" yizhou shouts as she gets runs at you. you escape jimin's hold and start running away, trying to find an exit.

"oh no!" you run out of the gymnasium with aeri and yizhou chasing after you and a laughing minjeong chasing after the two.

--

a/n: i hope you enjoyed it! stay safe and stay healthy everyone!

[papercutsunset]

26: Watching Bloodshed

It's literally just Tiff watching the 1983 movie Camp Bloodshed.

Word count: 984

“If I have to eat another drop of soup, I’m going to lose my mind.” She pushes the broccoli-cheddar tupperware to the edge of the armrest.

“You already did. That’s what got us here.” 

Tiff rolls her eyes at her sister on the other side of the couch, where she’s fiddling with the remote like it’s going to do anything. “Yeah, well. At least you get to sleep in a bed for the next few weeks.” 

“I’m not the one who chose to live in a shed.” 

“You volunteered. Lovingly.” 

“There was no love to it.” Andy reaches over her and takes the bowl of soup. At least it isn’t going to waste this way. They just need to make sure their aunt doesn’t find out— or that Drew doesn’t walk in and stare disapprovingly. 

Tiff frowns at the TV. There’s something wrong with this VHS. It keeps glitching out. It’s her only copy of the 1984 horror classic Camp Bloodshed. She found it while she was clearing out the back rooms of the Book Nook.

She sighs. “This blows. I’ll see what’s up with the tape later. Let’s just watch something else.” 

“What else would we watch?” 

“Uh— I don’t know. Something.” Tiff pauses, considers the VHS tapes lining the shelves around the TV, moved up higher so Kepler can’t reach and ruin them. “You’ve never seen Peter Pan, right? Put that on.” 

“I’ll never regain my credibility.” 

“You never had credibility. You moved here as the sister of Tiff Sheridan.”

“I suppose you have less, then.” 

“Absolutely. My reputation is in the gutter.” That’s by design. 

They keep watching the movie anyway. She focuses more on the screen than on her reputation. It happened a while ago, but she’s still thinking about the scene where Ace and Blake are overseeing archery. They didn’t know it was going to go so wrong when they set out to do what they were doing. They had no clue that the kid would die in the rainstorm. They had no idea that the mad scientist would steal Blake Abbott’s stupid freaking robe. 

She wonders what went through his head, when it all set in. He’s not a character she should see any relation in. Blake Abbott is a weepy young man who ran around the woods oblivious in a wizard robe while people died around him, who turned hard at the last second, who spent the last of it terrified of Carrie Coffinberry getting hurt before it ever set in that his childhood best friend had died. He was wounded; he was terrified; he was a silly little nerd who had to grow up over the course of one night and got his silly little wizard robe stolen at the end of it. Tiff squints at the screen while the rain keeps falling on pools of blood and mechanical murderers. 

“Whatever the hell you did to yourself isn’t helping that reputation, by the way.” Drew’s voice is miserable and unexpected from over the back of the couch. He must not have slept last night. Tiff certainly didn’t. 

She barely looks at him over the back of the couch. It hurts to bend that way. “I’m not going to tell you. Worry about your new brother or something.” 

“I have to worry about my old sister.” 

“I’m not old.” 

“You’re eighteen. You’re practically in the ground.” 

“I envy your memory of whatever the hell we were talking about in Fort Reverence.” She flicks a bit of lint at him. “Just go check on Jeb or something.” 

He throws it back. “I already did. He’s on the roof.” 

“Fuck. That’s my place.” 

“Not anymore. Now you’re on the couch. Because…” 

“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you, so there’s no point.” 

“Humor me.” He raises his eyebrows like a challenge. 

“I found an extraterrestrial parasite in the woods and let it crawl down my throat. I did it for science and I would do it again.” 

Challenge accepted, he lowers his eyebrows and sets his voice back to neutral. “You’re right. That’s entirely unbelievable.” 

“You’d think almost dying because of your undead great-aunt’s fucked-up horse would change your mind on the supernatural, but whatever.” 

On the screen, Blake Abbott spins through the woods in his deep-blue-and-silver wizard’s cloak, looking for the child, oblivious to the carnage happening in the camp while he’s away. He stops in the rain to look up at foreboding clouds. Tiff knows it’s the moment where the protagonist role switches from Zero to a group of three: the capable jock, the idealistic nerd, and the sweetheart goth. 

She watches it with her hands in the blanket, tying knots around her fingers. She should be doing something productive while she’s recovering from all this bullshit, like her homework or drawing up weapon plans, but the truth is that she has just been laying here. It’s torture. 

Andy swallows a chunk of wet broccoli. “She’s right. I was there. Kind of. It went down her throat. She threw up black sludge.” 

“Not you too,” Drew laments, pushing up off the back of the couch to stand up straight. “We can’t have more people on her side about this.” 

“She’s right! There’s no side! She’s literally just correct!” 

He clearly doesn’t think so. “Andy, quit eating Tiff’s soup.” 

“She wasn’t going to eat it!” 

“I wasn’t,” Tiff agrees, more captivated by the glitching violence on-screen than by the conversation at hand. 

Zero got her hand cut off and kept fighting until the very end. Carrie saw everyone she cared about (and everyone she hated) brutally murdered. Presumably, after the events of the original canon, they all got through it: funerals, breaking the news, and putting away the Great Wizard Boranthemus. 

She’s no Blake Abbott, of course. Tiff Sheridan will never put away her wizard’s cape. The lab coat is still on the back of her door. 

[spenciegoob]

Pathetic and Tragic

Summary: It’s been years since the BAU has tried to catch this unsub, so when Spencer figures out where she is, why did he feel the need to go alone?

Pairing: Spencer x Fem Unsub!Reader

Category: Smut

Content Warning: mentions of murder/blood, slight bondage, hair pulling, choking, gagging, oral sex (female receiving), penetrative sex, unprotected sex, slight degradation

Word Count: 2.8K

A/N: Hi! This is for a contest by @spenciebabie and I’ve chosen the one-shot prompt why don't you make me? 

Masterlist

____

The case was never supposed to last this long. Spencer knew that, Hell, the whole BAU knew that. A woman with ties to the highest degree of one of the most infamous organized crime families should have been the FBI’s top priority, and for a very long time, she was.

Then the case got complicated, and while Spencer’s mind clouded with an unbearable lust for a woman that would take his life with zero hesitation, the team lost one of their greatest players.

It was tragic in every sense of the word, the way Spencer’s mind replayed their first interaction, his lips feeling her breath on him after all this time, and the bullet that always rested in his bag.

He felt pathetic in that moment, letting her take control of his morals with her vice like grip on his mind, body and soul.

“FBI, freeze. Don’t move.” Finally, the BAU had found who they were looking for since her first appearance on their radar 8 months ago. More importantly, Spencer caught her trying to flee a scene she had no business being at. She looked so out of place, the blood and gore that laid a trail to her small, almost fragile figure making Spencer believe for a split second that she couldn’t have possibly done this.

But time moves quickly, and the second fleeted when she turned around to flash a wicked smile his way.

And Spencer Reid was the one who froze instead.

“Doctor,” she greeted with the utmost of poise and delicacy. “I do believe I have a job to do, so I’m sorry to inform you that I cannot follow your request at this time.”

She was taunting him, and Spencer would fall into that trap again and again if it meant her eyes remained on his.

But this was a criminal, a murderer, a sociopath, and he will not lose his footing this time. Not even for a flawless god-like woman.

“Y/N Y/L/N, you’re under arrest for the murder of Tristen Kepler, Michael Gerdinski and Harold Bennet.” Spencer’s voice was slowly losing its confidence as her face turned from one of pure hilarity to confusion.

“Is that all? You might be missing a few names.” She was proud of her work, it was insufferable. Spencer’s anger level was slowly rising, and if she continued to dance circles around his mind, the task at hand being forgotten, it was going to get dangerously high.

“You won’t shoot me, Dr. Reid,” she continued as she took a step towards him, the grip on his gun tightened.

“How do you know?” Spencer’s voice shook with the same uncertainty as his finger shaking over the trigger. She was right, he wasn’t going to shoot her, but Spencer couldn’t confirm the thoughts of a narcissist.

“Because,” another step. “I’m unarmed, and you, Spencer Reid,” another step. “Are a man of morals and righteousness, and justice.” She spit the last word with so much venom that the story behind her rage could have been the world’s most tragic villain arc.

The whole case was quite tragic.

“Don’t take another step.” Spencer was easily a foot taller than her, and with one scan could tell he weighed twice as much as her, but she still found a way to make his blood run cold with both fear and excitement.

“Or what?”

Spencer could’ve sworn he only blinked and she was directly in front of him, but that wasn’t entirely the truth. She had laid a fog over his mind, taking away his intelligence and peeling back every layer of his mind so only the thought of lowering his weapon in favor of getting on her good side remained.

She was challenging him to do something, but instead of the snake charmer charming the snake, she charmed him.

Spencer must have been hallucinating on the high of being closer to her now, but he could’ve sworn the crime scene they were in was starting to grow the same vines in the Garden of Eden, because there she stood handing Spencer an apple.

Like Eve, Spencer took it.

The second his gun lowered slightly, she pounced. She had him disarmed and on his back before he had time to process the feeling of her skin on his. If the impact to the ground didn’t knock the wind out of Spencer, her close proximity would.

She had a heel digging into his wrist closest to his gun that was only inches away, taunting him for his pathetic lust. Slowly, she bent down, entering the fog, black smoke mixing with his innocent, white cloud to create a gray that he wouldn’t dare call dull.

“I’m sorry it has to be like this, Spencer. Truly, I am.” Her eyes left his to scan his face before she reached over to his gun. The thought crossed his mind that she was going to kill him, but would that be so bad when he was breathing the same air as her?

She emptied the chamber into her hands, only leaving one bullet. He walked this road before, he knew his chances.

“One bullet, one chance.” She spun the chamber before slamming it back in place. “God, I really hope you live.”

For a split second, they shared a gaze clouded with desire for the other. Spencer let his mind fade into what her lips would feel like against his, or how her body would tremble under his. She had control now, but he knew from the way her eyes begged, even just for one second, she wanted him to flip the roles and take her right there. He would’ve too if it wasn’t for the cool metal that pressed against the side of his head.

Click!

An empty threat, yet she still smirked. “Today’s your lucky day, Doctor.”

She looked up to where a single headlight shone through the window above them, her hair trickling down to brush against Spencer’s neck, and he sighed at the small contact. It was pathetic, really.

“That’s my ride. See you around.” With that, she winked and ran off towards her getaway. Spencer laid there, taking in shallow breaths that escaped him during their interaction.

She had been stalling him, and he fell for it.

Spencer still carried around that bullet as a reminder. A reminder that he needs to catch her, she was too dangerous, and anything less than her being imprisoned for life wasn’t good enough. 

It was also a reminder of how he felt when she was with him, over him, dominating him. Spencer never felt that helpless, that pathetic, that hungry for someone, and he wasn’t ready to let that go quite yet.

There was no new case that came in this week, and no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't keep that nagging feeling at bay when it came to her this case. They needed to shut it, Spencer needed to shut it, because maybe, just maybe, he could sleep better at night knowing he won.

“Delivery for Dr. Spencer Reid,” a voice called from the entrance of the bullpen. Spencer’s head shot around, finding a very harmless looking intern holding a small package in his hand looking around.

Cutting the kid some slack, he made his way over. “I’m Dr. Reid.” The kid smiled before handing him the little cardboard box. It fit in the palm of his hand, and was completely blank except for the small drawing of a snake on the top.

His blood ran cold, and his lungs forgot how to breath, just like they did a year ago.

A year ago today.

Spencer didn’t wait any longer, ripping the box open despite the strong glue that held it shut with its secrets.

Oh Spencer, hasn’t anyone told you not to open Pandora’s box?

The bullet inside rattled around the small container, one of the bullets that belonged to Spencer before she took them for her trophies.

She may have not killed Spencer, but she definitely took something more than just bullets with her that night.

He knew where she was, and she wanted him to.

Spencer could’ve told his team, hell, he was going to need the backup, so what stopped him from doing so as he raced for the crime scene that has since been cleared and reopened for the public to ignore the ‘No Trespassing’ sign?

Lust, lust is what stopped him, and it was pathetic.

Pathetic and tragic.

She knew he arrived, even if he turned the lights of the SUV off before pulling up the small warehouse. The air around her grew heavier with anticipation as she waited for Spencer to enter the room, no doubt waiting for the element of surprise.

She almost missed his light footsteps approaching her from behind.

“You’ve changed,” she called out. Spencer froze again, just like he had the first time. Was this pathetic enough?

“So have you,” his voice was calm, not caring for tiptoeing anymore. She was right, Spencer had changed, and now he took very little chances with instability.

“Yet here we are, repeating the same cycle as last year.” She turned to face him, and if she was less of a professional, she would have let her hunger for Spencer shine through. He had definitely changed, his hair was longer now, but still beautifully curly and framing his face, the one that was sharper, stubble on his cheeks. 

Spencer was a man now, one she wanted to strip down to nothing both physically and emotionally.

“That’s not entirely true,” he shot back with a sense of cockiness to his tone, cockiness she had no patience for. “I’m not letting you go this time.”

She snorted, actually snorted in his face. “You cannot be serious. You think I would lead you to me just to turn myself in?”

“You’re coming with me, whether you want to or not.” There was no room for argument, but she had other plans. She saw the lust in his eyes a year ago, and though time passed, that passion when he was looking at her still hasn’t faded. She just needed to push his buttons a little bit.

“Why don’t you make me?” It was the final straw, the last drop of water before the dam broke, and Spencer made no effort to stop himself from taking her head in his hands and smashing their lips together in both anger and desire.

She moaned against his mouth, wrapping her hands around his neck to find their place in his hair. Spencer had other plans, because he grabbed both of her wrists before turning her around and bending her over the metal table behind them.

“Listen, Princess,” Spencer whispered into her ear, his lips grazing the shell as he bent his whole body over her to press her further. The cool metal was digging into her hips, but she couldn’t complain when it also meant she felt Spencer’s hard erection on her backside. “I’m going to fucking ruin you, and then I’m going to take you in where you’ll rot in prison for the rest of your life. Do you understand?”

“Only one of us is getting ruined today, and it’s not me.” Apparently, that was not the answer Spencer wanted, because he grabbed a fistful of her hair to pull her back against his chest, making her gasp and squirm against his strong frame.

“Watch the attitude,” he growled out before reaching down with his other hand to unbutton her black jeans. “Now let’s try that again. Do you understand me?”

She only responded in a whimper as Spencer’s hands reached inside both her pants and panties to run his fingers through her slick folds.

“Use your words, Princess.” She tried to grind down on his fingers, but Spencer was quick to remove them from her pants. Bringing his hand up to her neck, he wrapped it around before squeezing lightly. “Answer me.”

“Y-yes, I understand. Just please, Spencer.” She never would have thought that the awestruck doctor she wooed a year ago would be so rough with her, and the surprise just added to her need for him.

“Please what, Princess?” Spencer taunted.

“Just do something,” she barked back, immediately regretting her decision when he let go of her neck to push her by her head back onto the table with more force than necessary.

When she heard the click of his handcuffs, she started her relentless squirming. “What the hell, Spencer? I thought you were going to fucking do something!”

“Who said I wasn't?” He asked before completely ripping her pants down her legs, the cool air hitting her bare pussy, causing a shiver to run up her spine.

So this was the game Spencer’s playing.

“God, you’re already so fucking wet, Princess. Wanna taste you.” He gave her no time to register his words because Spencer dropped to his knees and licked a strip up and then down her folds, flicking her clit before taking in completely in his mouth.

Her mewls and groans bounced off the concrete walls around them, only urging Spencer on more. He suckled softly on her clit before flicking it back and forth repeatedly with his tongue at an incomprehensible pace. The knot in her stomach was forming, and at this rate, it was going to unravel fast.

“Spe-Spence I.. I’m g-gonna” Spencer brought his fingers up to her core, replacing his tongue with two slender digits.

“Do it, Princess. Come for me.” He pinched her clit roughly, and that was the final push over the edge, her moans loud consisting of incoherent curses and his name.

When she started to come down from her high, Spencer stood straight up again and started unbuckling his belt. She started to squirm and push back into him at his slow movements.

“I know you’re probably enjoying watching me struggle, but if you could please hurry the fuck up,” she said as she lifted part of her upper body to turn and look at him. She never got a good look, because Spencer reached out and slammed her back down before pushing all of himself into her waiting cunt.

She yelled out at the sensation, Spencer groaning before saying, “What did I tell you about that fucking attitude?”

He set a brutal pace, giving her barely any time to adjust before pulling out so just the tip remained, and then slamming into her with a rough, animalistic force.

“Ah, ah, ah, Sp- Spenc-” He grabbed her by the hair again, using it as leverage to pull her back onto his cock, making her scream out again.

“Shut up,” Spencer groaned out, annunciating each word with a thrust while he reached forward to shove two fingers into her mouth. “Fuck, you’re so tight.”

She moaned around his fingers, causing him to press down on her tongue, gagging her. Spencer could feel the way she started to clench around him.

“You gonna cum, Princess? That’s it, cum with me.” Spencer’s thrusts grew sloppier as they both ran towards their orgasm together.

When they both finally reached their high, Spencer could’ve sworn he saw stars, his cock twitching in her pulsing warmth, milking him of everything. For a split second, their bodies had become one.

But time moves quickly, and the second fleeted when his actions caught up to him, and he ripped himself from her.

She was still shaking and trying to catch her breath when he undid the handcuffs that were burning her wrists. Confusion spread through her as she used her arms that still felt like jelly to push herself up off the table.

“Why... why’d you uncuff me?” Spencer looked up through his eyelashes at her from where he was redoing his belt, his face unreadable.

“Get dressed. I can’t arrest you half naked.” He looked away from her with a blush on his face as she bent down to pull her pants back up. When she looked back up at him from where he was trying to see from his peripherals if she was dressed again, she caught a glimpse of the man she met a year ago.

“That’s not the reason, Doctor. If you have a question, ask it.”

“Why’d you stop?” Spencer finally turned to face her, catching the surprise on her face before it morphed into that same wicked smile that rendered him helpless last time.

“Would you have come if I kept killing?” He didn’t have to think about his answer, it was the reason he was hoping was true.

“No.” She slowly stalked over to him, but this time she didn’t flip him on his back. Instead, she cupped his cheek, and he didn't hesitate to nuzzle into her palm.

“I still have 4 bullets,” she said softly. They locked eyes again, but this time, the lust they indulged in melted down to a mutual understanding.

“I’ll see you next year, Doctor.” With that, she walked around him, shutting the door with a slam on the way out, leaving Spencer staring at the silver with no attempt to chase after her.

Pathetic and tragic.

____

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[lovely-necromancy]

A Cure for Insomnia CH 1.

This is a reader insert I originally started posting on AO3. I’m cross posting here because I know some of the fandom still lives here.

Quick Disclaimer:

This is a fic I'm writing for my own comfort.

I was inspired by RaeBees (you can check out their works over on Quotev and AO3), and how they characterize the "proxies". Having always seen the characters different than most of the fandom I've interacted with I never really shared my thoughts until now. This work is only placed in the Creepypasta tag so it reaches its demographic. However, I am fully aware of the fact that no main character is considered a Pasta.

It may also appear to lean more Toby X Protag in the beginning but end goal is protag with all three, and Brian and Tim already in a relationship. How I picture it now is a slowburn but Toby and Protag will be in a friends with benefits relationship before either has any feelings, so I think that counts. Some may be confused by the asexual protag tag but it'll be explained in story, as an Ace myself I get frustrated with media that only show one version and say it goes for us all. That being said I don't represent the whole Ace community but I hope to provide a bit more representation for some others out there.

Protag will be depicted as agender, and will have a few tics that stem from their Autism. Again I don't speak for any others with Autism but I hope to provide some representation for those in similar positions.

Tags will be updated as the story progresses. Canon-Typical violence and mental health issues are to be expected if you feel uncomfortable with those aspects I advise you to not engage. This story will also have a lot of NSFW themes and scenes so I highly discourage anyone under the age of 18 from viewing this work. You will get warnings on chapters with NSFW and I will make it skippable as well.

I'm also very nitpicky and gave the main characters birthdays just because it irritates me when it gets mentioned once and you have to do the math or imagine your own conversation when a birthday was too close to a character's.

Tim January 1st, home state Alabama

Toby April 28th, home state Virginia (saw this years ago no clue if it's accurate)

Protag May 13th, home state Virginia

Brian May 23rd, home state Alabama

Connor the service dog July 18th, home state Kentucky

I've referred to Protag as Protag here but in story they're referred to as YN.

Everything felt impossibly dull; your senses, the dark room you're currently in, the noise coming from the fan just to the left of the bed on which you laid. Turning to the window beside your head you stare out into that weird midnight summer sky. More of a gray than a true dark blue night, cast in an orange glow that made the night seem closer to day than it truly was. While the time was just half past twelve, you felt it may have been more accurate to say it was closer to four in the morning.

You're exhausted but that true sort of exhaustion where whatever energy you have left buzzes all around. It consumes your entire being, dances between being deafeningly loud in your ears to giving you twitches in your legs. You'd laid down hours ago thinking you'd be tired enough to sleep once your tics started to spasm in closer intervals, but to no avail were you able to rest. That buzzing preventing you from dreamland. Maybe the hum of your body was right, you didn't really need to sleep, you just wanted it to feel normal.

Knowing the battle had already been lost you push yourself off the bed and grab a pair of shorts off the floor. Slipping them on you contemplate your options for the night. Going into town was out since it was Sunday...well Monday now, but there would be nothing but bars open and you were never one for drinking. And as fun as a drive sounds right now, you feel the buzzing in your bones grow stronger, you need to move. A late night hike should keep you occupied, with it being so quiet and the middle of the night you wouldn't even have to take your headphones to cancel out the sounds of other people, you aren't likely to run into many people tonight.

Deciding on a hike you grab a mask and car keys and make your way to your yellow Kia Soul. A going away present from your parents that they gave you the moment you got your driver's license after your 24th birthday. Having anxiety throughout your life you'd never been in the head space to start driving till later on, and while you still don't enjoy driving you are pretty good at it even with your “late” start. Surfing through radio stations as you let the car warm up you find your latest obsession, it's a conspiracy theory podcast that someone in Kepler managed to blast through the limited air ways of the town. Impressive considering Kepler was in a radio quiet zone and even cell phones couldn't work in the small town, luckily you lived just outside of the zone so you could send texts and call your parents every weekend.

It seemed today's episode was a rerun, Mothman: Murderer, Man, or Myth. It was actually one of your favorites, the paranormal stories tended to be more entertaining than hearing about how a man could murder sixteen people while working as a cop ruining evidence to lead the others off his trail. Humans could be more vial and cruel than any little gray alien from the future or tall Fresno Nightcrawler could ever be. And they weren't as entertaining to hear about, nor were their exploits as impressive. You could always see patterns, either connecting clues first or finding connections no one else saw, it was never hard to tell where a certain case would lead so you'd always end up disappointed in humanity when they overlooked such obvious clues. Though that often led you down a path of deep diving for information to see just how obvious it was, more often than not you'd find that the most logical conclusion was shady public officers. After investigating so many cold cases you're sure if you're ever in trouble you'll never involve the police, in the end they'd probably just ignore you and rule your case closed if anything ever did happen to you.

'I'd haunt them if they did.' You decide and you shift gears and begin driving to the Monongahela National Forest, as the timeline of Mothman sightings and events play out before for your ears.

Instead of going through town and possibly loosing the signal of the show, you drive on the old dirt road that runs along the very edge of the town, partially covered in trees. This over grown road is the main reason Kepler doesn't see many visitors, the second someone makes their way onto it coming off the interstate they floor it until they see civilization. Over the few months you've been here you've nearly been run right off the road by spooked tourists, trying to escape whatever ghouls their wild imaginations created. The only real thing on this road was a mini mart gas station, and even though it was shady as hell the cashier didn't bug you too much when you came in in the dead of night. Plus they had a cat, how could you not stop in and say hi to little ole Magnolia?

Speaking of which you should probably get a drink for your hike, you could already feel your throat drying out. Turning into the parking lot you're happy to see no other cars around, putting your face mask on you make your way inside. As usual the store is dead at this time, and Ronnie is manning the desk. What's unusual is the man also behind the counter, he has dark brown hair that he's tied into a small and low ponytail, thick sideburns frame his face. You immediately take note of the slight imperfections of his face, most would see the slit in his eyebrow as following the current trend or even just a genetic thing, but you can see the slightly off color of a healed scar that starts just above his eyebrow and ends mid eyelid, he has a few smaller discolorations on his crooked nose, you'd guess he's had it broken at least twice.

Briefly taking a glance to his brown eyes before looking away, today is not an eye contact day. Nodding in their directions, the best acknowledgment you can give right now, you make your way to the freezers. From the freezer section you can hear Ronnie “explain” you.

“That's YN, a regular mainly at night though. A bit skittish and rarely ever says more than 'thanks have a nice day'” Even though she's whispering you can hear everything. Including the high octave her voice takes to mimic you, it feels more like mocking.

If being mocked hadn't already put you on edge the eyes boring into you have. The eyes may not be roaming over your body but the icky crawling of your skin sure makes it feel that way. The feeling of being put under a microscope has always made you sick, the stares, the leers and sneers, and the judgment just makes you want to implode on the spot. Cease existence, be swallowed into the abyss. You're about to set yourself into an anxiety attack with all these thoughts.

'Mask, mask, mask' you repeat over and over in your head, it's the only thing you can focus on. You are wearing a mask, there is one thing they can't perceive, the face is the most important for humans to perceive, your mask protects you.

Without looking you pull a water bottle from the cooler. You don't think you like this brand but the sports mouth makes up for it, and you can't focus enough to grab another. As the imaginary spiders crawl their way under your skin and your breath hitches you make your way over to the counter head down, never looking up at the employees beyond the counter. Your vision is blurring in time with the beating of your heart, you can't tell if it's due to nerves or from being up for five days in a row.

“Hey YN, how're you?” Ronnie asks, her tone is different from the past times you've been in. It's higher and has a lilt in it that you'd expect from a teasing friend. But Ronnie isn't a friend and has never spoken to you like this, you hate it. You nod to politely move on with the process, between the crawling of your skin and the buzzing underneath it you feel sick. And you're now very aware of the existence of your eyelids, you try to focus on ignoring that awareness. You need to move.

“Hmm, that's good. Anyway this is Tim! He's just started so go easy on him.” you hear the sound of a hand hitting fabric and assume she's patted Tim's shoulder as she introduced Tim to you. Why was she doing this, what purpose could introducing you two have? You nod again, was anyone going to ring you out?

“Hi, this all?” a deep voice asked, it isn't extremely deep more of a standard baritone that has a slight raspy quality, probably a reformed smoker. You don't smell cigarettes currently so he could've quit after years. Unfortunately despite your efforts to stave them off your blinking tics emerge. Making it difficult to keep your eyes open for longer than a nano second.

Startled and ticcing you look up and catch his eyes, you see pity in them, before casting your glance back to the counter. You can never tell what's worse people seeing you as weird or seeing you as something needing to be fixed. Nodding again, Tim tells you the total; a dollar fifty eight, and you hand him two dollars from your wallet.

Tim doesn't ask if you want the receipt or a bag, he prints out the receipt and hands you your change. The change goes immediately into the cat food fund for Magnolia. She got diagnosed with diabetes about a month ago and having worked in shelters and pet stores you know just how expensive her prescription food is. After folding the receipt into your wallet, Tim gently slides the water bottle over to you.

“Have a good night.” he says it so low and gentle, as if he thinks you'll shatter in front of him. As kind as the gesture seems, you aren't that fragile...or maybe you are if you have to keep repeating 'mask' over and over in your head to ground yourself. With a final nod you turn and make your way to the door, and just as you open it you hear Ronnie call out.

“Awwww, c'mon YN at least say 'Hi' to Tim.” You really don't like how she squeaked out 'hi'.

Taking a deep breath you prepare yourself, you'll show them both you can do this simple task. Even if you can't stop blinking long enough to see straight. Once you've steadied yourself you turn and look at Tim. He's sending you a look that says 'You don't have to' all that's missing is a slow head shake to complete his unease with this “peer pressure”.

But you can do this you can say 'Hi, Tim.' Two words super simple, nothing complex like 'Hi, Tim, nice to meet you.' and so much better than the option of your next meeting saying 'Hi, Tim. Sorry for spazzing out the other night.'. Yup you can do this just breathe, you open your mouth and...and you've forgotten what to say. Looking like a deer in headlights, well at least the tics stopped, you say the first thing that pops in.

“Mask.” You've said it loud and clear both cashiers heard you.

Tim stares with wide eyes and you see Ronnie failing to hide her laughter. Out of all the ways this could've gone this was probably the best outcome for her. The blinking has started up again, this time growing more frequent. You can't even hold your eyes open, to the two cashiers it must look like you're in pain or crying. And while you want to die of embarrassment, crying is a bit of an extreme for you.

So with red face and the inability to see you leave through the door, and try to make your way back to your car. Once in you lock the doors, switch the car on, and rest your head on the steering wheel. Out of every way this stop could've gone, being perceived by a new comer and Ronnie was not what you expected. While this hadn't been the worst five minutes or so of your life, it definitely would be another thing keeping you up at night for the next twenty years.

Calming down in the cool quiet dark of your car your slowly brought back to the world by the beginning of a new episode. This one talking about the Tailypo legend. A favorite story of yours from when you were a kid living on the coast of Virginia. So with yet another deep breath and the wave of nostalgia, you pull out of the parking lot and slowly coast down the old dirt road. Heading yet again for the Monongahela forest.

It's nearly two in the morning when you roll up to see an RV parked by the forgotten entrance of the park. It isn't surprising at all to find an RV out here since the Monongahela Forest is one of the most beautiful parks you've ever been to. You also don't think anything of them being parked by this unused entrance because you use it all the time since finding it accidentally. Figuring they just wanted to camp and be left to their own devices rather than use the RV sites and be bothered with other campers here for the summer.

Climbing out of your car you notice the RV isn't new by any means but it isn't a total rust bucket either, looks like it's been passed around throughout the years. There isn't anything to suggest it's been here a while, nothing left set up outside, must have just gotten into town then. You do happen to notice dog tracks around the sandy dirt you've parked in, good to know they have a dog before you slammed your car door. Closing the door gently behind you so you don't startle a pup and wake up it's owner or owners, you make your way through the woods. No real direction in mind, with no real thought in your head. Just the thought of moving and to keep on moving.

You could walk the same path every time you came through and always find something different. In fact that's exactly what happens, you're almost positive that you've deepened the imprint of the path just from walking through several times a week. Following the same winding path you usually do, climbing over the fallen tree, and through a scattering of blueberry thicket's you find yourself on the edge of one of the forest's many streams. It's your favorite spot in the forest so far, and about as far as you've gotten considering these hikes of yours take place during the dead of night.

The wind picks up and sends a chill through you, taking that as a sign you slide down to sit by the stream. Vans placed to your side as you sink your feet into the cool water. It's peaceful out here, so cool, and quiet, save for the slight noises the stream makes, various bubbling and drips. You try to think on things like your recent move, your job, the embarrassing 'mask' incident, just life in general. But you can't seem to form a single thought, this happens a lot, you've recently been conscious of the fact that you've been running on auto pilot for the past two months, hell a lot longer than that. You think everyone must get like this from time to time, but you think you've always been this way. Keen to dissociating and slipping in and out of existence.

It's quite nice really, except for the times like right now where you'd love to figure out why the silence in your head is so painfully loud. The more you think on it the louder it gets and the stronger the buzzing under your skin feels. And right now the static in your mind has been getting louder and louder for the past few minutes. You feel your head jerk to the right of it's own accord, moving back in place it happens for a second time, and then a third, then jerks up, before jerking a forth time to the right effectively cracking you neck.

“There we go.” you mumble, you can relax a bit as the verbal tic indicates the end of this round of tics.

Sighing you look at the sky...that can't be right. The sky has been painted it's fresh baby blues for the day, but again that can't be right. You just got to the stream, that path is a thirty minute walk meaning it should be just about two thirty in the morning, but the sky suggests it's five or six at the latest. Reaching for your water bottle you find it empty next to you. You didn't fall asleep you know that much, perhaps you did dissociate tonight. Well this hike was disappointing if you knew you were going to dissociate you'd have saved yourself that embarrassment and stayed home. Maybe done some painting or tidied up.

Sighing you push yourself off the ground, collecting you vans you're about to put them on when you notice a figure off in the distance. You freeze out of shock and stare at the figure, it stares back. The figure is about ten yards away, god your near sighted ass should really remember to not leave your glasses in the car when hiking. The figure starts to make it's way to you and after a few steps you realize it hasn't moved from it's spot. Rolling your eyes you ignore the hallucination.

You'd really needed to get sleep last night, today is day six of no sleep and though you haven't had many episodes these past few days, you have a feeling they'll start to get more prominent today. Hopefully tonight you can manage to get some rest, the longer you go without sleep the more realistic the hallucinations become. But for today you're content with the knowledge that it's just shadow like beings that you'll be seeing.

After putting on your shoes you start the thirty minute hike back to your car. You're thankful for the weather in Kepler, nothing like back on the coast. Here you can go for a morning hike through the forest while a gentle breeze passes by and the sun starts to give the area a pleasant warmth. Back on the coast you couldn't run and grab the mail without getting drenched in moisture from either sweat, humidity, or a mixture of both.  The coast sucks, hell Virginia sucks altogether, you're glad to be in Kepler.

“I want to go home, home.” you say out of nowhere.

Before you reach the entrance you hear barking, oh the RV campers must be up. Should you be careful not to scare them, or just walk normally and say 'Good morning' in passing, maybe just nod your head in greeting. Oh and you've stopped just beside the entrance as you got lost in your rambling. You didn't mean to come to a stop here, and as you try to move you notice how silent it's gotten. Did the dog go inside, maybe they've already passed...no it's too quiet for that. No the silence is oppressive like the one you deal with nightly, there's a reason for the silence. The situation's making you feel uneasy, but that could be the sleep deprivation talking.

You're about to brush it off and move when you hear a whispered, “Seriously man, I don't think anyone's out there. Let's get inside.”

There's a noise of agreement before you hear shuffling. Oh no, you zoned out and now you look like a weirdo stalker. Just perfect, maybe if you wait around a little more you'll seem more normal or at least feel normal. Not knowing how long to wait you walk along the tree line for a bit, looking at the ground as you do making sure you won't step on any snakes. In you quest to not step on any snakes you spot something suspiciously off white. It seems purposefully buried under a dead blueberry bush and some fallen branches.

Having listened to too many true crime shows, you know better than to implicate yourself in a murder. Grabbing a stick off the ground you gently brush the foliage away from the supposed corpse. No way, you can't believe your luck, it's an actual fucking skull. An intact skull of a deer! That is so cool, you've only seen taxidermists on TikTok getting so lucky and finding these dudes. Since the jaw bone is connected by tissue it of course isn't with the skull but maybe it's close by? Clearly this got planted or hidden by someone, maybe they were planning on pranking a friend by 'uncovering' a skull later. Oh well, finders keepers and all that, you have way better plans for this guy, hopefully you can find that jaw bone.

You set off searching through the foliage and near by bushes with the branch while holding the skull in your other arm. After searching about three feet around and finding no more bones you decide that this is the only part of the deer's skeleton in this area. A little disappointed but still thrilled with your find, you decide it must be a good time to go back to your car.

Surely you won't look weird now. You a little forager with their treasure in hand. Looks like you'll be busy cleaning, then bleaching, and cleaning these bones today. Is that the order to treat found bones? You aren't sure but you can look into that later. Placing the skull in the trunk so it doesn't roll about and get damaged you make sure it's secure before closing the trunk and getting into your car and locking the doors.

Not once did you notice the pairs of eyes that had been watching you. One watching as you found the deer skull, and the other set seeing you place bones into your car. They kept watching as you fiddled with the radio while the car was starting up. They watched as you pulled out of the sandy dirt lot and drove back down the old road a little faster than before now that you could clearly see.

[thiswasinevitableid]

For the meet Ugly- 13 with Danbrey?

Here you go! I went SFW on this one

13: we make contact before trying to steal the last seat on the subway/bus/train and I end up in your lap and fuck you, I’m going to stay here because I’ve had a really long day and this seat was mine

The bus is not as fun as she remembers.

When Aubrey was a little kid, her mom would use the bus to take her to the museum or the movies or, on the best days, the magic store. Yes, the Little’s had a nice car, but her mom believed that not only was the bus better for the environment, it was a way to remember that there was nothing scary about being around people who come from all sorts of circumstances (Aubrey later learned this was due to her mom once being at a PTA meeting where hands were rung over children using public transportation being exposed to “unsavory” people).

“The world is full of all kinds of people, firebug. That’s not something to be scared of.”

She wipes her eye surreptitiously under the West Virginia sun. You’d think she’d have learned not to think about mom in public by now.

The bus line she’s using for her tour is inexplicably crowded; half these towns are on their way to being ghosts but somehow she’s always fighting for a seat. She doesn’t like her chances for this leg of the ride, since she got distracted reading about the history of Doc Martens and ended up towards the back of the line.

By some luck, there’s one seat left as she squeezes onto the bus, using her body to keep people from elbowing the fabric carrier containing Dr. Harris Bonkers, PhD. But in the time she takes to turn to sit, someone else slips into the spot, so fast it’s almost inhuman.

“Um, excuse me, but this was my seat.” She turns to confront the thief and finds herself looking at a young woman about her age, with honey-blonde hair and hazel eyes which, were she not tired and grumpy, Aubrey would have lots of compliments for.

“No, it wasn’t. I got here first. You’ll just have to stand.”

“That’d be fine if it were just me.” The bus pulls away from the curb, “but it’s bad for Dr. Harris Bonkers to be suspended for too long.” She adjusts the bunny bag, hoping his big brown eyes and wiggly nose will make her case for her.

“Awww” the blonde coos, booping him through the mesh, “don’t worry little guy, you aren’t going too far. You’ll be fine if your person stands for a little bit.”

“It’s not a little bit, it’s twelve hour trip to my next stop!”

A smile full of understated charm and triumph, “It’s thirteen to mine.”

“Aw beans.”

“......are you going to get out of my lap at any point?”

“No” Aubrey turns her head to look out the window, “this is a good seat, even if there’s someone in it. I’m staying.”

It’s not her finest moment, to be sure. But she’s tired and heartsick so she is staying in this seat, damn it. The other woman grumbles something and slumps back against the black seat.

They hit the next stop, but not enough people get off, so she stays in her mystery lady’s lap. Her seat(mate) pulls a baggie of granola from the pocket of her definitely-not-cute-at-all overalls and crunches it louder than necessary by her ear.

“Uh, your rabbit is trying to get out.”

Aubrey glances down to see the mesh front straining as Dr. Harris Bonkers attempts to reach the granola.

“Don’t beg, young man, it’s rude.”

“Can he have a piece?” She holds up a dried strawberry.

“Um, sure.” Aubrey watches as she unzips the top of the carrier and let’s the rabbit nibble the treat from her hand. Aubrey’s a little jealous.

They don’t say anything to each other, but the rabbit gets two more treats before they reach the next stop. The person who’s spent the whole trip asleep in the window seat next to them jerks awake and hurries off the bus. Aubrey scoots into it before anyone can dare challenge her.

They’ve just turned onto the highway when she says, “Thanks. For, um, for sharing your granola.”

“You’re welcome.”

“And I’m, um, I’m sorry for sitting on you.”

“Yeah that wasn’t great, but if someone was going to sit on me I’m glad it’s the cutest passenger on the bus.” She points at Dr. Harris Bonkers, but keeps her eyes on Aubrey.

“We’re both kinda tired. We had a show late last night and we’re nervous for the one tomorrow.”

“Show?”

“I’m a magician and he’s my assistant. I’m known as the Lady Flame” she snaps and finger-guns, setting off a flashpaper, “but you can call me Aubrey.”

“Ma’am, no smoking on the bus!”

“Sorry!” She calls to the driver.

“I’m Dani” the blond boops Dr. Harris Bonkers again, “whose this guy?”

“Dr. Harris Bonkers, PhD.”

“Nice to meet you, doctor.”

“Are, um, are you just traveling for fun?” She unzips the carrier enough for them both to pet him.

“Not really. I was running an, uh, an errand. I’ll be glad to get back to Kepler.” She fiddles with something in her pocket, “could I see more of your act?”

“I think that might get me thrown off the bus.”

“Don’t you have pictures?” Dani smiles.

“Oh duh, right, here, I even got someone to take some videos.” She scooches closer, Dani closing the remaining distance to rest their shoulders together. As they move through the videos, Dani is noticeably excited, even claps a few times. When Aubrey’s battery dies, they say “fuck” in sync.

“...want to play ‘I Spy?”

“Hell yeah.”

The next three hours pass in a flash, the two of them laughing and trading stories, all the while both cuddling closer to the window (to better play the game, of course).

They reach a travel hub, the driver informing everyone that they’ll leave in an hour on the dot. The two of them select a Dennys, since in Aubrey’s experience they tend to ignore her bringing in an eighteen pound rabbit.

She charges her phone while they eat, Dani getting corned beef hash, (“not as good as the one my friend makes back home”) while Aubrey has pancakes. She gets a little syrup on her cheek and nearly asks Dani to clean it off for her. With her tongue.

It’s dark when they get back to their seats, but the driver keeps the A.C cranked to the point that Aubrey is shivering. Dani pulls a shawl from her backpack, draping it around them both like a blanket as the trees become nothing more than vague shapes in the dark.

They talk about Aubrey’s tattoos, about the garden Dani has back home (“lots of veggies, you’d like that, wouldn’t you buddy?”). Last night starts catching up with Aubrey, yawns threatening to steal her attention from the way the light catches in Dani’s hair.

“Wanna see more videos?” That’s low energy flirtation, right?

“Of course.”

As she opens the videos, she hits an older album and an image of her and her mom fills the screen. She freezes, like the highbeams of the past are barrelling towards her and all she can do is watch.

“Aubrey?” Dani touches her cheek.

“Um, sorry.” She shoves the phone in the pocket of her jacket, “I, my, my mom died a little while ago. That was her. Um. I guess that was obvious. Sorry.”

Dani’s fingers find hers, interlacing them gently, “I’m so sorry, Aubrey. I...I get it. My family is, well I made some choices that mean I’ll never get to see them again. I, the reason I went on this trip was because I heard one of my brothers might have, uh, done the same thing. He hadn’t.” She sighs, “I don’t even know if they’re all still alive.”

“That sucks. This all. Fucking. Sucks.”

Dani nods, rests their heads together, “You know what doesn’t suck? Meeting you.”

“Pfffft” Aubrey smiles through her tears, hoping the joking noise will hide her blush.

Dani cups her cheeks, “I’m serious. Getting to know you feels like, like rounding a corner and seeing your house after years away. I, this is going to sound silly but please tell me you’re stopping in Kepler for a show?”

“I’m not but I, um, I guess I could still stop off there? If you really wanted me to.” Something about Dani’s smile, the warmth in her eyes, soothes her grief to sleep for now.

“I do, fireblossom, so much.”

Aubrey blushes, “Think you might be my first fan; no one else ever requests a show.”

Dani kisses her cheek, “I might even request one in private.”

“I could get into that” she yawns, “damn it, I don’t wanna sleep. I wanna keep flirting with you, cutie pie.”

Dani shifts their luggage, scoots sideways and guides Aubrey’s head down into her lap, “Get some rest, Aubrey. Just being able to look at you is enough for me.”

“Awww” Aubrey nestles against her stomach, “you’re so cute...just a...cutie...pie...zzz”

The last thing she feels is a kiss on the forehead and Dani tucking the shawl around her.

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

Aubrey does not want to get off this bus; Dani is cuddled up next to her, telling her about what kind of flowers she’d grow her, when he stops come up.

“Whelp….this is me.”

Dani helps her off the bus, passing her the carrier containing a sleeping Dr. Harris Bonkers. Then she smirks, “is your balance pretty good.”

“Yeah? Wh-mmphhoh” She holds tight as Dani nearly knocks her off her feet in a kiss. She tastes like the strawberry poptart they split for breakfast and is not making it any easier to say goodbye.

“Promise you’ll come see me in Kepler?’ Dani murmurs against her lips.

“Promise.”

A kiss on the nose, then a longer one on the mouth that makes Aubrey feel like she’s going to go up flashpaper. Then Dani is gone, off towards Kepler. A town Aubrey has no knowledge of and no idea how to navigate. And she didn’t get Dani’s last name.

“Fuck.” She says to the rabbit.

The rabbit simply snuffles in reply.

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

A few hours after her most catastrophic show to date and getting a gun pointed at her, Aubrey walks into Amnesty Lodge and finds a certain face, haloed with golden hair, waiting for her by the fireplace.

[bellafarallones2]

A/N: so I wrote some nsfw indruck for mermay? angst with a happy ending

Duck usually stayed in his quarters when the rest of the crew raised the drag-net every morning. He didn’t enjoy watching the fish flipping across the deck, watching men scoop them up and snap their necks and cut cleanly down their spines. But this morning, the sheer volume of shouting brought him forth from his quarters and into the ice-cold air.

A silvery tail lay across the deck, flopping weakly, larger than any fish Duck had ever seen. The mesh of the net cut into the fine scales. One of the sailors raised his arm and drove a harpoon through the tail. An unearthly scream made him stumble back, and Duck realized that this was not a fish at all, because the tail was attached to a human torso, with skinny arms and damp silver hair.

The mer mewled pathetically, shivering, and tried to drag itself away from the sailor standing over it, smearing bloody scales onto the deck. For a moment Duck met its frantic red eyes.

“Hey!” said Duck. The other sailors turned around. He wasn’t quite one of them, but his broad shoulders talked. “What are you, an animal?” he said to the man who’d speared it. “That’s not a fish.”

“Yeah, a fish wouldn’t fetch us each a fortune on the London market!” another sailor called.

Duck ripped the harpoon out of the mer’s tail and immediately realized his mistake when it screamed again. “Shit!” Duck said. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.” He was kneeling, now, trying to staunch the flow of blood with his hands. The mer seemed to be in shock, its sharp teeth chattering. Lord only knew how long it’d been trapped in the net before being pulled up. He couldn’t put it back in the water in this state.

Not knowing what else to do, Duck scooped the mer up in his arms and carried it back below deck. His cabin was dark, lit by only a single porthole window to the outside. Even in that dim light he could see the ice crystals in the mer’s pale hair. Duck put it down on his bunk, curling up its tail to fit.

“I’m going to fix you up,” Duck said, more for his own benefit than the mer’s. When a wet cloth touched the mer’s wound, it hissed and clamped its spindly fingers around Duck’s shoulder. “Shh,” Duck said, and continued gently wiping the blood away. “Joe, help me.” The ship’s doctor, who had been sitting transfixed, leapt into action, preparing a clean bandage and taping it down over the wound.

The mer had stopped shaking, now, and seemed to relax a little into the pillows, shifting to get comfortable. “Please don’t tell me it’s about to die on us,” Duck said.

Joseph shook his head. “Probably just needs rest.”

“I’ll take your word for it.”

“Hey, if your bed is still… occupied… tonight, you can share mine.”

“I can sleep in my desk chair, but I appreciate the offer.” A shout from somewhere else on the ship, calling everyone aboard to breakfast, made Duck turn back to the mer in his bed. “We’ve got to go, but we’ll be back later, okay?”

--

When Duck and Joseph returned to the room that evening, the mer was awake and alert. Duck distracted himself from the urge to stare - it had a fascinating face, smooth and angular - by laying out what food there was available. Hardtack and salt cod. The mer reached hesitantly for the fish and took a bite.

“Yeah,” said Duck. “The food ain’t great, but at least even the captain doesn’t have anything better.”

The mer took Duck’s hand, and with surprising strength pulled Duck down on top of him. For a moment Duck panicked, thinking he was being strangled, but the mer was only… hugging him?

Face burning slightly, Duck got fully onto the bed. The mer’s lips were only an inch away from his ear, and his voice was barely louder than a breath. “Thank you.”

Duck pulled back. “You can talk?”

The mer gestured at his throat.

“Maybe it’s difficult out of water?” Joseph suggested.

The mer nodded. Even just the few hours in the air had turned his skin dry and cracked.

“Do you feel okay to go back?” said Duck.

The mer nodded.

“Alright, up you get.” This time the mer leaned against his chest as he picked it up and carried him up onto the deck, and the narrow end of his tail curled around Duck’s waist. As soon as he’d lifted him over the rail he slithered down the side of the ship into the water and disappeared.

--

The HMS Kepler followed the red hand of its captain’s compass northward, slipping between the shifting ice floes, until one day there was no way forward. And then no way back. The arctic was a nightmare of a lover, squeezing the ship in a deadly embrace.

While the shores of ice closed in, Duck and Joseph spent the day in their cabin, playing cards. They could hear the muffled noises of the rest of the crew elsewhere in the ship, and then a horrible creaking from all around them.

“Uh, did you hear that?” said Duck, looking around.

“It’s the ice,” said Joseph calmly, putting down a card. “It’s reached the ship.”

“That doesn’t sound good.”

“No,” Joseph agreed. He stood up and went to the bookcase, where he reached behind his books and pulled out a bottle. It was rum, two-thirds full, significantly more expensive stuff than the swill they got with meals.

“Holy shit, have you had that this whole time?”

“I certainly didn’t pick it up out here. Look, do you want any or not?”

“Hell yeah I do!”

Joseph uncapped the bottle and took a sip before handing it over to Duck. “To our icy doom.” He sat down again, leaning gingerly against Duck’s side. Duck put his arm around Joseph’s shoulder, and they sat there for a while, side-by-side, passing the bottle back and forth.

The captain decided the next morning that they would take their chances out on the ice. They threw a rope over the side of the ship and climbed down, carrying whatever supplies they could on their backs, and started walking. East, towards Greenland.

The sun never set, this far north, so they slept only when they could walk no longer, and walked again when the freezing wind ripped sleep away.

It didn’t take long for their supplies to run out. Duck didn’t know how long. Joseph was counting the sleeps in a notebook he insisted on carrying (“it’ll be helpful to know, if anyone ever finds our bodies”), but Duck didn’t pay much attention.

One of those mornings, while the others packed up their tents, Duck stood exhausted at the edge of a hole in the ice, hoping something edible would surface that he could spear. The regular harpooner had already succumbed, and the harpoon felt strange and heavy in Duck’s hands.

What did surface was a pale head of hair. Duck blinked. A pair of cold hands gripped his ankles and yanked him down into the freezing water. The harpoon clattered onto the ice.

“I’m sorry,” the mer said. It had been long enough since they’d last met that the wound on his tail was only pink scar. “If you stay with your crew you’re going to die.” And then he pressed his chilly lips to Duck’s.

Screaming pain, then, as his legs broke and were re-made, but the water no longer felt so cold. And Duck realized all at once that he could breathe.

He looked down. He had a tail like a seal, thick and gray.

“Oh,” breathed the mer. “You make an even handsomer mer than I’d imagined.”

Duck grabbed him and kissed him again. The mer’s sinewy tail wrapped around his. “Uh,” Duck said finally. “What’s your name?”

“Indrid.”

“I’m Duck.”

“I know.”

Duck mustered a smile and a teasing tone. “Does this mean I get to sleep in your bed now?”

“Yes, but I won’t be as much of a gentleman about it as you were.”

The mer had always been cold to the touch above the water, but now he was warm, and Duck allowed himself to rest his head on the other’s shoulder. He was exhausted. Months of hard work on a ship and, even worse, weeks of struggling on foot across the ice to an uncertain destination would do that to you. But the water washed the sweat and grime easily from his skin.

Indrid lived in a cave at the center of an iceberg, where the layers of ice above them softened the light of the sun. When Duck flinched awake in the middle of the night, dreaming of starvation, Indrid petted him and let him drift off again in the faint glow of his red eyes. When Duck was strong enough to swim Indrid taught him how to hunt, driving schools of fish upwards and trapping them against the surface.

And still they slept with their tails intertwined.

“Indrid,” Duck said late one night as he traced patterns on Indrid’s narrow back.

“Yes?” Indrid raised his head from where it was resting on Duck’s shoulder.

“Do I have a dick?” He’d figured out how to go to the bathroom, but the rest of the smooth front of his tail was a mystery to him.

“Yes.”

“Where?”

Indrid’s smile showed in his voice. “Would you like me to show you?”

“Please.”

Indrid wrapped his fingers around Duck’s wrist and guided his hand down. “Under here. But it only comes out when you’re aroused.

“Can we… do that?”

Indrid’s tail wrapped more firmly around Duck’s, both restraining and holding him close. “I told you I’d take care of you, didn’t I?”

“You sure did,” Duck gasped as Indrid’s hand pressed his against the tender flesh. He relaxed into Indrid’s hold, letting him take the reins.

“Oooh, you’re sensitive. We should have done this ages ago.”

“Yes, we should have, Indrid please-”

Indrid kissed Duck’s neck. “Can I bite you? Just a little, I won’t -”

“Fuck yes, mark me up, want everyone to know I’m yours.”

Indrid’s sharp teeth sank into Duck’s neck, and Duck squirmed in his hold. A slit he hadn’t even known was there was opening near the top of his tail, the unmistakable head of a cock emerging.

“Good boy,” murmured Indrid, and they both saw how his cock jumped. “Go on, touch yourself.” Duck plunged a finger into his slit, forcing his cock out into the water. “I told you you had a cock, didn’t I? And what do you say to me for showing it to you?”

“Thank you,” Duck gasped. Indrid had let go of his hands and was now feeling up his chest. “Please, Indrid, please -” Indrid’s tail had him so tight he could just barely twist his head around enough to kiss him.

“Do you want me to touch you some more?” said Indrid, muffled by Duck’s lips on his.

“Yes.”

Indrid’s clever fingers closed around Duck’s cock, and he didn’t let up with the kisses for a moment as he stroked him, and then with a twist of his wrist Duck was coming, milky fluid dissipating quickly in the water between them.

“Well,” Duck said when he’d finally caught his breath. Indrid had released him, so Duck could look into his eyes again. “Now I know I have a dick. But I have a second question.”

“Oh?” Indrid squirmed as Duck pressed his palm down on the upper part of his tail.

“Do you?”

--

Joseph had been watching, when Duck disappeared beneath the ice. He’d gone to pick up the harpoon and looked down into the water and saw nothing but gray-blue.

It was a shame. Duck’s presence was what had kept the rest of the crew from bullying him. He didn’t allow himself to think about the rest of it.

Not that he had long to ruminate. One day he was looking into another circle in the ice when a face appeared, a face very much like Duck’s. Joseph immediately thought back to determine what might be making him hallucinate: the lead from the cans of food? Plain starvation? And then a pair of strong hands pulled him into the world below.

[gothighunicorntolerance]

Planet Earth is Blue- 2

One

AO3

Logan had been a member of the Silver Serpent for a good three years now, three years being counted in earth time with the calendar app on Logan’s phone (which somehow still worked, despite there not being any internet service in space. Logan had yet to figure out why he could still watch YouTube or access anything with WiFi, really). 

During his three years, Logan learned quite a lot. In addition to learning a few words in Janus’s language (‘hello,’ ‘help,’ and ‘My name is Logan,’ the only phrases Janus said would really be useful), Logan also learned how to commit crimes in space. It sounded much more exciting than it actually was, of course, since most of the crime Janus and the crew committed was the smuggling of slightly illegal goods. The most valuable thing Logan had learned, however, was how to hack alien technology.

He had always been good with computers, but now with access to technology more advanced than anyone on earth could dream of? He was almost unstoppable. He single-handedly erased all warrants for Virgil’s arrest in three different galaxies, as well as cleaning up Janus’s record. 

There had been several close calls over the years, though Janus handled most of them nonviolently. There had only been one occasion where a space cop had gone mysteriously missing out of the airlock. Being aboard a ship with crewmates that had a various amount of arrest warrants on different planets wasn’t perfect, but it sure beat earth. Logan would take aliens over transphobia any day of the week. 

The Silver Serpent’s current load was a cargo hold full of Volatum, something Logan didn’t want anything to do with, as it was almost like a narcotic for the Umutu, the species native to Trappist-E and H, as well as a few weapons, all hidden under what they were legally delivering, a plant native to Kepler-62 called ibiryo.

The journey between planets was low-stress, as the only thing they really had to worry about was raiders- Logan had never met them, and hoped that he wouldn’t. But the entry to Trappist-E where they were to drop off the Volatum? The entire process was extremely stressful. First, permission to dock was needed- Janus took care of that part, as captain. Once permission was given, glorified border patrol guards would inspect the ship for illegal substances. This was the part that always made Logan nervous. What would happen if the Volatum and weapons were found? 

Logan stood in the hallway with the rest of the crew, as per instructed, and watched the guards look around. Virgil glared at them as one opened the door to his room. It was only Patton putting a webbed hand on Virgil’s back that stopped him from hissing. Roman and Remus looked at each other, giggling at something only they heard. 

Janus put a hand on Logan's shoulder and gave a small squeeze. During his time on the ship, Logan found that while Janus wasn’t one to hold long conversations, he instead communicated via physical touch. 

“It’ll be fine,” Janus whispered so only Logan could hear. “I’m confident in my abilities.” 

Logan gave a subtle nod. 

It took an achingly long time, but the three guards that had boarded eventually come back out. 

“You’re free to land, Silver Serpent,” one of them waved as they stepped out of the ship. 

“Thank you,” Janus nodded, gesturing for the crew to follow him to navigation where they strapped into their seats in preparation for reentering an atmosphere. Going back into the pull of gravity was… an experience, to say the least. It reminded Logan of when he had been on a plane that had to land in the rain- bumpy, jarring, and overall making his insides feel like they had been turned upside down and then crushed with a weight. The first time Logan had reentered, he had been sick to his stomach. But now, after hundreds of trips to different planets, reentry was much more bearable, though still not at all pleasant. 

Logan closed his eyes and focused on his breathing, something he found helped. He only opened his eyes once Janus announced, “Gentlemen, we have landed!”

Patton was the first to unbuckle, and he immediately lay down on the floor with his arms and legs spread out. 

“I really don’t like that,” Patton mumbled. 

“Neither do I,” Logan stretched his arms above his head. 

“Alas, it is necessary. Now, we don’t have time to lounge around quite yet. We have to deliver,” Janus helped Patton up. “The ibiryo buyers will be here soon.”

“When will the second customer be dropping by?” Virgil asked. 

Janus just shrugged by moving his top set of arms. “Soon. But let’s get to work unloading.”

He ushered them to the cargo hold, where it was Logan and Patton’s job to hand boxes of ibiryo to Janus, Remus, Roman, and Virgil, who brought the boxes out to the dock to be picked up by the buyers. 

When the ibiryo was finally unloaded, Logan sat with the rest of the crew outside, his muscles aching. Roman and Remus’s words were muffled by their breathing apparatuses, which they had to use to breath in the oxygen-rich atmosphere of Trappist-E, as they needed nitrogen, not oxygen. 

The sunset of Trappist-E was close to that of earth’s sunsets, albeit dimmer, as the sun that the planet orbited didn’t give off nearly as much energy as earth’s sun. The air was thinner, making it a little difficult for Logan to breathe, especially when he was still wearing his binder, but it wasn;t nearly as bad as it had been on Trappist-H, where Logan hard to borrow one of the breathing devices and stop binding. 

Janus suddenly stood up next to him and raised one of his arms in greeting to a figure walking towards the now-empty docking area and began to walk towards them. 

“Is that them?” Logan whispered to Virgil, who sat next to him. 

“Yup,” Virgil replied. “I don’t know who they are, but I’m pretty sure they’re some kind of gang leader. You could probably find out with your fancy computer skills, Teach.”

“Probably,” Logan agreed. “Though it would likely take a lot of sorting through criminal records on this planet.”

Janus and the newcomer walked back to the ship. “Roman, Remus, go get the gifts for my friend here.”

The twins nodded and stood up, hurrying into the ship to bring out the Volatum. The newcomer left their hood up when they spoke to Janus, but Logan could tell they were Umutu- the coarse black fur around their hands gave it away. “I take it that my gift is in good condition?” they asked.

“Of course. Nothing but the best from my crew,” Janus replied. 

“Very nice. Still the price we agreed on?”

“Correct. Who would I be if I changed the price upon delivery? A government agent?”

Janus and the Umutu buyer laughed. “Ah, here it is,” Janus took the boxes from Roman and Remus. 

“Thirty pounds of Volatum. Twelve guns, twelve cases of ammunition,” the buyer inspected. “It seems to be in order. Let me transfer the payment and I’ll be on my way.”

Janus nodded and waved Logan over to wire the transfer. Logan held out a tablet and typed out a code that would allow the funds to be untraceably deposited into an account Logan had set up for himself- most of the funds were used by Janus without Logan’s complaint, as he didn’t really have a need for the money, though he did purchase a small souvenir for himself after every planet he visited. 

Each trinket was put carefully in the drawer of his nightstand, though to anyone else it would look like a drawer full of clutter- a ball of yarn made from a cotton like plant from Roman and Remus’s native planet, Wolf-1061-C. A branch from a tree-like organism from Gliese-667-Cc. It was also comforting to know that the type of shirts that proclaimed “I went to New York and all I got was this t-shirt” we’re not confined to earth’s tourism culture- he had several of those, each from a different planet. 

The Umutu took the tablet, typed in a code, and handed it back to Logan with a nod.

“Crew of the Silver Serpent, I salute you,” they said.

“Pissing off authority is what we strive to do,” Janus grinned. 

“A noble cause. Now, I will be on my way.” 

The buyer left the docks, leaving the crew alone.

“Well,” Logan announced. “I’m going to go to my room and sleep. If you see something interesting in the market, buy it for me?” 

“Of course!” Roman replied.

“Definitely,” Janus nodded. “Well be taking off in a few hours, so now would be your chance to go shopping if you want to.”

“Thank you, but I’m exhausted,” Logan walked back into the ship, where he tugged off his binder and pulled on a sleeping shirt before crawling under his exceptionally warm and light blankets on his small bed and falling asleep almost immediately. 

He woke to shouting. 

Stumbling out of his bedroom, he put his glasses in just in time to see Virgil running past him from the engine room to the front navigation, screaming some untranslatable words at the top of his lungs (untranslatable because there was no English equivalent, not because the translator device refused to translate unpleasant words. He had heard plenty of those streaming from Virgil’s mouth when there was an engine malfunction).

Logan took a moment to realize what was happening before chasing after Virgil. 

“Who’s chasing us this time!?” Logan shouted over the clanking of the engines and the scuttle of Virgil’s spidery legs against the cold metal floor. 

“The cops!” Virgil shouted over his shoulder. 

“Those motherfuckers!” Logan cracked his knuckles as he ran after Virgil. 

Logan slid into a seat and began typing at a tablet. “What’s their ship name? I’m going to slow them down! Wait- are you kidding me? They’re using an unsecured network… hold on. Patton, look out the window and tell me what’s happening.”

“They’re still shooting at us! Wait! They’ve stopped! And now- now they’re… flying in circles?” Patton hopped out of his seat to the thick glass panes that served as windows to report what was going on as Logan typed commands into the tablet. 

“Perfect! This won't be able to last forever, so get out of here!” Logan told Janus and Virgil.

“Virgil, can we warp?” Janus shouted over the engine. 

“Once! Now go go go! Now do it now!” Virgil shouted back.

With a flip  of a switch, the crew of the Silver Serpent successfully evaded the law once again, and with shouts of “ACAB, BITCHES!”, they arrived in the Fireworks Galaxy.

Had Logan been on the spaceship equivalent of a cap car, he would have heard the confused shouts of the space-cops as they tried to figure out what had caused the sudden malfunctions in the steering mechanisms and the reason only the left engine was working. But Logan was not on the space-cop car- he was with the crew of Janus’s ship, with the different species he had learned to call his friends, his family, shouting obscenities at the space-cops, as all upstanding citizens did. 

“Well,” Remus announced. “Fuck the police! Jan, where are we going next?”

Janus shrugged. “Wherever we want, Remus. Wherever we want. Logan, you pick.”

Logan froze for a moment, not used to the spotlight being on him. He looked out the window at the galaxy, at the nebulae and planets and countless stars, at the infinity that was the universe. He had seen things like this before, of course, but he could never get over the sheer vastness of space. 

“Let’s go to that one,” he pointed at a random planet. 

“That one it is,” Janus gave Logan a six-armed hug from behind. 

In addition to learning how to hack spaceships, Logan also learned that Patton’s and Janus’s hugs were quite possibly the best in the entire universe. Janus’s multiple arms made hugging all that better, and Logan leaned into the taller humanoid (Logan still wasn’t quite sure what descriptor, exactly, that he was supposed to use. Janus wasn’t a figure, as those were shapes in fog or darkness. He wasn’t a man, which was made obvious by the four extra arms and shimmering golden scales. Janus wasn’t just a friend, either. Logan considered them all family, but he did occasionally wish there could be something… more with Janus. So Janus was simply the taller humanoid, as not even Logan had the proper vocabulary to describe him).

Logan watched the galaxy pass by, still in Janus’s protective hug, as the Silver Serpent flew to the planet and had pointed to.

Life was good. Life was happy, even! 

Those were words Logan had never thought he would have been able to truthfully say, not when he was back on earth. But now? Now, in space- which had seemed like a far off dream- Logan could truly say he was happy.

[castintothepod]

Roomie Time

@magical-my-ass already did this, but I feel I have to make a ranking as well

1. Eiffel: Ya dear boy Douggie Fresh. I genuinely think we'd have a good time, we'd vibe and get along, he's a fun dude, would be cool to just hang around y'kno. I'd let him steal my toothpaste. Info dump about whatever fun reference trivia you've got, my boy, I'll listen. If you think he'd be a horrible roommate, concider: in this scenario we whouldn't be involuntary stuck up in a tin can in cold, freezing space, he'd be happy (hopefully). Idk I just love him

2: Hilbert: Yes, he is this far up on the list. No, he doesn't really deserve it. Reasons? We'd both just mind our own damn buisnuess. He'd be off doing science-y things in peace and I'd be doing my stuff in peace. Perfectly balanced. Hilbert said introvert rights, no wonder he was so cranky up there, I would be too (listen to Am I Alone Now? and tell me he's an exotrvert I dare u)

3. Plant Monster: Blessie knows WHERE IT'S AT!!! Blanket fort buddy, would host amazing sleep overs, would probably be ranked higher if it wasn't for the tool stealing :/ Please just ask if you need a lamp, okay?

4. Jacobi: Based on what Maxwell said about him as a roommate, idk what to think really. Based on the fact he's one of my faves? Hell yeah. As for the cheese incident... Who knows maybe we'd sort it out, I do love cheese as well. Gay bastards unite. A duck-free home

5. Cutter: Listen, ok. This is not only because I've claimed this horrible little man as my husband, it is also because I do t think this man would be much home. Yes, he's an annoying asshole, he's also waaay to superficially cheery for me to tolerate irl, he'd ask if I'd want a chai like 6 times a week, etc. But he's also someone who's very much married to his work. So I'd barely even have to see him, which is a big bonus. House to myself, he'd be off scheming and plotting evil things. Everyone wins

6. Minkowski: Wouldn't wan't to disturb her and her husband and their domestic life, they deserve it. BUT I wouldn't mind being semi-adopted by them and just exist at their place y'know

7. Lovlace: She's a people person, she's way too cool for any of us. Probably has a lot of friends so she's hanging out all the time and has a busy social life. Cool aunt vibes, would host awesome gamenights. Too social for my taste, sadly😔

8. Hera: I'm so sorry Hera ily a lot, but being the gremlin I am, I do value my privacy a lot and I wouldn't want to feel potentially watched constantly. She would be very fun to talk to tho, great company, endless information. In canon it'd work, probably

9. Maxwell: Idk I just don't think we'd vibe irl, man. We'd both probably like..politley 'get along' and accept we'd both live together, but no actual interactions unless we HAD to/unless Jacobi comes over and we all groove. Sneak around the house like cats circling past each other to avoid the other. Eat chips in silence; it'd just be award. She's a math gay and I'm intensely mathphobic, no compatible signs or whatever

10. Pryce: No.

11. Kepler: NOOOOOOOOO

?. Bob: Hmm, you know what? Maybe not

[toothpastecanyon]

Mauvana, Chapter 10

See most updated version on Archive of Our Own.

______________________________________________________________

    It was a cramped little space, this escape pod. Cramped with memories - maybe Mauvana should’ve mentioned this before she let Yly drop her off here.

    “Me n’ the family’ll be just upstairs if you need anything, okay?” She’d said, and then smiled. “Hopefully this’ll give you some space to think.”

    Family. Family. This felt like a family. She could feel so many different people here, people who’d used this place to store old clothes, children who’d played hide and seek, a young woman who liked to come down here and watch the stars go by in peace… all using it for an escape, in some way.

    Escape. Mauvana found it hard to focus on what she was drawing, but she found herself drawing something nonetheless. Up above her, she could hear the sounds of music, of laughter; she could still feel their thoughts pressing down on her, but a little distance took the edge off.

    They were happy thoughts. They were smiling, and she smiled too.

    She smiled. She smiled. Mauvana was… free, finally, from all of this. And she could see the stars. And she knew exactly what she wanted to do, now.

    A thought. A mind. Not her mind, and not Yly’s either.

    There were footsteps coming down the ladder, quiet ones. Mauvana looked up, and frowned when a lady peeked her head through.

    “Oh,” she said, surprised that Mauvana was already staring at her. “Uh, hi.”

    “Uh, hi.”

    “You remember me, right?” She tilted her head. “I’m-”

    “Viana.”

    It was Viana. Mauvana had been her thoughts for a time, had felt her years of crushing loneliness, had ran for her and kissed her in front of the family shop for so long it felt like eternity. It was Viana, and Viana nodded.

    “Yeah. And you’re Mauvana, right?”

    “Mauvana Seep.” She put down her pencil. “Intern with modest skill in writing and drawing… though I guess I’m not anymore? I think I’m a pirate.”

    A shiver passed through Viana’s mind at that. Before she had a chance to respond:

    “You don’t like pirates?”

    “What? Heh… it’s just, it’s maybe not a great thing to call yourself around these parts.” A nervous chuckle. “Don’t worry about it. It’s nice to meet you.”

    “It’s nice to meet you too. I didn’t think I’d see you without Yly.”

    “Yeah, she says you have a problem with crowds? She offered to come with, but I didn’t want you to be stressed out.”

    Stressed out? That probably wasn’t the best way to explain it, but Mauvana let it go.

    “I just wanted to… to say something to you.” Viana made like she wanted to hold her hands, but stopped short. “I just wanted to say thank you. Thank you, Mauvana. Thank you so much.”

    The lump in Viana’s throat matched the lump in her thoughts, filled with so many emotions she could hardly put into words. Mauvana felt herself tear up.

    “Yly… told me what happened, h-how long she spent… trying to get back… and h-how you, you finally got her out of there and I just…” She covered her mouth; her words came out now as a croak. “I-I d-don’t know how I-I can ever th-thank you enough.”

    Gratitude. The sheer amount of gratitude in her thoughts was overwhelming, like a whole crowd on its own. She could hardly see the page in front of her, but she felt herself drawing as she  tried to recompose herself.

    “I just… I… s-sorry, heh.” A shaky laugh. “T-told myself I-I wouldn’t cr-ry, b-but look at me.” A deep, deep breath: in, and out. “I just wanted… wanted to say that if you need anything, anything at all, I’m in your debt. Our whole family’s in your debt for… f-for bringing her home, just… just let us know what we can do.”

    A sniff. She wiped her eyes, and frowned.

    “Oh, no. I didn’t mean to-”

    “make you cry. It’s okay.”

    “Wh- what?”

    “She means a lot to me. Yly.” Mauvana frowned. “Or you. I don’t know.”

    Confused thoughts - they were less intense than before. Mauvana - she was Mauvana - stared past her, to the very back of the escape pod.

    “I remember how many nights I used to spend down here.” She stared out, out into the sea of stars past that little window. “I used to come down here even before Yly went missing, when I couldn’t bear being with her family - they were lovely, but… they weren’t mine. I liked to think they were somewhere out there, somewhere far away. At least that’d mean they’d escaped the fucking UL.”

    Viana recoiled somewhat at her words. “What…?”

    “And then after Yly-” Mauvana swallowed hard. “The first week after she was meant to come back, I was watching for her ship. I didn’t move, I didn’t sleep, I didn’t stop staring out of th-this window; her mother had to bring me food. I couldn’t… couldn’t leave. Not while I still thought she’d come back to me.”

    Mauvana looked down. Brought her legs up to her chest, and buried her head in them.

    “A-and… I’m sorry, Yly. I’m so sorry I stopped coming down here. I’m sorry I stopped waiting for you.” She spoke, quietly. “I’m sorry I moved on.”

    And it was silent. Dead silent. Viana had gone clammy white; her mouth was opened wide, wordless. After a few moments, she stammered out,

    “Wh-what the hell are you?”

    “I’m not you.” Mauvana frowned. “No, I’m not you. I’m a pirate.”

    “How did you do that? Wha- how did… what?”

    “Head in the clouds.” She stared at Viana’s shocked face, scared thoughts, and made a face. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to be you.” A pause. “I have a problem with crowds.”

    “It’s… it’s okay,” Viana managed, weakly. She cleared her throat. “I’m sorry, I-I didn’t mean to be rude, I was just… that was…”

    “Personal.”

    “That’s a… yeah.” She sighed, and glanced out of the window. “Yeah… how did you know that?”

    “Head in the clouds.”

    “What does that mean?”

    She shrugged. “That’s what Jargon always said. I’m his intern - was his intern.”

    “Internship, huh?” Viana laughed, but her thoughts didn’t laugh with her. “I’m surprised there’s still jobs at all on that hunk of rock.”

    “There are in the military! I drew up tons of posters about enlisting.”

    “Oh, joy. You worked for the propaganda guys?”

    “Yeah! It was fun!” Mauvana gave a crooked smile. “Then I got shot. But then I met Yly! So it wasn’t all bad.”

    Viana chuckled. “Well, uh, glad you had fun… how long did you have that job?”

    “They said five years.”

    “And what did you do before that?”

    “Before… what? Before my internship?”

    “Yeah.”

    “Oh, I don’t know. Things, I guess, but… I don’t remember anything before my internship.” She shrugged. “I was just… so many people for a long time, it was a big city. I have a problem with crowds - they, they get in my head, you know? And then I don’t know who I am, I’m just… other people, and their thoughts.”

    “I see.” Viana’s thoughts were slow, apprehensive, full of growing dread. “You… really don’t remember anything but the last five years?”

    “No. Nothing.” She looked up at the window. She could see the stars, but she could also see her own reflection. Her own face, and the wrinkles in it, the whiteness of her hair, the age. “I… I missed a lot of my life. I’m old, aren’t I? Older than you.”

    She didn’t have to see Viana’s solemn nod to know her answer.

    “Yeah, that… that’s not good. That’s a right pickle.” A pause. “I know you want to hug me. You can do that.”

    Viana hesitated. She reached out, touched Mauvana’s shoulders, and then pulled her into a quiet hug. She squeezed tightly, and Mauvana noted the strange shirt she was wearing. It wasn’t a uniform; it was thicker, brighter, softer, warmer. She poked at it.

    “I’m so sorry this happened to you, Mauvana.”

    “I like your shirt.”

    “I- oh, thank you. I knitted it myself.”

    “Knitted?”

    “I made it myself.” Viana drew back a little, and smiled. “I can make you something too, if you like. Get you out of those UL rags.”

    “I’d like that a lot.” Mauvana kept feeling her sleeve. “And… you don’t have to feel bad for me. I missed a lot, but I know who I am now. Or, at least, I can find out. You can help me with that, right?”

    “Of course.”

    “Then… could you tell me who Alcor the Dreambender is?”

    “Alcor the- the demon?” Viana let out a startled laugh. “Sure, I know a bit… why?”

    “Because he’s with the Dread Pirate Mizar. And they’re important, I think. To me. I don’t know why, I want to know why.”

    “Ah, you’re talking about the - what’s it called - the Alcor-Mizar connection, right?” She nodded. “I’ve heard about that. Apparently it’s some big mystery in the field of demonology.”

    “Saulji. Yly said her aunt is a demonologist. Can I talk to her?” Mauvana felt her mood drop at that. “Oh, you’re sad now. Did I say something wrong?”

    Viana shook her head. “No, no, don’t- don’t worry about it, Yly didn’t know, but… she passed away three years ago. Accident at work.”

    There was a lot left unsaid in those words; Mauvana grimaced at the details popping up in her mind. “I’m sorry. That’s not good.”

    “No, it’s… a dangerous business, you know? I’m sure, heh, she’d’ve loved to talk your head off about this subject, but… yeah.” Viana paused for a moment, nodding to herself. “Yeah… I think I know where you could find your answers, though.”

    “Where?”

    “It’s on an ex-UL planet called Kepler 22-b. Called the, uh, Stanley Pines Memorial Library, it’s a hub for a lot of demonology research - Saul used to go there for conferences. You heard of it?”

    “No. Can I go there?” Mauvana gave a crooked smile. “I think I’m banned from the UL.”

    “It’s ex-UL, don’t worry. They broke away a long time ago, there’s no sympathisers there.”

    “That’s good. I want to go there now.”

    “Then I promise, we’ll take you there.” Viana smiled. “Give us a few days to get Yly settled in, but after that, we’ll go right there, and find you your answers. Does that sound good?”

    “That sounds good. Thank you, Viana.”

    “Thank you. Really.” She put a hand on Mauvana’s shoulder, and then chuckled. “I won’t, I’ll try not to get all teary again, I know you didn’t like that. Do you want me to leave you alone for a bit?”

    “I’d want that. I have a problem with crowds.”

    “Okay.” She squeezed her shoulder once, and then stood up. “I’ll leave you be, then. Yly’ll probably be down here in a bit to check up on you, and then…” She smiled. “I could come down here too, if you want. Hey, I could teach you a bit about how to knit.”

    “Oh, that’d be great! I love your shirt!”

    “Hah, yeah, we’ll do that then!” She grinned, and her aura felt warm. “It was really, really great to meet you, Mauvana. I’ll see you soon - good luck on your drawing!”

    “Thank you! I’ll see you soon too!”

    Viana waved as she stepped out. Mauvana could feel her footsteps down the corridor, up the ladder, her mind returning to the crowd upstairs like a drop to the ocean. If she concentrated, she could track her washing over to another mind that might be Yly… but she should stop, it was already making her head hurt.

    She looked down instead, down to the drawing in her hands.

    It was still… frustratingly rough. The lines were shaky; she could make out what it was, but it annoyed her nonetheless. It was of the view outside, of the moon and the planet, the sun and the stars, the stars so far beyond, full of answers and just waiting for her to come.

    Kepler 22-b. Mauvana looked from the drawing to the real thing, and knew that somewhere in that darkness, it was there, and she could go there.

    She could go there.

    Her reflection smiled back at her.

    It was good to be free. Even if it had taken a long time, it was good to be free.

[sugarchains]

Title: 12 Months 

Chapters: 1/1

Pairing: Kepcobi

Rating: Explicit!

Notes: HI HELLO My friend made me listen to this podcast and it killed me very slowly and very publicly for weeks. Also when I’m obsessed with a thing, I either cosplay it or write fanfic of it. Have a fanfic. Also I fudged timelines because I love Maxwell and I need her present always. 

LMAO BONES IM SO SORRY BECAUSE THIS WAS FOR YOU LIKE 2 YEARS AGO I LOVE YOU!!! forgive me ok

~

There are numerous ways that he has fucked Daniel Jacobi within the past year. Fucked up, fucked over, mind fucked-he’s been fucking Jacobi since they first met. 

Technically. 

It starts with what could be called a mind fuck because, let’s be real. Daniel’s not stupid. Impulsive, brash, and every bit as loud as his job requires him to be. But he lets himself be eased into it- blows up an office for an appraising look the first month, demolishes a city block for a wink and a smile month two, murders for a hand cupping the back of his neck and good boy stated fondly into the air around them. 

-

SI-5 training was different than other set ups. They’re not military and they’re not Black Ops technically- nor are they spies. Also technically, they’re all three and it’s better to not ask questions and just do as you’re told.  (Rule number 3).

They need to be ready for anything, and that’s the excuse Kepler gives when he calls Jacobi in to spar, just the two of them. He wipes the floor with him, more than once. It’s 4 months since he picked Daniel up at the bar and in this month he lets Warren press him hard, throw him harder into the mats.

-

The fifth month, Warren fucks him over lets Daniel get shot and it runs like this: He took a risk and it backfired and he didn’t even realize it until almost too late.

The rest of the fifth month is eventful, from an objective perspective. 

(“Promise me you won’t fall in love with him.”

“What?" 

”Promise me, Daniel. You know how you are.“

"I have no idea what you could be hinting at.”

“Needy, desperate for approval, hanging on his every word like a-”

“OK, ok! …I promise." 

"You promise what?”

“Are you really gonna make me say this?”

“I’m going to record you so I can play it back when you make a bad decision later on." 

"Fucking….I promise not to fall in love with the Major. Happy?”

“Yeah. I don’t believe you, by the way.”

“That’s fair." 

Warren watches this scene play out from afar, watches Alana curl up on a hospital bed next to Daniel (Maxwell and Jacobi, he reminds himself-there’s no reason to get so comfortable when it’s only been five months and even less for Ala-Maxwell. No reason to be so comfortable right now either) from a small screen on a tablet in Cutter’s office. Internally, he’s a combination of swirling emotions, but externally? Perfect mask of the perfect soldier.

"Well! Serious stuff there; wouldn’t you agree, Warren?”

“….Yes sir.”

“Do you have any ideas about ~who~ they could be talking about? Hmm?”

“As far as I know, sir…they don’t work for anyone else." 

"And Warren,” Cutter states, taking the momentary pause to use his thumb and forefinger to gently force eye contact between the two of them. “Do you make a habit of falling in love with your employees?”

“…..No sir.”

“Excellent! Keep it that way. I know you can and will do everything in your power to stop something silly from happening." 

"Of course, sir." 

He doesn’t immediately go and warn/remind them that they are being watched. What he does do is visit Jacobi in the hospital the next day (sans flowers), lets Maxwell guilt-glare him into leaving while Jacobi is still sleeping to go pick up flowers, visits again in the same day so that Maxwell can yell at him-

("We were here a week, Major!" 

"There were matters that needed to be attended to." 

"More important matters than Jacobi nearly dying?" 

"Calm down, Doctor. I never said that.”) 

-gives Jacobi the flowers and smiles back when Jacobi beams at him.

He also takes them out to eat when Jacobi’s healed, lets him pick the place, and waits until they’re all eating before he drops the surveillance bomb on them. Can tell from the way Maxwell won’t look at him and the way Jacobi is only looking at him that they know exactly what conversation was heard and how they feel about that he doesn’t know and he may have just found the one thing he can’t read his team on-) 

-

Six months in and the mind fucks turning into something beyond his carefully set up control. They had just completed a beautiful mission that had involved blowing up a building and a high speed chase. He could feel adrenaline still buzzing under his skin, and he can feel Daniel’s eyes on his arms on the wheel, so he presses harder on the gas to hear the breathless laugh from the passenger seat. The ride to the safe house is uneventful otherwise, but inside sees Daniel pushing him against the door and kissing him breathlessly. Warren can tell Daniel didn’t think this through clearly (of course he didn’t)-he clearly thought that it might get him punched in the face, or worse, get him a polite and distant reprimand, but at this point life is good and Warren is tired of denying himself so he. He kisses Daniel back, changes their positions against the door so Daniel is pressed up against it. They kiss until they’re both hard, until both their hands are pulling and pushing at each others’ shirts to get at skin and they’re pulling away to ask “Shower?” and “Please” respectively. 

Daniel lets himself be manhandled into a shower where the water runs hot pressure down his side as Warren presses him hard against the wall, tangles a hand in his hair to pull his head to the side, trails a line of biting kisses across his neck while his other hand is jacking them both off frantically. 

Warren swears he can hear Cutter’s “~stop something silly from happening~” playing in his head, warring with the way Daniel moans out please and oh fuck each time he twists his hand around just right, but he chooses to ignore it in favor of feeling the way Daniel’s nails drag lines down his back when he comes between them seconds before Warren.

He’s fucked.

-

The seventh month has Warren teaching Daniel the color system and they spend all the free time they have that month pushing their limits. Warren’s trying to be mindful of the limits but there’s only so much he can take of Daniel looking up at him, eyes wide and blurry with tears of frustration, mouth slick and bruised and begging, telling him please please green the color is green don’t stop again fuck, while he grips bruises into his thigh with one hand and fingers him deep, stretches him wide with the other. 

-

The eighth month reminds him that he’s not a romantic, except that he is. Because in the same month he’s discovering that Daniel likes to be choked when he’s sitting in Warren’s lap, grinding against his cock, he’s also lining up the missions for the upcoming months and taking care to avoid anything at the end of four months out from now. 

He purposely doesn’t think about the way Daniel smiles when he chokes him harder for digging his nails into Warren’s back.

-

The ninth month finds Warren fucking Daniel’s mouth in the office. He didn’t mean to, of course. But it had been weeks since they had last touched, the amount and intensity of the missions beginning to pile up as the trio’s notoriety grew. There were no machines who didn’t love Maxwell and Jacobi’s explosive version of delicate destruction left more than a few people in awe. And the fact that they would only listen and work for Kepler? Icing on the cake. 

But of course that doesn’t go unnoticed and of course Cutter calls Kepler and Jacobi into his office one day in early in the month. Jacobi has a terrible poker face when he’s expecting the bluff, but his ability to lie is almost catastrophic when he’s caught off guard. So that’s how he flushes pink when Cutter asks if he knows how to make something obvious, if he knows how to make something so people can see it from afar. 

“There’s up and coming companies, Daniel. We don’t want to let them get the idea into their heads that they can compete with Goddard, right?”

“Of course, sir." 

"So I need you to make it a statement. Let them know who runs this. Can you do that for me?" 

"Absolutely sir." 

"Good!” And he’s turning his attention to Kepler now. “What a good boy you’ve got there, Warren. I can see why one might do something silly." 

Kepler glances at Jacobi quickly, internally proud of the fact that Daniel didn’t have a reaction to that beyond his eyes widening. 

–It’s weeks later when Jacobi gets the bomb right, runs a test run of the bomb at a location that Cutter set up personally for this, a location that Kepler almost didn’t see if Cutter is to be believed. 

"He asked for you personally, Warren. Can you believe that? Seems I wasn’t enough company for him. Shame really." 

And internally, Kepler is smug as all fuck. Even though that means Jacobi showed his hand, even though that means whatever Cutter guessed about them is now solidified in his mind, it also means-something.

He’s not sure yet. 

"I’m sure he didn’t mean anything by it, sir,” Kepler says mildly, gaze carefully directed outside the car they’re traveling in.

He’s fine when they pull up to the area where Jacobi has everything set up. He’s fine when Jacobi sets of a series of explosions, all triggering a bigger bomb down the line. He’s fine when Cutter congratulates Jacobi on a job well done, but it cuts out when Cutter plants a quick kiss to the side of Jacobi’s head in continued celebration. Cutter catches his eye and the intent is clear-

You can have your plaything, but whats yours is mine and I get what I want when I want. 

It’s a message he hears loud and clear, but it doesn’t mean Kepler won’t still claim what’s his. Which is how he ends up back in his office, one hand bracing himself against the door, while the other hand is cupping the back of Jacobi’s head so it doesn’t hit the door when he fucks his cock into Jacobi’ s mouth.  

Jacobi’s hands are behind his back, not tied just behind his back because he’s not allowed to touch right now he just has to take it as Warren fucks his cock deeper into his throat, take it as he presses deep enough to stop him from breathing oncetwice, before he’s pulling his cock out to slide across Daniel’s cheek. The hand against the door balls into a fist when Daniel runs his lips up the side of Warren’s cock, the fist in his hair tightens when he slides his lips over the head, and Daniel moans long and muffled when Warren starts fucking back into his mouth in earnest. 

He let’s himself get lost in the motions of fucking into Daniel’s mouth, lets himself get lost in watching the sight of his cock stretching Daniel’s lips before it becomes too much and he’s fucking forward onetwothree times and pulling back just enough that his cock slips out of Daniel’s mouth and he comes across his face. Pulse after pulse of come leaves him and arcs across Daniel’s cheeks and bruised lips, marking him as he pants openly on his knees.

Warren braces himself heavily against the door while he catches his breath, caging Daniel in, walling the world out, and maybe it’s a little symbolic but his thighs are still shaking too much to move and Daniel’s expression is too fucking open, he wouldn’t move even if he could walk. He takes the moment to slide his fingers across Daniel’s cheek, before pushing come covered fingers into Daniel’s mouth. They hold eye contact while he sucks them clean.

They’re fucked.

-

The next two months are filled with missions, surveillance, and destruction, so much to the point that before Kepler realizes it, he hasn’t touched Jacobi in nearly eight weeks. Ten months, eleven months fly by with minimal contact and even less down time and suddenly it’s been a year since Jacobi has started working for him. So when he gets a mission thrown at him to vet a candidate for Goddard that is due by Tuesday, the 24th, it’s all he can do to not punch his desk in frustration and throw the file back at Rachel. 

“Maybe you should take Jacobi with you on this one, Warren.”

“Excuse me?” 

“Oh, I just mean I mentioned this mission in passing to him earlier today and he looked ready to blow something up.”

“Ah. Well-”

“It could be because your one year anniversary is coming up, isn’t it?”

“…Anniversary?

“Of him coming to work under you here? Surely you haven’t forgotten. He’s really worked up over it.” 

He didn’t forget, (of course he didn’t forget who does she take him for he’s been steady stockpiling fireworks both illegally and legally for the past two weeks) but he doesn’t want to give her the benefit of having something to tell him about his own employees, so he just stares blankly at her until she rolls her eyes in disgust and leaves. 

-

It ends up not being a big deal to accomplish surveillance on the prospect and return his findings before the 24th. He does it without the team, figuring there’s no reason to pull their efforts into this. Instead, he focuses on studiously ignoring the hints about the upcoming anniversary commemoration from Jacobi as he tells him about the “upcoming assignment” they have. 

In all honestly, it doesn’t occur to him that Daniel would be hurt by this. They’re special operatives for an agency that has their hands in everything. This isn’t the type of thing that should upset people like them. 

Still though, they’re fucked. He’s fucked. So when Daniel eloquently starts complaining about Warren ignoring the date, he realizes that oh.

Oh, they’re on the same page about this. Which is. 

That’s good. 

-

He forgot how stupidly easy it is to loose himself in Daniel, how quickly he gives into need and want, and he looses time somewhere between Daniel setting the first firework off with a brilliant smile and crowding him against the side of the truck with a hand on his throat and one tight on his hip.

Looking up at Jacobi while he’s riding him feels a little too intimate A Little Too Much like this is a love thing, A Little Too Much like they would already die for each other, so Warren buries his face in Daniel’s neck, works bruises into the skin there while Daniel’s fingers tangle in his hair.

He keeps his hands on Daniel’s hips, holding him steady while he leans back and he listens to the way Daniel’s breathing speeds up, listens to the way Warren falls from his lips- not desperate and needy, but wanting-

It’s on a particularly good stroke where Warren twists his hips when he’s in Daniel and he slips up, a desperate oh fuck Sir, falls from his lips. And.

And he has control over himself, he really does, but something about hearing Daniel say sir in that context has him moving quicker than he thought to pin Daniel underneath him and fuck into him hard. Daniel looks up at him in shock for a moment before melting into the motions, fucking himself back when Warren fucks himself in and he’s truly relieved that Daniel closed his eyes because his face is too open and too expressive to be getting fucked by his boss under some fireworks like it’s this big romantic fucking gesture-

He can feel his orgasm building in the base of his spine, feel the heat settling in the pit of his stomach, and he can tell Daniel is close too-from the nails that are digging into his shoulders, to the way that Daniel’s moans are turning into a louder, steady chant of fuckfuckfuck sir please sir please, to the tightening of his thighs around Warren’s waist. 

Warren is close, he’s so close, he feels like he’s fighting it off and loosing as he pulls one hand away from where he is gripping Daniel’s hip tight enough to bruise and moves it to press against Daniel’s throat. His whines choke off almost immediately and Daniel tenses up, eyes rolling back, his mouth, slick and red and bruised, falling open as he tries to gasp for air before Warren’s pulling his hand away, and Daniel comes gasping, stroking himself off to work the come out, grinding back against Warren as he fucks into him twothree more times before coming inside him. 

Warren knows they have to clean up and head out, there’s no way they actually get enough downtime to lay back and enjoy the afterglow-they may have certain immunities, but they are in public, they just set off a fuckload of explosives, and there’s only a matter of time before they have to report back. But for right now, he leans over Daniel (while he’s still in him, savoring the low moan he gives) and kisses him slow and deep, and acknowledges that this is absolutely fucked, but they’ll deal with it.

It’s what they do.

[the-adventures-of-dave]

Heya! Sorry to trouble you, but would you have any advice for a cat that wants to be in the room with you so bad, he pulls and rattles the bedroom door for a half hour or more (which makes the ignore technique seem useless)

I would let him into my room at night but then he decides to knock things off my shelf and get up on my desk where he is not allowed. I’m just at wits end with this dude. 😭

I had the exact same problem when Dave was a kitten!

Is he like this when you leave the same room as him during the day too (ie. using the bathroom, leaving the house, etc)? It might be worth it to try training him to be more comfortable in rooms without you. Try giving him a food puzzle or high-value interactive toy and leave the room for only a few minutes, then return and reward him with more treats/play. Gradually increase the time that you are out of the room, and hopefully he will start to learn to be more comfortable without you.

What helped me the most when Dave had these problems was to get a feliway diffuser. Some vet clinics have them but you can also buy them online (I have yet to find one in a Canadian pet store but they may sell them in stores in other countries). Plug it in near your bedroom door or in a room your cat spends a lot of time in, and it should help with any anxiety the cat may have from being separate from you.

If you want to let him into your room to sleep, go minimalist and put away or secure anything he might try knocking off of shelves or your desk. For a while I had taped down all my knick knacks on my desk so Kepler wouldn’t play with them.

Hope that helps!

[mikeydoodledandy]

“Barclay? What are you doing all the way out here? It’s late.” Barclay sighed softly, looking up to his partner as Joseph approached. The agent was dressed in what he’d worn to bed, a light blanket wrapped around him and his sneakers hastily pulled on without socks. He looked worried, but Barclay supposed he shouldn’t be surprised. Waking up in the middle of the night to find your lover missing from your bed was no doubt kind of jarring.

“I... woke up and couldn’t get back to sleep, so I decided to go for a walk rather than bother you with my tossing and turning. Sorry.” He was seated at the edge of the clearing overlooking the archway, on a wooden bench that had been put there after the events of the Quell. The moon was full, shining brightly overhead and casting a pale glow on the forest below. 

Joseph nodded quietly. “May I join you, or would you prefer to be alone?”

“...Go ahead.”

Stern sat, adjusting his blanket around his shoulders before carefully offering his hand to Barclay. They sylph considered it a moment before gently entwining their fingers between them, not saying anything else. They shared the silence together, the cool mountain breeze rustling their clothes and hair as shadows crept from the woods as the moon rose higher.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Joseph asked after a time, rubbing his thumb against his partner’s.

“What is there to talk about?”

“I don’t know. Any of it. The new connection back to Sylvain. They sylphs leaving the lodge. Why you’re out here of all places.”

“Ah. Those things. Right.” Barclay sighed again, looking down at their hands. His chest was tight and all the feelings he’d been having lately threatened to bubble up in his throat. The sylph swallowed thickly, considering his words.

He and Joseph had been together going on almost half a year now, settling into their new reality as best they could. Much of it had been wonderful. Joseph was an amazing partner and it felt so good to finally reciprocate their feelings after almost an entire year of pining, and make up for lost time together. Whether it was dinner dates, or curling up by the fire, or falling into bed together, it had been bliss.

But, as all things tended to be, not everything was perfect. Life went on and the people of Kepler rebuilt, but the scars had been left on the town and its people. Perhaps those in the Pine Guard most of all.

Dani and Aubrey were still on their travels in Sylvain, healing in their own way together. They’d promised to return for a big reunion in the fall that Amnesty and the townfolk were planning, but the lodge was quiet without them in the meantime. Thacker too was missed, away on his own travels into the wilds of the planet Barclay had once called home. Barclay hoped they were all doing alright, he missed them a lot and while they were able to get in touch, their conversations were few and far between.

Duck had left too. He and Minerva and Juno had all left for Brazil in the noble effort of replanting the forests there. Barclay suspected though that Duck needed to get away from it all as well and do some healing of his own.

Which meant only Barclay and Mama remained of the Pine Guard. Not that it really mattered anymore. The abominations were long gone, no longer being grown by the DOM and sent to Earth to incite conflict between their worlds. For the first time in so long, they could rest easy knowing that the full moon would come and go time and time again and no beasts would slink from the shadows to threaten their way of life.

Barclay always thought he’d be relieved for it all to come to an end, and for the most part he was, but he’d found he didn’t quite know what to do with himself anymore. Now that they’d managed to reconnect Earth and Sylvain with the help of Dr. Sarah Drake and Minerva’s strange magicks, many of the sylphs at the lodge had made the choice to go home, their exile having ended in the wake of the prevented apocalypse.

For the first time in years, Amnesty Lodge was.. just another inn. 

They’d gotten more business as tourists flocked to the town to see the mountain that had moved. The FBI had covered up most of it and the official statement was that it had been a massive collapse of underground caverns that had caused the mountain to crumble into the river, but there were rumors of what really happened. There would always be rumors.

But Barclay found that, even in his happiness of a new relationship, he missed the home that they’d all once made for themselves. It felt... empty. Jake and a few others had stayed and he was grateful for that, but he still found himself wistful for what they’d once had.

He finally let out a long breath, leaning over and resting his head on Joseph’s shoulder. “I miss them, Jo. I understand why they left, they needed to do what was right for them, but I just.. miss them so much it kinda hurts. The Lodge took me in and gave me a purpose all those years ago. We were all scared and tired and recovering from what was taken from us, but we were a family, y’know? We had each other. And now everyone’s... somewhere else.”

“Not everyone, but I know that’s a small consolation,” Joseph replied, gently squeezing Barclay’s fingers. “I’m sure Dani and Aubrey will return eventually, as will Thacker. But I know that’s not now and it’s okay to miss them.”

“Yeah.. And it’s not like.. I’m not moving on either, just in kind of a different way.” He raised Joseph’s hand to his lips, pressing a careful kiss to the back of it. “I never would have thought I’d find someone like you, Jo. Not like this. I don’t regret for a second that everything changed, because if we’d just kept on fighting the abominations for the rest of our lives and never stopped the Quell or the DOM, you and I.. probably wouldn’t have ever been able to get together. I just wish so many people hadn’t left me behind in the process.”

“I’d like to think you might have told me one day regardless, but I suppose that’s rather wishful thinking, isn’t it.”

“I dunno, I might’ve. I’d been considering it before the shapeshifter came and messed everything up. We had that moment and I know I chickened out, but if I’d had just a little more time, I think I might’ve come clean anyway.”

“Yes, that was all quite the mess, wasn’t it? Still, regardless of if you had told me your identity or not, if you’d continued to fight the abominations, well.. Tell me, how many of the Pine Guard actually survived the ordeal? You would have always been at risk.”

“I mean... hm.. Guess you have a point. I don’t think there’s really any answer to this though. I’m just... sad. My heart hurts with missing them.”

“No, I know. I’m not trying to rationalize away your pain, Barclay. I just wish there was more I could do,” Joseph sighed, Barclay nodding quietly.

“I appreciate it, Jo. And honestly, you’re doing plenty by just being here with me. How lucky am I that my boyfriend is willing to hike out into the middle of the woods in the dead of night just to make sure I’m okay?”

“I would hope anyone in a loving relationship would do the same. You came looking for me last winter when I got stuck out in that snowstorm, and that was even before we were together.”

“Well, yeah I wasn’t just gonna let you freeze out here.”

“Still. We look out for each other. I want to be here for you just as much as you’ve been here for me.”

Barclay smiled a little, but he still felt like he had a knot in his chest. He took a deep breath, closing his eyes.

“...It’s all the little things I miss about them the most. Like making everyone’s favorite order. I had everyone’s preferences and tastes down to a science. There was familiarity in that; a sense that I was a part of a bigger picture. And stuff like Dani, Aubrey and Jake all piling on the sofa and giggling together over some dumb meme or joke or what they were planning for a new prank. And how Duck always had the funniest ranger stories, that he could just deliver so completely deadpan that you couldn’t help but laugh. And when Ned-” Barclay stopped himself, throat too tight to continue without choking up anyway. His eyes were wet and itchy, the sylph rubbing them with the heel of his hand. “Fuck, Jo I just..”

Before he could try to say anything else, Joseph pulled him into a strong hug. It was firm and loving and surprised Barclay for a moment, but after he relaxed in the other man’s hold it reminded him that he wasn’t so alone. 

With an anchor to ground him, Barclay found he couldn’t hold back the swell of emotions that had been building within him. Pressing his face into Joseph’s shoulder, he hugged his partner back and let himself cry.

He missed his friends, he missed his community. Change was a part of life, but rarely was it an easy one. He just wanted them all to come back and be a big happy family again. He wanted the lodge to feel like home again. Everyone had gone on their way and left him to pick up the pieces and it hurt. It hurt to be left behind.

His partner rocked him gently as he finally released all the exhaustion and sorrow he’d been carrying the last few months. Barclay might be the bigger of the two of them, but Joseph held him with a strength that made him feel safe to be vulnerable like this. The agent stroked his long hair, wrapping the blanket he had around both of them as Barclay clenched his fingers in the man’s shirt while he cried.

Eventually, his grief slipped into exhaustion, leaving him shaky and spent. He was grateful to have the man he loved there to steady him through it, resting heavily in Joseph’s arms.

“Sorry...” The sylph mumbled hoarsely, his eyes raw. Joseph shook his head, threading his fingers in his boyfriend’s hair.

“Don’t be. It’s okay.”

“I got snot on your shirt.”

“That’s also okay.”

Barclay managed a chuckle at that, pulling away and wiping his nose on his sleeve. Joseph smiled at him softly, reaching up and wiping the tears from his cheeks. Barclay’s eyes were puffy and he was kind of starting to get a headache, but he felt a little better than he had before.

“Thanks, Jo.”

“Of course, love.”

They both sat quietly once more under Joseph’s blanket, this time wrapped in each other’s embrace as the night grew longer. The agent was calmly observing the archway, fingers idly stroking the hairs on Barclay’s arm. He bit his lip as he often did when there was something he wasn’t sure he should say, the sylph nudging him when he noticed.

“What’s up?”

“Well, I...” Joseph let out a soft breath, his fingers stopping their ministrations. “You could always go back, you know. I was always a little surprised you never brought it up or suggested it, actually. I thought maybe you’d want to return with everyone else and you clearly miss your friends.”

“Ah.” Barclay’s shoulders sagged, the man scuffing his shoe in the dirt as he mulled on his words. “I’m not gonna say I haven’t considered it. I’ve actually thought about it a lot, but I just.. don’t think there’s room for me to heal and grow in Sylvain. It’s not home to me anymore. I was born here on earth and while Sylvain gave me my mind and my form, my love for this planet has always been stronger. I was exiled when I was young and stupid, so all my growth and experience come from learning from humans. As much as I miss my friends, I think at the end of the day, my place is still here.”

“It’s been a long time though, hasn’t it? Out of all the other sylphs, you’re the only one who hasn’t even gone back to visit. Even I’ve been back to Sylvain at this point.” 

“Yeah, well... Hm. It’s kinda complicated. I guess I just.. never really fit in Sylvain to begin with. Something about earth always called me in a way that being there didn’t. These mountains feel more like I belong here than I ever felt there. There’s something about Earth, about Kepler especially that just.. makes me feel at peace. It’s this swell that I feel right in my chest whenever the sun sets and spreads a warm glow through the trees or how the earth smells after a fresh rain. Things like that that just feel right that I never felt on Sylvain.

“Those are good reasons.” Joseph nodded, looking back up at the arch. “I was worried it might just be me keeping you here, which if that was the case, well...”

“You do play a part in it too, Joseph, but don’t take that the wrong way.” Barclay leaned over and kissed Joseph’s forehead, enjoying the warmth of his skin against his lips. “That warmth I feel when I think about how much I love earth, I feel the most when I’m with you. You remind me of everything I love about humanity, Jo and I don’t ever want you to think that you’re holding me back.”

“Alright. I don’t know if I exactly embody everything great about the human race, but I appreciate the sentiment.”

“Naw, I don’t mean it like that. I just mean.. I love you for you. Your kindness and warmth and habits and flaws, they make me happy. You make me happy, Jo.”

“You make me very happy too, Barclay.”

Joseph gently cupped Barclay’s face, leaning in to kiss him. It was soft and careful, Barclay wishing he was a little less rough from crying, but grateful for the comfort. He leaned his cheek against his Joseph’s palm, closing his eyes. It was a mild night and he found he wanted to linger in the gentleness of his partner’s affection. The man had been so good to him in their time together and had given him so much. The sylph opened his eyes, meeting Stern’s fond and understanding expression. One last sorrow bubbled up in his chest, one he found he was finally ready to share.

“I’ve.. never told you how I was exiled, have I.”

“You haven’t, no. It didn’t seem like my place to ask.”

“You can always ask me stuff, babe. That said, I dunno how great of an answer I would have given if you had.” Barclay smiled sadly, settling back beside his boyfriend and gazing up at the full moon.

“Well.. I was exiled because I loved humanity a bit too much. I came to Sylvain as all animal sylphs do, stumbling through a gate without a mind of my own yet, scared and confused. I don’t remember that part, but no one ever does. Slowly, I grew though. I started forming memories I still have, was taken in by a loving family, grew up in a society that’s both progressive and stunted compared to a human one. The usual story.”

Barclay took a deep breath, taking in the soft scent of pine on the breeze, his knee pressed to Joseph. “I had a best friend growing up. We got into all sorts of trouble together. Nothing ever malicious, but we certainly weren’t perfect angels by any means. We’d get into places we shouldn’t, played pranks, that sort of stuff. We were best friends to the end back in those days.”

“Anyone I would know?”

“He’s not one of the sylphs who came over here if that’s what you’re asking. But you might actually.. well, lemme just continue before I start dropping names.”

“Sorry, didn’t mean to interrupt.”

“It’s fine, Jo. Anyway, we were still friends into our young adulthood, and still kinda mischief makers. He was being groomed for a really important position in the sylvan government, however, while I was kinda.. I dunno, doing my own thing. But we still had fun and he could get us access to places no one else in the kingdom could enter, which.. included the gate.”

Barclay gazed up at the archway with a soft sigh. “It was in New York back then and at first we’d just do really stupid shit like put a hand through it or quickly jump in and out of it when we got bold enough. Eventually though, we got ourselves disguises and would sneak through to earth in the middle of the night. It was peak risk-taking, but in the process we both kinda fell in love with humans. Not like.. literally, not yet anyway.”

He nudged Joseph with a small chuckle, who returned it with a smile, a faint blush to his cheeks, but this time he stayed quiet as Barclay continued. 

“Human society was so different from ours, yet still so familiar. I think a lot of animal sylphs experience that if they go to earth. There’s this connection we have that, even though we can’t remember our lives as animals, we can feel it, y’know? It’s kinda like deja vu. But it wasn’t just that. Humans are creative in a way that sylphs really aren’t. Humans don’t have magic, so they have to come up with new and interesting ways to do things and bring new and creative ideas to their media and books and films and my friend and I, we loved every minute of it.”

There was a wistfulness in Barclay’s eyes, the sylph rubbing his nose again. “He always had a love for films and tv shows. I always loved the books and music. We’d make a challenge for ourselves whenever we would sneak over to try to bring something new back with us each time. It was fun and earth was so bright and interesting, and not just because it was forbidden. I loved it. It felt.. I dunno.. Right.”

“But I’m guessing your adventures to earth didn’t go unnoticed?”

“Yeah... eventually we were caught and going to earth is like... a huge taboo in our society. There’s a reason we get exiled here. They found all our human stuff and brought us before the council and... Both of us were going to be exiled, but I... Vince had a life ahead of him in a way that I didn’t, so I... took all of the blame. He was let off and I left Sylvain.”

Joseph rubbed his shoulder comfortably, his brows furrowed. “Do you know what happened to him?”

“I dunno. I assume life just went on and he got that position he was being prepped for. I adjusted to earth and decided to travel for a while. I made a lot of stupid mistakes, got seen a couple of times. I’m sure a couple of photos of me have crossed your desk at one point or another. But... I grew. I learned love and creativity and kindness not from sylphs, but from humans. I learned to play the guitar and cook. I saw the world. And at some point, the planet I’d left behind, with its harsh laws and broken friendships just.. wasn’t where I belonged anymore. I belong here, on earth, and then in Kepler at the lodge, and now here with you, Joseph.”

He turned to face his partner, taking the man’s hands carefully in his own. Joseph’s fingers were long and slender, an interesting contrast to his rough and calloused palms. He rubbed his thumb against the top of the man’s hand. 

“I miss my friends, I do. But.. I’m right where I need to be. For the first time in a while, I finally get to choose my own path without worrying about abominations or someone ruining everything for us by discovering the truth. I get to be with someone who’s made me happier than I’ve been in a very long time and I don’t regret that.”

“Barclay, I...” Joseph pressed his forehead to the sylph’s, squeezing his fingers. “That was beautifully put. I’m glad you’re with me too. I’m glad you love earth. I’m glad I can make all this a little easier and be here to support you. I want us to be able to talk like this and for you to feel comfortable being open with me. You deserve what you need to grow and be okay and I know I’m not perfect, but I want to give you everything I can. Now and in the future.”

“Oh, Jo. You already do.” Barclay wrapped his boyfriend in a warm hug, his heart feeling lighter than it had. “Just being here and listening and caring, that’s enough. It means more to me than you can even know.”

“I suppose no one ever said moving forward was going to be easy but... at the very least, we can do it together.”

[thelonely]

MAJOR ep. 28 spoilers

(find it on ao3 here)

Mama has been to more than her fair share of funerals.

Well, if you can call them all funerals. Her line of work didn’t do kindly by folks looking for a traditional burial. All too often, she’d had to scoop up ashes post-battle and spread them, collect bones and dig holes for them, lose sight of a coworker mid-fight and never catch hide nor hair of them again. There were too many anomalies to be explained, too many questions raised. Seeing those names slowly sink on the “Missing Persons” list and knowing still hurt, after all these years.

And hell, some folks in the past didn’t want to go through the ceremonial bullshit; they just wanted some dirt over their remains and a salute, before sinking off into that eternal sleep. Fair enough.

Mama’s definition of a “funeral” wasn’t always clean enough to entail the hearse, coffin, and grave plot. It was the exception, rather than the norm.

Which is why she’s surprised that Ned Chicane, of all people, wanted—and got—a traditional funeral. Let alone a crowded one.

(Maybe it was for the theatrics of it. Scratch that, it was definitely for the theatrics of it.)

Ned Chicane, once again, brought the town together—they had watched him go down the first time, and they were here to watch him go down for good. They owed him that much.

Duck and Aubrey and Mama and Barclay, Jake and Leo and Kirby and Sheriff Owens, Agent Stern and Hollis and Kevin and Eugene. People who loved him, people who dealt with him, people who hated him. People who disagreed with him, people who were inspired by him, people who thought he was a scam and disgrace. In this little ski town where everyone knows everybody, it does not go unnoticed that two particular people are missing. But, considering the circumstances, no one can blame them.

The residents of Kepler hover by the graveside as a priest says a few words; Ned didn’t strike anyone as a particularly religious man, but the sentiment is nice, regardless.

Duck gets up and chokes out a speech—it’s hard to tell if it’s due to the occasion, or just public speaking nerves. But he gets through it nonetheless, talking about the mysterious man that one day emerged as the owner of the once-dinky Cryptonomica, and how he wasn’t an open man but he was an amicable one. A brave one.

And because Ned had no one else that was willing to speak, the speeches end and the crowd breaks briefly before burial.

The Amnesty Lodge group gathers, talking idly with flowers and programs in their hands. It’s probably the first time that Mama has seen Duck not in the ranger uniform—but of course, he’s still wearing the hat. Barclay has trimmed his beard close, and Jake is in dark hues instead of neon ones.

Aubrey is also not her usual self. That much is obvious to anyone with any degree of familiarity with her.

The normally chatty magician is quiet; she stands eerily still, hands curled in her black dress as she listens to everyone chat. Her weight is subtly shifted to her good leg—she refused to use crutches at the service.

Mama is used to strange situations: to magic and monsters and violence. But nothing ever feels quite as strange, quite as wrong, as a funeral.

“I wish I had some… some, I don’t know, some cryptid keychains I could drop in, instead of these flowers.” Duck raises his bouquet accordingly: pink carnations. “I mean. Twenty-two years, and I never saw a damn flower in his place, not once. Did he even like flowers?”

“If he did, I sure doubt he would’ve told us—or if he did tell us, whether we would’ve believed him,” Mama replies. “Damn near everything that came out of that man’s mouth sounded like a lie. I don’t think dropping flowers will be an egregious sin against him.”

“I thought about maybe bringing some Nerf darts. I guess that wouldn’t go over too well, though, huh—”

Suddenly, Jake nudges Aubrey’s arm. “Hey, look.”

His pointed finger gets the group’s attention; they all turn to look at the item of interest: the grave marker, a couple yards away. They hover for a moment, scouring the letters. Eyebrows lower, foreheads wrinkle. Aubrey averts her eyes.

“Well, this sure solves that mystery, don’t it,” Mama finally says.

The marker reads: Edmund Kelly Chicane.

“I found it on some legal documents around the Cryptonomica,” Kirby pipes in from behind them, noticing their stares. His black suit fits baggy around the legs and tight around the belly, and it feels alien to see him without an RC Cola in hand. “Seemed more official, to put the full name on it.”

Mama nods and Kirby turns back to whatever discussion he was already having. The group is quiet for a beat. Then:

“...Just feels wrong,” Duck mumbles, removing his hat and shifting it from one hand to the other. “Having his full name out here, well, it’s like—like seeing the guy naked. Jesus Christ. Let the man have some privacy, he freakin’ beefed it.”

Mama stares for another moment, then: “I think I’m partial to ‘Ned Fuckin’ Chicane.’”

That earns a small laugh from the group—from everyone except for Aubrey. Mama looks at her with barely concealed concern, but Aubrey doesn’t seem to notice.

“Okay, but really: this all feels wrong. The flowers, the name—hachi machi,” Duck says again with a note of disgust. “This ain’t Ned’s style.”

“I’m not exactly sure what else we’re supposed to do?” Barclay says. “He’d at least like the high turnout, if that’s any comfort.”

But Duck is barely listening. He pivots, looking at the scene around them: the townsfolk, the marker, the rows of chairs, the grave itself, the program in his hands—

And then he gets an idea.

He slides a pen out of his front pocket, flips the program over, and jots something down in loose letters. Clicks the pen closed and stares at his handiwork for a moment. Rips off that last page.

Aubrey, standing to his right, merely looks up at him with the question in her eyes. Duck, catching her stare, turns the paper towards her.

It reads: Fucking.

The park ranger shrugs. “This felt like something he’d appreciate more than just some stinkin’ flowers.”

And with that, he strides towards the grave, gives one final look at the coffin within, and drops the piece of paper. He glances up at their group. He mouths the name: Ned Fucking Chicane. And then he walks back.

This action does not go unnoticed. As Duck makes his way back to their group, other attendees peer into the grave—some laugh, some look appalled, some smile nostalgically.

“Duck,” Barclay says, his voice verging on giddy. “Where did you come up with that?”

The park ranger doesn’t seem to share the same excitement for the act. As he gets closer, he slaps a hand to his face, head bowed.

“What did I just fuckin’ do,” he moans under his breath. “I go to a man’s damn funeral and drop curse words on his grave? Have I gone bonkers? Why didn’t any of you stop me?”

“Duck—” Mama interjects.

“Fuckin’ hell, guys, I might as well have just shouted a big ol’ cuss in the middle of his final rites—”

“Duck, stop. No, look,” Mama says, planting a firm hand on his shoulder and giving him a small shake. “Look.”

Pens have emerged from pockets and purses, and the residents of Kepler are scribbling on their own programs. They write, and then they line up.

Everyone contributes something.

Boss, Bastard, Conspiracy. Danger, Superstar, Entrepreneur. Black Diamond, Flamboyant, Brave. Fuckin’, Effin’, Fucking.

The coffin is almost entirely concealed by paper. Middle name after middle name tumbles down into the hole, and it takes a good twenty minutes for the stream to taper out.

Aubrey watches her friends and neighbors drop their pieces in. And yet, she can’t bring herself to join. She just doesn’t know what to write.

(After everything… what could she write?)

She still hasn’t written anything by the time that they’re told to gather around for the end of the ceremony. Feels a swell of panic when the first shovel breaks the ground and tosses earth onto the pile.

Dirt cascades into the plot and the town watches silently as his titles are buried—until the only name that remains is the one on the gravemarker.

And then the service is over. People hover by the filled plot, saying final goodbyes to each other, exchanging hugs and words. It’s a flurry of movement for all but Aubrey.

Instead, Aubrey thinks.

She thinks as she says goodbye to the other attendees, telling her that they’ll see her soon. Barclay says he’ll have some soup at home. Duck says he’ll pop into the Lodge sometime tonight.

She thinks as the bulk of the town shuffles away, quiet conversation bubbling between them:

Remember when Ned crashed that stupid drone into a tree and the national parks office got flooded with calls of Mothman sightings for three whole days? Remember when he had the live studio audience of kids for Saturday Night Dead, and how he scared them senseless by dressing up in a yeti costume and jumping them? Remember when he went on Google Reviews and made the Cryptonomica the most upvoted place in Kepler—. And then they’re too far away to hear.

She’s almost alone: just her, Mama, and a heavy silence remain. And finally, Aubrey writes something down.

She walks on numb legs to the grave, coming to a slow halt beside it. With a slight wince, she bends over and slots her paper into the freshly turned dirt. She rises and gives it one final glance.

Mama calls from a few yards away, eyes shining with sympathy; Aubrey nods and rejoins her.

“You ready?” Mama asks, her big hand spanning Aubrey’s entire back.

“Yeah. I… I’m ready.”

They slowly move away, towards the trees. Neither of them look back.

A lone piece of paper flutters in a soft wind, unread.

The sun sinks and the stars twinkle into existence overhead, clear and cold. They shine brilliantly, beautifully over the headstone, and while the man beneath them is gone, this final middle name is not.

Written in careful, cursive letters:

Friend.

[blue-mood-blue]

She looks just like her brother.

Jane knows that’s what they’re thinking. Every time someone glances in her direction instead of staring at the ornate box they’re all gathered around in the noonday sunshine, she can practically hear it, whispered silently into the air around them: Oh, she looks so much like him, what a shame, how awful that she didn’t make it back in time. She doesn’t pay them any mind; she’s not here for any of them.

The strange pair standing together at the edge of the crowd, though, hanging back - they catch her attention. Jane’s never met them, but she knows exactly who they are. Duck told her things, little pieces of whole he wasn’t ready for her to see yet, so she knows Aubrey Little and Ned Chicane. If everyone else is only glancing at her, Aubrey is staring with a stricken expression and Ned is looking at everyone and everything else instead of her.

More importantly, she knows why they’re here and why they haven’t come any closer. 

To Aubrey’s credit, she tries. Jane sees her creeping closer after the casket is in the ground and people have started to leave, waiting patiently behind Jane to introduce herself.

Jane decides to save her the trouble. “Aubrey Little, right? Duck mentioned you a couple of times.”

Aubrey hesitates, and Jane guesses she was caught off guard. “Um, yes! Yes. You must be Jane. I’m so sorry —”

“You’re part of that... neighborhood watch thing, right? Keeping the town safe?”

Her hesitation is longer this time, weighted. Aubrey says a lot by not saying anything at all, and it’s the answer that Jane is looking for.

Duck was a shit liar, but sometimes he could slide by the truth if it was close enough to being honest. Sometimes he’d tell her just enough. “Had to visit the hospital,” he’d say, without saying how bad the injury was or how he’d gotten it. “There’s something weird going on in Kepler and the police could use an extra set of eyes,” he’d explain, without ever mentioning if the police agreed with his assessment. Jane had known for a long time that Duck was doing something dangerous, she just didn’t know the details. And she hadn’t even thought of trying to stop him, because if Duck was voluntarily doing something dangerous, it meant someone was in danger.

She should have stopped him. If she’d come back sooner, if she’d been here when it happened... but she didn’t, and she wasn’t. She got on a plane after his last phone call, all veiled worry and forced calm, telling her that if anything happened and she needed better answers, she should find someone named Mama. “You won’t need to but... figured I’d mention it, since I won’t be able to call for a little bit.” The implication that something might happen was enough to bring her home so she could ask Duck about those better answers directly, and by the time she got to Kepler he was already gone.

And this Aubrey Little knows more than Jane does about why her brother is in the ground and not filling her in on the local gossip. And maybe it isn’t fair - it definitely isn’t fair - but that makes Jane hate her, just a little bit. “Yeah, he told me. Not nearly all of it, but I’m gonna find out the rest.” When Jane turns to look at her, Aubrey looks pale. Even guilty, maybe. “Were you there, when it happened?”

“I —”

Jane shakes her head. “You probably shouldn’t answer that, actually.” Jane turns around to leave, well aware that there is more of her brother left in the forests he loved so much than in this patch of meticulously maintained lawn of headstones. “See you around, Aubrey.”

When Jane glances to where the two of them had been standing together, Ned Chicane is already gone.

Jane has a dream that night that she’s talking to a woman made of light. The woman seems to know her brother, but Jane has never seen her before. She calls Duck a warrior, which seems inaccurate, and she calls him merciful, which sounds a lot more like the Duck Jane remembers.

“I do not know if you wish to continue your brother’s fight, Jane Newton,” she says. There’s something in her voice that speaks of old grief, and Jane has the strange thought that this woman will miss Duck more than half of the people at the funeral who offered her empty condolences. “You do not have to. But his sword is yours, should you choose to accept it.”

Jane is about to tell the woman how insane the thought of Duck carrying a sword is, but she wakes up in his apartment instead, surrounded by half-packed boxes. There’s a sword on the ground next to her, and she’s sure it wasn’t there when she fell asleep.

The sword is looking at her - she’s sure of that, even if she doesn’t know what makes her think so. She doesn’t know what compels her to pick it up.

“Jane Newton, I presume.” The voice comes from the sword, the sword that has a mouth that she can see now that it’s moving, and she almost drops it. “My name is Beacon. You, now you have the spirit of a warrior. You would wield me in battle, would you not Jane Newton? Your brother never did use my full power, pacifist that he was...”

The sword says it like an insult, and Jane squeezes the hilt as if anything she could do to it would actually hurt a metal object. She remembers the coroner’s hesitating, uncomfortable report, spoken with long pauses as if Jane might change her mind about wanting to know how Duck died. Every detail was followed by a silence as if to say are you sure, do you really need to know, wouldn’t you sleep easier if you let me tell you kinder lies. Jane kept asking for the truth, and she barely slept at all that night.

“My brother died fighting, didn’t he?” Beacon doesn’t answer and she shakes him, aware that it’s a useless gesture. “What more did you want from him? He fought, and he defended people, and he died. That’s not enough of a warrior for you?”

Beacon is silent for a long moment. Finally, quietly, he admitted: “Yes, Duck Newton fell in battle.”

Jane takes a deep breath. She reminds herself that she already guessed as much, but it’s different to know for sure. “Yeah. So, I don’t want to hear you talk shit about my brother. I don’t need a fucking sword, and I’ll throw you in the river to rust if you start with that shit again.”

She might be imagining the hint of respect in his voice when he says “Understood.”

Leo finds her a couple of days later, when she’s unlocking the door to Duck’s apartment. He doesn’t have any more answers than Minerva does, can’t tell her the why or how of any of it, but he points to Beacon and tells her that he can teach her.

“I’m not an expert but I know a few things. Better than nothing, right?”

He’s one of those people Jane almost knows, the kind she’s seen around but probably hasn’t had an actual conversation with in years. Duck was always better at that kind of thing than her, was always around to remind her of names that had slipped her mind. If she was going to do this, if she was going to stay and protect these people, she was going to have to get better at that. She couldn’t be Duck, but she would have to make the effort.

Jane takes him up on the offer. It’s... surprisingly good for her, actually, to swing Beacon and take her anger out on targets. Leo seems to get it; Leo just gets a lot of things, a lot more than she would’ve given him credit for on first impression. 

“I’m sorry about Duck,” he tells her eventually. They hadn’t talked much about Duck before then. Jane’s pretty sure Leo didn’t know how to start the conversation. “You’re brother was a good guy. He’d be proud of you, you know.”

Jane likes to think she knows, but it’s good to hear it from someone else. It’s good to be sure.

When Jane finds Mama, she’s on the porch of the Amnesty Lodge. Mama sees the family resemblance and the sword on Jane’s hip, and she doesn’t have to ask why Jane is there.

She does ask if Jane knows the details of how Duck died, and if she’s sure. Jane is sure, and Mama doesn’t question her resolve. She just tells Jane the truth, hands her a patch, and welcomes her.

Jane sits beneath the trees for a few hours, staring at the patch. She wonders how Duck felt when he was given his. She could guess, she could ask the other members, but she couldn’t talk to Duck so she’d never really know.

“This probably isn’t exactly what you wanted, when you told me to talk to Mama,” she says to the empty air. It feels like he’s there anyway, the way it always does when she’s in the forest. “I’m sorry. But I have to - you probably felt like you had to at the time, didn’t you? I bet you were thinking about everyone else but you.” She sighs and leans back against the tree. “I’m gonna need you to help me, Duck. I’m not as good as you. I’m not as brave. I need your help if I’m gonna do this.”

A breeze rustles the branches, and Jane smiles.

Jane is waiting for Ned when he unlocks the Cryptonomica. He freezes in the doorway when he sees the shape of her leaning against the front desk, Beacon gripped loosely in her hand.

“Hey Ned, how’ve you been?”

He closes the door slowly. ��I’ve been... fine. Reasonably well. And how have you been, Jane?”

“Could be better.” She’s worked hard, to let go of the anger and the hate. It’s working but it’s working slowly. She’ll get there - she’ll have to, if she’s going to fight monsters with these people. “Have been better. You and me need to have a conversation, Ned.”

Ned flinches, but he doesn’t make excuses or try to run off. That’s progress since the last time she’d seen him. “What about?” Ned makes an attempt to sound composed, but Jane isn’t fooled.

“What do you think? I want to talk about Duck.”

“Jane --”

“Just listen, Ned. Just shut up and listen, for once.” Ned shuts up, and Jane sighs. “You were there, right? That’s what I hear. He wasn’t alone - you and Aubrey were there.”

He hesitates before answering. “Yes. We were there.”

“But you were distracted, both of you were. You’d lied to Aubrey and she was upset, and neither of you were on your game. And when it was go time, when whatever that thing was went after my brother,” she pauses, taking a moment to breathe. Her voice had been getting loud, angry, and she needed a second to not go there. “When that thing went after my brother, neither of you saw. And it killed him.”

“Jane, I’m so sorry.” He sounds sincere. When Jane looks up, there are tears on his face, and she’s thrown. He has changed - the Ned she knew didn’t cry for people.

“Are you?” He’s about to answer, but she cuts him off. “Are you really? Because if you’re really, truly sorry, Ned Chicane, that shit will not happen again. You will have my back. Aubrey will have my back. And when we’re facing a threat, the only thing that matters will be protecting each other and the innocent. That’s what you can do for my brother.”

“You?” Jane turns enough so that Ned can see the patch on the shoulder of her jacket, and he stares.

“Me. I’m going to finish what my brother started. Now, I’m going to have this conversation with Aubrey and then we should all be on the same page. Can you do that, Ned? Can I trust you?”

Ned looks up when she asks, his expression as serious as hers - the expression of someone who’s lost someone and feels the loss keenly. Jane realizes, for the first time, that Ned and Aubrey were more than Duck’s teammates. They’d been friends. Duck was missed all over Kepler, and here too.

“You can trust me.”

Jane sheathes her sword and holds out her hand to shake his. 

[lovely-necromancy]

A Cure for Insomnia Ch.3

WARNING DECEPTIONS OF A PANIC ATTACK

I understand seeing others go through this can sometimes cause panic or anxiety attacks in some and with the use of some imagery I've used I'd feel better if I gave a fair warning that there is a detailed panic attack early on.

,,,,,,,,,,

Whoever said eight hours of sleep was the right amount for humans has never met an insomniac who just spent the last six days and five nights awake. You hoped that fucker is in hell burning for his sins, he probably has more of them that you don't know of. But with bleary eyes looking at your phone you can barely make out that it's just a little past six in the morning. This is backed up by the slimmers of light shinning through the blanket you put over the window last night. Briefly the thought of keeping it up today passes through your mind as you try to curl into an even tighter blanket cocoon.

Stretching out your legs and toes you let your muscles melt into mush in the warmth and comfort of your bed. Closing your eyes and burying your head back into the pillow, you might not be able to go to sleep but resting is nice too. You're so relaxed it almost feels as if all your limbs are floating and you feel the buzz of energy come surging back through you, you hum along with it nuzzling into the pillows.

'Your car was broken into.' the thought flashes through your mind and has you jolting up right.

Chest heaving slightly as frantic eyes dance along the room that hasn't changed since the night before. The buzzing energy from just a few moments before turns into an icy feeling flowing in your veins. It chills you to your core and you've noticed the tremors in your arms causing you to tremble. There's a sick feeling that bubbles up your throat, as you feel the phantoms of tens of hands grabbing at your arms and torso. They move erratically all over and their grips are suffocating, there's a lump in your throat that you have trouble swallowing down.

Bringing a hand up to your throat you jab your thumb right above or right at where your larynx would be. The slight pain from the pressure helps ease the lump away and you're able to get out a few frantic breaths. You hardly notice the wetness on your face from the few tears slipping free from your eyes.

'Gross, gross, gross, gross.' is the only message that rings clear in your mind as you're assaulted by these phantom hands.

You're aware this is a panic attack, but it does little to calm you down. Putting more pressure on your throat and using your feet to propel you back into the mattress. Vaguely you're aware that tiring your body out should calm you or maybe it's the release of an emotional fit that calms you, you aren't sure which and you don't really care at the moment. So flailing your legs you let your feet forcefully slip off of their purchase as you push your muscles to their full extent with force. It doesn't take long before you can't feel your limbs and are gasping for breath.

The phantoms are gone, no longer touching you as they please, and while the lump still sits at the bottom of your throat making it hurt to swallow and breathe around you can begin to feel calm. Actually it's the numbness that takes over you, not a sense of calm. The sense of an empty shell broken from its exertion. One thing's for sure you can't take your car today. If you had a panic attack just by thinking of your car you don't want to risk actually getting behind the wheel.

Everything feels tense, the muscles in your legs are starting to ache and you're pretty sure you'll have a bruise at the base of your throat.  You check your phone with shaky hands to see it's now seven twelve. If you get up now and leave you think you can probably make it into town by eight forty giving you time to grab something from the Dunkin' on the corner across from the shop. Or you could call out, Nate would totally understand. But just the thought of being alone today sends a chill down your spine and the feeling of those phantom hands start creeping their way back into your personal space.

“I'm going to work!” jumping up and out of the bed, away from the grubby grabby specters.

Running around the room you throw on a pair of black shorts, unusual for you to wear at work but if you're walking you'll have to deal, sweaty jeans are uncomfortable and joggers aren't very cohesive to a work environment. Deciding on a binder made from a breathable swimsuit material for the same reason, sweaty bra is too uncomfortable and bra-less isn't really something you're comfortable with. Grabbing the first shirt you find, it's a black tee with the words “The only man for me is Mothman” printed on it surrounded by little white stars and a chibi lil mothamn.

Looking at your outfit altogether cheers you up. It's casual but cute, not to mention these shorts do a lot for your thighs and butt. But, there's no time to dwell on how handsome you are, you need to grab food and get out the door like ten minutes ago! Grabbing a mask printed with the word 'No' dead center and your headphones you leave your room. With the thought of grabbing Dunkin' before work you settle on a Pedialyte Pop to hold you over during your walk, nausea shouldn't hit you right away anyway. Checking your door was locked, thrice, you started your trek to town.

Most people would complain about having to walk or hike while wearing a mask, often times saying it was hard to breathe under the fabric. But you'd say they just didn't have the right size mask for their face shape. You'd run into a few masks that hadn't been the right shape or size throughout the years but you're thankful that your first three had been perfect. Had they been too big or small you probably wouldn't have fallen in love with wearing masks, they were so comfy and let you interact with people without your voice getting stuck in your throat.

You'd taken to wearing them after high school when you'd taken a job of watching an elderly hospice patient's corgi while her family worked on moving to Virginia and closer to her. Anytime you and little Russel went to visit her you'd had to wear a mask, so instead of wearing the disposables you'd bought a set of three reusable ones.

After noting the change in behavior she mentioned your Autism, she'd been a retired social worker and saw the signs when she met you and after spending nearly 40 hours a week together for half a year she was certain you somehow fell through the cracks. It was a shock to you when she threw out the off handed comment but after stating who your pediatrician was, she was sent into a fit of laughter.

“Anya is a dear and a great surgeon, but I think the cultural barrier has stopped her from diagnosing children for years.” she had said all the while wheezing through the oxygen mask, eyes crinkling in amusement.

She'd sat you down with a list of books to look into and written out all your symptoms, she said if you ever wanted to get tested having the list of symptoms would be more helpful than straight up asking for a diagnosis. Some doctors were too by the book back in the 40s so Autism has rarely been studied in depth. Only in the last decade or so has a movement gained momentum to spread not only a wider awareness of the disorder but also acceptance for it. But to a doctor it would seem like you were grasping for attention at least to anyone who spent less time with you than she had. But without at least six thousand dollars to spend on a piece of paper that confirms what you already know you'll just have to stick to coping by using methods you read about from forums and blogs made by people with Autism rather than their parents or someone who's “very close” to them. And like Mary Anne said before she died, “just because you don't have a diagnosis doesn't mean your symptoms aren't there.”. A statment that reassures you from time to time, when you think you must be faking it for attention. And that somehow you managed to fake tics your whole life.

Snapping out of your memories because you could hardly tell your mask was on, and has been for the past forty minutes or so since you'd finished your pop. It wasn't too hot at the moment and like the previous day Kepler's climate has no humidity whatsoever, a huge change from the coast. Checking the time again on your phone you see the clear white numbers stating boldly that it is eight o' nine. You don't feel any closer to town but figure that's normal when all you've seen is the old over grown road. You feel you should have seen the road leading to town by now,  you hope you see it soon or else you'd really over estimated how long it would take to get to town, then you'd be hella late and sweaty. With the way you still had signal to the spotify you doubt you've even made it far enough to reach the dead zone.

Sighing you look down as you walk hoping to maybe find a rock to kick, walking's really boring when there's nothing to explore and you're on a time crunch. A loud honk takes you out of your head and you startle looking up. Doesn't take more than a second before you see a car stopped in the middle of the road in front of you. It's well taken care of for sure but not necessarily new or anything, you don't know too much about cars other than it looks like a black Camry no wait that's the Hyundai symbol. Some type of sedan then.

The back window on your side of the car rolls down and a man leans out and calls to you, you don't hear him at first. Slipping your headphones down to hang around your neck he repeats himself, “Do ya need a ride?” He has a southern accent on the thicker side, not abnormal for West Virginia but you can tell it's not the same dialect, probably from further down. The man has blonde hair styled in that fluffy swooped faux hawk that a lot of gamers had back in 2017/2018. He's got slight thin stubble along his jaw, not quiet five o'clock shadow so he probably has trouble growing facial hair. His eyes are that hazel color everyone wishes they could have, the kinda that had the orangish yellow glow about them. He looks like a fuck boy.

You're nearly ready to point at your mask in an indication of 'no I don't know you creep' when you catch sight of the driver. A boy around your age maybe who looks apathetic, that's not what catches your eye everyone looses the will to live at some point. What draws your attention is the mask he's wearing on his face. He could potentially be like you, or maybe he's just sick and being considerate, or he could have allergies. Whatever the case may be you can't honestly be considering getting into a car with two random men just because one wears a face mask. Hell for all you know they've orchestrated this situation, they could've been watching you analyzing your every move to know that breaking into your car would send you into a state of panic where you wouldn't use your car the next day or two, then you'd be out in the open to kidnap on your walk to town where you couldn't call for help due to being in the dead zone. Why else would they be this far along the old dirt road?

“Ah...miss?” the southern drawl brings you out of your inner ramblings, and the words cause you to bristle.

“I'm not a woman.” you say calmly but firmly.

“Oh, ah sorry sir.” you can't help but huff a laugh at the quick apology, your eyes catch movement through the window. Oh they have a dog with them, a rottweiler at that. Cool kidnappers with a dog, who's wearing a vest how...wait dog in vest oh he must be a service dog. Cool not kidnappers then, just strangers, nice. Seemingly trans allys, slight common ground with the driver, and a service dog it might be safe to engage...or at least humor these men.

“It's fine, I'm They/Them for the record.” You say approaching the car, you make your way to the man leaning out of the window, somehow the presence of a service dog puts you more at ease, especially when the dog only spares you a single glance before his attention's back on the driver, who's not even pretending to pay attention to the two of you. His leg is bouncing up and down, it's not rhythmic and no one's paying attention even as it shakes the car. Probably has ADHD, your dad does that all the time when he's at a stop light, it's a subconscious movement he even does it in waiting rooms or anywhere where he has to sit still really.

“Oh, well sorry 'bout that Mx.” the man in the window stresses the “Mx” but not in the typical fuck boy way, more like he was reinforcing it to himself. “We just saw you walkin' and wanted to see if ya' needed a ride anywhere.” he says.

“If you're going to town, I'd appreciate one, but I wouldn't want to be a bother.” his smile brightens at this but you notice it doesn't reach his eyes, probably just being polite.

“Sure thing, hop on in.” He moves to slide back but you've already opened the passenger door and slid into the seat. Effectively snapping the driver out of whatever haze he was in to look at you, he looks back at his friend with confusion.

“Hi” you say to the driver who gives his own wary 'hey' in response as you buckle yourself in. The driver looked even more apathetic up close, dark eye bags under his eyes that were such a deep brown you couldn't see his pupil he also had that fluffy brown e-boy hair. Not the frizzy hair marketing itself as fluffy but the type that's genuinely fluffy looking forming soft waves in his hair.

If they are kidnappers they're really bad at it, especially if all you have to do to stun them is sit up front in a seat that has the second most control in the car and can escape quicker if the need arises. However, glancing back at the dog you notice his attention's still on the driver, it would be really dumb if a kidnapper brought their service dog with them to do a kidnapping so you're reassured that it's just two southern boys driving through Kepler. And they happened to spot a “damsel” in distress, so they came to the rescue.

“Oh, don't mind Connor he won't bother you. He's here for Toby right now.” The man in the back says and you see the man beside you grip the steering wheel tighter. You nod in response and feel a tickle at the base of your skull, you'll try holding back the tic to not freak the two out.

Just as “Toby” is about to put the car in drive, a bark is heard from the back seat. A frustrated sigh leaves Toby as his hand leaves the gear shift, scowl clear even on his masked face. You guess Toby needs Connor to let him know when he's safe to drive, it's rude to ask about these things but you can't help but guess why that'd be the case.

Another bark leaves Connor right as your head snaps to the right moving back to place, then right, right, up, and right before cracking violently.

“There we go.” you verbalize.

Toby's looking at you in what you can only guess is shock, not the worst reaction you've had to your tics, meanwhile you notice Brian's looking to Connor who's looking directly at you now. Then his head whips around to Toby and he barks, like clockwork Toby's shoulders jerk forwards and his hands jolt up. Connor looks back at you and gives a bark, your head jerks three times cracking your neck two of those times. Connor's gaze is still on you and you know he'll be in an ongoing ping pong game between you and Toby if you keep triggering each other's tics the entire drive, if you'd even be able to get to that point.

“I'm fine, thank you.” you said looking at Connor while holding the sides of your head, trying to as your friend Emonie once said 'keep the bobble head away'.

Thankfully Connor must have had a training course similar to ones you've helped with because he looks away from you and focuses on Toby, who he gives several barks to. Following those barks Toby pops his knuckles and makes a 'mrrwo' sound, sort of imitating a cat, before his head jerks sharply into his knee that jerked up at the same time. You cringe at the sight knowing that must have hurt, hands still firmly pushing your head you see Connor settle down in the back, still on alert but laying down as if to say the muscle spasms have passed. You won't risk removing your hands, you still need a ride into town and this whole situation's put you behind to where you won't make it if you walk now.

“pfft...” you look back to the blonde and he looks ready to burst with laughter from what he just watched. Heat creeping up your face you turn and look away, sure the situation's funny but you don't know these two men and honestly you just feel so embarrassed right now. Especially with last night's incident at the mini mart still fresh in your memory.

“Will you fucking shut up!” Toby barks out, and the blonde tries harder to suppress his laughing fit. Toby glares at his friend before turning his attention back to the road, hand on the gear shift he waits for an alert before putting the car in drive and doing a U-turn back to town.

It's been a while since you've been a passenger in a car, you actually get to take the time to relax and enjoy the passing scenery as Toby drives. He's a surprisingly good driver, most guys his age are speed demons and always want to see how fast they can get away with driving. Toby on the other hand is abiding by the limit even on this open stretch of road with no other cars. But you guess it comes with the territory of needing a service dog to be able to drive, have to abide by the rules. The drive's quiet, you take it as a good thing that the men aren't trying to question or get to know you. If they were kidnappers or up to something nefarious surely they'd be trying to distract you right now with endless chatter to let your guard down. Especially if they'd been watching you and knew what a total chattering encyclopedia you could be when given the right topic. You're gazing out into the window seeing the sign of the town get closer finally when the thought hits you.

“So, your name's Toby, is it short for Tobias?” turning to look at the man, he spares a single side glance with his furrowed brows before responding with an uneasy 'Yea'.

“Cool, sorry if that was a weird question. Tobias is like the best name I've ever heard but I've only met three Tobiases, including you. Could I call you Tobias or do you prefer Toby?”

“I don't really care.” gotta love apathy.

“Cool, cool. Thanks for the ride Tobias!” you chirp out.

“Hey, forgetin' that I'm the one who offered the ride?” The man in the backseat speaks up.

“No, you just never gave me your name. You said Connor's” and ear twitch is all you get such a good boy, “and you said Tobias'. Never mentioned your own.”

“It's Brian, sugar.” you were correct, this man is a fuck boy.

“Yikes, that's gross.”that was a reflex and it was now Toby's turn to laugh at his friend. The man didn't even hide his snickers even had his shoulders bouncing up and down, you think you even caught a mumbled “I won't hesitate bitch”. Meanwhile Brian sat stunned, guess he was used to people finding his nicknames more endearing, meaning he probably meant nothing by it and it was probably the southern accent but it just made you think of the senior men who'd hit on you back before you moved out here.

“Yea don't call me 'sugar', anyway, I'm YN, it's nice to meet you three.”  Toby just nods as his laughter dies down a clucking sound resonates from his throat, Brian however goes right back to his friendly persona with a 'good to meet ya.' Again it's slightly off, it doesn't feel like he's trying to be polite...it feels like...you can't put your finger on it but it's familiar. Like when you fake a conversation with Nate or your mother on the days where exhaustion is nearly killing you, but Brian doesn't seem tired or sluggish.

The rest of the drive is relatively quiet as you direct Toby how to maneuver the streets and he parks in the parking lot of Dunkin'. While you were getting out you'd asked the men if you could get them anything from Dunkin' as a thank you for driving you. Brian tried to decline but Toby spoke over him with what “they” wanted.

“Ok cool, can Connor have a pup cup?” unsure if service dogs could have treats while working.

Sparing a glance to the good boy in question Toby shrugged “Yea, he's due for a break any-anyway.” he ends with popping his knuckles. You assume Connor only alerts motor tics when Toby is driving or about to start driving, since that tic didn't get clocked.

You repeat the order to the cashier once inside. You also get a frozen caramel coffee and an iced caramel coffee for you and Nate along with a box of donuts to pick from for the day. When she hands you everything you're able to balance Toby's order on top of your box and your drinks in the other hand. Walking out with the help of the next man coming in, nodding thanks as you pass him, you see Toby leaning against his car with Connor sitting next to him, no vest on.

It's terrifying how well trained Connor is, because the dog you left in the car barely paid you any mind. While this hyper pup's tail is wagging at just the sight of you, his paws lifting slightly in a tiny dance as you get closer. But he doesn't dare move from his sit, looking up at Toby for cues and looking at you who holds his treat.  Had you not worn a mask for so long you may have missed the smile Toby gave Connor as he pat the dog's head. The slight crinkles around the edges were a dead give away though. With a quick snap Connor is released from whatever command he'd been held by and runs up to you once you're five feet from them.

Drooling mouth opening and closing in an odd mute bark for a dog this size. You take note of the fact that while he's jumping excitedly and pawing the air he hasn't laid a single paw on you. Whoever trained him knew what they were doing that's for sure. Looking up to Toby you hold the one hand outstretched for him to take his items, a tray with Connor's pup cup and his iced coffee, and a white baggie with three donuts, strawberry glazed, maple glazed, and an apple fritter.

Once he's taken his items you balance your drinks on top of the box. Connor's attention hasn't moved from you even through the exchange. You're a little confused by the pup's antics but he probably thinks he can get a donut off you.

“Sorry bubbie, your dad's got your treat not me.” that dopey little face tilts to the left not understanding you aren't the treat giver at this time. You laugh letting him smell the hand that had the coffee in it so maybe he'd understand you didn't have his treat. He excitedly sniffs you, and gives you a few licks before sitting back right in front of you with a blur of a tail behind him. Such a silly boy, he deserves some chin scritches.

“He's smart, told him you'd give 'im this.” Toby says holding out the pup cup to you, as you bend at an awkward angle balancing food in one hand while scratching his dog with the other.

Connor's a little disappointed when his pets stop but jumps to all fours when he sees the pup cup. His tail is wagging so fast you'd be afraid his butt will fall off, if that was a thing that could happen. You go to put the cup in front of him but Toby stops you.

“Hold on, Connor sit.” As soon as his name was called his bottom was on the ground. “You already know his release word so when you want him to take it just say the release.” He says offhandedly while placing the bag in the passengers seat and his drink in the cup holder. You can hear murmured arguing from inside the car, but choose to ignore it. These guys clearly aren't kidnappers, and if they were it's so stupid to kidnap you in broad day light after you just made a purchase and with literally a street in between you and your work, where your boss is waiting for you.

Placing the cup in front of Connor you didn't think it was possible for him to get any more excited but his tail is now undetectable by the human eye. He looks from his treat to you, back, and back to you. Toby said you already knew the release, and there's only one thing you've said to Connor throughout the trip.

“Thank you.” it's immediate, for such a well mannered service dog on and off duty this pup has no table manners. There is whip cream everywhere it's on the ground, his paws, even behind his head. How on earth did he manage that? This must be Connor's only character flaw because Toby is back with what you can only assume are all the napkins he had received in the donut bag, and service vest under his arm.

Once the pup cup was utterly decimated Connor sat happily, butt wiggling, as his dad wiped the rest of the whip cream off of him. Showing the pup the huge glob he had behind his ear only had him licking it off the napkin before licking his dad's face.

“Wrong.” Toby called, a little bummed the pup calmed down a bit but his tail was still going. Toby paused before he slipped the vest back on Connor. Head jerking back twice he looked over to you.

“You wanna say 'bye'?” you perked at the question, if you had a tail of your own it'd probably be wagging just as fast as Connor's.

Do you want to pet a dog, what kind of question was that? Of course you fucking do. Yea you might be late to work but petting a dog is always worth it. Setting your breakfast and coffee on the hood of the car you bent down with Toby to Connor's level.

If that dog could talk he'd tell everyone you gave the best ear scratches, sure you may have smooshed his wrinkly face a ton. But you were so nice and was that baby coos, ah he loves you new best friend. Connor jumped up when you started cooing and gave you a ton of kisses to the face. You couldn't stop laughing and the repetitive motion triggered a tic. Thankfully your mask was on so Toby couldn't see you tongue poke out repeatedly as you said “bleh” in between giggles.

“Wrong.” he says gently pushing the drooling pup away. Shaking the spit off his hand before scratching the pup under the chin, right where the bottom of his ear met his jaw. The pup instantly melted calming into his handlers touch. With his dog now calm he whistles and Connor is standing up straight, Toby slips the vest over his head and secures it. Connor the puppy has turned back into Connor the good boy working pup.

Grabbing your stuff from the hood of the car you turn to Toby and Connor, “Thanks again for the ride, and for letting me pet your dog.”

You're met with a simple shrug, not much phases Toby you've noticed. Aside from his tics that is.

“See ya later Tobias!” with that you're on your way to cross the street legally, and by that you totally jay walked out into traffic in front of the sheriff. You may have jay walked in front of the sheriff, but he didn't do anything so you're fine.