#brother promised to drive me to my storage unit (he asked if I wanted to go sometime. I didn't ask him)

[plushie-lovey]

Storage unit plans got canceled btw. Idk why I bother saying anything about getting new things or doing things before they happen lol

[invisibleanonymousmonsters]

All Men Have Limits - XI

Character: Dick Grayson x Reader x Bruce Wayne

Summary: A certain bat believes that Y/N is in way over her head, that she’s too naive to act in her best interest. So, whether she wants it or not, the vigilante family is going to help and protect her before she gets herself killed.

Word Count: 3,700+

Warnings: Mentions of past abuse

Previously on…

How did she let this happen?

Y/N had tried to push her short-lived romance with Bruce Wayne out of her mind for two years. And the moment she sees him again, for the first time since, it all went to hell. 

Why did she let him have her so easily? 

Why was he so hard to fight? 

His presence was difficult to ignore. And when he acted on their mutual feelings, Y/N knew she’d do just about anything for him.

But could two stubborn, emotionally distant, and nearly impossible people make it work?

But then Dick…Dick Grayson. 

Whenever Y/N thought of him, a warmth spread through her chest. He wasn’t scared of her. Instead of trying to break down her walls, he patiently waited for her to open a side door for him. He was patient and kind. Though he adopted Bruce’s flirtatious and charming ways, it was backed by substance in a way Bruce never bothered to follow up with.

Both men loved her differently.

But that didn’t mean one loved her more than the other either. 

–––––––––––

When Y/N reached the bottom of the cave, she found Dick training.

He was shirtless with a pair of shorts on, lifting himself up on the still rings.

She allowed herself to watch him for a moment. 

It was unreal the amount of strength he held to be able to move the way he was. He had clearly been modest when she asked if he could go to the olympics. 

Dick’s skin was shining, drenched in sweat.

How long had he been working out?

What she didn’t know was that Dick had been at it for hours, trying to work out his frustrations by making himself physically exhausted.

Finally Dick landed by doing an aerial dismount that consisted of so many twists and flips that Y/N just blinked in amazement. 

“Come to get your equipment?” Dick asked without looking at her. 

He was out of breath and clearly tired as he rubbed his face with a towel.

“Yeah,” she answered. “Jason’s bringing one of his cars to help me pack it up.”

She didn’t want to inconvenience anyone else in the family further. But she couldn’t exactly hire a TaskRabbit to help her pack up thousands of dollars worth of hacking equipment and ask them to drop it off at one of her many safe houses.

Plus, Jason owed her after the scene he cased at that infamous family dinner, and she made sure to tell him so.

Dick scoffed a bit. “So, you and Jason hang out now?”

Y/N smirked. “We started a club. We’re calling it The Club for the Parentally Abused and Recently Resurrected.”

Dick could help but let a smile slip.

“But I also came to talk to you.”

He walked past her now, and still hadn’t even looked at her since she arrived.

“You don’t owe me any explanation, Y/N. I got the message loud and clear.”

Y/N took in a deep breath. This was going to be hard. But she had to do it.

“When I was five years old, I left my stuffed animal at the park. I wouldn’t stop crying on the drive home. My parents started screaming at me to be quiet. Eventually they gave up, pulled over, and kicked me out of the car. It was 5 miles back to the apartment and it was 30 degrees out. Luckily, I knew my way home."

The story made Dick’s eyes snap up and he finally looked at her. And when he did, his expression was filled with rage and sympathy – rage towards her parents, but sympathy for Y/N. She should’ve never had to deal with such abuse.

Y/N shrugged. “And that’s one of the better moments.”

Dick took a step towards her. “Y/N…”

Her eyes were glued to the ground as she continued. “To this day, I jump anytime someone drops something. I can’t watch sports because the sound of men yelling causes panic attacks.” 

Then she finally found the courage to meet his gaze. 

“When I meet men, in my eyes, they’re all my father until they prove otherwise. And the reason I’m always waiting for the floor to drop out from underneath me... is because it always has.”

Dick waited. 

Y/N knew he was silently telling her he understood.

A couple tears managed to slip down her face, but she quickly wiped them away.

“Bruce was the first person I ever shared my past with. And now…now you’re the second.”

Dick still didn’t know what to say to her.

“I’m so sorry for hurting you, Dick. That was never ever my intention.”

Dick sighed, “I know.”

And he did. He did know.

Dick took in a deep breath, “I spent a big part of my life trying to stop myself from turning into him. I became terrified by the idea. I started disagreeing with his methods. He stopped looking like the perfect man to me. Eventually, I left Gotham because of it all.”

He shook his head in disappointment. “But I’m realizing those are the same things that make him the man that you love.”

His hand moved through his hair. “Now I’m starting to wonder…what if the only things you like about me is just everything that he made me be?”

Y/N couldn’t listen to any more of it. She couldn’t keep standing there and hear him tear himself down and compare himself to the man he had idolized for most of his life. Even if he saw Bruce as just human now, the man was still somewhat of a father figure to him.

“No,” she immediately stepped to Dick and clutched his face.

On instinct alone, he put his hands on top of hers, scared she’d stop touching him too quickly.

“Dick, listen to me. That’s not true. None of that’s true.”

“Don’t just tell me what you think I want to hear,” he begged.

“I’m not. I promise I’m not.”

Y/N took in a shaky breath.

By telling Dick what he needed to hear, Y/N was also exposing herself. It was scary for her. Talking to Dick about their complicated relationship was like speaking a different language compared to the way she used to communicate with Bruce. And she could admit that communication was often no communication at all.

“The things I love about you have nothing to do with Bruce,” her words were unafraid and sincere.

Dick blinked at the word ‘love.’

“You wear your heart on your sleeve, Dick. And I know you’re sometimes ashamed of it, because you’ve been convinced that you shouldn’t do that. But it’s…it’s so… different.”

She laughed lightly at herself, “Different than what I’m used to. Different than what I’ve ever expected from men.”

“I always know what’s going on in that heart of yours,” she continued. “There’s no guessing with you. I never doubt your feelings. Because you don’t hide anything.”

Y/N figured out what she was really trying to get at.

“Because you’re not scared.” She paused. “You’re not scared to love me, even when you think you don’t have a chance.”

“Do I have a chance?” He whispered.

Y/N finally dropped her hands from his face and stepped away from him. “I can’t – Dick, I can’t get between you two.”

He chuckled darkly. “It’s a little late for that.”

Y/N hid her face in her hands in desperation. “Please, don’t say that to me. Please.”

“He’s in love with you, too.” Dick declared.

“Dick, stop!”

“No, I won’t.” He snapped back. “Bruce is in love with you, Y/N. And you can’t keep lying and convincing yourself that he’s not.”

“It’s not that simple!”

But she could tell he was growing frustrated with her.

“Then tell me why you love him,” Dick surprised her by asking. “I need to know. I need to know why, because that’s the only way I’m going to be able to let you go.”

Y/N’s lips trembled as her eyes filled with tears again. She shook her head, “Please don’t make me.”

But when she looked up, his gaze was pleading.

So Y/N closed her eyes, the pressure of it made more tears escape and slide down her cheeks. She took in a deep breath, desperate for it to calm her down enough to even speak.

“That first night me and him shared...I hadn’t slept that soundly in years. And it was because I felt...safe. He’s always made me feel safe, like nothing could ever happen to me.” She shook her head and her eyes glazed over as she remembered the past. “I know I asked for this life. I’m always on the edge of being in danger, and I always have to be on the move. But it just felt like...like I could finally breathe.”

She gave Dick a sad smile. “And it’s been the same since I got here. I was just too stubborn to admit it.”

Then she shook her head. “I’m so tired of being scared. And I’m so tired of convincing myself that I don’t deserve to be loved.”

“Y/N,” Dick whispered her name as if he was begging. He moved to her and clutched her face and bowed until their foreheads touched. “I can keep you safe, too. I promise. I always will.”

“I know. Because you’re the only reason I’m alive right now.”  

“I love you, Y/N.” He murmured as if it was his most treasured secret. 

But they had both known that for awhile. 

“And I know you love Bruce…but I think you love me, too.”

Y/N hesitated before she whispered, “I do love you.”

Dick didn’t even try to stop himself from kissing her.

He pulled her hips to his, refusing to allow any space between their bodies. Her lips were wet with tears, but he didn’t care. This kiss needed to tell her everything he felt. This was his final statement. If his words couldn’t convince her, then maybe he could make her feel it all.

Jason Todd’s timing was like the rapture. 

His car screeched to a stop on the platform below them.

Except Dick didn’t give a damn if his brother saw them. He barely let Y/N pull away, but still tried to brush her tears away with his thumb as it grazed her cheek.

“Sorry to interrupt,” Jason yelled up with a cheeky grin.

Y/N still shifted out of Dick’s embrace.

To both the men’s surprise, she didn’t glare down at Jason.

“Come on. I’ll help you get all this into his truck,” Dick told her softly.

Their moment had ended.

And Dick couldn’t help but believe that he’d lost her.

———

Jason helped Y/N carry all her equipment in the storage unit she had directed him to.

The young man had the same strength as three professional movers and she was taking full advantage of it.

“Don’t you want all this crap with you?” Jason asked when he finally moved the final piece inside.

Y/N pulled down the garage door, slamming it closed, and activated multiple locks before facing him.

“Nope.”

Jason eyed her suspiciously. “Don’t tell me The Court traumatized you into retiring…”

“Of course not. But I am taking a break.”

He nodded, accepting the answer.

“Where to next?” He asked while nodding towards his truck.

“You don’t have to give me a ride. I think I want to walk.”

“Hell no. Bruce and Dick would kill me if I let you do that.”

Y/N rolled her eyes and slowly opened her jacket to show that she had one of her guns hidden away.

“You taught me well.”

Jason sighed heavily, “You wanna be alone. I get it.”

“Thank you for your help, Jason.”

He just shrugged, “I owed you.”

Y/N nodded and shoved her hands into the pockets of her jacket.

“You know what you’re doing?” Jason asked.

“Not really,” she admitted.

To her surprise, Jason's face was sympathetic. “Look, I know I give you a lot of shit. And none of it’s my business.”

He scratched the back of his neck.

“They both love you. OK? And I know they both go about showing it in completely different ways. But that’s just how they are. We’re all a fuckin’ mess.”

“I know,” Y/N mumbled as she looked at the ground, shoulders slumped.

“But I know what it’s like to be beaten down by life. So I just want to make sure you remember that you deserve it.”

“Deserve what?” Y/N asked, confused.

“To be loved.” Then his eyes turned the most serious she’d ever seen, and he pointed to her sternly. “Don’t let what happened in the past make you think otherwise.”

Jason already hated how preachy he sounded, so he gave a final nod and walked to the driver’s side of the truck.  

“Jason!” She called out.

He paused before he got into the driver’s seat.

“The same goes for you.” She smiled. “Remember, we’re in a club now.”

He smirked before giving her a final salute, and driving away.

———

Walking back to her safe house was therapeutic for Y/N.

Yeah, there were worse places than Wayne Manor to be kept on house arrest. But Y/N also couldn’t remember the last time she went on a walk like this. It did wonders to clear her head.

Though she was still paranoid and made sure to remain aware of her surroundings. And she probably looked over her shoulder too frequently to appear natural. But after everything she’d been through, her life still didn’t feel safe.

So, imagine Y/N’s panic when she walked into her safe house and immediately knew someone had been there.

She immediately pulled out her gun and started to do a perimeter check.

However, her panic slowly subsided when she saw a note on the kitchen counter.

Next to the note was what appeared to be a tracking device. Not as sophisticated as anything Y/N could make. But it was still rather advanced.

She walked closer to read it and instantly recognized Bruce’s handwriting.

“We had a deal,” was all he’d written.

When Y/N turned on the tracker, she quickly noted that the coordinates it gave matched the location of Wayne Manor.

A sad smile spread across her lips at the blinking light.

This was a strange way of expressing affection and trust, but that was Bruce.

There had been a part of her that didn’t believe Bruce Wayne would ever allow someone to always know where he was. But then again, he always found a way to surprise her.

Y/N looked around at her apartment.

It was cold and unwelcoming. The purpose was to provide a safe location and remain isolated. It was never meant to become a home – none of her safe houses were. Without her equipment humming, it felt even quieter than usual – unsettling even.

One thing was sure to Y/N…she couldn’t live this way anymore.

–––––––––––

Dick was fixing up his motorcycle in the garage at the manor.

He was planning on driving it across the country and wanted to make sure it was in good ship before he put that kind of mileage on it.

His attention shifted away from it when his phone lit up and vibrated from a message.

To Dick’s surprise, he read Jason’s name.

“You should talk to her. I think she’s really going through it right now,” was all his younger brother texted.

Dick sighed in frustration and tossed his phone away a little too roughly.

He rubbed his face. 

He’d been suffering from a headache every day since he last saw Y/N. 

Maybe it was his punishment for submitting so easily.

Dick stood up from kneeling next to his motorcycle.

No, he wasn’t going to talk to Y/N.

But he was going to talk to Bruce.

While Dick had been distracting himself with his upcoming escape back to the Titans, Bruce drowned himself in new cases. He’d extended his patrolling hours so long that he barely had time to sleep and eat. Half the time, he didn’t even bring Damian along with him. 

Dick knew he would find Bruce in the cave, seeing as he hadn’t left it in days.

Bruce didn’t turn away from his research even though he heard Dick’s entrance.

But that didn’t slow Dick down as he marched to him.

“Are you really going to do this?” Dick shot.

He didn’t need to elaborate, they both knew what he was talking about.  

“We’re not having this discussion,” Bruce tried to shut it down without even looking at him.

“Nope. That’s not going to work anymore.” Dick reached out and pressed a button, turning all of the screens blank. “We’re talking about this whether you want to or not!” Dick snapped.

Bruce was clearly irritated. Not only did he finally acknowledge Dick and meet his gaze, but he also stood from the chair and sized him up.

Dick’s jaw clenched before he began. “I know you’d protect her with your life. But are you going to protect her from Bruce Wayne?”

The question was brutal, but necessary.

Dick wasn’t holding back any longer.

“Because we didn’t have any choice. We changed our expectations and adapted. But Y/N? She shouldn’t have to do that. So you’re either all in or you need to let go.”

The ‘we’ was Dick and his brothers, but Bruce didn’t need him to clarify.

Dick never had any intention of being cruel. But he had to be blunt with Bruce. And Dick wasn’t going to watch as he put Y/N through what he and his brothers had to in the past. 

She would bend and fold herself for Bruce, lowering her expectations and latching onto what little he gave her, putting it all on a pedestal and giving it more meaning than it deserved.

“If you promise to actually commit to someone for the first time in your life and put them before Batman, I’ll walk away. I’ll do it for you. And I’ll do it for her.” The fire in his eyes was blazing. “But I can’t sit back and watch as you treat her like shit. She deserves better than that. And you know it.”

There wasn’t a single lie in what Dick said. 

Over the years, Dick was always the most frustrated with Bruce’s lack of emotional competence. Jason was angry at Bruce for far more than just that. Tim didn’t seem to have many thoughts on it. And Damian didn’t see it as a problem, which was an entirely different issue.

But if it weren’t for Dick, Bruce would be far worse – even though that seemed rather impossible.

“Do you love her?” Bruce asked Dick.

He blinked at the question, taken off guard by how intimate it felt coming from Bruce.

“Yes,” Dick answered, leaving no room for doubt.

“Why?”

“What do you mean why?” Dick glared at him.

But Dick still jumped right into it as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. “Y/N is one of the smartest people I’ve ever met in my life. She makes me laugh – even when I know her sarcasm and humor are hiding darkness. She’s selfless – more selfless than all of us. And she cares about everyone, even when they don’t deserve it. She dedicated her life to helping people and, until recently, she was fine doing it all by herself. ”

Bruce couldn’t help but smirk darkly at Dick’s list and crossed his arms, “You forgot to mention how beautiful she is.”

“Yeah. Well… anyone with eyes knows that,” Dick rumbled.

Bruce was quiet, clearly deep in thought.

What was going on in that head of his?

“She left Gotham,” Bruce finally stated.

Dick’s eyes widened. “Left?”

“Yesterday.”

“Yesterday? So...what? You don’t know where she is or you’re not going after her?” Dick snapped.

“I know where she is.”

Dick’s face dropped. “You’re not going after her,” he muttered in disbelief.

Bruce didn’t have to say anything to confirm Dick’s suspicions.

“You’re an asshole and a fool, Bruce.”

“I’m doing the best thing for her,” he countered.

“That’s what you think. But how will she feel?” Dick shook his head in disgust. “But you never ask yourself those questions, do you, Bruce? You never consider other people’s feelings.”

“I promised to always put Gotham first, Dick.”

“Oh, come on, Bruce!” Dick groaned. “You made that promise – what? – 20 years ago? Don’t try to tell me that things haven’t change.”

“You think she wants to stay in this mansion by herself, wondering if I’m going to come back alive?” Bruce finally fought back. “You think she deserves a man who will always put her second?”

“Then don’t, Bruce! Don’t put her second! She chose you! Don’t make her regret it!”

But Dick had enough and he also wanted the final word.

So with that, he stormed out of the cave, leaving Bruce alone again.

Dick was about to go to his room and finish packing up his things to leave when Alfred called his name.

“This arrived for you,” Alfred informed him politely as he offered him an envelope.

Dick’s heart beat faster as he grabbed the letter, somehow already knowing it was from Y/N.

He ripped it open without hesitation, not bothering to wait for the privacy of his room to read it.

Dick,

We both know I’m absolute shit at opening up. But I am hoping that maybe writing it all down will be easier. I figured it’s worth a try. 

I’m sorry for the way things happened. I hope you believe me when I say that I never meant to hurt the two of you.

It recently occurred to me that I haven’t experienced much of life.

I went from living in an abusive household, to living on the streets, to using all of my energy trying to bring down the corrupt. I’ve spent so much of my life either running or fighting that I realized I don’t actually know how to just simply…live.  

So...

By the time you get this, I will have left Gotham. I think it’s about time I stop running and start learning who I am when I stand still. 

I don’t expect you to forgive me for pushing and pulling you.

But I hope you believe me when I say I love you. I really do, Dick Grayson. 

And the truth is, you scared the shit out of me. But I also know you deserve someone more than just me. And the idea of you realizing that at any moment, only to leave me, was too heartbreaking to face.

I hope this isn’t goodbye forever. 

“When did this arrive?” Dick asked almost panicked.

“Just this morning, Master Dick.” Alfred answered.

“Thanks, Alfred.”

He took a few steps toward the stairs before Alfred called out, “Master Dick?”

“Yeah?”

“It feels rather important to emphasize that there was only one letter…”

Dick’s gaze flickered to where the cave entrance was, the place they both knew where Bruce was currently hiding. 

Then he looked back to Alfred, showing that he understood what he was trying to silently tell him.

Y/N didn’t write a letter to Bruce.

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

Part 12 – The End

I’m sorry to tell you that there is only one more part after this. 

So please please please let me know what you think. Write me a book report. Write me a novel. 

A/N: The scene between Bruce and Dick was inspired by two things:

This conversation from the comics. 

And this scene from Sabrina. Obviously this is a much more comical take, but I’ve seen this movie probably 100 times and it holds a similar meaning to this story. 

[yutaya]

Iron Fist Week Day 7: minor character/missing scene

Albert is a man. A man... with a van.

He's proud of his van. Sure it was a bitch and a half to get certified and sometimes trying to drive three freaking blocks in this city when he's having a bad enough day can threaten to put his blood pressure through the roof, but he's ground out an honest living for himself with it. That's no mean feat, in this neighborhood.

Plus, Al likes his job. It involves a lot of visiting every nook and cranny of the area, meeting loads of people at varying levels of talkative - it's a job that requires someone personable, and Al doesn't think it's too immodest to say that he fits the bill.

Staring down a fully loaded armoire, though, Al can admit to himself that there are times he's less fond of this job than others.

By the time he's got the thing down on the sidewalk, doors and drawers bound shut and with an initial layer of wrapping to protect it from pedestrian traffic while he sets up the loader, Al has mentally added two upticks to his pain-in-the-ass fee.

"Woah, can I help you with that?"

Al pauses in his transferring long enough to take a look at who's spoken. It's a white guy, 20s, a little scruffy but looks comfortable, and, most importantly, seems genuine.

Al smiles at him. "I appreciate the offer, but these need to be moved in a specific way to prevent scuffing."

"Oh." Al goes back to loading the armoire. "...Would you show me?" Al pauses again. Looks back at the guy. "I'm Danny, by the way," he adds, and smiles beatifically.

Al blinks up at the sky. Had the sun shone more brightly for a second, there? He turns back to wrapping the furniture with blankets and bungee cords. "You need to move a lot of furniture, Danny?" he asks while he works. Engaging in friendly conversation with strangers is second nature to him, at this point.

Danny, who has the courtesy to remain standing out on the street behind the van as they talk, bounces a little as he replies. "Yes, actually! My girlfriend and I have been redoing her apartment."

"Wow, big project. Hey, if you guys need stuff moved around, I've got you covered. Back and forth from the storage unit, delivering your new stuff from the store, bringing your old stuff wherever it's going... My rates are fair and, as you can see, I'd actually take care of your things." He pats the carefully cushioned furniture from his current job in indication.

Danny laughs a little, looking at it. "At least that isn't a piano, right?"

"Hey man, pianos have wheels. I can walk them right up the ramp."

Danny eyes the ramp Al uses with the handtrucks. "Isn't it too skinny?"

Al laughs again. "What kind of piano are you picturing, a grand?" As if anyone who owned one of those would be hiring Al to move it. As if anyone who owned one of those would be living in this area at all.

Danny shrugs, unbothered. "I haven't seen one since I was a kid. Maybe it seemed bigger back then." A beat passes, and then Danny continues talking, the oversharing sort of babble symptomatic of the sleep-deprived. "Anyway, we'll definitely call you for help with our stuff. And you can show me all the right ways to handle everything! I'm probably going to be doing a lot of rearranging furniture and stuff since Colleen is out at Bayard all the time now; she keeps talking about helping the community during the daytime - Colleen's my girlfriend, she's the best - and, I mean, she's right, of course, plus, we just got back to the city and I am not used to not having to do something -" he cuts himself off, lighting up. "Hey, could I get a job with you?"

Al startles. He can usually recognize when someone's coming at that angle. Granted, they usually don't seem to stumble into it by mistake.

"The shop down the street is hiring," he offers. "On the corner."

"Thanks! I'd like to work for this business, though."

Al pauses. Revaluates "Danny". There are only so many reasons someone would be looking for a moving job specifically, and in this neighborhood, the most likely scenario is one that Al has been very carefully steering clear of for 30 years.

"I appreciate the interest," he repeats cautiously, "but we're a small business. I'm afraid we don't really have the means to hire right now." It's a bit of a risk, revealing a vulnerability like that. Luckily, Albert is overstating it a bit; it won't be that easy for any of the triads to put financial pressure on him, and, well. He's stubborn. He swore a long time ago that he wouldn't go there.

"Oh, that's not a problem!" Danny says brightly. "You wouldn't need to pay me. I'm more looking for the experience, you know? I've never had a normal job, and Colleen thinks it'll be good for us to start over."

The alarm bell clanging in Al's head rises to a shriek, then falters. If this is a ploy, it is astoundingly poorly executed. If this guy is in with any sort of organized crime, he can't be more than a fledgling recruit. Al feels a moral obligation to try and steer him better, even if his self preservation instincts disagree.

"Look," Al says, watching Danny's face carefully. "I'm running an honest business, here. I'm not interested in having our name attached to anything. And, if I could offer you a word of advice?" Danny, who mostly just looks confused, nods. "Don't go saying that stuff about working for free. Depending who hears it, that's a good way to end up either severely taken advantage of, or in a coffin. Anyone you might be trying that hard to get a resource for won't be happy about you overplaying your hand."

Danny still looks confused. Al mimes swinging a hatchet. Danny's eyes go wide with clarity.

"I'm not with the triads," he says disconcertingly earnestly. "I'm the Iron Fist. I'm sworn to defend the city from people like them."

...Ok.

Well, at least this is an interesting conversation.

"If you're not with the triads, why do you want this job?"

"I guess I'm looking for something new. For fifteen years, I had one purpose. Now, it's done. Now, I need to build a new life, and..." His voice dips in a certain way with the next words, a way that makes Al's stomach sink with the familiarity of it. "...keep a promise to a friend."

Al looks at Danny, a pit in his stomach and memories in his heart. Resignation settles underneath his skin.

"You have a résumé?" he asks. At least Danny doesn't seem inclined to just throw things around, like some other shipping companies that Al could name. Royal Al Moving provides quality for its clients, thank you very much.

"I don't think so. What is that, equipment? I could buy some."

Al stares at him. He'd been expecting either an agreement to email or bring by a copy later, or a conversation along the lines of 'do I really need one?' followed by a verbal listing off of previous work or even just ability.

"Do you have any previous experience?" Al tries again. "Had any jobs before?"

"Yeah, I have," Danny says, and doesn't elaborate.

White people.

"What about ID?" Al asks, despite knowing full well he'll probably pretend not to notice if anything seems off about it.

Danny laughs a bit, seemingly unphased by his own complete lack of knowledge regarding ordinary job application/interview etiquette whatsoever. "Oh, I definitely have that. Had to fight really hard for it, too. It was almost all gone, but once everything got sorted out, we made, like, 10 new copies of everything." Danny pats around at his pockets, not appearing to notice Al's incredulous expression. "I don't have any of those with me right now, but... Ah ha!" He pulls something out triumphantly. "Business cards! I'm pretty sure my brother thought I was just going to destroy them, but my friend Jeri said it's important to always have one. It might have gone through the laundry, though, sorry."

Assuming this day can't get any weirder, like a fool, Al takes the card.

Even worn and slightly crumpled, the obnoxiously expensive quality of the original card is still clear. There's embossing and gold foil, for god's sake. The Rand Enterprises logo glints up at him almost mockingly even as the three dimensional lines of the border rise and fall under his thumb. Either seems unnecessary and frankly tone deaf for a Humanitarian Aid company, let alone both. Then again, maybe they reserve this version of the card for the executive level, those who hobnob among the elite, who need to make a certain type of impression on the too rich in order to convince them to donate well.

Because that's another thing this card reads, right there in plain English: a 9pt bold 'Daniel Rand', and under that, 'CEO'.

'What,' a little voice in Al's head wails semi-hysterically, 'the fuck?'

"Is this a joke?" Al asks out loud, vaguely surprised by how calm he sounds given the way the voice inside his head might be having a meltdown. "Am I on Candid Camera?"

But, no, wasn't he just thinking that this card is way too expensive - and thus definitely too expensive to be a prop?

"Hey, I know that one!" Danny Rand says cheerfully. "Joy and I used to watch it together!"

'Joy,' the voice in Al's head supplies. 'Joy Meachum.

'Well, at least this explains why he said he doesn't need money.

'Wait, why is he looking for a job in the first place? Is he not CEO? Did they kick him out or something? Did they disown him for wearing a hoodie with holes in it? Is that what he meant earlier when he said the thing he was doing before is over now?'

Al has never felt more rueful that he doesn't pay much attention to celebrity news.

"So," Al tries to find a way to word this that isn't 'have you been cut off or what?' "Why is Danny Rand looking for a job here?"

By "here", Al means a lot of things. This type of neighborhood, in general. Chinatown, out of all of them. At a low-wage position in a manual labor business with very little room for growth, if they're really getting into it.

"I like your name," Danny replies. It's far from the kind of answer that Al was expecting, but he finds himself unperturbed. Maybe he's hit a point where nothing is surprising anymore. "It reminds me of a friend. He was more of a Big Al than a Royal one, but I saw your logo and it seemed right."

-

(Al still pays Danny, because he refuses to be a shady business and because if he's finally getting around to setting up an employee system, he's needs to make it one that will work for anyone he might hire in the future, too. They won't all be Danny Rand. Danny keeps finding ways to immediately give it back, because he's literally a billionaire.)

[hermits-that-craft]

Forgetting and Leaving - Part Two

Welcome to part two of Forgetting and Leaving. 

Once again I am recommending people go to @target-block for more information about Ray’s Stuck Au.

Daisy looks up at Rose, yawning as they make their way to the end. The world has been glitching recently, and Orchid nearly died when Daisy transformed, the transformation causing some lag that made everything nearly stop. Orchid clearly didn't want to leave this world, and Daisy doesn't blame him, the world certainly has something that the two men recognise, though its as though they are seeing it through a pane of fogged glass - nothing is clear.

Rose doesn't recognise anything, although they do bring it up with him. He recognises how the world works, knowing things that they shouldn't know about the update, but the buildings don't make sense to him like they do to Daisy and Orchid. Orchid swears on his life that he knows the mansion that they hid in, but he can't remember any of the rooms. A robotic voice calls Orchid Impulse, and calls Daisy Ren. Neither of them don't recognise the names.

They walk over to the end portal, Daisy leading the group as a second nature. Rose shakes nervously as they stand on the edge of the portal, and Orchid pats his back. Daisy pushes them in before jumping in himself, something sad tugging at his soul, longing for a few more minutes. He doesn't understand it.

They land on an obsidian platform, and Rose leads them towards the centre of the main island. He turns around, tugging on the white sleeve of his jacket and smiling nervously. There's no wind in the End but Rose's blonde hair still sways in the breeze.

"Ready to go?"

---

Iskall lands, his inventory filled with shulker boxes of wood. He is ready to get started on his mega base - a giant tree with a large canopy, larger than life and bigger than all of the jungle trees around him. It's safer to think about building then about his friends. Not just the missing ones - Iskall doesn't trust himself to think about Mumbo or Stress without breaking down. He's gone a week without a breakdown, the longest since -

No, don't think. Build.

Iskall places blocks, planned and timed and he's so tired, he wants a break but to let his mind wander is to break his streak. He doesn't think, he just builds. He doesn't even notice it when his axe breaks, nor does he notice Stress as she visits with some logs she had spare. No, Iskall just works. He doesn't think. He just builds. He hardly notices his elytra creeping dangerously towards breaking. He doesn't think. He doesn't notice it as he uses up shulker box and shulker box of wood. He just builds.

He notices his elytra breaking.

Iskall falls towards the jungle canopy, a scream ripping from his throat. His eyes wide open. The world doesn't slow like people claim it would. He doesn't watch, outside of his body, as he crashes onto the grass.

Iskall wakes up in his bed, his heart races as he finally lets himself cry.

---

Evil Xisuma has been alone, stuck in season 5, for too long. It's painful, thinking of the hermits, but he lets himself stay in Xisuma's base. It's alright, he thinks to himself, it's alright that the hermits left him behind. He's safe here, at least. It's better than the void, cold and empty and falling with no end. He's safe here.

But Impulse, Grian and Ren aren't.

They shouldn't be here, but as Evil Xisuma watches them walk through the shopping district he realises that Ren and Impulse are just as lost and confused as Grian is. They shouldn't be - they built the shops they stop outside of. The ones that they look longer at, spend more time asking about who built it. It confuses Evil Xisuma. 

He could stay and watch them, but he can’t let them walk around as though they have no idea what they are doing. It’s risky, though. The risks outweigh the benefits, but he can’t stand to watch them anymore. Evil Xisuma glides down behind them, landing on the ground with a precision that only someone who’s mastered the elytra can claim. He doesn’t land silently, however, and the three men spin around, Impulse pushing the other two behind him. Funny, Evil Xisuma thinks, he can’t be better at fighting then Ren.

“Woah, I’m not here to fight.” Evil Xisuma raises his hands in surrender as Impulse raises an iron sword to his throat. “What are you guys doing here?”

“Oh, is this your world?” Grian asks, and Evil Xisuma frowns at him. “I’m sorry if it is, the last world we were in was corrupted and I has to-”

“Hermitcraft is corrupted?” Evil Xisuma gasps, looking at them. “Is Xisuma alright?”

“Who’s Xisuma?” Impulse asks him, and there's no hint of sarcasm in his voice. 

“What’s a hermitcraft?”

“It must have been the world we were last on.”

“Of course it is, Grian. Hermitcraft season six, or is it season seven now? Xisuma hasn’t been telling me anything.” Evil Xisuma grumbles to himself.

“My name isn’t Grian.” Grian says blankly. “I’m Rose.”

---

Scar flies out of the jungle, careful to avoid the areas that he knows have been built in. He and Doc have agreed to meet away from the hermits, to both protect the hermits from what they want to do and to make sure that they aren’t caught. Again. To make sure that they aren’t caught again.

Scar lands in the mining mesa, watching the nether portal as a figure begins to appear in it’s frame. Doc walks out of the portal, some quartz in his hands. Scar can hardly contain his excitement to see the man, and he pulls Doc into a hug. The two men don’t hear the nether portal update, someone coming through the portal. No, they don’t notice anyone else in the area until it’s too late.

“Well, I don’t mean to break this up,” Xisuma says. “But, next time, I’d suggest having your secret liaisons in places where the rest of us don’t go.”

Doc and Scar jump away from each other, trying to make it seem as though they hadn’t planned on meeting here, but Xisuma just sighs, disappointment as sadness in his eyes.

“I had to contact Stress and Bdubs. You two know you aren’t allowed to meet up without supervision- Is that quartz Doc?” Xisuma’s voice begins to shake, anger and fear mixing together. Doc tries to hide it behind his back, stammering out excuses, but Xisuma practically flies over to Doc, grabbing his wrists. “Are you insane?”

“It isn’t what it looks like-”

“That’s a weak excuse, Doc, and you know it. Doc, you can’t be serious. A time machine?”

“I had just mined some, Xisuma, I swear!” Doc’s isn’t lying, per say. He did just mine some of the quartz, but not all of it. They had been planning this for weeks. Doc and Scar have to find the hippies - it’s their fault that they went missing in the first place. Area 77’s fault.

“Scar, tell me truthfully - Did Doc just mine that quartz?” Xisuma growls, not removing his hands from Doc’s wrists. Scar stands straighter, his back ridgid.

But they had planned for this as well.

“He did, Xisuma. Please, we only planned to meet here so we could talk without people examining our every word.” The lie falls out of Scar’s mouth, practiced to perfection. He walks towards Xisuma, his hand falling on the man’s shoulder. “Please, X. We’re tired of people trying to psychoanalyze everything we say.”

“You called us X?” Stress’ voice is tired, barely containing a yawn. She and Bdubs walk through the portal before they gasp, looking at the scene in front of them, only lit up by the nether portal and the moon.

“Oh, Doc.” Bdubs’ voice is quiet, sad. “C’mon, lets get you home. We’ll talk about this in the morning.”

“I didn’t do anything wrong.” Doc growls. “Just because-”

“He and Scar were going to rebuild the time machine.” Xisuma says, letting go of Doc’s wrists. Stress gasps again, turning to Scar with hurt in her face, and Scar feels shame well up in his throat. “Scar can’t lie well, it was obviously rehearsed.”

“We’ll keep a closer eye on them.” Stress promises, taking Scar’s hand and dragging him towards the nether portal. “Don’t worry, Xisuma. We won’t let them do anything stupid.”

---

Orchid doesn’t trust the man, who only introduces himself as E-X, though he reluctantly lets the man follow them around. The name Impulse pushes around his head, confusing and frustrating him. It feels familiar, as familiar as all of the builds they pass do, but he can’t place it anywhere. A brother, a doppleganger, a clone, a twin, a coincidence. None of those explain why Ex seems so sad by them.

They arrive on a mycelium island, split down the middle by different shades of concrete. Daisy immediately walks towards a large orange and black concrete building, mumbling something about supplies in the Nether Drive, though neither Rose nor Orchid can work out what he means by that.

They follow him anyways, Orchid keeping a close watch on Ex out of the corner of his eyes. There’s something about him that's familiar, just like this world, that unsettles him. Hopefully he will tell Orchid why he is familiar to him.

“What happened?” Ex asks quietly to him as Daisy and Rose disappear into the building. “Why don’t you remember here?”

“Ex, I have no idea what you mean.” Orchid says, gripping his iron sword tightly.

“I-” Ex cuts himself off. “I’m worried for you, Impulse.”

“Orchid.”

“Orchid,” Ex nods. “Please, what’s your earliest memory. I swear, if it’s something normal I’ll drop this subject.”

Orchid frowns, thinking back onto the moment when the watcher cursed them, though that’s not his earliest memory. His earliest memory is comforting, a warm blanket wrapped around his shoulders, soup in his hands as he sits by a fire, his mother telling ghost stories while his father laughs. When he tells Ex that, the man sighs, taking his helmet off.

“I’m going to head off back to my bro- my base. I’ll be back in the morning. Meet you guys here?”

“I’ll ask Rose and Daisy about it.” Orchid replies, waving goodbye to the strange man. 

He walks into the storage unit before he pauses, frowning at the room. It’s bright in here, not at all like the calming rustic builds that Rose had been making for them. Orchid walks into the middle of the room, where a water elevator waits patiently for him. He enters it, slowly traveling up.

He finds Rose and Daisy on the top floor, beds set up on the floor. Rose looks up as he steps out of the water elevator, a towel in his hand. Orchid gladly takes the towel, yawning as he pats himself dry. Daisy hands him so old looking potatoes, shrugging an apology.

“If they make us sick I’ll take full responsibility.” Daisy smiles at him. “Where’d our friend go?”

“He went to his base. Must be desperate to sleep, when he took his helmet off he looked like Rose when we don’t force him to go to bed.” Orchid smirks, nudging the man.

“Oh come on!” Rose complains. “I’m going to bed, I didn’t come here to be made fun of.”

“Aw, Rose you know I didn’t mean it!” Orchid laughs, and Rose throws a pillow at him. He misses, hitting Daisy in the face. Orchid devolves into giggles, laughing at the shocked look on Daisy’s face.

“Oh it is on my dudes.” Daisy says, picking up the two pillows the are now on his bed. “Give up, I have the higher ground!”

“Never!” Orchid yells, hitting Daisy with his own pillow. Daisy drops a pillow in surprise, and Rose quickly snatches it off the ground.

They fight for a while, ducking and slamming each other with the pillows. Feathers fly and laughter roars through the abandoned islands. Orchid kicks Daisy’s legs and Rose jumps on the man, his pillow perfectly positioned to hit Daisy’s face.

“Rose why, you were supposed to be my brother!”

“Long live the king!” Rose giggles, hitting Daisy in the face. Orchid takes the opportunity to hit Rose across the back of the head and they restart the round, this time Rose and Daisy against Orchid.

[lovelyirony]

Through flames and oceans (for the fic title)

u know. this was supposed to not go the direction it did. but it did. 

People say they will do a lot for love. They will walk through flames, cross an entire ocean for love.

Bruce tells himself that that’s the stupidest fucking thing people say. He, for one, will not do that. There is also the unspoken reason of that love really isn’t in the cards for him.

Currently, he’s running away from his ex-girlfriend’s dad, General Ross, because he may or may not have done some experimentation and turned into a rage monster, but also revealed some state secrets.

Come on, can you blame him? Cosmo said twenty-year-olds need to accomplish something before they hit thirty. And he’s quite sure he just made the list.

But as for love, he is thinking about it right now because his ex-girlfriend found a very nice girl named Valkyrie, and they’re kind of set to have an engagement party, and “would you please come to the United States to help us celebrate?”

Betty is a wonderful woman, really and truly. And Bruce is okay with how their relationship ended, because it’s not like Bruce could come to family dinner and expect anything besides murder or maybe cold potatoes. And Betty deserved someone far better than him, and from the picture that was sent, it looks like Valkyrie is an amazing catch.

But there is the small matter of making it to the States without getting caught. He is on quite a lot of “no-fly” and “travel restrictive” protocols. This sucks, by the way. He had frequent flier miles saved up and everything.

It sucks, at least, until he remembers Tony’s number and calls it.

(Tony had given him his number, but sometimes he forgets that four and nine are two distinctly different numbers.)

“Brucie, baby! What can I get for you? Don’t worry, the government hasn’t been able to tap my phone calls since I was seventeen and mostly joking about finding out where their secret weapons storage is.”

“Betty’s having her engagement party, and I’m invited. I kind of need a ride home.”

“Where are you located at, right now?”

“Buenos Aires.”

“You lucky son of a bitch, god I miss it there. You having a good time?”

“When I’m avoiding government agents, yes.”

“Hm, well i’m sending a new employee of mine to go and get you. Big guy, probably Swedish.”

“You don’t know?”

“I don’t presume if someone’s Swedish or not, Bruce. I’m a terrible person, but not that terrible.”

“I...I don’t follow your sense of humor.”

“No one does, that’s why celebrities call me avant garde and ahead of my time.”

“Good to know. What’s your new guy’s name?”

“Thor.”

“Are you...are you fucking with me?”

"Darling, you’d be having a much better time if I was.”

“I don’t like the energy we’re manifesting here,” Bruce deadpans.

Tony snorts. “Okay, hippie. He’ll be there by tomorrow morning. Just stay tight where you are, sugar.”

-

Thor is a gigantic man. He parts crowds like it’s what he was meant to do, and maybe it is. Bruce stares up at him.

“Hello Dr. Banner,” Thor says, smiling gently. “You are Dr. Ross’s friend, right?”

“Um...yeah. I am.”

“Excellent. I’m a friend of Valkyrie’s, is it okay if I go ahead and fly out to the airport nearest their house?”

“Uh, is Tony okay with that?”

“Of course. And we can stop at your house if you need anything.”

“Oh, I don’t have a house. Or an apartment. You would not believe how much the US government hates my credit score.”

Thor chuckles a little bit, leading him back to a nondescript car.

“Right this way.”

-

Thor is cool as a cucumber on the outside, as they’re driving. He’s mindlessly tapping on his phone as Bruce stares out the window.

Inside? Oh, Thor hates Val for this. So much.

so, you didn’t think to send me a picture of dr. banner? just the address?

lmaooooo called it. betty owes me something now. fuckin nerd. just ask him out.

no. we still have to bypass american security

which you are “old hat” at. or did i forget that you nearly almost charmed the pants off of one of the airline people?

we don’t speak of that.

relax. stark’s taking care of it anyway.

The airplane ride home is uneventful, thank god. One of Tony’s jets awaits, and the pilot is very surprised to see a man who ranks number four on America’s Most Wanted List to be there.

“You...you know Tony?”

“And you know what an NDA is,” Tony announces over the intercom. “Bruce, welcome. Mimosas are premade, in stock. Sit back and enjoy the ride! Thor, you do what you gotta do to make sure Bruce stays safe. Enjoy the bridal shower!”

The pilot is a bit apprehensive. But mostly okay. Bruce promises nothing’s going to happen, he’s just going to drink tea and catch up on news about the current state of things.

Bruce gets bored with finding out that things are still terrible, so he talks to Thor.

“So...are your parents just really into Norse mythology, or did they know you’d come out a huge guy who has the potential to probably stop Ragnarok?”

Thor chuckles, the laugh rumbling and deep.

(Okay, that’s hot.)

"My parents’ names were Odin and Frigga. You could say they were traditionalists when it came to my brother and I.”

“You mean...?”

“He embodies the name a bit too well for my taste, but yes.”

“Oh. Wow.”

“Yeah. Let me tell you about the time we accidentally crashed a fashion week thing...” 

Bruce laughs a lot about that story. Thor’s laugh is majestic, and they sit a little bit closer. 

-

By the time the plane lands, they’re great friends and Thor reaches over Bruce in the baggage area and wow that man has very defined muscles. 

Not that that’s important. No, that’s like. Not important at all. So what if Thor is very well-muscled and maybe this will play into Bruce’s intrusive thoughts/daydream thoughts at later intervals? Does not matter. At all. 

(Oh god the man smells like salty ocean air Bruce has got it so so bad. So Bad.) 

- 

Tony greets them at the landing pad with a wide grin, eyes lighting up. 

“Well, don’t you two make the happy couple,” he teases. Bruce turns red. This does not go unnoticed. 

“Bruce, honestly, you run away from government and my friendship, and this is what gets you--” 

“A bridal shower? To get me home? Yes,” Bruce says, cutting in not-at-all smoothly. “Now, where are Betty and her bride staying at?” 

“Oh, they’re staying at the cutest little bed and breakfast for their bridal shower. Rented out the whole thing--well Pepper did, it was our wedding gift to them, and of course I mean Pep’s wedding gift, because I have something else planned-” 

“Please tell me that you do not have a house bought for them,” Thor says. 

“Complete with a laboratory and gymnasium,” Tony says with a wink. “I’m kidding, they already have a house. I just kind of kicked them out for a week while I remodel their entire kitchen. Val gave me the colors, I was surprised that she has taste.” 

“If she hears you say that, she’ll kick your ass.” 

“Which is why she won’t,” Tony reminds Thor. “Now, let’s get to unpacking. Bruce, I’m getting you some good shampoo, holy shit your hair sucks.” 

“Thank you Tony, I love and value our friendship and our kindness towards each other as well,” Bruce deadpans. 

“Oh come on, you have to look good. It’s your ex’s wedding party!” 

“You make us sound so dramatic,” Bruce says with a snort. “We broke up. Big deal.” 

“You and Betty...?” Thor asks. 

“Yeah, but it’s fine. We were dating, and then I pissed off her dad, who happens to be a general. I mean, also the government. But mostly her dad.” 

“Wow.” 

Thor’s type shouldn’t be feral scientist. But it is. 

They’re led inside, and Tony bids them goodbye. 

“Duty calls,” Tony says airily, waving. “Make yourself at home, don’t put coffee grounds down the disposal or I will kick you out. Rogers is still nursing his wounds.” 

“Noted,” Bruce says. 

“I drink tea,” Thor answers. 

Bruce shares a look. 

“You too?” 

“Yeah, I prefer it over coffee most of the time.” 

Bruce smiles. 

“I think we’re going to get along.” 

- 

They have a couple of days until the wedding party, and Thor has never seen New York. Bruce is fairly sure that no one will even see him on the CCTV footage as long as he’s walking next to Thor, so he deems it good enough to go and get a bagel. 

Thor is a very gentle man. That’s a good quality. 

He smiles at a little girl, who is staring, open-mouthed. Even gives her a little wave. Bruce grins. 

“You like kids?” 

“I do. They mostly just want to have fun, want to see what the best of the world is. I think we all need that occasionally.” 

“I’ve never thought of that,” Bruce confesses. He takes a sip of his coffee.

“I love watching my cousins,” Thor continues. “The way they grow and figure it all out, it’s rewarding. What about your family?” 

Bruce freezes. 

“Um. I don’t exactly have a family.” 

“Then you’ll just have to meet some of my cousins,” Thor amends, smiling as he sips his drink. “You’d like them.” 

“I’d like that,” Bruce says, grinning. “What’s next on our New York agenda?” 

"I told Loki I’d visit some stores for him and pick up some items he’s been wanting.” 

-

Have you ever seen a sales associate from Chanel be terrified at your presence? No? It’s worth it. 

Bruce is kind of concerned. 

“I...are you...?” 

“My name is Robert, uncanny similarities,” Bruce responds. “We both were born in Ohio.” 

“Why is it always Ohio,” Thor mutters. “You reckon my brother would want this shoe or that?” 

“Ooh, definitely go with the heel. I think that’s good.”  

“Gotcha.” 

Next shop is Dior. 

This goes a bit out of hand. His whole line about being Robert with Incredible Similarity does not go as planned. 

He and Thor are on a subway, currently running away from some authority figures and calling Tony. 

“I was in the middle of learning drama about high society that I can use in my next romance novel, are you joking?” Tony hisses. 

“You write romance novels?” Thor asks. 

“Now is not the time to question that, I’m in the middle of making sure you get a car to your next stop. How well do you both know what a Chrysler is?” 

“The building, right?” 

“God, I hate you so much,” Tony groans. “No, um...it looks like the wing things that they give army people when they do something that I guess they think is cool.” 

“Oh. Okay. Get in that car?” 

“Yes. It’s gonna be red with silver detailing.”

“Tony, they’re gonna know it’s us.” 

“Believe me, they won’t. Trust me.” 

- 

So as it turns out, it’s not the most ostentatious vehicle. 

Because Tony pulls up in a lifted pick-up truck, painted a sparkling, neon green with bright orange wheels. 

It is the ugliest goddamn thing Bruce has ever seen. Also the most effective. 

Thor nearly shoves Bruce into the car, and they’re sitting too close, and Bruce probably shouldn’t be focusing on the fact that Thor’s hair is now artfully messy, but here he is. Doing that. 

“So, sorry that before the wedding shower we’re being hunted down by the government.” 

“Not the worst thing that I could be doing on a Friday,” Thor says with a shrug. “I think you’re just about the most interesting person I’ve met, Bruce.” 

He smiles at him. Bruce’s heart skips a beat. He can’t tell if it’s because of the eye contact or the fact that they’re in close proximity. Maybe both. 

“You wanna go on a date after all this?” Bruce blurts out. 

He does. And as soon as he says it, he kind of regrets it because they’re in a car with glittery silver interior seats and he’s also in pants that have seen better days, and his hair is a Mess. 

(Also self-esteem issues, but Bruce is used to that so he’s not counting it.) 

“Like, after we get home or when the government gives up on finding you?” 

“I don’t know. Whichever one comes first?” 

“Technically, I think I count as army jurisdiction, and military budget is a fountain of money.” 

“Ah. Then home it is. How do you feel about ordering in?” 

“Mm, sounds good,” Bruce says, grinning. “You’re the best.” 

“Well, I certainly try,” Thor says, grinning right back. “You wanna go to Betty and Val’s shower together?” 

“Yes. Do we have to amend our ‘how-we-met’ story?” 

“Not at all. Valkyrie used to run an underground fight ring. She knows the feeling.” 

“How has that not come up in conversation?” 

“We were kind of preoccupied trying to figure out what a Chrysler car looked like.” 

“Oh, true.” 

- 

At the wedding party, Bruce and Thor are very happy. Betty and Val roll their eyes and laugh as they talk. 

“Leave it to my dad to ruin everything,” Betty gripes. 

“Well he didn’t ruin this party or my meeting Thor,” Bruce defends. “Besides, you know what happens if he steps a foot near you.” 

Betty grins. 

“You serious?” 

“Can’t promise you’ll get your security deposit back, but yes.” 

Betty pulls him into a hug. 

“You’re too sweet to me.” 

“Yeah, tell me that after he steps on the limousine.” 

“Eh, I wouldn’t worry,” Thor says, grinning. “I think Tony has some sort of security feature worked in.” 

“Oh, he does,” Val says. “He’s threatened to pull some of the contracts for safety gear. Won’t go through with it, but Ross can’t touch the wedding. Best gift ever.” 

- 

When the party gets late, Thor and Bruce are sitting out on the porch. Clean-up is happening, and they’re taking a break. Thor thinks that Bruce has never looked more beautiful in a rumpled yellow shirt, soft lights making his face glow. 

“I’m glad I met you,” Thor murmurs, moving a stray curl. 

“Really?” Bruce asks, smiling softly. “I think I’m glad I met you too.” 

- 

Bruce grins behind his door when they make it home. Thor had kissed him on the cheek, and while that wasn’t too big of a deal, it was a big deal to him. 

“See you in the morning, dear,” Thor had told him. 

He was going to be up half the night with that line running through his head. 

- 

A lot of people do a lot of things for love. Bruce still wouldn’t walk through flames, or swim across an entire ocean, but he’s starting to understand. 

[maggiemaybe160]

Birthday Wishes

Super Angst Fic Ahead. You’ve been warned. Also read on Ao3. Thank you @nickelkeep​ for the beta and cheerleading. <3 

Dean doesn’t celebrate his birthday anymore. He hasn’t for years.

There are pictures of the first and happiest birthdays. They’re tucked away in a box in a storage unit filled with hunter’s gear and booby traps. Dean hasn’t actually seen them since he was a child. There’s a picture of a very tired Mary Winchester beaming as he holds her baby. John is sitting on the edge of her hospital bed, pride written all over him as he wraps an arm around his wife and grins at the camera. There’s another one where Dean is sitting in front of a cake with a big candle number one. Both of his hands are embedded in the cake, frosting oozing out from between his fingers. There’s one from when he turned four and he’s offering his slice of cake to his infant brother as Mary and John laugh.

Dean remembers his first birthday without his mom. He was turning five. He remembers his father crying. There were empty bottles all around the room and Dean remembers picking one up and blowing air into it to make it whistle. His dad had snatched it out of his hands and told Dean not to touch them.

“What day is today?” Dean had asked.

“January 24,” his dad had answered, showing him on the calendar.

“That’s my birthday,” Dean had announced proudly.

“Fuck,” was the only answer he had gotten. Then his dad started crying harder. So when Sam started to cry, Dean went to his crib and lulled him back to sleep by singing Happy Birthday.

Dean remembers the birthday he got back to the motel and found a sheet cake with a note taped to it. His dad had left some money for a pizza and an excuse of a job with “PS. Happy Birthday, Son” scrawled at the bottom. Sam had sung the song and Dean announced they were having cake for dinner. Sam had cheered, but Dean knew by then that their dad never left enough money for his days of absence.

Dean remembers when his first day at a new school was on his birthday. He was in the sixth grade and hid in the bathroom during lunch so he could cry. After school, his dad took him out to test out the sawed-off he’d made the week before.

He remembers screaming after the Impala, standing at the edge of Bobby’s driveway, tears running down his face as his father left him behind. Bobby hadn’t said anything about the tears. He’d waited until Dean was through before bringing him inside and washing him up. When Dean sat down at the dinner table, he asked why Sam was grinning from ear to ear.

“Dad just left us, you dope. Why’re you happy?”

“It’s your birthday,” Sam had answered, swinging his legs under the table. Bobby walked in holding a lasagna with candles in it and the two of them sang. “Make a wish!” Sam had ordered as soon as the song was over. Dean doesn’t remember his wish, but he remembers closing his eyes and thinking about it before blowing out the candles.

“The first pie burned, so we can have the second for dessert,” Bobby had promised as they dug into their dinner.

There was the birthday that his dad came back early for. He’d wanted it to be a surprise for Dean. Sam was on a sleepover at one of his friends’ houses and Dean… Dean was having a sleepover in his motel room with a boy from school. John didn’t wait for the other sixteen-year-old to leave before he hit Dean so hard he was seeing stars. It was the first time he was called a fag. It was the first time the beating he was receiving wasn’t for something to do with hunting or his father’s drinking. It was the first time he heard someone try to stand up for him, the boy he was with screaming for John to stop.

His seventeenth birthday, he was already out of high school. He’d dropped out to become his father’s soldier. It was drilled into him that he was nothing more than a soldier, and a poor one at that. He stole the keys from his father and woke Sam up at the crack of dawn. They took Baby out for a spin. Dean was tempted to keep driving forever. He almost did. They stopped at a diner and ordered everything on the menu, slapping their dad’s fraudulent credit card down to pay for it all. They worked their way through pancakes and bacon, hot cocoa with whipped cream and a mocha for Dean. There were waffles and sausages, fruit cups and garbage plates. They laughed and flicked food at each other from across their table. And then it was time to go. So Dean drove Sammy to school and went back to his motel room for his birthday beating.

Dean was turning twenty-two the night Sam brought him a pie and a problem. He applied to Stanford. Pride had swelled in Dean’s chest, but his heart was breaking. He didn’t just apply. He got in. He was starting in the Fall and he was asking for Dean’s support and his silence.

“Just until I find a way to tell Dad.”

Dean had promised and taken a bite of his pie.

The last birthday he celebrated was his twenty-fourth. It wasn’t celebrated so much as vaguely acknowledged. Dean and his dad had been quiet, sitting across from each other in a restaurant. Their last hunt was over and Dean scarfed down his burger without question.

“She’s yours,” John has said as he slid the keys to Dean. “If you can take care of her.”

“I will, sir,” Dean said, his hands tightening around the metal. “Thank you.” John nodded and they continued their meal in their own thoughts.

Dean slept in his car that night, stretched out across the front seat as he looked up through the window at the starry sky. His favorite tape played gently and he hummed to it quietly before turning off the car and closing his eyes.

He had wanted to celebrate his birthday with Sam when their Dad was gone and it was just them on the road hunting together. He had planned to get a cake and rent a movie on pay-per-view and announce that this was their dinner. Right before his twenty-seventh birthday, he had electrocuted himself and had a heart attack. Sure, he was going to live, but only because his life was traded with another’s at the hand of a reaper. It was over, but Dean couldn’t shake it. He stood in the bakery of the grocery store staring at the sheet cake for too long before he left and bought a pizza on the way home instead.

“Happy Birthday,” Sam had said when Dean walked in with the pizza. He had a sheet cake on one of the beds, ready with two forks. “Didn’t think I forgot, did you?”

The next year, Dean glared at the calendar. He was supposed to be dead. His dad made a deal and now he was living on borrowed time. If he hadn’t done it, Dean would have died before making it to twenty-eight. He would have died in a car crash, blood running down his face as he melted into the backseat of his beloved car.

“I don’t want to celebrate this year,” Dean told Sam.

“Why not?”

“It doesn’t feel right. I shouldn’t be here. We saved a girl, but we didn’t save anyone else. I just don’t feel like it, okay?” Dean had grabbed the remote and turned on the tv before Sam could answer.  Sam didn’t argue, though. He left Dean alone to watch tv and returned an hour later with a six-pack of Dean’s favorite beer in one hand and a cherry pie in the other.

Dean remembers his twenty-ninth birthday. It was his last hurrah before being dragged downstairs. He’d sold his soul and he would celebrate if he wanted to. They set off fireworks together in the middle of nowhere. They ate bacon cheeseburgers and pie. Dean dragged his party-pooper brother from bar to bar, staying until they were kicked out of each one. Sam waited in the car as Dean went to a strip club, his pockets loaded with singles.

When it was all over and Sam was in his bed asleep, Dean stared up at the ceiling in the dark and whispered, “All hunters die young. Twenty-nine is old enough. Happy Birthday to me.” The first year out of Hell was the beginning of Dean refusing to celebrate his birthday. To make sure Sam didn’t try to show up with a pie or a cake, Dean let himself disappear. Sam didn’t text him to ask him where he was. He didn’t call him. Dean was alone with Baby on his first birthday out of Hell. He spent it staring up at the sky, wondering why Heaven would save such a broken person.

His birthday became a box on a calendar with bad memories. Sam didn’t try to bring it up and Dean didn’t have to hide. Then Sam was gone. Cas was gone. All Dean had was Lisa and she didn’t know when his birthday was, though they fought about it.

“It’s not a big deal. Just tell me,” she said, though her voice was no longer calm and curious. She was getting angrier the longer he kept his mouth shut.

“Drop it, Lisa,” he had warned her, closing his book and getting out of his chair.

“You want the ‘picket-fence life’ as you call it. You want the girlfriend and the son. You want to live in the suburbs and have friends and celebrate holidays, but you won’t tell me what happened to your brother. You won’t tell me where your father is. You won’t tell me why you’re here. You won’t even tell me when your god damn birthday is!”

“They’re dead!” Dean had yelled. “Dad’s dead and has been for years! Sam’s… Sam’s gone! Are you wondering about my mom too?”

“Dean, no. I.. I’m sorry,” she tried, realizing her mistake.

“Because she’s dead too!” Dean continued, every muscle in his body tensed. “What the fuck else did you want to know? My fucking birthday? Like it fucking matters?” She didn’t know it was his birthday that day. “I need some air,” he said, dropping his voice and dragging his fingers through his hair.

“Dean…”

“Don’t follow me,” he said as he walked out to the garage. He locked the door and slipped into his Impala, gripping the wheel until his nails bit into his palms and his knuckles turned white. He clenched his jaw to keep from screaming and when he shut his eyes tight, he ignored the tears that had rolled down his cheeks.

The next time Dean thought about his birthday after that night was when he was sitting with his back against a tree in Purgatory. Benny was sleeping as Dean kept a lookout in the dark, his grip tight on his makeshift blade.

“I don’t know how long I’ve been in this place,” Dean had prayed quietly to Cas as he prayed every night. “I’m not giving up. I won’t leave without you.” He drew a candle in the dirt between his feet. “It could be August. It could be January. It could be my birthday and I wouldn’t even know it, Cas. If it’s my birthday, then I get one wish, right?”

He took a deep breath and blew out the etching of a candle. It was too dark to see, but he was sure the marks were gone, his drawing erased. He remembers his wish. He wished for Cas. It’s the only birthday wish that Dean remembers coming true.

It was Dean’s thirty-fourth birthday when he got to give the Braveheart speech to a LARPing group for his Queen of Moondor, Charlie. He hadn’t realized it was his birthday until after the speech when he was back in his normal clothes driving away with a smile on his face.

“Have a good birthday?” Sam had asked. Dean had felt the floor drop out from under him. He wasn’t allowed to have a good birthday. It had been a cursed day for most of his life.

“I didn’t know it was,” Dean said honestly. He wanted the subject to drop before it entered dangerous territory.

“Nice speech,” Sam said instead of continuing the birthday talk like Dean had expected him to.

“Thanks,” he grinned again and his birthday was forgotten.

The first birthday present Dean received after the Impala was the Mark of Cain. His brother walked out of his life and Cas was far from home. Dean drank more alcohol with the Mark on his arm than he ever had before. His tolerance was higher and his thirst was greater and his home was emptier than ever.

“Happy Birthday to you,” Dean sang quietly to himself before taking another swig of beer. “Happy Birthday to you. Everyone leaves you ‘cause you’re worthless. Happy Birthday to me.” His next birthday went unannounced and unnoticed. Looking back, Dean realized that on his birthday, he’d been slamming his fists into Metatron’s face, the pain from the Mark easing with every swing, urging him to keep going. He had dragged the angel blade down the angel’s chest, eliciting the screams that fed the Mark as Sam and Cas beat the door down. He was pulled away, the world far away under the daze of the Mark. Being forcibly removed from his attack felt like waking up from a fainting spell. His birthday was spent trying to find out how to get rid of the previous year’s gift.

Dean’s thirty-eighth birthday was spent in a jail cell in the middle of nowhere. Dean kept track of the days that he was confined to solitary by etching tally marks in his wall. His birthday was just another tally mark. He sat on the floor with his back against the wall and refrained from praying to Cas.

Dean had already decided that he would say goodbye to all of his family and friends on his fortieth birthday. He was prepared to lock himself inside of a coffin at the bottom of the ocean. He was prepared for it if it meant saving everyone else. Dean remembers wrapping his arms around his brother and wanting to say more. He remembers not being able to find the words. He also remembers staring at Cas’ name in his phone. He was the only person Dean couldn’t say goodbye to. He knew that if he looked into those eyes while he was that weak and heard his deep voice begging him not to do it, he would have given in. He wouldn’t have been able to go through with leaving everything behind when everything was begging him not to.

It’s Dean’s forty-first birthday. He made it all the way to forty-one. He pushes the thought away as he has for every other birthday and makes his way to the kitchen.

“I’m going for a drive,” he announces. Sam looks concerned for a moment before his eyes flicker to the calendar. He nods and continues eating whatever the fuck is in his bowl. It looks and smells like oatmeal, but Dean doesn’t want to dwell on it.

“Have fun,” Sam says. Dean bites his lip and hits the wall gently as he nods before walking away. Sure. Fun.

It takes three hours to drive to his destination. He checks his pockets and makes sure they’re empty before he gets out of his car and walks into the seemingly abandoned building. He walks slowly and looks around at the cracked windows that provide the only light this building has.

“I’m not armed,” Dean says. “No tricks. Just a wish.” A birthday wish. A hand grips his wrist and he feels himself get spun around. He’s face to face with a djinn, his eyes glowing blue.

“A Winchester,” the djinn says. “Where’s the other and the angel?”

“At home unaware. Just me.” He keeps his voice even despite the slight fear he feels pounding in his chest. The djinn’s other hand sparks as he brings it to Dean’s temple. The world slides away and Dean feels himself being caught before he falls.

When he opens his eyes, he’s exactly where he started. In the middle of an abandoned building. He stands up and looks up at the windows. They’re not cracked anymore. He turns to the door and walks to the exit, brushing the dirt from the floor off of him.

“Dean!” Cas runs to him from where he had been standing beside the Impala.

“Heya, Cas,” Dean pulls him in for a hug and closes his eyes as he feels Cas’ arms around him. He’s probably only feeling his own heart hammering away, but he’s sure he can feel Cas’ slamming against his. “Come on,” he says when they break apart.

“Where are we going, Dean?”

“Trust me. You’ll love it,” Dean says with a cheeky grin and a wink. Cas gets into the passenger seat and takes a tape out of his pocket. “What’s that?” Dean asks as he starts to drive.

“It was a gift,” Cas says as she pushes it into the tape deck. Dean would recognize this tape anywhere. He’d made it a long time ago and given it to Cas. He grins as Zepplin plays loudly through the car.

The drive doesn’t take as long as Dean expected, but he’s glad to park and stare out over the Grand Canyon with Cas by his side.

“Isn’t it beautiful?” Dean asks, turning the music off.

“Yes,” Cas breathes, looking out.

Dean feels Cas’ fingers brush against his on the seat between them. He laces his fingers with Cas’ without looking down.

“I’m glad you prayed to me,” Cas says quietly. “It gave me a reason to fight.”

“I’m glad you fought,” Dean answers. “So I could see you again.”

A helicopter rises from the canyon and Dean’s eyes go wide. He takes his hand from Cas and throws the car into reverse, turning 180 and trying to drive through the kicked-up dirt. He can hear the sirens. They’re being surrounded. Dean spins the car around again, panic rising in his chest.

“It looks like an army,” Cas says.

“All of this for us?” Dean looks from his rearview mirror to Cas.

“Place your hands in plain view!” The order comes over a loudspeaker from one of the cars. “Any failure to obey that command will be considered an act of aggression against us!” Dean tunes them out as they continue their demands. He grabs his gun and starts to reload.

“What are you doing, Dean?” Cas asks.

“I’m not givin’ up.” He presses the bullets in hastily. “I just got you back.”

“Okay. Let’s not get caught.” Dean looks up at Cas’ words.

“What’re you talkin’ about?”

“Let’s keep going.” Cas’ blue eyes are piercing and pleading. He looks from Dean to the cliff they’re facing. “Go.”

“You sure?” Dean asks.

“Yes.” Cas nods and looks back at Dean. “As long as we’re together.” Dean grins and nods.

“Cas,” he breathes before he pulls Cas to him and their lips crash together. His fingers rake through Cas’ thick hair as his lips part for him. He can feel Cas’ hand on his jaw and his teeth against his lip. They laugh into each other as they part.

Dean nods and floors it, speeding toward the cliff. He holds out his hand and Cas takes it without hesitation, their fingers winding together. The tires leave the ground and Dean suddenly feels weightless. He squeezes Cas’ hand and turns to look at him, wanting his face to be the last thing he sees.

His dark hair is wild from Dean’s fingers dragging through it. His eyes hold all the shades of blue that the sky holds. His lips are perfect and slightly parted, taking in a breath.

“Dean.”

“Cas.”

“Dean!” Dean blinks blearily, the dream tearing itself up and disintegrating. He can’t focus. He’s so cold and tired and Cas is there. Cas. “Let me heal you,” he pleads. His face swims into focus. Why is he here? He didn’t tell anyone he was going to be here. “What were you doing here?”

“It’s my birthday,” Dean says on an exhale. He feels Cas’ hand on the side of his face and wonders if he has enough blood left to blush. Cas is healing him. He can feel the heat of the grace in Cas’ palm. He doesn’t fight.

“You could have died,” Cas says. Is it anger? Worry?

“Not with my guardian angel,” Dean says as he sits up. His head had been in Cas’ lap, cradled gently. He clenches his jaw and looks away from his best friend. “Thanks, Cas.” He looks toward the door and realizes how dark it is outside. “How long was I gone?”

“Only a few hours, but multiple djinn were feeding on you. How did this happen?”

“Come on, Cas. It’s a long drive back.” He gets up at the same time as Cas and walks toward his exit.

“I didn’t know today was your birthday,” Cas says as he gets in the car.

“It’s not important,” Dean brushes it off. “Hasn’t been for a long time.”

“Happy Birthday, Dean,” Cas says quietly.

Tag List: To be Added like/comment/reblog the post on this link @jemariel @blueeyesandpie @anarchiana @samatedeansbroccoli @localgaycatastrophie @fandom-is-my-middle-name @soloarcana @destielhoneybee @destiel-honeypie @misha-moose-dean-burger-lover @spn-bitchh @awkward-penguin-in-a-trenchcoat @skittles-rainbow-cat  @kingofmyimagination @k-lewis @castibella-shipper-of-the-lord @aestheticallydyke @righteouscomeuppancejogstheliver@deanwinchesterswitch @adventurous-blob @iamcharliebradburylevelperfect @ain-t-bovvered @royalrowena @telefunkies @em-thechaoticplant @canadduh-fics​ @alex-alison

[fandom-necromancer]

601. If you kill them, you’d better kill me too, because otherwise I’m going to kill you.

This was prompted by the awesome @smolandangry001! Thank you so much for the prompt, this has gotten a bit longer than the normal stories but it actually has story, not just fluff or angst XD Enjoy!

Fandom: Detroit become human | Ship: Reed900 (Warnings: Undercover mission gone wrong, kidnapping, violence, offscreen mentioned torture)

‘Nines! Anderson! Connor!’ RK900 looked up from his screen towards Fowlers office. What could possibly have happened for him to be called up there? And why him and the others? The only times Fowler had called him it was because and together with Gavin, something that was impossible now. The man had been on an undercover mission for three months now and one would have thought he had adjusted to him missing in the workplace and in their flat. But no, the void space opposite to him and at home felt weird and even hurt sometimes. He missed his partner dearly. He missed the man’s rare moments of cuteness, the little sweet things he did for him and the habits Nines had developed to return them. He missed their fights, their snarky comments and most of all he missed someone having his back and someone to care for. Sure, he had their cats at home and whenever it was safe, Gavin contacted him via a special chat-program, Nines had written and installed on his phone. They still were in contact relatively regular, but it just wasn’t the same.

The android got up from his seat and followed Connor and Hank into the office. Fowler stood up as soon as he entered, coming around his desk and laid a hand on his upper arm. This wasn’t good and immediately Nines tensed and felt his LED glowing red in his temple. ‘Nines, I… This isn’t good, okay, but I need you to stay calm. We will take action. We will do everything we can. But we have to plan beforehand to make it work.’ Yeah, this wasn’t good at all. ‘What is it?’ Nines forced himself to not let it show how panicked he was. This was something about Gavin, it had to be. But, oh, how he wished it wasn’t. The Captain leaned back to turn his screen and immediately Nines’ analysis-software went haywire.

The screen showed a paused video. Some figure sat slumped down on a chair, held up only by ropes around legs, chest, arms and throat. It was a bit blurry, but the clothing matched Gavin’s. Still, there was a 0.2% chance they were just wearing similar clothing and it all was just coincidence. He held onto that calculation. Fowler sighed and hit the spacebar letting the video continue.

“Hello, fellow boys in blue out there!” The voice was distorted heavily, but Nines was already trying to restore it. “Didn’t think we would find your man, huh?” There was laughing and Nines immediately knew he hated the idiot behind the mic more than anyone else he had ever met. “Well, maybe next time find someone who has less qualms and a more polite mouth.” The words were emphasized by a clangourous slap across the chained man’s face, that let their head bounce back, so the camera could get a good picture. Nines had been about to step forward in an useless attempt to stop the person who hurt the man. The 0.2% quickly dropped to zero. This was Gavin. This was his partner, his friend, his- Gavin woke up from whatever it was that had him hang in the ropes and shifted with a painful grimace. ‘No.’ Nines had whispered it, but the room was dead silent. “I don’t know what to do with him yet, so maybe you could help me? I could kill your friend here, but I think he could be useful still. We demand a school bus. And a safe passage out of this state. Once we left, you get your idiot back, how does that sound, huh?” Only as his artificial skin retracted Nines realised how hard he had pressed his hands into fists. Everything in him screamed to run, to help, to do anything. “Two am. Monday. Location is attached. No tricks. I won’t hesitate to play with him a little, so if you want him alive and in one piece, better do as we said.”

The video stopped and restarted as they watched it again and again, Nines fixed on his love in that chair, wincing every time they hit Gavin. It was Hank, who reached over and stopped it, speaking slowly and low. ‘I think that’s enough. What do we do?’ Nines was still staring at the screen, at the clearly visible bruises and the ropes that dug into his skin, and his combat profile rose up. What do we do? We run. We find Gavin, we free Gavin, we kill anyone who stand in our way. That was what the soldier said. And that was what he wanted.

‘Connor!’ As Fowler cried out the order, Nines was already flying out of the door and down the bullpen, before the other RK unit could throw himself at him and stop him. ‘Nines, stop! Don’t do this!’ ‘They have Gavin!’, Nines hissed against the floor he was laying on and pressed against the weight of the other android on top of him. ‘What would you do would they have the Lieutenant?’ ‘I know. But you can’t just run out there without a plan. We will do our best to safe him.’ ‘Your best is not enough, Connor. You are an obsolete model saved by deviancy. Your careful planning and rational actions will get him killed!’ He didn’t want to be so cruel, but he had to go, he had to help his partner! ‘Nines, I agree. That’s why we need your power on the team, not wasted!’

Nines went lax. Still everything told him to follow his prime directive and the soldier wasn’t about to back down. But he knew he couldn’t and wouldn’t fight against his brother. As he was sure Nines wouldn’t try anything, he let go. ‘Okay, calm down. You will get him back faster than you can think. I promise. Concentrate on the case at hand, okay?’ ‘Okay.’ ‘Good. First of all we have to find out where he is.’ ‘I already know that.’ Nines was still bouncing to let this spiel fall and run. ‘What? How?’ ‘I sort of programmed a form of a pseudo-android-network on his phone. Until three hours ago I know exactly where his phone was. And if they demand a bus, I don’t think they want to leave now.’ ‘Good. Where?’ ‘A house in the suburbs. Still marked as vacant since a family left during the revolution.’ ‘Do you have a building plan?’ ‘Of course I have, Connor, I would be far quicker had I just already gone!’ ‘But do you know how many there are? What weapons? No. I figured. Stay here. It won’t help Gavin when you are killed trying to save him.’ ‘Fine.’

 Nines played along precisely long enough for his shift to end. ‘I’m off, Connor. See you tomorrow.’ ‘Nines. Where are you going?’ ‘Home. The cats need to be fed.’ ‘Are you sure? Don’t lie to me.’ ‘This isn’t a lie.’ ‘Good. Then stay safe.’

It wasn’t a lie. He did drive home and fed the cats. Even cuddled a bit, just in case. But then he left. There was no way he was sitting around doing nothing, when Gavin was hurt and in possible danger. Who knew what these criminals would do to a police officer. Maybe they would stay true to their promise and care enough to let him stay alive. But that didn’t equal unharmed.

He was quick to be back outside again and stopped in his tracks as he found Connor leaned against Gavin’s car. He sighed. ‘I hope you are not here to stop me.’ ‘I don’t think I would be able to if I tried. I got you by surprise, but I am no match for you being the obsolete one.’ ‘I’m sorry, Connor, I really am. But I’m worried. If something happened to him… I- I wouldn’t-‘ ‘Don’t. I know what you feel. I would do the same for Hank. That’s why I came.’ ‘You won’t stop me.’ ‘I didn’t come to stop you. I want to help you. It’s the least I can do for my brother.’ ‘Thank you. I’ll make it up to you, I promise.’ Connor already entered the passenger side. ‘Try not to kill anyone, that would be enough.’

Nines speeded across town on the fastest route there was. ‘What do we tell the precinct once we have him?’, Nines asked. ‘I wanted to take you somewhere to keep you from running to Gavin’s rescue. Then we happened to come across some illegal activity and coincidentally this was the house Gavin is kept captive in.’ ‘They won’t believe that.’ ‘They can’t prove it either.’ ‘Anderson knows of this?’ ‘I left him a note. He’ll understand.’

They parked the car a few blocks away and got out. Nines dropped his Cyberlife jacket in the car. It was already dark, so he would blend in with his black turtleneck and trousers. ‘I can make out three persons in the front, you see anything else?’ ‘Three in the front. There is a laptop I could try hacking. Not sure if they would notice.’ ‘What about the phone? You said you built an android network?’ Nines nodded. It basically felt like an extended part of him now. ‘I’ll try to access it.’ His LED spun yellow for a few seconds. ‘front camera is dark, back camera shows a lamp on a ceiling.’ ‘All the lights upstairs are off. A cellar?’ ‘Yes. There is one. No outdoor access, there is a stair down.’

They came nearer and hid in the neighbour’s bushes. ‘There is a window’, Connor pointed out and Nines zoomed in on it. ‘Possible entrance. But they might notice. It’s closed.’ Connor smiled. ‘But it is a digital log. I can hack it. The whole house is connected to a central processing AI. I could try and hack it, while you scout around the place. You get in, get Gavin and come back, I’ll distract them. Sounds like a plan?’ Nines nodded. He crawled out of the bush, while Connor’s eyes started to flutter. Not much more time passed, and the window opened silently. Nines stuck his head into the space and scanned the place. The window led into some empty broom closet. He signed Connor an okay and squeezed himself through. He barely hadn’t made it as his frame was designed broader than most humans. But he made it and pulled up the floorplan in his HUD. Outside the door was a narrow hallway leading to a single room intended for storage. Most likely the place they kept Gavin in. He fetched some duct tape from a shelf and ripped off a piece to cover his LED, then made way for the door. From the heat signatures, there are two persons outside, Connor sent him over their wireless connection. I’ll create a distraction upstairs. Maybe that will get them out. Nines waited, until he heard a scream from upstairs. What did you do?, Nines asked. Someone was dumb enough to sit on the stove. Nines grinned. Weren’t you the one who said no person harmed? No person killed, was his answer.

Nines waited some more. Any movement on our two guards? Can you see Gavin? Still there. And yes, he is in the next room. I’ll try something else. Nines saw the flicker of light under the door. Soon enough footsteps. Nines pressed himself against the door until the person was right in front of it, then he opened it and put his whole strength into the blow. The door smashed into the man’s face, Nines took him by the collar and yanked him inside the closet, closing the door again and making sure the idiot was unconscious. Then he used his duct tape to gag and handcuff him and let him drop to the floor. One out, he reported. One left. She has heard the commotion. Is coming towards the door. There is an 87% chance she’ll open it. Nines nodded although Connor couldn’t see him and pressed himself to the adjacent wall. There were footsteps again. Then there was light, as the door opened. Nines waited until the woman entered, then grabbed her back and throwed her against the wall and preparing her just like the other guard. Now the way was free. Gavin was nearly safe!

Nines jumped out, ready to run towards his partner. Nines, stop, there is another heat signature there is- He saw him. Standing behind Gavin, smiling devilishly at him, was a well-dressed man, holding a gun to his head. ‘I told you no tricks. I knew you would come. And I’ll tell you what you’ll do now: Go back out and maybe I won’t kill him.’ ‘If you kill him, you’d better kill me too, because otherwise I’m going to kill you’, Nines growled low. ‘Please, no one has to die here. Just go, get your boss to get us that bus and no one will be harmed.’ ‘Oh, but maybe I want to see you harmed?’, Nines hissed. ‘I’m not sure you know my model, but you would either be fast enough to kill him or to save yourself by shooting me. If you kill him, you are dead. If you let him live, there is no need for me to kill you. So, what is more important to you? Proving a point or continue to live?’ Switch off the lights, Connor!

In pitch darkness there was a shot. Then a clatter. Back on!

Nines was on top of the asshole that had threatened his partner, who was holding his bloodied, cleanly shot through hand. Nines didn’t hesitate to punch the man over and over again, until he was unconscious. And then, for good measure, again. After that, there were more important things.

Gavin had been gagged since the video and was barely awake. There was blood on his face, bruises all over and red marks from the ropes around his throat. Nines couldn’t be fast enough to untie him and catch him as he fell towards the ground. ‘Gavin! Gavin, I’m here! You hear me? All is good, we are going home. You are safe!’ Are we safe? This was Fowlers plan. They arrived a few minutes after you entered as backup and are now cleaning up the upper storeys. I needed distractions after the stove. Stay there. Ambulance on its way.

Nines exhaled heavily and pressed Gavin to his chest. He was safe and with him and nothing else mattered.

[diary-of-a-housewifes-housefire]

I got out of the house because my step mom asked for help cleaning her garage. When I got there i told her whats going on at home and I need help. It took 6 hours with a break for dinner.

Then she asked what my plan was. And we polished it up.

Step mom is opening a bank account and making me a signer on it so I can have that set up without any entanglements. Every penny I've earned, and tried to save, has conveniently been needed, even though he makes a few thousand more than we need per month.

I used her phone to call Friend-R. She talked with her husband and said yes about the living situation.

Brother-B did the phone thing, brother-in-law- J is setting the phone up for pick up in bremerton OR overnighting it to BFF-A's house. Then sent a follow up message saying He doesn't know, nor needs to know what's going on, but if I need anything to re-start my life that they're more than happy to help. First, last, & deposit. Legal. Food. Whatever.

Brothers M & C and dad thought I was talking about next week, they're all out of town right now, but will be back.

So, Plan is to do the TRO with papers while the guys are here and use that time to pack and move without his interruptions. I'll message attorney-H about what I need to do about legally taking the kids without it being kidnapping, setting a temporary parenting plan, how long the TRO lasts. THEN relocating the goats, getting a storage unit and cost, and getting a truck and horde of people to get it done in a day or so. AND take pictures of the condition I leave it in. Then a job.

What actually happened..

Had a very challenging night with husband. He began a conversation that pressed all my buttons and I remained calm. Right up till my refusal to react brought about the mother of all reaction grabbing requests. "One last night together." He knows I'm an assault survivor. Barely. He knows I get wound up with touching, hugging, and can't get to kissing. He knows these all affect me. He knows I've had sex with him because I was too scared to say no. He knows im scared of him now. And it did affect me. Yay for him. Almost passed out again from the heart rate and panic. And then he tried to calm me down by holding my hand and rubbing my back. And he knows that doesn't help. But he's "being nice and trying to take care of me." I should just calm down. Stop acting so crazy.

Eventually the conversation ended. I can't remember what we talked about. Obviously I didn't log it. Stupid.

The next day I ran school with the kids and compulsively cleaned. (Stress management) He showed up unexpectedly with lunch for everyone. Asked me if I wanted to kiss him. Jesus fucking christ with this. He stared at me till I made a semi verbal grunt of disagreement. Then he left saying he was used to my rejection. He's supposed to work late, about 7 or 8. I never know when he'll be home. At about 3 I started to panic. I can't do this again. I can't make it another day with another conversation and more messing with my head. What if he presses the sex issue more? I can't do it. So I hid in my closet with my secret phone and called my brother-M. He walks me through my plan. Suggests I go to dad's rather than a friend. Dad is a marine, armed like someone in a post apocalyptic movie, and more than anything, intimidating as fuck. Husband won't dare darken his doorstep to mess with me. Then he tells me, call dad, call the attorney, make it happen. And I do.

So I call dad. He wants me to stay in the house. Don't lose the house. By all means, if I'm not safe, then bring the kids and get on the road, but don't lose the house. He's talking like I've taken a hill in Nam and retreat will be handing the ground back to the VC.

I call the attorney-H. She assured me I'm not losing the house. Abused spouses don't forfeit their homes when they run from their partners. We'll get the papers started for the TRO. We'll set the court date. I come back when he's gone. He can't come near me or he'll be arrested. I don't have to fear his divorce papers reaction. He can't come near me for 2 weeks, at minimum. And that's only because the temporary is reviewed to be permanent in 2 weeks.

I hang up. Barely grab enough stuff for 2 days for myself and the kids. I couldn't think. I'm shaking. I grabbed 6 pairs of socks and only 2 pairs of panties. 2 shirts, then the kids. 1.5 pairs of pajamas, 4 shirts, 3 pairs of pants, a bra, 2 pairs of underwear...in total, not per kid. Went downstairs, told the niece to pack. She knew it might happen. She jumped up and got packing. I grabbed essential stuffies, 2 kid blankets, school laptops and books, and told the kids we were going to visit grampa. Thank God we're in a quarantine and school is online.

I was shaking. I was afraid he'd come home while I was packing. I was trying to plan a lie to explain what the fuck I was doing in case I got caught. My son started an autistic meltdown when he had to put on shoes. I yelled at him. I was scared. He was slowing us down. I promised him a milkshake, which I forgot about. I left all the phone chargers, my daughters ADHD medication...my own ADD medication. I thankfully remembered insulin. No toothbrushes, no books, no pens or pencils for the road. No snacks.

I had $100 from my step-mom and a $200 gift card that was delivered with the phone. All of my $900 had to be used for medical and household stuff. Eyeroll. That is called financial abuse. Trapping someone by removing their access to money.

We got in the car. The video camera alerts him any time anyone is in the driveway. We hurried. Pulled out of the driveway while daughter was still putting on her seat belt. By the time I got to the end of the dirt road my phone was ringing. 4 minutes down the main road and it was still ringing. GPS was still on. I turned off my phone. Asked niece to turn off her phone. He's gotten into both of them with his contract holder privilege. He can read any text, observe any app, track any location, unless the phone is off.

I used the phone gifted from my brother-B and in-law-J. I sent messages while shaking and driving. "Headed to dad's" I copied it and pasted it into text chats of the essential people but couldn't reply while driving. Of course it's dark and raining. Don't fucking wreck the car!!! Is ringing in my head. The data doesn't work. Messaging does. Daughter-R is asking where we are, how long till grampa's house, what city....she's got her phone. She has no fucking clue what we're really doing, and I'm worried she's on a messenger with him. Thankfully she wasn't.

A white car is tailgating me. It pops out to pass, or pull along side me. I ask niece what kind of car it is. It's a jeep. Then it happens again, it's a silver suv. Then it happens again, it's a white truck. Fuck. ...Is there a mismatched gas cap? ...No. Ok...sigh of relief. Tacoma rush hour traffic. Fuck. Searching rear view mirrors, checking the phone checking daughter. Answering questions vaguely. Wrong freeway exit. Can't see well at night . Back on the freeway. Panic. Right freeway exit. Shaking stops. Nerves are calming. Stop for food. Accidentally order 60 chicken nuggets. Who fucking cares. Get to dad's house. .... I can breathe.... I almost cry, but I gotta be normal for the kids. We unload. He's taking them around the house, and the night progresses from there. I check in with friends to say I made it. Brother-B tells me he's proud of me. He's never said that to me. He's my little brother, and he was the key to me getting out. I almost cry again.

I managed to get out of the house, with all 3 kids. The controlling mentally abusive commanding officer of military police/ training officer for the DoD husband didn't pull me over on the road or track me down and stop me.

It all happened because I was given a phone that he couldn't track. This is the same phone I'm using to write this post.

[perahn]

Happy Life Updates

I don’t generally make a habit of posting about my personal life on here, but I felt like celebrating a bit (and also showing off someone beautiful; you’ll see in a minute).

2018 got very messy for me. I bounced through five jobs:

 a job community nursing in a country town, which I loved. I was renting a nice unit by myself.

 a job community nursing in a major city, during which I was underpaid and overworked, had a car accident, and gave my notice after less than a week. I was sharing a house with an anal-retentive guy who knocked on my bedroom door at 10pm to tell me I had left the dish-brush in the sink and would I please come pick it up.

 a job agency nursing in another major city, which meant that I got calls at 5am to ask if I could take a shift at 7. The money was excellent but never knowing if I was working or where was a strain. I was crashing in my parents’ spare bedroom.

a casual job in a multi-purpose service (part aged care, part acute hospital, part emergency department) in a tiny rural town. When I say tiny, I mean it was a 45 minute drive to the nearest McDonalds. I was promised full-time work after a month. I worked for 7 months as a casual in the next tiny rural town over. I lived in the nurses’ quarters, which was a very nice private flat in the first town and a souped-up hospital room in the second.

literally the first job again, except as a full-time permanent employee. I was living in the nurses’ quarters, which used to be a convent. The corridors are air-conditioned but the rooms are not, which is a very pertinent point when the temperature remains above 40C during the day and above 30C overnight. 

Things, as you might have gathered, began to change around December, when I got my old job back. I also became an aunt and godmother to the most adorable boy imaginable (his eyelashes! his eyes! his chuckles!).

Almost immediately after New Year’s, I started looking for a place to live. I was expecting to rent. I found, instead, a beautiful and underpriced flat, and my offer for it was accepted. There were hiccups along the way (my brother also made an offer on a place the same weekend mine was accepted, and he moved into his place over a week before I did), but on 25/3/19, I became officially a home owner.

(you can tell by the scattered boxes everywhere. This also means my books are out of storage for the first time in a year. I have missed them desperately)

And because I now own a home, I can do something I have wanted to do all my life. Enter this gorgeous boy...

According to the paperwork, his name is Takao. I think it’s a hard-sounding name for such a soft, floofy, constantly-purring boy. Mostly I’m calling him Pfeff or Pfeffer, for ‘Pfeffernusse’ - his tail is about that colour.

When I daydreamed as a child, all the future I could ever really imagine was a quiet space that was mine and private, with a lot of books to read and a purry cat in my lap.

It feels lovely to have achieved it.

[lucisfavoritedemon]

Moving Day

Pairing: Dean x friend!Nelly

Characters: Dean, Nelly, David, John, and Sam.

Summary: A hunt gone wrong has Nell packing her bags.

Warning: Angst, character death, caring!Dean (yes it’s a warning), caring!John (yes also a warning), depressed!Nelly, some fluff.

Word Count: 2393

Fate & Destiny Masterlist

It was fall of 1994. It had been three years since Nell and Dean met, and since they last spoke. Both have tried to convince their fathers to join for a hunt, but both refuse. This was another day in their lives that would change them forever. It was November 16, 1994. Nell had barely just turned 13, and was going on practically her first solo hunt. She had David there to help her if she needed it, but the research was all up to her.

She was anxious, but at the same time she couldn’t wait to be sort of on her own for this hunt. Putting the clues together, and starting a journal al her own to commemorate this special opportunity. She wanted to prove she could do this with little to no help, but sadly that wasn’t the case.

She put all the clues together to know it was a ghost her and her dad were hunting. She had done the proper research and was able to locate the body of one Mrs. Doss. She was targeting men who didn’t love their wives, or they were caught cheating. Everything looked like it was going really well for Nelly until it wasn’t.

“Dig faster so we can get out of here before we get caught.”

“I’m trying, but this is a tough job to do for one person.” Nelly replied to her father, who was frantically scanning the area for any signs of the spirit.

He was about to scan back the way he was facing when he turned to look at Nelly, and check her progress, when he notice Mrs. Doss was going to grab Nelly.

“Nelly look out!” David yelled, but before she could even process what was happening her father jumped between his daughter and this monster.

Nelly dug faster, and finally found the coffin in which the old lady was buried. She took out the salt lighter fluid and a match within seconds. The spirit burst into flames as she screamed in agony. It was over and she had one hunt under her belt.

Once Nelly was able to catch her breath she couldn’t help, but smile with joy, and was awaiting for her father’s approval. One problem though, he was lying still in the grass. No sign of moving, not even slight breathing.

She started to panic, but at the same time she thought he was testing her. Seeing what she would do if the time ever came for her to think fast.

“Dad I did it! Come on stop fooling around,” she touched his skin which was already starting to become dangerously cold. “Dad come on this isn’t funny.”

She knew deep down though what was really happening. She knew that he was already gone. It was her fault and she never even got to express how much she truly appreciated him, and everything he was teaching her.

She grabbed his phone from inside the glove compartment of the car and dialed the first person she could think of to call. She didn’t know why he came to mind, but she knew that he would be able to help her.

“David I told you not call this number again,” the man answered on the other end.

“John Winchester? It’s Nelly. David’s daughter?”

“Oh, hi Nelly. Um, where’s your dad?”

“There was a hunt that went wrong, and he’s dying or already dead, or…” she started to freak out, reality starting to set in.

“Calm down give me your coordinates and I will be there as fast as I can.”

“We were on a hunt in Oklahoma. I don’t know where. I can’t think of anything.”

“Calm down. I’m on my way. Bobby will know where the two of you were headed.”

It took John 4 hours to get to Nelly. By then she had already called 911 and they tried to save her dad, but the girl was all alone in the world now.

John walked in and found her curled up in a chair. It broke his heart to see someone so young going through something like this. She had lost both her parents now, and had no other family that anyone knew about.

“Hey there Nelly.”

“Oh hi John.” She tried to give him a welcoming smile, but it hurt her to smile.

She was in a lot of pain and didn’t know how to handle it. Her father was all she had and now she was having to say goodbye to him. He couldn’t see most of her face though, for as soon as she saw him her head went right back onto her knees.

“Um, sir may I help you?” One of the nurses approached John.

“Yeah I’m Nelly’s godfather. She called and told me what had happened. I was away on business and flew back as quickly as I could.”

“Nelly is this true? You know this man?”

“Yes ma'am. He’s an old family friend. My dad asked him to take me in if anything were to happen to him, and in return my dad would do the same for his two boys. I just hoped it would never happened.” She whispered the last sentence putting her head back down, but John heard her loud and clear as if she had spoken louder.

This was awful for someone her age to have to be going through something like this. He couldn’t help but think of his two sons having to go through something like this. It hit him hard, but at least he knew they had each other. This girl curled up on a chair had no one left. She was the last remaining of her family.

“So, I assume that she might have filled you in on what happened?” the nurse asked looking between the pair.

“No she just said that something was wrong, and she asked me to come right away.”

“Well, Mr. Carmichael had suffered a heart attack. Quite a severe one.”

“How severe?” John asked concerned that Nelly had brought her father here for no reason because he was already dead when the paramedics arrived.

“He was pronounced dead at the scene.” Nelly spoke up.

“Did the doctors and nurses tell you that?” John asked making Nelly feel like a two year old.

“No I figured out on my own.” She looked to him, and came out of the ball she was curled up in.

Now he could clearly see her face. Her eyes were red, and they were surrounded by dark circles. Her skin was pale, and if he didn’t know better he would think she was a revenant. He knew better than that though, and all this girl needed was a nice place to sleep and some food in her stomach.

“Well, I think I’m going to take her home now and help her through this difficult time.” John said to the nurse standing, and reaching to shake her hand.

“Yes of course. I’m so sorry for your loss again Nelly.” The nurse stated, and walked away.

~*~

“Look, I know this place isn’t much, but at least these beds are more comfortable than those chairs in the waiting room.” John said dropping his bag on one of the beds.

“Anything is better than those chairs. Hell, a bed of rocks is more comfortable than those chairs.” Nelly joked trying to get herself to laugh, but only for a brief moment.

John noticed this and knew what he had to do. He was going to get the remainder of her stuff from a storage unit in Colorado, and officially have her travel with him and his sons.

~*~

It had been a few days since the incident with Nelly’s dad, and she still had this aching feeling in her chest. Of course she is still going to feel the loss, but she felt even worse about lying about what happened to her father. John doesn’t even know the truth yet, and she doesn’t plan on telling him unless he asks her to.

They were driving to Bobby’s to get Sam and Dean before they headed to their next destination. John kept looking over at Nelly wanting, and needing to know what happened to the man he once called friend.

“So, I know you probably don't want to talk about it, but I need to know what happened that night.”

She swore she could hear herself breathe a sigh of relief.

“I'm glad you asked. Lying has never been a strong suit of mine, and lying to the nurses and doctors was eating me up inside. We were just on a regular salt and burn. I was mainly taking the lead because he wanted me to prove that I could do it.

“So, I figured the person we were dealing with and found her buried in a cemetery nearby. I was digging, and my dad was keeping watch. He kept telling me to dig faster, but I didn't listen. Until he yelled look out. By then it was too late. He jumped in front of me and took a hand to the heart. She squeezed it to the point where it shriveled up. Which is why the nurse said it was severe.”

“You're saying it's your fault?” John asked not looking at her. He sounded angry, but she couldn't blame him.

“I screwed up and it cost my dad has life. You can be mad at me all you want, but it won't compare to how much I hate myself.”

“I’m not mad. Everyone makes mistakes.” 

This is where Nelly learned it was a one time thing that he said this. He didn’t want to push her away when she clearly needed someone. He was drawing her in to make her want to stay. That’s exactly what happened. She was drawn in by his kind words.

“If you are though, I can take it. I understand because I will never forgive myself for what happened. His death was 100% my fault.”

Listening to her blame herself was punishment enough. It was the last time he would ever bring up David in front of her again.

~*~

It had been a week since her father passed away and now she was finally going to see Dean again. It had been two years since she last saw him, and she was excited. She just wished it was on better terms. She was also excited to meet his brother Sam. She heard so much about him. Dean loved him even if he never came out and said the words, he adored his little brother.

They pulled up to Bobby’s, and were instantly greeted by the man who Nelly had heard so much about from both Dean, John, and her father.

“Hey there John, this must be Nelly Charles. Nice to meet you Nelly.” Bobby greeted reaching his hand out to her.

“Nice to meet you too. My talked about you all the time.” She smiled softly before it faded into the thoughts of guilt.

“I know it’s hard now, but it will get easier. I promise.”

“Nell? What are you doing here?” Dean ran out noticing that the girl who he considered his best friend was standing near his father.

“Hi Dean.” She spoke softly, almost to a whisper.

“Is everything alright?” Dean asked, concern written on his face.

“Dean get back inside let the grown ups discus this,” John ordered, “Nelly you too.” He looked over at the timid girl who was trying to curl up while still staying vertical.

Nell and Dean walked into Bobby’s house and it wasn’t long before she was being bombarded by question, but not from Dean.

“Hi I’m Sam! What’s your name? Where are your from? Do you like games?”

“Hi Sam! It’s nice to finally meet you. Your brother has told me so much about you. I’m from Colorado, and just so we’re clear I love games. Board games, make believe, you name it, I’ll play it.”

For the first time in almost a week she smiled a genuine smile. Not a smile she had to force because she wanted people to know she was okay. That she was going to be okay. These boys were going to be the most important thing to her.

“So, Nell? Why are you here? Where’s your dad?” Dean asked after he settled his brother at the kitchen for a light snack.

“I was on my first semi-solo hunt when something went wrong, and now he’s...he passed away. Now I’m here. Your dad has promised to keep me, but to be honest, I wouldn’t put it passed him to sick me on Bobby for the rest of my life, or until I’m 18 at least.”

“I won’t let him do that. He promised to keep you, and I’ll make him even if he kills me for stepping out of line.”

“This isn’t the same Dean I knew two years ago. It has me wondering if you do this for everyone you meet or if it’s just me.” Nell teased trying to get Dean to ease up. 

Again Nell wouldn’t blame John if he just dumped her somewhere. It would be a lot better than the internal war she is battling within herself. She thought it was probably the best option for her.

“Nelly? Can Bobby and I speak to you for a second?” John peeked his head in through the door gesturing for her to follow him.

“John and I both have decided that it would be best for him to take you in. He did promise after all and it makes it seem sort of at home for you since you and your dad traveled a lot together. We just want the healing process to be as short as humanly possible. We care that you don’t get hurt hunting. Mistakes do happen sometimes, and you don’t need to continue to blame yourself for what happened. It would have happened eventually whether it was your fault or not.” Bobby reassured her.

This is where her life changed. The next day the Winchester boys would be heading out on a shifter hunt, and Nell would join them. She felt more at home on the road because it has been all she’s known for almost 7 years, and she was glad her time of hunting wasn’t over just yet.

Fate & Destiny Tags:

@atc74 @bella-ca @ericaprice2008 @mirandaaustin93 @snffbeebee

[ao3porcelainstorm]

poison ivy & stinging nettles 12

On Ao3

Pairing: Sherlock/OFC

Rated: M

Warnings: eventual violence, torture, swears, adult themes (no explicit smut)

Chapter 11 - Chapter 13

Chapter 12- Lies

~~~

I’ll admit, I’m not as good at writing these things as John is. However, he’s still admitted to the hospital and is unable to attend Sirenshore with Amelia and me.

The legal case against Chemco has continued, with a large manhunt announced for Lydia Brenner in both the United States and the United Kingdom.

Amelia had joked that perhaps her mother would turn up at the funeral out of respect for her older brother. I didn’t account for the humorous anecdote in my own considerations, however, as improbable as it would be, I’ve found the Brenner family to consistently act emotionally.

I have to take the suggestion as seriously as any other, just to be sure.

~~~

“I haven’t been out here since I was a kid,” Amelia was gazing out the window of the rental car, watching the rolling hills Sherlock navigated through. “It’s prettier than I remember, even without the leaves on the trees.”

“Lots of sheep,” he added bitterly, slowing behind a farmer and his flock. A low sigh of irritation passed his lips with a scowl.

“The house is by the water at least,” Amelia glanced over apologetically. “Far fewer sheep in the Channel, or so I’ve heard.”

“Hilarious,” he answered, swerving around the large crowd of sheep and continuing down the country road.

“Ruthie said the new chef is really good,” Amelia continued to babble aimlessly. She was obviously nervous, and while normally Sherlock would have been annoyed by the incessant noise, it provided a nice ground for him to focus on while driving.

“There’s nothing to be nervous about,” Sherlock found himself cutting in while she talked about a great aunt that was due to attend the funeral.

“These are some of the worst people I’ve encountered in my life,” she muttered, sinking into her seat. “We’re literally wandering into a pit of vipers.”

“We could go back to London,” he offered, albeit too optimistically.

“You’re welcome to,” Amelia gave him a sad smile. “I need to be here for Ruthie. I can’t let her face these monsters alone. It wouldn’t be right.”

Looking at her, Sherlock felt a twinge of guilt for so easily suggesting they go home. Of course, she was going to stand by her cousin despite her own misery. She was stubbornly loyal to those she loved, he knew that well.

“I want to look through his study,” he cleared his throat, returning his gaze to the road. “I promised Mycroft I’d inform him if I found anything.”

She made a noise of acknowledgment, her attention now lost as they approached the large winding road leading up to the estate. Massive trees bordered the drive, with rolling fields that cut off at the edge of a cliff, overlooking the ocean.

There was a foreboding feeling that settled over the car, the manor ahead cloaked in a blanket of fog from the shore, with dark clouds rolling in toward them.

“The family cemetery,” Amelia pointed over his shoulder where a group of men were measuring out a spot for what he assumed was Maxwell. “Stables, the garden…”

It was an impressive plot of land, far grander than Amelia’s hesitant descriptions had painted it.

“Ruthie told everyone it was a hunting accident,” she supplied when he pulled the car to a stop at the entrance of the manor. “The only people who know the truth are us, her, and Frank.”

It made sense to come up with a cover story. The allegations were fresh, and there wasn’t a good enough reason to sully the reputation of a man who’d only recently fallen to corruption in his life (or so it seemed).

Sherlock took both of their bags, ignoring Amelia’s insistence she could carry her own. They’d barely made it up the steps to the house when Ruthie opened the door and hugged her cousin with tears in her eyes.

She looked awful. She must have spent several hours crying, and given the sway to her walk, she likely sought comfort in the manor’s wine cellar.

“I’m so sorry,” Amelia pulled her cousin into her arms, rubbing a loving hand over Ruthie’s shoulders, the other woman shaking with sobs. “I’m so sorry…”

Frank appeared in the door, glancing from the women to Sherlock with a somber expression. He gestured for Sherlock to come inside, leaving the two Brenner women to their privacy.

“It’s been hard,” Frank offered a space to set the bags. “Monty got here this morning to watch Tommy while we deal with all of the planning and final directives. She’s just been a mess.”

“It’s unusual circumstances,” Sherlock noted lightly, taking in the massive entryway that led to a more intimate sitting room.

“I’m glad you two were able to get here early,” he took a relieved sigh. “I’m at my wit's end. Glass of scotch?”

Sherlock took the drink politely, barely touching it while Frank filled him in on everything that had happened since Ruth and Amelia last spoke.

“Your brother is going to be stopping by tomorrow,” he added, taking a large swallow of his drink, quickly refilling his crystal glass. “He found Lydia.”

That caught Sherlock’s attention. The detective turned around in surprise.

“Alive?” he asked, much to the amusement of his host. Frank chuckled and nodded.

“She turned herself in after hearing the news of Max,” he explained. “I’m surprised he didn’t tell you. He called up this morning.”

Surprised? Sherlock snorted. Hardly.

Pulling out his mobile, he typed out a quick message to Mycroft, demanding an explanation. Almost immediately, there was a buzz of notification.

I thought it’d be a lovely family reunion.

-MH

So that was it. Mycroft didn’t trust any of the Brenner’s, Amelia included. Which meant, he would be keeping things from Sherlock due to their association.

What an idiot.

Sending back a snarky reply, the voices of Amelia and Ruth floated into the room, the front door closing behind them.

“We have the two of you set up in the East Wing suite,” Ruth was explaining, the women arm in arm.

“We could have taken a sofa,” Amelia smiled, rubbing her cousin’s arm affectionately. “You’re too sweet.”

“It’s more private than the other rooms,” Frank added, a sloppy wink in Sherlock’s direction.

“Oh-,” Amelia quickly caught the exchange and cut in. “We’re not- that’s not- we’re friends.”

Ruth looked horrified as Amelia stumbled through the explanation of their relationship, which left a strange hollowness in Sherlock’s chest.

“I’m sorry,” Ruth squeezed her hand. “The other rooms won’t be ready until tomorrow afternoon, and they’re all set aside for the rest of the guests.”

“It’s okay,” Amelia assured her, a chipper smile fixed on her face. “I wasn’t joking about the sofa. We’ll make it work.”

Ruth suggested they settle in a bit before dinner, promising a large seafood spread and the best wine she could track down.

A maid showed them to their room, an isolated suite at the far east side of the house. There were a few rooms scattered in the hall, but once they entered the suite, Sherlock understood what Frank had meant by privacy.

The bedroom was in the very back of the ornate space, with a large sitting room taking up the entrance. Already, it seemed that someone had taken the consideration to start a fire in each of the four fireplaces.

The maid excused herself, leaving the pair to explore the large chambers.

“I can sleep on the chaise,” Amelia called from one of the rooms. “It’s bigger than my bed at home. Plus, you can’t pass up the opportunity to sleep on the beds here.”

“What kind of boyfriend would I be to make you sleep on a chaise?” Sherlock joked, following her laughter to a small study tucked next to the bedroom.

“I’m sorry about the confusion,” she answered, draped over the chaise next to the fire. “I’ll make sure the record is definitively set at dinner."

He waved her concerns off, distracting himself with a large grandfather clock at the edge of the room.

“Don’t pay it much mind,” he assured her. “We have other matters to focus on.”

“Like burying my murdered uncle,” she chimed up. When he didn’t agree, she sat up in the chair. “And what else?”

“Mycroft has stumbled upon something,” he replied vaguely, still fiddling with the clock.

“And what’s that?” her voice rose in pitch. Nervous.

“Your mother,” he answered, listening for a reaction from his companion. He felt a little bad throwing the information on her like this, but it was better to get it out of the way. In private.

“Oh,” she simply replied. “Does that mean… she’s coming to the funeral..?”

“I would imagine,” he finally turned around to find Amelia sitting with her elbows on her knees, staring off in the distance.

Lost in thought.

“What time did they say we were having dinner?” she asked after a pause of silence.

“In an hour,” he replied with a glance at the clock over his shoulder.

“Ah,” she stood up, adjusting the scarf and collar of her coat. “I’m gonna take a little walk, I’ll see you at dinner.”

She looked like she was just floating through space, stepping past Sherlock, and leaving the room without another word.

~~~

Amelia missed dinner, having texted Sherlock that she wasn’t very hungry. No one seemed to notice the lack of presence with Frank and Monty quizzing Sherlock on a recent murder in Edinburgh. Ruth just stared at her wine glass, and Tommy would occasionally chime in with a comment about his favorite color or his mismatched socks.

He decided after eating to track her down, even though the sun had set over the grounds, and cloaked the space in darkness.

He didn’t like the brisk text message or the fact she had been ignoring his response.

When he tried calling her, the phone went straight to voicemail.

It didn’t settle right with him.

He started with the garden, a logical place he could expect to find the flora enthusiast. Searching the whole area, he found no trace of her.

It wasn’t ideal at all. He started for the stables, quietly searching each stall, and finding nothing.

The small parish was empty, the storage house was eerily silent, and finally, he found nothing in the boathouse at the edge of the shoreline.

He was about to give up his search when the breeze threw a large crimson cloth at his waist.

Her scarf.

Following the direction of the wind down the shore, he found a small enclave with a figure sitting on a large rock, staring at the moon over the water.

“Lose something?” he tried to keep the concern out of his voice when she glanced up at him in surprise. He moved closer and saw that her cheeks were red from tears and she’d pulled off her boot, her ankle being soothed between her hands.

Wiping at her cheeks angrily, she scoffed under her breath.

“I forgot the drop,” she admitted miserably, pointing to the steep drop off above her. “When it got dark, I was trying to find my phone in my pocket for a light and slipped.”

She nodded to the shattered mobile next to her.

“I caught my ankle on the ledge,” she added, lightly touching the tender limb. She hissed under her breath at the touch. Even at the distance, when he turned the flashlight on his phone, he could see how swollen the injury was.

Sherlock sighed, dropping down next to her and gesturing for her to set her ankle in his lap.

“Do you have any idea how worried I- Ruth was?” he demanded, using his light to better examine the injury. It didn’t look the best, but he was pretty confident it wasn’t a break. Using the scarf, he wrapped a makeshift brace around it, helping her tuck it back into her boot.

“I didn’t think anyone would have gone this far down the beach,” she replied softly, a low chuckle when he helped her up, wrapping an arm around her waist. “I had just accepted an overly dramatic corpse that died for incredibly stupid reasons by the water.”

When she leaned in, Sherlock was hit with the scent of sunflowers mixed with sea salt. Adjusting her out of the breeze, they started the trek back to the manor.

“You’re lucky I bothered checking on you,” he continued to lecture, the pair struggling through the loose sand.

“I figured after the night, someone would have gotten worried,” she teased, nearly falling over when she slipped with her good foot in the sand.

Huffing in annoyance, Sherlock scooped her up, carrying her bridal style the remainder of the way.

“This is humiliating,” Amelia complained continuously, quickly protesting when he began to lower her back to the ground. “This isn’t going to do a good job of convincing my family we aren’t an item.”

“Who cares,” came his honest response. By the time they reached the house, one of the housekeepers informed the pair everyone was in their respective rooms for the evening.

She helped Sherlock get Amelia to the suite, and brought back a few supplies so he could properly wrap and ice the injury.

“I think you’re going to live,” Sherlock stated decidedly, studying the injury in the brighter light. “I do think we should go to town tomorrow and have it professionally examined, just to be sure.”

“If we time it right, maybe we can avoid Mycroft’s visit.”

“Even so, if your mother is staying for the funeral, she’ll likely be spending the night,” he replied.

“Always gotta ruin my excitement,” she grumbled, laying on her back on the large bed.

He wrapped the ankle with a proper bandage, elevated it, and instructed Amelia to ice it for twenty minutes.

“Are you hungry?” he asked, pulling off his coat and tossing it over a nearby chair.

The question came as a surprise to Amelia who started to decline, but her stomach gave a large growl of protest.

“Ignore it,” she insisted when he started for the door, sitting up quickly. “I’m really fine, don’t worry about it.”

He rolled his eyes, exiting the room and starting for where he guessed the kitchen was located.

The house had been incredibly well kept over the years. He could see where panels of wood had been diligently replaced, windows cleaned spotless, crisp paint on the walls, and not a speck of dust to be seen. Centuries of artifacts decorated the hall, from ornate 17th-century tapestries to trinkets from all over the world.

He was looking at a Nigerian tribal mask when the housekeeper from earlier intercepted him.

“19th century,” she explained over his shoulder. “A gift to Robert Henley Brenner, the late Maxwell Brenner the First’s father.”

“A gift?” Sherlock arched a brow, not quite believing the explanation given the Brenner family history of malice and manipulation.

“There were a few good ones,” she joked, quickly looking over her shoulder to see if anyone else heard her.

“What about your late employer?” Sherlock asked when she offered to guide him to the kitchens. “The third Maxwell Brenner.”

“I did hear what happened in London,” she confessed. “He and Lydia had an agreement regarding their father’s will, with her serving as the face while he worked behind the scenes. There hadn’t been much of an issue until he got caught up with the board demanding increased quarter profits moving forward.”

“There are only so many products one could sell,” Sherlock noted with a hum.

“I’m aware of your reputation Mr. Holmes, so I would imagine you’re familiar with the merger with the NHS?” she asked, stopping and looking at him directly.

“Amelia mentioned it,” he replied.

“That was brokered by a man with some government connections,” she supplied, lowering her voice significantly. “We were instructed to go about our daily tasks without any explanation as to who he was. They met multiple times in Max’s study.”

“You never learned his name?” Sherlock pried.

“It never came up,” she admitted bitterly. “Though I’m not so ignorant as to ignore the very obvious pattern that’s arisen over the last few days.”

“You knew he was murdered,” Sherlock stated while she nodded.

“And then Miss Mia arrives with London’s famous detective in tow?” she chuckled under her breath. “I’m surprised the rest of the staff hasn’t figured it out. This family is infamous for its intrigue and lies.”

“When was the last time the man came by?” Sherlock asked firmly.

“The day before Max left for the dinner in London,” she answered confidently. “They were arguing, lots of shouting, before the man left in a right foul mood.”

That was all of the information she had to give him, but once they arrived at the kitchen, she introduced herself more formally as the head housekeeper, Mallory Heath, and promised to “keep an ear to the ground” during the events of the weekend.

More or less, she’d confirmed what Amelia had said about Max working with Moriarty, even if names weren’t specifically mentioned. He would just have to poke around Max’s study when the family was distracted with the memorial to confirm any records and confirm a motive.

When he returned to the suite, he heard the distinct sound of Amelia snoring. He had started to recognize it after she’d picked up the habit of only sleeping when he was around. He certainly didn’t miss that it had started directly after John had been shot.

Still, she must have been exhausted if she had fallen asleep in her winter coat, a bundle of ice in her hand.

Nudging her arm, she startled awake, yawning and smiling up at him appreciatively when she spotted the large plate of food in his hand.

“You’re an angel,” she sighed, taking the plate, and sitting up. “Thank you.”

While she ate, Sherlock pulled out his laptop and dropped onto the bed next to her.  It was, admittedly, a very comfortable bed. Much larger than his own king-sized mattress at home and significantly plusher.

“Has Mycroft said anything to you about what my mother has said?” she asked quietly, nibbling on a large dinner roll.

“No,” came his deflated response. “I think he’s suspicious of something though. Why else would he attend this circus personally?”

“Then she either lied or this is still ongoing,” she reasoned lightly. “Granted, it was with Moriarty anyway. Maybe she’s confirming the details?”

“I hoped you might be able to find that out,” he replied, looking over. “I spoke with the housekeeper and she all but confirmed Moriarty’s presence here the day before Harvest Festival. If your mother can reliably affirm their connection, the motive behind Max’s demise is obvious.”

“And just what? Ask her?” she looked scandalized by the very idea.

“She spoke to my brother, willingly,” he answered. “A change of heart, perhaps?”

“Or Moriarty has a gun pointed at her head and Mycroft’s position offers her an opportunity to disappear,” Amelia shot back. “She isn’t exactly mother of the year. Or Mother Theresa."

“At least she isn’t dead,” Sherlock hummed in response. “There’ll likely be a trial in the States. And Chemco will be hit with more aggressive legal action here.”

“I’ll try,” Amelia set her empty plate on the nightstand next to the bed. Peeling off her coat, she threw it on the floor and fell back against the fluffy pillows behind her. “Only because you asked so nicely.”

“I’m always nice to you.”

“Mmm,” she closed her eyes, lifting the covers and snuggling underneath. “I’ll let that slide for today since you’re being so nice.”

“I should have left you on the beach,” he mused, opening a case file Lestrade had emailed over while they were out.

“So nice,” she rolled on her side, humming the words under her breath. “Mr. Sherlock Niceguy Holmes.”

He watched her until her breathing fell even, and he was sure she’d fallen back asleep. After the events of the day, plus the traveling, he was surprised she’d made it that long without sleeping.

Making a note to relocate after he was done working on the new case, he started digging into the triple homicide with interest.

~~~

It was sunrise when he woke up. His laptop was folded shut next to his legs, and Amelia had found her way to his side of the bed, wrapping herself around his waist.

At some point, he must have crawled under the large duvet as well, the warmth of his companion's body flush against him. It was undeniably cozy.

He closed his eyes again, listening to her steady breathing mixed with the sounds of the early morning.

Peaceful. He could actually hear himself think amongst the chirping birds outside.

This mixed with the scent of clean linens with Amelia’s subtle floral scent created an almost perfect atmosphere to wake up to.

In the back of his mind, he wondered why he was never as refreshed in the morning at home.

Amelia shifted in her sleep, nearly knocking the laptop off the bed.

Catching it silently, Sherlock set it on the floor next to the bed, attempting to slide out and get ready for the day.

Instead, Amelia pulled him back, nestling deeper next to him with a grumble of discontentment.

Considering his options, he moved back into place, snuggling under the covers and waiting for her to fall still again.

This was nice, he realized when she pressed back up against him, bringing back the warmth from earlier. He’d never liked sharing a bed with someone before. Even when he’d taken the brief nap at the hospital to sleep off his drugging, it was with significant hesitation.

But, then again, he had slept like a baby that day, and this, clearly, was not an exception to his unwitting experiment in sharing his space.

Before Sherlock knew it, he was slipping back into a contented sleep, his arm lazily thrown around Amelia’s back.

Chapter 13

[simon-snows-pitch]

a very long venting session away from main

TW: domestic abuse? (i’m okay, talking about someone else)

I am such an angry stress ball atm. Everybody needs everything from me right now. I know I don’t have to Be There for every person and, for the most part, I have good boundaries. But there are several people for whom I am The Person To Talk To.

My best friend for the last decade is on the literal verge of breaking up with her live-in boyfriend of 5 years. She made some bad choices and told him, and she’s needed me to be there. I understand she doesn’t want to tell her other friends because she’s worried they’ll judge her, but she’s knows I’d never think poorly of her. So she gets an ear and asked for advice.

My queerplatonic partner (?? we’re figuring it out) has been so anxious and stressed since the start of covid. He has to move his brother down to Arizona this week and wanted me to decide for him whether he should rent a car and drive 24 hrs back home alone, or just accept the flight ticket his mom already purchased. So he got an ear and asked for advice.

An old friend of mine had a sudden onset of a panic disorder and has been experiencing some very dark mental health issues. She reached out to talk about it (I said she could) because she wanted to talk to someone who’d been there. So she gets an ear. 

And now, most importantly and stressfully, one of my sisters (I’ve got two) is finally leaving her abusive relationship! Hallelujah! Long time coming! I’ve been trying to support and encourage her for like three fucking years, and the time has come. He’s actually breaking up with her, but I’m just waiting for him to take it back or get violent or stalk her. (I know, because I’ve been there).

Due to his abuse and manipulation and a host of other factor, she doesn’t have a job. I make just-barely-enough, but I’m more than happy to help her out anyway I can. I’ve been helping her pack and organize everything and taking stuff for donation for the last week.

And our oldest sister is Wealthy. I mean..... w e a l t h y. $3k a month on clothes and 6 international vacations a year wealthy. But she’s being an egotistical ass. She offered help to get our sister out, but has been back and forth on the plan. Basically wants to nickel and dime the situation and doesn’t want to get caught up supporting our middle sister for more than like a month or two? 

Like, yo. She’s been in a toxic, super abusive relationship for years, and she’s immunocompromised and partially disabled in the middle of the fucking plague. She’s gonna need some help?? And so finally, my sister in need just said she wanted all fighting and haggling to be over with. She told me she was stressed out and couldn’t make a decision. But I asked her if she just wanted me to take care of it for her, and she said yes.

So I did. I sent her money for food. I paid the phone bill. I reserved the uhaul, found her a storage unit for her piano, and I’m physically moving her on Wednesday. I’ve got two phone calls set for tomorrow to pick piano movers. On Tuesday I’m helping her apply for healthcare and food stamps. I’m lending her my laptop to complete a promising job assessment for the school district. 

And I don’t mind. I’ve got labs and mountains of house work and a full week of writing gigs, but I don’t fucking care. She matters more to me than anything else, so why the fuck wouldn’t I do absolutely everything in my power to make sure she’s safe?

And now our oldest sister is throwing a goddamn fit. She is, according to her texts, “frustrated we’re implying she’s prioritizing money”, “feels like [I’m] working against her”, “doesn’t understand why [I’m] playing games”, “feeling dismissed”, and “is being judged”. 

All I said was, “hey, our sister asked me to reach out and let you know where we’re at. Here’s what I’ve done, here’s the plan for the rest. She was having trouble making a decision and just wanted something set it stone.” I apologized for making her feel bad, but she’s still pissed and not talking to me. 

For clarification, I’m turning 26 this month. Our middle sister (the one who’s moving) is 28. And our oldest sister? She’s 35. I cannot stand or believe (I mean I can) that my sister, who’s older than me by a decade wants to get into an egotistical pissing contest about who footed the bill. I don’t have a fucking iota of space in my brain to play games with her or try to fuck her over. Our middle sister is in danger and I’m making sure she never has to see the sorry bastard again in three days time. 

How in the fucking world am I supposed to have time to make a 35-year-old woman feel bad? Why in the fuck am I the only functional adult in the picture 99.5% of the time?

FUCK.

[tobythewise]

A for apple! 🍎🍎🍎

~A is for apple~

“Sammy, why did you stop?” Dean asked as he rubbed his eyes.He and Sam were on their way to take care of a vamp nest.

“There’s a farmer’s stand on the side of the road. I wannagrab some organic fruit for the road.” Dean groaned. He didn’t understand hisbrother’s obsession with organic food. We are men, not rabbits! “Come on, Dean.Just come and see if anything interests you. We have to stop for the night anyways.I just want something to eat that’s not fast food!”

Dean grumbled, “Fine! Let’s go,” as he made his way out ofthe car. He crossed the street making his way towards the stand when he noticedthe gentleman manning the stand. He was sitting on a chair with his feet up onthe table reading a magazine. He had aviators on and sported a messy mop ofblack hair and looked like he hadn’t shaved in a few days. Honestly, Deanthought he was really hot. “Might be interested in something after all, Sammy,”he murmured to his brother.

“Seriously?” He asked, looking towards the stand, “Twentybucks says he shoots you down.” 

“Oh, you are so on!” Dean knew he was an attractive man. Henever had issues when it came to flirting. He put on his best smile and walkedup to the stand radiating as much confidence as he could. Just as they made itto the stand, the guy lifted his aviators from his eyes and placed them on thetop of his head. Blue. Beautiful, sky blue eyes that made Dean stop and stare. Hetook a deep breath and placed a smirk on his face. 

“Hey there gorgeous.” 

The guy huffed. “Does that line usually work for you?” 

Sam started laughing, not even trying to hide it. Dean’sface faltered for a second in embarrassment. Keep it together Winchester. You’vecome back from worse. The guy looked to his brother making small talk. “Nicecar. You guys road tripping or something?” 

“We’re traveling for work. And actually, that would beDean’s car.” 

The guy hummed his acknowledgement, “Explains why you haveno game. Relying too heavily on your ridiculous good looks and beautiful car.Must be a real panty peeler.” 

Dean just smirked and replied, “So, you think I’m goodlooking?” Sam started laughing at Dean again. 

“That would be the thing you heard.” The guy looked back toSammy. “So, you see anything you like?” The guy stood up and gestured to theproduce laid out in the stand. Dean noticed the guy better now that he wasstanding. He was only a few inches shorter than Dean. He was built like arunner and Dean wanted to see just how fit he was under that shirt. 

“Yeah, I just want a bag of those blueberries and some ofthose apples please.” 

“No problem,” the guy said as he started grabbing the thingsSam wanted. Dean couldn’t keep his eyes off of the dude’s hands. The movementof his slender fingers seemed to mesmerize him. He needed to act fast if he wasgoing to win this bet. He knew this guy wasn’t interested but maybe he couldstill wiggle his way into winning that twenty bucks. 

“Sammy, why don’t you take this to the car and I’ll pay.”Sammy sent him bitch face number nine his way. 

“Really Dean? You’re gonna pay for my organic fruit.” Dean just leveled his brother with a stare ofhis own. “Fine. Just hurry up.” 

Dean watched his brother make his way to the car. He turnedback to the beautiful man in front of him and noticed him smirking. 

“That will come to ten dollars, Dean.” Dean fumbled to gethis wallet out. He started taking out the money when he started stumbling withhis words.

“So, umm, this is gonna sounds crazy. And, like, don’t freakor anything, but umm… My brother bet me that I couldn’t get a date with youtonight and I’m really hoping to prove him wrong. Nothing serious or anything.Just ummm, could I maybe take you to dinner or something?” Dean could feel hisface was hot and red and he was looking everywhere but the man in front of him.When he finally stopped talking and took a breath he finally made eye contactwith the guy. He couldn’t believe what he was seeing. The guy had a giant grinon his face. The kind that was full of teeth and gums and made his eyes squintyand his nose crinkles. It made his heart beat faster and his stomach flip. Thisman was honestly breathtaking. 

“Alright. But I have one condition.” Dean’s stomach didanother flip. Is this guy seriously considering it? 

“Let’s hear it.” 

“You let me drive that beautiful car of yours.” Dean bit hislip thinking. That was his Baby and no one drove her. Was this really worthtwenty bucks? But then he was met with those blue eyes again the answer seemed soeasy. 

“Fine. As long as you promise to drive the speed limit andpull over as soon as I say so.” The toothy grin was back and damn, Dean woulddo anything to keep that smile on his face. 

“Give me your phone.” Dean handed it over and the guyprogramed his number into it. He took his phone back when the guy grabbed Deanby his jacket and pulled him in for a kiss. Dean was so surprised that hedidn’t even have a chance to kiss back before he was pulling away again. Thesmile on Dean’s face was so big it hurt his cheeks. 

“Dude, I just realized I don’t even know your name.” 

The guy smiled and told him, “Castiel.” He sat back down andstarted reading his magazine again like he hadn’t just kissed Dean. 

Dean got into his car and smirked over at his brother. Samjust huffed and slapped a twenty into Dean’s hand. 

Later that night, after Castiel had driven the Impala intothe middle of nowhere the boys found themselves laying on the hood of the carlooking up at the stars. They chatted about their siblings. Apparently, Castieldoesn’t normally work at that stand where they met. His brother, Gabe, owns itand needed Castiel to cover. 

When they started talking about work, Dean went with a coverstory of a head hunter. It’s not like he could go ahead and tell this guy thathe and his brother were on their way to take care of a nest of vampires.Castiel talked about a shop he owned in town. They talked about how Sam wouldlove to retire and stay in one place, maybe open up a base command type thing.Dean on the other hand loved the open road and would miss it far too much. Deanhadn’t been on a real date like this in a long time. It was really refreshingand he was loving the company. Him and Castiel just seemed to click. On theirdrive back to town Dean even went so far as to reached over and grabbedCastiel’s hand. 

“You know, I don’t normally do this sorta thing.” 

“Let people drive your car?”

Dean snorted. “Yes, but no. I mean go on dates. We travel somuch that I usually just pick someone up for the night. But honestly, I’m gladI didn’t do that in this town.” 

“I’m glad too, Dean.” Cas said as he got out of the car.“Especially since I don’t put out on the first date,” he finished with a winkand walked towards his apartment. As Dean made his way back to his hotel room,he couldn’t think of anything that could possible wipe the smile off his face. 

That’s how Dean started up a real, honest to God,relationship with Castiel. They texted and called each other every day andwhenever Dean was anywhere close to Cas’ town he would swing by so they couldspend some time together, mostly in bed. The only problem was that Dean stillhadn’t told Cas what Sam and Dean did when they traveled. It was started toweigh on Dean but he just didn’t want to risk losing Cas. 

About three months after they met, Dean made his way intothe now familiar town. He went to pick up Castiel from his apartment and foundthat his boyfriend wasn’t home. Dean knew that meant Cas was working in theshop that he owned. It’s funny, Dean’s never actually been to the shop beforetoday. He was thinking about that fact as he strolled up to its doors. He wasgiving the windows a once over when his breathe caught in his throat. He felthis heart speed up and felt unbelief fill his chest. There in the corner of thewindow was the universal hunter sign letting hunters know this place waswelcome to them and had real supplies they might need. 

Dean burst through the doors and bee lined to where Casstanding behind the counter. Castiel saw Dean and had a huge gummy smile on hisface until he realized Dean looked distressed. 

“Babe! What’s wrong?” 

Dean just barreled up to Cas and grabbed in a tight, bonecrushing hug. 

“Cas,” Dean breathed into his boyfriend’s neck. 

“Dean, you’re worrying me. What’s wrong?” 

“That symbol on your window,” Dean says softly as he finallylooks around the store. It’s exactly like the other shops that Dean and hisbrother have gone to for supplies. Random nick nacks, trinkets, and books thatlook new agey but among them are harmless things that hunters would need forspells and such. Dean had no doubt the more ‘crazy’ things are hidden in theback. He finally looked back at Cas who looked spooked. 

“Are you… Dean, are you a hunter?” 

Dean just grabs Castiel tighter, “Yeah Cas. Imma hunter. Iwas so afraid to tell you cause I assumed you’d think I was crazy but youknow!” Dean felt in awe that the man in his arms actually knew about him. Itfelt like a weight was lifted from his chest. 

“Dean, I never let you come see the shop because I thoughtyou would think I was a crazy hippie or something.” Castiel started laughing ashe kissed Dean breathless. 

“I’m so glad I don’t have to hide this from you. Cas,” hehelp the man at arm’s length so he could look him in the eyes. “Cas, I loveyou.” He heard Castiel’s intake of breathe. 

“Dean, I love you too.” He gave Dean one of his favoritesmiles that included scrunched eyes and gummy smile.

Six months later

Dean was hauling Castiel’s bag into the Impala’s trunk. Theyjust finished packing up everything from Castiel’s apartment and moving it intoa storage unit behind Castiel’s old shop. Once the bags were in the trunk hemade his way to the driver’s door and got in. He started his Baby up and madehis way out of town. 

“Are you worried about leaving Sam here alone?” Cas asked ashe reached over to hold Dean’s hand. This is the first time Dean and Castielwere leaving Sam for a hunt. Dean was afraid he wouldn’t handle leaving withouthis brother but he was feeling at ease as he gazed over at his new shotgunoccupant. 

“Nah. He’s not really alone. There’s Gabe and lately he’sbeen flirting with that woman who owns the coffee shop in town. He’ll be okay.”And he honestly means it. “Besides, he’s always wanted to set up shop and stayin one place while also being able to help the hunting community. Now he can dothat thanks to you Cas.” 

“Well, I’m glad I can make you both happy.” 

Dean looked over at his boyfriend with a fond smile on hisface, “You do Cas. You make me so happy. I never thought I would be able tohave this. I’m so thankful Sam wanted those stupid organic apples.” 

Cas squeezed Dean’s hand, “And I’m so thankful that Sam madethat stupid bet.” 

Dean leaned over and kissed Castiel’s temple, “Best twentybucks I ever won.”

[sophisticated-angel]

Double Daddy

Characters: Dean Winchester, John Winchester

Warning: None

Word Count: 1,373

Request:  Will u do a littlest Winchester imagine where like john comes back from the dead and she meets him and he's like dean who is this and after they find out about each other's she's like omg I have a grandpa so like a double daddy are u as much fun as daddy and john is actually pretty nice to the little girl

A/N: The request went a little outside of my parameters for The Littlest Winchester collection, so I made it a stand alone instead.

Story:

   Stranger things have happened to Dean. People he cared about, and some he didn’t, have returned from the dead and other places they shouldn’t have returned from, but it never ceases to stun him. He’s not sure how quickly he’ll adjust to this one, though. This time it’s gone in a new direction – a new, and old, face stares back at Sam and Dean.

   “Dad?” he mumbles.

   Guns are pointed, answers are demanded, and it takes a full, tense minute for everyone to understand that no one knows what the hell is going on. John Winchester is back from Hell, and nobody knows why or how. Dean exchanges a look with his brother, and they lower their guns to test their father every way they know of. He passes them all, so Sam and Dean must accept that he’s human. Dumbfounded, they let him into the Impala and drive back to the bunker.

   “Are you sure we should take him there right away?” Sam whispers to Dean.

   “What else are we supposed to do?” Dean replies. At the door to the bunker, Dean hesitates to open the door because he knows what it will mean to let his father into his home. The door swings open, the men step inside, and in seconds a little girl in a pink nightgown comes bounding out and leaps into Dean’s arms.

   “Cass made spaghetti for breakfast,” she declares excitedly, “and cereal for dinner!”

   “That’s an awfully backwards day. Are you gonna sleep in your day clothes and walk on your hands, too?”

   The girl giggles. “No, Daddy!” Then she points at John. “Who’s that?”

   Dean glances back. “That’s my dad. Your grandpa. His name is John. You all ready for bed?”

   She nods. “I brushed my teeth and everything. You gotta tuck me in.”

   “Of course.” Dean plants a kiss on her forehead and carries her down the hall.

   “I’ve missed a lot,” says John.

   Sam sighs. “Yeah.”

*    *    *    *    *

   Not ready to face his father, Dean stays by his daughter’s bed long after she falls asleep just playing with her hair. Maybe it was a mistake bringing him here. It would have been better to call Castiel and asked him to take her to a motel or drop her off with a friend, keep her away from her grandfather for a while.

   Dean expects judgment from John and nothing less. Even growing up, the man rarely had anything positive to say to either of his sons, less to his eldest. He can take it. He won’t enjoy it, but he can handle his recently resurrected father’s ridicule. But not his little girl. She’s not as tough as she acts and needs to believe that the world is a happy place.

   John finds him eventually, and the questions begin.

   “How old is she?”

   “Seven.”

   “She your only one?”

   “Yes.”

   “Where’s her mother?”

   “Not in the picture.”

   “Why not?”

   “Because I really know how to pick ‘em.” He turns his head but doesn’t look at his dad. “Don’t start this.”

   “Start what?”

   “The questions, the judgment, the saying I should’ve done better. I know I should’ve done better, alright? I make myself miserable every day just knowing I’ve probably ruined her life before it’s started. You just got back, and I’d like to figure out why, but I will kick you out if you judge her. If you treat my little girl the way you treated me, you are gone, understand?” Turning back, Dean presses a light kiss to his daughter’s temple.

   John is silent, and then his footsteps creak across the floorboards. Defensively, Dean tenses, hunches over the sleeping seven-year-old, but his father says nothing for a long while. When he speaks, his words are neutral, not judgmental, simply observant. “She looks a little like your mom.”

*    *    *    *    *

   At breakfast the next morning, Dean’s daughter regards her grandfather with pleasant indifference. The brothers say very little around him for fear of what might be said when the girl can hear. They’re still stunned, too. Cass interacts tentatively, mostly to assure this stranger that being an angel isn’t as good as it sounds.

   While scraping up the last of her eggs, the girl begins the first real conversation. “If you’re my grandpa,” she wonders, “then why haven’t I met you?”

   John catches Dean’s warning look. “I . . . have been travelling.”

   Daddy and Uncle Sam travel sometimes. So does Uncle Cass. When I grow up, I wanna travel too. Are you as fun as Daddy?”

   “I don’t know. We’ll have to see.”

   Smiling from ear to ear, she says, “You’re like a double Daddy.”

*    *    *    *    *

   While Dean plays games with his daughter in her room, Sam showers. When he gets done, he’s cornered in the hallway by his brother.

   “Dad’s gone,” states Dean.

   “Gone? What do you mean?”

   “I mean Dad and the Impala are missing, and he’s not answering the cell we gave him.”

   “He didn’t say anything about going out?”

   “Would I be telling you this if he did?” Dean scoffs. “I should’ve expected this. Of course he left. He disapproved of everything I ever did. But did he have to take the car?”

   “Dean, calm down. The man just got back from decades of Hell. He probably just needs some space to think. If he’s not back by tomorrow morning, we’ll go look for him.”

   “I don’t like this, Sammy.”

   “It’ll be fine.”

   Dean doesn’t sleep a wink all night long, but his father never shows. He doesn’t show up for breakfast, and while part of Dean wants to say “let him go”, his daughter was promised a trip to buy school supplies and clothes, and for that they need the car. Of course, the brothers need a car in order to track down the one that was stolen from them, so first they’ll have to walk until they find one to hijack. Then someone knocks on the front door.

   “Hey, boys,” says John as he steps inside.

   “Where the hell have you been?” Dean scolds, following him down the steps into the foyer.

   “Went for a drive, Dean.”

   “In my car.”

   “In the car I gave to you.”

   “Where were you?”

   “Montana. One of my secret storage units. Needed to pick this up.” He reaches into his duffle bag and pulls out a baseball mitt made for a ten-year-old’s hand. It’s obviously never bene used, but Dean notices the initials ‘D.W’ etched into the leather of the palm. He doesn’t get a chance to comment before his daughter appears and wraps her arms around his waist.

   “Hi,” she says to John. “Daddy got super upset when you left.”

   “I know. I’ve got something for you.” John crouches to his granddaughter’s level and holds out the glove. “I don’t know a lot about girls. Do they like to play baseball?”

   The girl lets go of Dean and takes the glove, nodding.

   “Whaddya say you and I play later?”

   Another nod. Then, noticing the letters, she displays the glove palm up to her father. “Look, Daddy! D and W, just like ‘Dean Winchester’!”

   “That’s pretty neat. Hey, I think we have a ball around here somewhere. Why don’t you go find it?”

   Bouncing, she goes off in search of the ball, and Dean addresses his father. “What are you doing?”

   John sighs. “Do you remember when I gave you that glove?”

   “Yeah. My eighth birthday. You said you were gonna teach me how to play, but you never did. The glove disappeared, and I stopped hoping.”

   “I don’t know why I’m back, but I know I messed up with you boys. I don’t even know if I have it in me to be a good parent. You have every right to keep your daughter away from me, but I want to try and spoil her.”

   “Spoil her?”

   “That’s what grandparents are supposed to do.”

   Pursing his lips, Dean folds his arms. “Are you asking for my permission?”

   “Yes.”

   “Then you have it. Trial basis. Be her grandpa, spoil her, but I meant what I said. One chance. Now go play catch with your grandkid.”

   Nodding, John turns.

   “Dad?” calls Dean. “She prefers hockey.”

@pureawesomeness001 @27bmm @jarpadandjensenaremyheroes @super-not-naturall @gabriel-themightysugaraddict @mogaruke @mrswhozeewhatsis @hexparker @kdfrqqg @little-castiel13 @18crazybutcutealsopsycho @spn-dean-and-sam-winchester @thing-you-do-with-that-thing

[necromaniackat]

God Damn

Summary: Julie Delaney was thirteen when she had her first child, Jude, with a drug dealer who bailed on her when the baby was born. Two years later she has her second child, Lakelynn, at seventeen with an unknown man. Julie travelled all the way from Nevada to Charming, California with her two young children and dropped them off at her older brother's doorstep in '81. Otto and Luann raised her and Jude with the help of the MC. When Otto went to prison in '94 Jude began to patch in as a member of the Sons of Anarchy Redwood Original. In '00 Jude was killed during a surprise attack they had during a run, he was shot down.

The club has been a part of my life since the very beginning. It’s all I’ve known, it’s all my brother and I have known all our lives. Ever since our mom dropped us off at our uncle’s house in ’81, back when I was a baby and my brother was a toddler. My brother died for the club. While I, I lived for it.

Warnings: Strong language. Sexual references.

Word Count: 1,882

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

Prologue:

Since the dawn of time man has been at war with itself. A war with guns and knives, and a clearly drawn line between sides is easier to fight than a war that hides inside man, fought with thoughts and spills blood all over the lines that were once so clear but have since been blurred or all together, erased. The enemy is unspoken questions for seemingly motiveless actions. Doubt plays Devil's advocate. Nothing is as it seems. The only way to survive such a war is by unleashing unruly anarchy within one's soul. To, inevitably, rebel yourself from who you were. Like separating conjoined twins from each other; separate the past from the present, the good from the bad; to become an outlaw inside your own skin while fighting for the innocent and just. That is the only way to survive; to become someone you would never recognize and to silence what you do. Like Mick Jagger said, "Anarchy is the only slight glimmer of hope." 

Chapter 1: The Outlaw and The Barista.

Today I choose life. Every morning when I wake up I can choose joy, happiness, negativity, pain. To feel the freedom that comes from being able to continue to make mistakes and choices –today I choose to feel life, not to deny my humanity but embrace it.

I peddled through the first morning light of that Spring day, my courier bag slung across my body and sat against my lower back as I rode my bike to work that very early morning. Being a barista means my day starts before everyone else’s day starts. That usually means getting to work for five thirty in the morning to be ready for the seven-a.m. work and eight-a.m. school rush. In the Spring, Summer, and early Autumn I ride my bike everywhere while in the Winter I drive. It saves me a lot of money on gas and such.

I peddled down the main street to the small coffee shop planted between a charity store and a florist shop. Nobody was really awake yet, we should get our first customer of the day at about opening. Like usual, Janine, my manager, was already there getting ready for the day. I chained my bike to a small rainbow shaped bike lock out front of the shop then went inside, the bell above the door rang loudly; catching Janine’s attention. I wandered behind the counter, tightening my ponytail. Janine greeted me with a warm but slightly tired smile.

“Coffee?” She offered, her voice masked the quiet music playing through the shop. She handed me a freshly poured hot to-go cup of dark roast coffee with a little bit of milk and sugar in it. I gave her a crooked smile and took it from her. Janine allows the morning crew to have some coffee when they come in, just to help wake them up. After taking that first sip I set it down by the register and began the morning routine. Ben was in the kitchen making the pastries, he is usually here at five before Janine getting the food ready and then his two other co-bakers show up at six before the rush to help him get ready but then they have until nine maybe ten to get ready for the morning coffee break rush.

Janine got the change in the register ready while I made fresh pots of coffee and got the to-go cups ready. We hummed along to the radio playing in the background and did our jobs. My job isn’t glamorous or anything like what my aunt does but I like it. I like it because it keeps me tied to the real world so I don’t stray too far into the darkness that revolves around me. Everyone asks me if I actually enjoy working as a barista for however many years I’ve been here, I always reply yes. I’ve been working here since I came back to Charming eight years ago, about six months before my brother died. I was in Reno attending the University of Nevada. I majored in Criminal Justice, but I also studied sociology and psychology. But that wasn’t what ended up happening, unforeseen unfortunate events sent me running back to Charming before I could graduate that Spring. Everyone was all too happy to have me back home, especially my aunty Luann. She loved having my brother around but he was driving her nuts so she was happy to have me home. She was curious to know why I left literally days before I handed in all my final papers but she left it alone when I didn’t answer. I planned to go back and finish University so I could graduate but merely days before I went back to Reno my brother died, he was murdered and I was all Luann had left. So, I got a mediocre job in Charming, lived in a mediocre house and drove a mediocre car. Sadly, even with all of this normality around me, my life was far from normal.

Not too long after the eight-a.m. school rush my attention was drawn away from replenishing the cup sleeves when a loud guttural roar went by outside the picture windows. Jax was parked outside, straddling his bike. He unstrapped his helmet, putting it on the handlebars and unmounted the sleek black motorcycle. I couldn’t help the small crooked smirk from crossing my face.

“Mornin’ Janine.” Jax twanged as he sauntered into the coffee shop, his SOA kutte was on display for everyone to see. Janine gave Jax a smile and a nod then looked at me before going to the back of the shop. Janine didn’t really like who I associated myself with but she also understood that family is family no matter who they are. I turned my attention to the tall shaggy blond haired man on the other side of the counter.

“You’re up early.” I commented in a snarky tone. Jax sighed at me.

“Yeah. I have to go through the storage unit today. Mom says there might be some baby stuff I can use.” He explained plainly. I nodded, furrowing my eyebrows together tightly.

“Okay . . . –Why are you telling me this?” I questioned disconcertedly as I stopped working and gave him my full attention. Jax shrugged and gave me his famous puppy-dog look, his head tilted to the side and eyebrows furrowed a little bit with a slight pout.

“I was just wondering if you wanted to come with me this afternoon when you’re off.” He offered gruffly. I exhaled heavily and looked down at the counter from him.

“Why don’t you ask your ex-wife, y’know, the mother of your child. Her opinion is far more important when it comes to the child you two created.” I sneered coldly. I didn’t need to see it to know Jax was frowning at me.

“Because I don’t want to spend time with her. I want to spend time with you.” He pleaded but I wasn’t believing it.

“Are you serious? I’ve been back in Charming for how many years and now you want to hang out with me?” I was furious at this point. Jax and I have history, some really complicated and fucked up history.

“Lakelynn, I’ve apologized a million times,”

“–I don’t care if you apologize a million times a day for the rest of your life, it will never take back what you’ve done.” I told him honestly, scowling at his shifting expression. Jax went from looking like a lost puppy to giving me his notorious mildly peeved off stare. Jax’s facial expressions never fazed me, they were only looks after all.

“You were gone for two years after saying you weren’t going anywhere.” He spat at me in an equally cold tone of voice. I crossed my arms over my chest and narrowed my eyes at him.

“Yeah but I’ve been back for eight and I never promised I would stay. You knew I applied at Universities in other states, you knew what you were signing up for when you wanted some High School pussy.” I reminded him of what the truth was and what the risk he was more than willing to take was.

Jax frowned at me. It was evident he was upset but he had no one else to blame but himself. He knew very well that I was not planning on staying in Charming after graduation. I wanted to go to a good University and get a better grasp on what life outside of the club was like before I made any real decisions. He knew all of this and he was okay with it, until I packed my car and left for Reno. That’s when he decided that I was very easily replaceable.

“Have you heard anything from Wendy? She was supposed to be sending me the Doctor’s bills but I haven’t seen one in a while and she’s not answering my calls.” Jax swiftly changed the topic to his ex-wife’s usual absence in our lives. Sometimes she stays for a week or two before disappearing for God knows how long. It’s not unusual of her to have radio silence from her.

“Nope. I don’t keep track of the trash you throw away, Jax.” I mocked him blatantly. Jax grimaced at me with a subtle look of perturbed and annoyed painting his features boldly. He sighed heavily.

“Fine.” He spat as he began to back away from the counter. “–I’ll be at storage this afternoon. You know where it is.” He added before leaving the coffee shop. The bell jingling was a sign for Janine to come back to the front, she watched Jax carefully. I ignored him and went back to sorting cup sizes until I heard the loud motorcycle roar away. I looked up at Janine, who was frowning at me with her hands on her hips.

“Don’t even say it.” I warned her to stay out of this business. She already knew too much for her own good. She knew too much personal information, she can really hurt some people if she opens her mouth carelessly.

“You’re both fucking children, you know that?” She commented harshly. It rendered me paralyzed for a moment, taking in what she just said. I suddenly felt bad for being so cruel towards him. He’s going through a lot at the moment and he doesn’t need me being salty and stubborn added to that laundry list. Maybe I should go and help him this afternoon. Maybe I should put the past behind me and allow us to move on with our lives. Yes, it hurt to come back to Charming for the holidays my first year away to find Jax with another girl. We had a lot of good times together. We shared a lot of intimate moments that neither of us can take back.

I rutted my eyebrow together and shook my head. I had to remind myself that I have no intimate feelings towards Jax beyond the fact that we’re basically family. I thought I loved him back then but it was just giddy teenage hormones wanting a piece of older dick before I left for Nevada. That’s about it, nothing more, nothing less; it is what it is.

[stillness-in-green]

Human Debris Masterpost (14/15)

Okay, gang, I am officially finished with the re-watch, and all that’s left is formatting and posting.  I’ll be doing that in two posts--one now, one later in the week.  in the meantime, lets get into the last big space battle, with...

EPISODE FORTY-FIVE — If This Is the End

We open right up with Chad and Dante this episode, engaged in combat with a some stripe of Graze unit or another.  These guys are taking more work to put down than the usual goobs, we see as it takes a lot of shooting, a grenade, and one of those Rodi machetes to get the job done.

Chad says that they’ve strayed from the battlefield and need to get back to the Isaribi.  Dante wonders aloud how the battle is going, and Chad, in a surpassingly rare moment of raising his voice, flares back that there’s no way it’s going well.  

Back on the main front, Orga is promising his teenaged followers girls and money (neither of which they have a damn clue what to do with, a disparity a number of reviewers observed back when this episode first aired).  Akihiro, ever the ascetic, fires back that he doesn’t have or need ‘em.

The fighting continues after the credits, with another brief shot of Akihiro, and, cursing at Arianrhod and still hurling machetes like a champ, Derma.  He’s down a Rodi-arm, too, which is a nasty bit of foreshadowing, I must say.  

Some Graze units close in on the Isaribi, but Chad and Dante return in time to drive them off before anything too serious can happen.  

Dante is the first one to react to—something, an alert beep starting up in his cockpit.  It could be the arrival of Isurugi and company, but, more likely, it’s a heads-up that Arianrhod’s forces are falling back, as another of Rustal’s signature false flag plays goes live.  

Dainsleif shots pepper the field, swiping the Hotarubi and Shino’s Flauros Ryusei-Go. Our Debris boys seem to have been enough on the outskirts that they don’t have to evade much; we get a shot of Akihiro, and can hear Chad and Dante reacting as well from their Rodis.

After two volleys, Arianrhod goes to standby, to see if any signals of surrender go up.  This gives Tekkadan some time to regroup, pulling people off the Hotarubi, and collecting some bodies, which we find Eugene, Chad and Dante paying some quick respects to, possibly having just finished moving the bodies in themselves.  Eugene uses harsh words—idiots cashing in before they got to the finish—while Chad apologizes that bodybags in a storage room is the best they can do for the dead at the moment, and Dante promises revenge for them.

Afterward, they report to Orga on the bridge, Eugene that they’ve finished moving things over, Dante with the more technical report about fried weapons control and reduced propulsion, and Chad with the bleak summary that the Hotarubi could be remote-piloted and used as a shield for the Isaribi.

Eugene asks what their next play is and, when Orga starts talking about McGillis and retreat, interrupts to ask where they’re going to retreat to. When Orga turns his gaze on this blatant display of lip, he finds the three staring at him very seriously indeed. Eugene looks actively angry; I think Chad and Dante are mostly just wondering if Orga’s really thought about what he’s saying.

Dante echoes Eugene, observing that they don’t have anywhere to go back to unless they win. Chad says that if it is the last battle (as Org has been repeatedly claiming), then they need to see it through. As I commented in the last post, neither Dante nor Chad show the slightest fear at the prospect of dying out here; they’re 100% willing to give everything they’ve got for the chance of victory.  (Orga’s used those tactics all along, of course, and here is where the fruits of those tactics finally begin to wither—but Orga’s tactical insight and how his deep-rooted insecurity feeds into his strategies are an entirely different essay topic.)

Shino interrupts to announce his own idea, and his audience goes from this:

to this (note the sudden profligation of sweatdrops):

Once the terminology is out of the way, however, the boys find that Shino’s plan is indeed to their tastes.  

‘Nice and simple,’ Dante says.  ‘Like us, right?’ Chad jibes.  

(Help, I love them.)

And we get one last lovely shot of this group-togetherness, as Orga allows himself to be pushed by his followers’ confidence into a plan you can see his gut instinct rejecting as too brash. Enjoy those smiles while you can, boys.

The whole gang guards the ships as the Hotarubi pulls the Isaribi on towards this last fateful shot; you can see Gusion and the Rodis swooping and circling around the ships along with all the other unique suits Tekkadan has.  

Akihiro and Ride, and probably a great many others, yell at Shino to shoot.

And—well, we all know how that went.  

One last thing to bring this episode to a close: it’s easy to miss in all the gut-curdling screaming Shino is doing as the credits kick in, but someone in a Rodi is bringing Hush back into the mobile suit bay.  No definite way to say who—maybe Derma, who’s backed-up Hush in the past?—but here’s the shot of it, in any case.

EPISODE FORTY-SIX—For Whom?

The bulk of the first half is taken up with the retreat from the combat, and the sacrifices made to ensure said retreat is successfully.  We can spot the Rodis here and there, but the first time one jumps out as significant is when Derma gets pegged by Arianrhod’s parting shots and an explosion goes off in his cockpit.  

A Rodi perched on top of the ship flies up and retrieves him, returning fire.  No one calls out on the commlines, so there’s no telling who it was.  Dante is the more dramatically appropriate choice, as he’s much more closely tied to Derma, but Chad does do an awful lot of rescuing people through the second season, and it might make sense for Dante and Derma to have been mirroring each other’s positions on the Isaribi’s sides while Chad held down the center.  

Thank god for whichever one of them it was, though, because as I believe I noted in posts made back when the show was still airing, Derma was the number one character I wanted to make it out of the series alive, and it’s thanks to the other Rodi’s quick response that he did.  

Later, we find Derma outside the medical area, now down one arm.  Atra apologizes that all the beds are full, to which Derma says it’s fine, that everyone else is worse off than him.  And I feel the need to point out here that, while several of the guys we see in the quick shot of the med-bay are indeed wearing more bandages than Derma, there are an awful lot of them who still have all four limbs attached, so I am—to say the least—skeptical that they are all in worse shape than Derma.  

Color me totally unsurprised that he would say so, though.

He slides down the wall, certainly already thinking about how useless he’s going to be even if he recovers, when our other three ex-red stripes show up en masse—a strikingly uncommon sight, outside of the opening credit sequences—to check on him.  

Akihiro goes down to one knee, saying his name, but there’s no response, and Akihiro himself is still clearly figuring out how to approach the issue.  

Dante jumps in to say that Derma’s lucky, that it was just his arm.  I’m sure he means well.  

Derma says, harshly, that he wishes he’d died out there, because—as he now says out loud—he’s no use to anyone as “an incomplete body.”  The camera cuts to an extremely tight shot of Akihiro, close enough to hear the low, ragged inhalation he takes.  

He then thanks Derma, which startles the boy’s eyes opened again.  

And it’s not, as one might expect who didn’t know exactly how many people Akihiro’s lost in his life at this point, a thanks for his service, or his sacrifice.  In a direct callback to the aftermath of the Silent War Arc (over ten episodes ago), when Akihiro told Lafter that he wishes he’d talked to Aston more when he was alive, Akihiro tells Derma that he’s glad he’s still able to talk to him.  

And then he thanks Derma again, for surviving, using the boy’s full name this time—Derma Altland.

Much like me by this point, Derma begins crying.  

God only knows how much of what Akihiro’s communicating he’s really receiving, but I think he must get the gist of it.  He knows Akihiro was Masahiro’s brother; he knows Akihiro had taken a personal interest in both Derma and Aston after Tekkadan took them in.  He knows, certainly, that Akihiro lost those Masahiro and Aston as surely as Derma himself did.  I’m sure Derma’s tears in this scene are, in part, shed for what he’s just lost, and for the uncertainty of the future, but my hope is that some of his tears are also for the gift that Akihiro’s just given him—the reminder that Derma matters, that there is at least one person in the whole wide, cold world that is glad of his existence.  

Shakily, he accepts the thanks.

And, barring a few shots taken from the closing moments of the first season, that is the last of the Human Debris for this episode.  Which is just as well, because much more would probably have destroyed me completely.  Lets move on along.

 EPISODE FORTY-SEVEN—Scapegoat

We rejoin our boys in Orga’s office in Tekkadan’s HQ, back home on Mars after quite a lot of time away.  They’re discussing McGillis when we first find them, with Dante putting in that he thinks the man is both dangerous and crazy, for still thinking about fighting Arianrhod.  

When Eugene floats the idea of turning McGillis and Bael over to Gjallarhorn, Chad and Dante get the first reaction, exchanging solemn looks, with Dante agreeing that it could be a chance for Tekkadan to just start over.  

It’s a nice thought, but one that ignores how much of a name Tekkadan has made for itself, as we will find.  Akihiro objects on different grounds, though, saying that the boss he knows would never betray an ally like that.  Recall that he praised Lafter for ‘seeing through her obligations’; even though he doesn’t really know and, given the man’s involvement in Aston’s death, probably doesn’t really like McGillis, Akihiro is against betraying him.  And of course, as far as his regard for Orga goes, Akihiro was handed his freedom by Orga, for nothing more than being an old ally and staying out of the way of the Third Division’s coup, back at the beginning of everything.

Orga agrees that it wouldn’t be the right thing to do, but hedges that ‘the right thing’ doesn’t matter to McGillis anymore.  We don’t get to see anyone’s reaction to this, as that’s when a news program starts talking about their ties to McGillis, and they have more pressing things to react to.  

Dante is impressed that Tekkadan made the news—as people thought of as revolutionary heroes, no less! I think this is probably a flash of Dante’s thing about recognition, rather than the first time he’s ever seen his group mentioned on the news—I mean, they have to have been on the news before, given all that stuff with Hashmal, right?  And protecting Kudelia?  And so on? But Dante’s always valued being known, and I’m pretty sure he’d take notoriety over being unknown any day, so even in a situation like their current one, he’s still a little pleased to see Tekkadan in the news.  

The others are decidedly less thrilled.

We find them again later, when Orga gathers everyone up to talk about how to proceed—namely, that anyone who wants to get out should do so immediately.

Dante protests, along with Eugene, while Akihiro watches with serious eyes, just saying Orga’s name under his breath.As protests grow louder, Zack cuts in to be the doom-saying Cassandra no one wants to listen to.  Derma is on-scene, we find in a series of crowd-pans, having drawn in close behind Chad and Dante.

Afterwards, as everyone is making their final preparations, Orga makes a last-ditch effort to give up first McGillis, and then himself, to Rustal Elion.  Rustal refuses—as to why Orga’s life alone isn’t enough, he gives Orga some schpiel about organizations being groups of members, and one person’s death not erasing another person’s crime.  Personally, I suspect it’s more that Rustal is canny enough to know it wouldn’t make Gjallarhorn look good, noble, or powerful to publicly execute a lanky Martian teenager for getting caught up in adult affairs—thus are tyrants exposed, and martyrs made.  The average citizen of the system probably only knows Tekkadan as an organization name, and better by far for them to stay that way—just a name, with no faces associated with it that might touch peoples’ hearts.

In any case, Eugene and Akihiro catch at least the tail end of this conversation, and while Eugene has Orga by the lapels, Akihiro is clutching at where his red stripe used to be once more, looking actually hurt that Orga would try to pull a stunt like this, that Orga could be so oblivious to how much he means to everyone.  (He’s a little off from where the red stripe would have been; I am willing to concede that he might also just be clutching at his jacket to keep from laying Orga out with a right hook.)

“You gave us life when we were nothing but walking corpses,” he says, and “You made a family for us.”  And more than a lot of the members of Tekkadan, Akihiro values family, as Orga well knows.  

Orga implicitly agrees to talk things over, which presumably is what leads him and Eugene down to the cafeteria, where we find Dante and Chad again.  Chad is summing things up, that they’re now on wanted lists and have nowhere to run, so long as they are who they are.  

This tips Kudelia off to the plan that will end up saving what few survivors that make it out of this series (good teamwork, guys!), and she asks why they don’t become someone else?  It’s impossible to change their personal data on Mars, but on Earth…

47.10

Chad namedrops Makanai as he figures out what she’s getting at, which I have to say I’m a bit impressed by, but then I suppose he had lots of time to figure out the exact nature of Arbrau and Chryse’s relationship when he was on Earth.  The gist of it is that, since Chryse is still technically Arbrau’s colony, all Chryse ID records are handled back in Arbrau, so if those records can be adjusted, Tekkadan can, in fact, disappear. And, as Chad has recalled, Tekkadan is on good terms with the best possible person in Arbrau to help them with that, its honest-to-god Prime Minister.  

The next bit of good news comes from Merribit and Dexter, here to announce that Tekkadan has scraped up some funds after all, and Dante turns a look on Chad like, “Holy shit, are we about to get away with this?” that I deeply enjoy.

Dante’s also the first to ask what’s going to happen to Tekkadan as the credits begin to roll, though. He’s not the only one the name means a great deal to, of course, but as I mentioned above, I’d imagine a significant amount of his current self-esteem is tied to Tekkadan’s fame, so it’s no surprise he’s the first one to voice hesitation about, essentially, betraying and abandoning the lily emblem they’ve been bearing all this time.  

Mika responds with a content smile that where Orga is, is where everyone belongs, which Dante accepts with a rueful kind of cheer.  Chad seconds that, even with a different name, they’ll still be themselves.  

Kudelia gets up to contact Makanai, and that’s when everyone realizes the outside lines have been cut.  Also we find out where Akihiro’s been, as he shows up with his lieutenant to announce that Tekkadan’s been surrounded by Gjallarhorn forces.  

EPISODE FORTY-EIGHT—Promise

After some intro material, Chad is the first person we hear talking after the credits, relating the state of Tekkadan’s communication—the cables have been cut, and all their LCS drones get shot down as soon as they send them up.  Dante summarizes as we cut into the group meeting, that without methods of communication, they can’t get any outside information, let alone contact Makanai like they’d planned. 

Eugene observes that, while Gjallarhorn hasn’t done anything yet, they could attack at any time, leading Dante to ask if they should attack first, then?  

Eugene shoots the prospect down due to the disparity in the size of their forces, and Akihiro asks Orga what they should do.  

Orga, for his part, reiterates that if they can make an escape, the victory is theirs—they demolish the building, make it look like they’ve been wiped out, then go ahead with the plan to contact Makanai.  This plan impresses Dante, who smiles about it only briefly before returning to a frown when Eugene stands up to remind everyone that they still don’t have a way to escape.  In lieu of two screenshots, I offer this in-between one.

(Do your best, Dante.)

Yukinojo gives the team a method, though—old maintenance tunnels—and Orga reiterates to everyone, over a batch of serious-face pan-overs, that the upcoming battle is not about killing anyone to end the battle, but rather about every single member of Tekkadan making it out alive.  

Dante makes a curious face here, as Orga tells them to never back down on living—he’s the only one to make a verbal response, rather than just nodding resolutely like we see Eugene and Chad do.  The obvious difference is that Eugene and Chad have both led before—even aside from his position as Orga’s second, Eugene was always in the captain’s seat of the Hotarubi, and Chad of course had his position as leader of Tekkadan’s Earth Branch. One can assume they’re both familiar with the concept of victory being how many heads you can count at the end of the day.

Dante, on the other hand, has always been out on the front-lines, in a mobile worker, a mobile suit, or even just a team of dudes with guns and armor.  I’m sure he’s very used to the idea that Tekkadan’s victory will be bought with Tekkadan deaths, one of which might be his own; historically, that’s what most of Orga’s battle strategies boiled down to.  Hearing that victory means him—means everyone—living is basically unprecedented for him.

As Orga walks away, Eugene complains a little about him, just like the old days, to which Dante responds in kind—that Orga seemed more like his old self just there.  Chad concurs, noting Orga’s confidence.  And they’re right; it’s been a long time since Orga’s had that fire and self-certainty.  Being free of all other chains and requirements, and no longer obligated to listen to McGillis, Orga is more like himself than he’s been in a long time—Dawn Horizon or earlier, I’d say.  (Orga and McGillis parallel each other in an interesting way in that regard, I think.  Neither of them is very good at adjusting the way they operate for scenarios outside what they know, though McGillis hides it better.  More on that another time.)

Feeling the group’s confidence, we get one of Akihiro’s rare smiles, and the four go off to get back to work.

At the tail end of the next scene, when McGillis finally realizes that he’s on his own for this one, he gives Orga a way to get a small group out, by taking a car while all of Gjallarhorn is focused on Bael breaking through the lines.  Orga contacts Chad to get the car prepared, and get Atra and Kudelia as well, as they’re heading for Kudelia’s Admoss Company.  This, I think, solidifies Chad as next in command after Eugene (who was off investigating the tunnels at the time), which is certainly gratifying to me.

We find Chad doing his best to carry out those orders in the next scene, where he, Kudelia and Merribit are having to convince a reluctant Atra to leave.  He doesn’t use an honorific with her name, I notice, which is a bit nice—it speaks to him seeing her as a peer, rather than someone removed from him by rank or social distance.  

This scene also puts him in the room for Kudelia saying right there out in the open that Atra is carrying Mikazuki’s child.  It’s easy to read it as a running gag in combination with his not knowing about Merribit and Yukinojo’s relationship, but it’s not played anything like as comedic, and Merribit’s reaction indicates that it’s the first she’s hearing of it, too. I’m pretty certain this is the first anyone outside the Bracelet Trio has found out.

For her part, Merribit is staying behind.  I’m certain she, too, is reluctant to leave behind the man she loves, but aloud, she claims that she still has work to be done.  She tells the other girls not to worry, that they’ll meet again—the iron flower won’t wilt so easily, which brings a smile to Chad’s face likewise.  

The next time we spot him, he’s finishing up getting the car ready.  

Two cars head out when Bael does; given later dialogue and setting shots, I’m assuming the second car is headed for Yukinojo’s best guess as to where the old CGS maintenance tunnels are going to surface?  Chad’s driving one car, we can assume since we don’t see him in the shots showing Ride and Orga or Kudelia and Atra seated, but someone else must be driving the other, and we never see the driver of that second vehicle.  

Anyway, they make it to Admoss in one piece, at which point Ride and Chad take up watch out the windows while Kudelia reunites with Cucubita, who’s been very worried.  When Cucubita drops the bomb that the news is saying Tekkadan is refusing calls to surrender, though, they close the curtains.

Chad’s the first one to articulate the understanding of why Gjallarhorn was so intent on blocking their communication—because Gjallarhorn is manipulating the media narrative, exactly like we saw them do back on Dort.  Orga knew already, of course, that Rustal had no intention of accepting a surrender from Tekkadan; now he knows that Rustal won’t even let the world see that Tekkadan tried to.  A scapegoat.

They put the talk aside, though, to get on with matters at hand—contacting Makanai.  Kudelia and Orga are the ones to make the call, though Chad and Ride are right on hand.

Makanai plays reluctant for a bit, presumably because he is so old and has been in politics for so many years that it is actually, physiologically impossible for him to just agree to something without being kind of an ass about it first.  (I love him.) As Orga goes to beg, though, Makanai interrupts with a cheery comment about how hard it is to refuse the one(/s) who saved his life.  He’s directing this at Orga, but it’s likely he’s referring to Tekkadan in general. Tekkadan, of course, is the organization that delivered him from exile and returned him to power.  One other alternative is also possible, of course.

Chad is the one who actually and directly saved Makanai’s life.  While we don’t know that Chad greeted Makanai at the beginning of this phone call, we do see Chad straighten up in response to Makanai’s aforementioned dialogue, and say the man’s name aloud in the way of one who knows when he’s being talked about and is responding accordingly.  Certainly I prefer the reading that Makanai’s line there is obliquely aimed at Chad, or at least Tekkadan-as-represented-by-Chad, because it means the Silent War arc was good for more than just stripping Tekkadan of assets and members, beginning the season-long process of knocking them all the way back down to where they started.  It means that Chad’s prior courage and devotion to duty are now the vehicles by which Tekkadan will be delivered.  Not bad for a third-stringer!

Makanai says, in any case, that they should hurry to Earth, as there’s someone there so worried about them that it’s hampering his (and therefore also Makanai’s) work, leading to a nice little exchange between the group and Takaki.  The prodigal returns!  Chad doesn’t lean over the video screen, but does contribute to the conversation, wide-eyed at the news that Takaki’s working at Makanai’s office now.

Takaki credits Orga for his current circumstances, though vaguely enough that we still don’t know exactly who landed Takaki this job, or if Makanai just reached out himself—a plausible enough idea, I think, given how much attention Makanai had clearly been paying to the young men of Tekkadan’s Earth Branch, both before and after the bomb.

In any case, after the call ends, Cucubita and Atra bring in some drinks for everyone (coffee?), which I imagine go almost completely untouched.  Chad points out that they still don’t have a way to get to Earth—Gjallarhorn will be watching the Isaribi. Seeing as Chad was piloting the Isaribi back in season one, and thus presumably the one dealing with port authority on both Dort and Earth, and Mars when they went back home, he probably has a good idea of what he’s talking about here.

As it has been since the first season, though, the girls from the Turbines are there to pick up the slack.  Orga is jubilant in his rebellion against certain death, and his mood is catching.

Chad and Ride bring the car around while Orga has a last conversation with Atra and Kudelia. Then, as Orga heads to the door with Ride, Ride says the cursed words: “It’s quiet.”  The soundtrack pretends not to notice what’s just happened, and we get a look around outside.  Chad is standing outside the car, and looks around at something.  

For the third time this season, I knew my favorite was dead, so dead, but nope, his luck continued to hold out!  Turns out he was just looking at Orga and Ride coming down the hall!  No problems at all!  

Ha ha…

I provide the rest of these screenshots with no further commentary, save to note that Chad’s reflexes are as sharp as ever, and wonder if this will be the scar that sticks with him where the healing tank washed all signs of the office bomb away.  I suppose it must be so.

Check back later this week for the last two episodes, and wrap-up, and thanks to everyone who’s read along this far.