#christ i cant drive or work without it bro

[blasvemous]

$500 to fill my medication... Guess I didn't need it much anyways?

[crystalninjaphoenix]

Flashbacks & Forewarnings

A JSE Fanfic

There are a lot of different scenes in this one, but don’t worry, it’s not too long. About medium length for my fics, I’d say. First of all, we get a peek into one of JJ’s memories. Then we check in on Dr. Laurens and Schneep, see how they’re doing since it’s been a while. And there’s some minor other stuff as well. I know it seems like it’s a day late, but that’s because I’m moving my fic-posting day to Monday. Hope you guys like this one!

You can find the other stories under the pw timeline tag!

Midafternoon sunlight was streaming through the window. Jameson leaned over to look out the window, glancing downward at the street a few stories below. Then he took his watch out of his pocket and checked the time. Almost four o’clock already? It was almost time to leave. JJ began tidying up, starting the process of going home and getting things ready for the next person to man the desk.

“Hmm? Oh, are you leaving, Mr. Jackson?” Claire, the intern, noticed his cleaning up. 

JJ nodded. He paused for a moment, grabbing his notebook and pen from the surface of the desk nearby. Do you know who’s on the next shift?

Claire paused for a moment to read the question; though she was trying to learn BSL, she wasn’t able to hold a conversation yet. “Uhh...I think it’s Mr. Haddock,” she said.

That was what he suspected. Do you think you can handle things until he arrives? JJ asked. He didn’t want to put too much pressure on Claire—she was only sixteen, after all.

“Yeah, no problem,” she said. “Uhh...I just have to monitor the phone, right?”

JJ nodded again. Accepting phone calls was the highest priority part of the job, and also the only thing he couldn’t do. Sending emails, making sure things were filed correctly, getting things from the supply room, all that was alright. But not the phone, for obvious reasons. Luckily, answering phone calls usually fell to the interns. Don’t be afraid to ask Mr. Patterson for help. It should only be ten minutes or so until Timothy arrives, but just to be sure.

“Thanks, Mr. Jackson. Oh! Uh, wait.” Claire made a simple gesture. Thank you.

JJ smiled encouragingly. You’re picking that up quick!

“Really?” Claire brightened up. “Thanks!” She repeated the sign.

JJ stood up, gathering his stuff. I’ll see you tomorrow, he signed, edging around the desk and heading towards the elevator.

“See you.”

Now heading on his way down, Jameson checked his bag, pulling out his phone. Huh...it seemed he had quite a few texts from Chase. He scrolled through the notifications, ending up at the first one, which read: Hey J, remember that thing the detectives called me about ths morning? About Jackie? The second one read: Did you get my last text? The third one read: JJ i really have to talk to you about this. Should i call Marv first? And so on with increasing urgency.

Reading through the messages, Jameson could feel his pulse rising, tense. He’d almost forgotten about the events of that morning. A long day at work was bound to do that. The question had always sort of been lingering in his mind, though. They’d found some sort of break in Jackie’s case. That had to be a good thing, right? A pessimistic part of him pointed out that a “break in the case” didn’t always mean they’d found the missing person. Sometimes it meant they’d found the missing person’s body—

Jameson stepped out of the elevator, forcibly leaving that thought behind. It wasn’t the case this time. It couldn’t be. Even though he hadn’t known Jackie as long as Chase or Marvin had, he still knew him. And he knew he wasn’t the type to go down easily. Quickly, he opened up his texts and started replying to Chase. Sorry I didn’t see any of this, I was at work :( Just got off the lift now. What happened?

Chase didn’t respond for a minute or so, long enough for JJ to walk out of the building and into the crisp October air. But his reply came soon. Oh I forgot about that! Im so sorry.

No no, it’s not your fault. But do tell what happened. What did the detectives say?

The little typing bubble stayed up for a long time. JJ had arrived at the close-by bus stop by the time Chase finally said what he was planning. Uh...actually, can i call you about this? I know you cant answer, and you can say no, i just think itll be easier to say instead of type.

That...wasn’t a good sign. Sure? Jameson typed slowly. I can whistle or something if you need a response.

Immediately, his phone started ringing. JJ almost instinctively declined the call, but caught himself just in time and picked it up. Chase’s voice came through easily from the other side. “JJ? You there, bro?” JJ whistled a yes. “Okay good. Okay. Uhh...this is weird, not being able to see you. But anyway. The thing this morning. The good news is that Schneep’s first doctor showed up! So now he’s gonna have one that doesn’t hate him.” Chase laughed, a bit nervously. “But, uh, I dunno if she’ll go back right away. Because, uh...that’s the bad news. She disappeared because she got kidnapped. By the same person who kidnapped Jackie. And kidnapped Schneep before that. And...” Chase sighed. “You were right. The person who did that is this Anti.” He paused. “Are...are you still there?”

Jameson took a moment to react. And when he did, he hung up. So...it was him.

God, what were the odds? What were the goddamn odds that the two of them would end up in the same place once again?! True, this city wasn’t too far away from the town they lived in before. But he’d always thought Aneirin was the type to stay in a town like that.

Well, at least he didn’t know Jameson was here...

——————

Jameson set down his book, checking the clock. It was a little past eight at night. Naturally, his eyes drifted over to the calendar afterwards. It was a month behind, still reading June 2007.

The front door slammed open downstairs. JJ jumped, then slid a bookmark into the pages of his novel and stood up, heading out the door and down the stairs.

“Hey, Jamie.” Aneirin smiled at him as he came downstairs. “Picked up dinner real quick. Sorry for being late.” He set a bag of McDonald’s down on the nearby coffee table and sighed, reaching upward to make sure his eye-patch was in place.

It’s fine, JJ signed. You’ve been busy lately.

“Yeah, uh...speaking of which.” Aneirin cleared his throat. “I have to go out again later tonight.”

JJ slumped a bit. You sure?

“Yeah...work shit, you know how it is.” Aneirin shook his head. “But hey, I mean, without my work, we wouldn’t have a house, so I’ll take it.”

That was true. Though...Jameson still wasn’t sure what exactly Aneirin did for work. It had odd hours, and Aneirin was hesitant to talk about it, in a way that JJ had initially shrugged off, but was now starting to seem a bit odd. He’d been living with him for a year now, wasn’t it weird that he didn’t know what his brother did? Alright, JJ signed hesitantly. But you owe me.

Aneirin smiled. “I’ll buy you another book.”

I have a lot of books, Aneirin. I haven’t even read them all.

“Something else, then. Whatever you want. Within reason, of course.” Chuckling, Aneirin headed through the doorway into the kitchen. Inside, JJ heard the sound of the coffeemaker—a new addition—starting up.

Frowning, Jameson poked his head into the kitchen doorway. He knocked on the wood, but Aneirin didsn’t turn around, focused on the coffeemaker. “Aan...?” JJ called.

“Hmm?” Aneirin looked over at him.

You aren’t supposed to be holding hot things.

“Jesus christ, I’m not a baby, Jamie.”

Just...remember what happened last time? Jameson pointed out at him. You burned yourself. I’m just worried.

“Yes, but now I know what not to do.” Aneirin shrugged, and turned around. “Besides, the mug will stay on the counter most of the time. So no need to overreact.”

JJ frowned, but left anyway, heading back upstairs to grab his book. He’d move downstairs to finish it, just in case Aneirin ended up needing help.

A couple hours passed. If the past was any indicator, Aneirin would be leaving around this time. JJ made a big show of yawning, and glancing over to the couch where Aneirin was sitting, eyes fixed to the TV but not really paying any attention to the show that was on. Standing up and grabbing his book, JJ signed, I think I’ll go to bed now.

Aneirin responded, “Alright.” without looking away from the screen. Go to bed was one of the sign phrases he could understand even out of the corner of his eyes.

JJ headed up the stairs, slowing down once he reached the second story. He walked over to his room, opening the door and closing it without going inside, instead just waiting in the hall. Immediately, he heard the television downstairs turn off. Footsteps crossed the living room and headed outside. The front door opened and shut. Jameson put his book on the floor next to his room and carefully crept down the stairs, sticking near the walls to avoid the creaks. He made a slight detour to grab his cell phone from the kitchen drawer where it was kept. Then once back in the living room, he crouched close to the ground and crawled over to the front window, peeking outside.

In the driveway, Aneirin was checking something in the trunk of his car. Well, technically, Aneirin always called it “our car,” but he was the only one who drove it. JJ didn’t know how to drive yet. And even if he did, he didn’t have a job and it was the middle of summer vacation, so where would he even need to go? Or at least, those were some of the reasons Aneirin listed when explaining why he wouldn’t teach Jameson how to drive. JJ watched as Aneirin closed the car trunk, and started walking down the block, as he always did when he went out working late at night.

After making sure Aneirin was far enough away, JJ rushed out the front door and over to the car. He opened the door to the back seat and climbed inside, squeezing into the space between the seats where you would normally put your feet. They kept a spare blanket in the car, and Jameson reached over and tried to cover himself, attempting to make it look like the blanket was naturally falling off the seat. Then he waited.

Just a few minutes later, the driver’s side door opened, and he heard Aneirin get inside. The car soon started, and headed out, with Aneirin having no idea Jameson was in the back seat.

He was tired of not knowing anything about where Aneirin went. And if he wouldn’t tell him, JJ would find out by himself.

They drove for a surprisingly long time, long enough for Jameson to start aching from being in this uncomfortable twisted position. He couldn’t exactly tell where they were going from his hiding spot, but he didn’t hear anything unusual, apart from the occasional strange commercial on the radio channel Aneirin was listening to. But of course, the car eventually stopped, and Aneirin climbed out. The locks thunked shut after he left.

Jameson waited a few minutes before sitting up and pushing the blanket aside. Looking out the car windows, he blinked in surprise. This...wasn’t what he was expecting. Instead of being parked outside some building on the outskirts of town, the car was pulled into a small gap in between two large, looming buildings. There was no light coming from them, and only the faint, watery street lamp beams to illuminate anything. Why would Aneirin have driven here...?

After a moment’s hesitation, Jameson unlocked the car door and stepped out. He walked out onto the street, finding it lined with similar tall, wide buildings. Where was this place? Some sort of storage? Why wasn’t anything lit up? JJ shivered, reaching into his pocket to double-check that his cell phone was there. He should find Aneirin, make sure that he was okay.

He looked left down the street, saw nothing, and looked right. There was a group of three people standing beneath one of the weak street lights. With them being the only people in sight, JJ headed in their direction. Eventually, he started picking up voices.

“—kid’s been a runner for three years, cut him some slack.” An unfamiliar female voice.

“No one gets slack at all.” An unfamiliar male voice. “Not even us, Kelly.”

“Still, he does his job.”

“Yeah, that’s right.” And that...that was Aneirin’s voice. Though strangely, his accent, a bit Irish from the years he’d spent being a foster kid in that country, had thickened. “Just give me the green.”

Jameson ducked around a corner of a building, peering out at the group of three. A man, a woman, and Aneirin. He watched as Aneirin handed over a backpack, and the man handed him a case. What was this? It seemed...shady. Aneirin couldn’t really be involved in something like this, right? 

The woman leaned closer to Aneirin, lowering her voice so it couldn’t be heard from where Jameson was watching. But judging from the way Aneirin tensed, whatever she was saying wasn’t good news. Aneirin responded in an equally low tone, and the man suddenly laughed. “You?! Tiny thing like you? Obvious blind spot and likely to collapse at any time? Nah, lad, we’ll go with the professionals.”

That was exactly the wrong thing to say. Aneirin bristled, and even from here Jameson could see the anger in his expression. “Easy there,” the woman said, her tone patronizing. “You wouldn’t want to fall down, would you?”

Aneirin lunged at her, and a scream rang out through the empty street. The woman stumbled back, turning enough so that Jameson could see the way her front was stained red. “You little—!” The man grabbed Aneirin by his jacket, and JJ couldn’t help but cry out.

He didn’t think it would be audible to the group, but both the man and Aneirin looked over toward him. JJ’s eyes widened, and he ducked behind the building. “Oh, you brought a friend, didn’t you, you little bastard?!” The man yelled. “Looks like you, too! Family field trip, is it?”

“Hey! Back off!” Aneirin snarled. It would’ve been intimidating, if not for the nervous crack in the middle.

“Oh no, I don’t think so!”

Jameson heard footsteps running towards him, and instantly took off, running down the gap between the buildings. But the man was much faster, and the footsteps grew louder. Jameson glanced over his shoulder, and the man was just a few feet away. He gasped, and pushed himself farther, turning onto another street, then running into another gap in an attempt to shake the man off.

“Don’t you run, you—AAARGK!”

The strange noise wasn’t enough to stop JJ from running. He continued to weave around the gaps in the buildings, until he arrived back at the one the car was parked in. He tore open the backseat door and practically threw himself inside, locking it behind him. He fell onto the floor of the car and stayed there, sitting, knees pulled to his chest and his heart pounding in his throat. His eyes were fixed on staring through the dirty glass of the car window.

A figure appeared there. Jameson made a strangled sort of sound, backing up. The figure knocked on the glass, then a flashlight turned on, shining into the car. Jameson blinked in the light, then squinted through it, recognizing Aneirin as the one holding the flashlight.

Aneirin pointed towards the driver’s side door, and disappeared, rounding around the car. The locks thunked, and Aneirin opened the door and climbed inside. “Jamie?” he called.

Jameson didn’t relax, but leaned forward, into the spot between the driver’s seat and the passenger seat.

“Oh my god!” Aneirin grabbed JJ’s head, one hand on either side, and pulled him even closer. “What were you thinking?! What are you even doing here?! Did you follow me? Why the fuck would you do that?! There’s a reason I don’t tell you what I do!”

Jameson was stunned into silence for a moment. He let Aneirin continue on in a similar vein for a while, then slowly signed, I was just curious.

“Curious?! I—” Aneirin leaned back, burying his face in his hands and taking a few deep breaths. “You can’t...do stuff like that, Jamie,” he said. 

...I’m sorry, JJ signed hesitantly.

“It’s...fine, Jamie, just...just don’t do that again.” Aneirin sighed, looking out the windshield. “Who knows what could’ve happened to you?”

Jameson fell silent for a moment, then awkwardly climbed into the passenger seat, settling into it. What happened to the man? And the woman?

“They’re...dead,” Aneirin said slowly.

Did you kill them? Jameson asked, eyes wide and disbelieving.

“...yes,” Aneirin’s voice was barely audible.

Why?!

Aneirin opened the car door and leaned over outside, picking up something on the ground. He pulled the case from earlier into the car and threw it into the backseat. “Because we need money to live and shit, Jamie, that’s why. Someone offers you a lot, and all you need to do is...go back on your word, then you take it.”

JJ shook his head silently, shocked. Aneirin...have you done this before?

Aneirin shifted in his seat. “What, go to a regular drop-off then walk away with two people dead? No.”

Silence fell. Jameson dug into his pocket and pulled out his phone.

“What’re you doing?” Aneirin said, sitting up straight.

Calling 999, Jameson answered.

“Wh—no! You can’t do that!” Aneirin grabbed Jameson’s wrist, pulling it, and the phone he was holding, away. “Look, I know it looks bad, but there’s absolutely nothing to connect us to this. See? I’m wearing gloves, no fingerprints.”

Jameson stared at him, absolutely stunned. We can’t just let— he started to sign one-handedly.

“No, we have to. Jameson, if the police hear about this, they’re going to judge my place an unfit home, and me an unfit guardian, and they’re going to put you back in the system.” Aneirin tightened his grip on Jameson’s wrist. “I-I can’t let that happen! I can’t let you go back there! Who knows what’ll happen?!”

Jameson managed to pull his wrist away from Aneirin’s grip. They’re not going to put a seventeen-year-old into the foster system. I’m practically an adult.

“As someone who was recently seventeen, that’s debatable. And legally, you’re still a child. It doesn’t matter how close to eighteen you are, until your actual birthday, they’re not gonna let you go.” There was a strong bitter note in Aneirin’s voice. “I can’t...I’ve only had you back for a year, Jamie. After ten fucking years of wondering what happened to you. Please don’t...don’t leave.”

Jameson hesitated. Aneirin’s eyes were shining with a desperate light that could be seen even in the shadows the car was hiding in. And he had to admit, he didn’t want to leave his brother, either. He sighed gently, and put his cell phone down on the dashboard of the car. Alright, fine.

Aneirin practically wilted with relief. “Thank you so much, Jamie.” He twisted in his seat, starting the car. “I promise you won’t regret it.”

The car headed out, with Jameson and Aneirin sitting in silence. Jameson stared out the window, watching as they gradually traveled to a more well-lit part of the town. He expected them to head home. But instead, Aneirin headed to the town center, and parked outside a lit-up building. “Look,” he said, glancing in JJ’s direction. “I’m sorry about...the yelling, earlier. I was just stressed and worried. I’m sorry if I made you feel like I was angry with you.”

Jameson exhaled slowly. It’s okay, Aneirin.

“I’ll make it up to you,” Aneirin promised. “Look.” He nodded at the building they were parked outside.

Wait...JJ’s eyes widened. We’re going to Tompson’s?

“Yep.” Aneirin smiled. “Ice cream sounds good after tonight. Luckily they’re open late. You can get whatever you want, whatever size.”

Really? Anything? JJ asked doubtfully. Tompson’s was known for being relatively expensive, but also delicious. They usually saved it for special occasions.

“Of course. It’s on me.”

JJ looked back out the window. He started nodding, slowly at first, then faster. Well, alright then. Can’t do that in the car.

Aneirin laughed. “Course not. Hey, not even gonna say thank you?”

Jameson exhaled softly, and rolled his eyes. Aneirin was always like this. “Thhnk yu-yuh. Annn.” He could’ve signed it, but if Aneirin wanted that, he would’ve said ‘sign.’

“You’re welcome,” Aneirin smiled. “Now let’s go.”

The rest of the night was rather nice. Jameson almost forgot what had happened earlier. Almost. It turns out, these events would not be forgotten easily.

——————

...Jameson was startled out of his thoughts by the sound of his text alert going off. Jameson?? Are you oaky?? Whyd you hang up? Chase asked. It was quickly followed by a *okay

I’m fine, Chase, JJ replied. I just had to think for a moment.

Are you actually fine or just saying that?

Jameson thought hard about this question. I won’t lie. I’m a little...He paused, wanting to type out ‘scared,’ but that might be a bit too far. That was probably something he should talk over with his therapist on Monday; now was not the time to unload everything. ...shaken, hearing about this. But I’ll be okay, I promise.

Alright, if your sure, Chase said. But if you ever need anyone, Im right here.

Thank you, Chase.

The city bus finally pulled up to the station, and JJ hopped aboard, pressing his bus pass to the card reader before taking a seat. He stared out the window as the bus started rolling again. He couldn’t help but glance behind him, even knowing that nobody would be there.

——————

A few days passed, and Monday morning dawned cold and rainy. Dr. Laurens opened her umbrella as soon as she got off the bus, holding it with her unbroken arm. She sighed quietly. Well, looked like she had to walk to work today. And for a while, actually, until her arm was healed enough for her to drive again. She’d better get used to it.

A few drizzly moments later, Laurens stepped inside the main doors of Silver Hills. Awkwardly closing her umbrella, she walked up to the front desk. “Hi, I need to see Dr. Newson, is she in?”

The orderly at the desk looked up, and her eyes widened. “Oh my god, Rya?!”

“Hey, Theresa,” Laurens said, smiling tiredly. “Is Newson in?”

“Yes, I-I can page her—mother of god, what happened to you?” Theresa asked as she started messing with her pager. “You disappeared! Are you alright?”

‘Alright’? Well, that was debatable. The broken arm was not ‘alright,’ and Laurens was pretty sure there was a lot else that would not fit into ‘alright.’ But she’d waited this long. She’d spent time in the hospital, then practically begged to go home so she could get used to being on her own, without having to worry about threats to her life. But still, she couldn’t stop thinking about getting back to work. She knew Newson had taken over Schneep’s case, and she knew Newson hated him. How could she just stand by and leave this situation alone? So, if by ‘alright’ you meant ‘functional and willing to help others,’ then yes, she was alright. “I’m fine, thanks,” Laurens said. “Should I just wait for Newson here?”

“Uh...yeah, that would be great.”

Laurens took a seat in the reception area, looking around. It seemed a bit surreal to be back here after...everything with Anti and Jackie. Like she was last here years ago, instead of just a few months.

About five minutes later, footsteps came down the hall, and Laurens stood up as Newson appeared. Newson’s eyes immediately locked onto her, and she froze. “Wh—Rya?”

“Yes, it’s me,” Laurens stated.

Newson gaped at her, then rushed over to stand in front of her. “You’re okay! Oh my god, I—we were so worried!”

“Really?” Laurens asked, not bothering to hide the surprise in her voice. “I mean...from what I remembered, you were probably going to fire me—”

“No! I mean—I—” Newson stammered. “I didn’t want you to—look, I may have made a bit of a rushed judgement that day, and I...would hate for that to be the last thing I ever said to you. You truly are great at your job, a-and a great person as well. And I’m not going to fire you.”

“Great,” Laurens nodded. “In that case, can I take my patient back please?”

“Wh—” Newson seemed taken aback by the question stated so clearly. “I...mean...”

“Because I don’t believe that your methods work well with him,” Laurens said, voice and expression deadpan. “Unless something has changed in the two months I’ve been gone.”

“I...” Newson cleared her throat, collecting herself. “Of course you can take the case again. Do understand that I—hello, can I help you?”

Laurens turned around. A tall woman in a black raincoat had just entered the reception area, carrying a briefcase. “Actually, yes,” the woman said. “I’m looking for Dr. Jennifer Newson.”

“That would be me,” Newson said, patting down her coat and smiling cordially. “Do you need something?”

“Ah. My name is Aja Bakshi, I am from Henson & Singh At Law.” Bakshi set her briefcase on the reception desk, opening it up and slapping a piece of paper covered in type down on the surface. “My client wishes to sue you for malpractice, negligence, and abuse of power with your position. This is the notice, details are included on it, as well as my phone number.”

Newson was left speechless. She just stared at Bakshi, absolutely shocked, her wide-eyed gaping expression somewhat reminiscent of a fish. Laurens had to bite back a smile as the thought occurred to her. “Uh...” Newson finally said. “Who...who’s suing me?”

“Details are on the notice, Dr. Newson,” Bakshi said calmly. “We have scheduled a court hearing for the 23rd. We expect to see you there.” And with that, Bakshi snapped the briefcase closed, and turned on her heel and left, door swinging closed behind her.

“Uh...Dr. Newson, are you alright?” Theresa asked.

Newson didn’t answer, instead picking up the paper and scanning it over. “Maher...?” she muttered. “I know that name...”

“Well, I’ll leave you to that,” Dr. Laurens said. “For now, I’d like to see my patient. But I seem to have lost my keycard.”

Newson looked up sharply. “Uh...right. I’ll call Oliver Hopkins, he can take you to the room. Can you get a coat on with your arm like that? Dress code, and all. We have some in—”

“In the back room, I know,” Laurens said. “I’ll meet Oliver there, then.”

About ten minutes later, Laurens had made her way to the back room and pulled on a white coat over her cast before replacing her arm in her sling.

“...Doc?”

Laurens glanced over, watching as Oliver rounded the corner. She smiled. “Hello, Oliver. Your phone is poking out of your pocket, by the way. Be careful.”

Oliver laughed, and wiped his eyes. “Holy shit, you’re okay. I mean, your arm, but. You know.”

“I do know, thank you,” Laurens chuckled. She then sighed. “Anyway, I wanted to check on Schneep. I don’t think I’ll be able to start a session until tomorrow, after I get all the stuff sorted out for coming back, but I...just want to see if he’s alright.”

Oliver winced. “That’s a...that’s a good idea.”

Listening to his tone, Laurens was suddenly shot through with worry. Part of her had wondered if her concern was a bit strange, especially for a therapist-patient relationship, but that one sentence was proof she was justified. “Alright...let’s go down to his room, then.” Laurens turned and started down the hall.

“Uh, Doc?” Oliver called. “He’s not in his room. He’s in the quiet room.”

Laurens stopped, turning around to look at him. “...well,” she said. “Let’s get him out of there, then.”

“Yeah, uh. Good idea,” Oliver muttered. “I should probably tell you that he’s been in there a couple times, and he...doesn’t react well to it.”

“Of course he doesn’t,” Laurens muttered, already heading down the hall in the other direction. Honestly, they should just call the room what it actually was: solitary. She supposed it wasn’t a bad idea in principle; sometimes the more hostile patients needed a place to cool down where they couldn’t hurt anyone or themselves. But in situations like this, locking someone in a room alone did more harm than good. Especially now that she knew what had actually happened to Schneep in the nine months he disappeared.

The door to the quiet room looked identical to all the other rooms in the older wing of the hospital, with the only exception being that it didn’t have a room number. But once Oliver opened the door, it became clear what made this room so different. It was the only place in the entire building that had its walls padded, and there was no furniture inside except for a bedframe with a mattress but nothing else. Laurens stepped into the room, looking around. She quickly spotted the figure curled up on the floor in the corner. “Schneep?” She called softly.

Schneep had his arms wrapped around his head, but upon hearing his name, he flinched and moved them enough to see out at her.

“Hey, it’s me,” Laurens said, keeping her voice friendly. “Remember me?”

“Hm.” The small sound wasn’t a confirmation or a denial. Schneep’s eyes darted towards the doorway, with Oliver standing in it.

Laurens looked back towards the doorway as well. Get out of sight, she mouthed. Oliver looked hesitant, but stepped to the side, out of view. Laurens looked back towards Schneep, taking a few steps forward. “Schneep, I need you to answer me. Do you remember me?”

“...Jackie?” Schneep said, his voice hoarse.

“No, I’m not Jackie,” Laurens said. She took a few more steps forward, then got down to kneel on the floor. “You’re not with Jackie right now. You’re in the hospital, remember?”

This seemed to confused Schneep for a bit, but he loosened up, uncovering his head as he realized Laurens wasn’t a threat. “Hospital...” he muttered. “Which one?”

“Silver Hills,” Laurens said.

A short pause. “You are...not lying?” Immediately after asking the question, Schneep laughed. “You would say you are not, either way.”

“I wouldn’t lie about where you are, Schneep,” Laurens said quietly. “I wouldn’t trick you like that.” She paused for a moment, gauging Schneep’s reaction. “Do you need anything?”

“Do I...?” The question threw him off for a bit. “I...I do not want to be here. No, no. Not here.”

“Alright, then let’s go.” Laurens held out her hand, palm-up. Schneep flinched away for a moment, but then reached out and grabbed it. “We’re going to stand up now, okay?”

Schneep nodded, and Laurens unfolded herself from her kneeling position, awkwardly doing her best to stand up without using her arms. After a few moments of trying, she succeeded, and helped pull Schneep to his feet. He immediately stumbled, leaning against her. Laurens gasped slightly, noting the cloudy look in Schneep’s eyes and the way he was shaking a bit. There was no reason for him to be this heavily sedated. “How’re you feeling?” Laurens asked.

“Hmm...cotton,” Schneep said.

“I see. Can you walk?”

“I...I think so, yes.” Despite this assertion, when Laurens started to walk, Schneep only stumbled and almost fell.

“Whoa, take it easy,” Laurens said. “I’m going to call someone who can help, alright?”

“Al...yes.”

Laurens looked toward the doorway. Oliver had poked his head into view, making eye contact with her. She nodded, and he came into the room, silently lifting Schneep into a carrying position. Schneep didn’t protest. “We’re going back to your room, Schneep,” Laurens said. “Okay?”

Schneep paused. Then: “You are the doctor.”

“Yes, I am a doctor. So are you.”

“I know. I mean, you are...you stopped coming,” Schneep mumbled.

Laurens nodded. “Yes, but I didn’t want to. I would’ve kept coming if I could. But now I’m back.”

“Very good. Good that you are alright.” Schneep sighed. “Can we please leave here?”

“Yes, we’re leaving right now,” Laurens said. She started heading to the door, glancing back to make sure Oliver and Schneep were following her. They were.

She sighed gently. This was Newson’s fault, she knew it. But now, hopefully, they wouldn’t have to struggle with that for much longer.

—————— 

“Siri, what does GCS stand for?”

Jackie suddenly snapped to attention, almost hitting his head on the corner of the table. God, he hadn’t even heard Anti come into the room; he must’ve been buried deep in a daydream. Though, honestly, he couldn’t blame himself for that. It was much preferable to be in a daydream world than reality right now. In a daydream, he was able to forget about the cotton taste of the gag in his mouth, and the awkward angle his arms were handcuffed behind his back and around a table leg.

“Okay, I found this on the web,” said the robotic voice of Siri.

Anti was lounging on one of the apartment’s armchairs, dressed in an outfit that...wasn’t exactly his usual style. Jackie was oddly reminded of the way Chase dressed. Anti’s green glass eye had been replaced with a blue one, but he still had the old watch around his neck. “Three to five is good, then,” he muttered to himself. Anti glanced up, noticing Jackie staring at him. “Expecting something, hoodie man?”

Jackie flinched, and looked away, fixing his eyes on a water stain on the wall. He heard the sound of Anti shifting position, but didn’t look back.

Thwack!

A silver blade embedded itself in the wall inches from Jackie’s nose. Jackie cried out, flinging himself backwards and hitting his head against the table leg. Anti laughed. “God, you look like you just had a heart attack!” He paused. “Actually...Hey Siri, what do I do if someone has a heart attack?”

“Okay, I found this on the web.”

Jackie squeezed his eyes shut, trying to take deep, calm breaths. It was difficult, to say the least. Part of him wanted to shout at Anti, ask him what he wanted with him. The rest of him knew that would be a terrible idea, even if he could speak.

This wouldn’t last forever, would it? Something had to change. Or at least, that’s what he told himself.

[spidergwenstefani]

Finals Week

This is a really self-indulgent semi sequel to this ficlet I wrote a little while ago about theatre major Bucky and frat bro Clint. Apparently this is gonna be the AU i use for pointless fluffy comfort now bc I’m stressed with finals essays and these boys are helping.

I definitely shifted some background characters around since the last fic sorry steve but i don’t super care so ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Bucky spins his desk chair around in a lazy circle, watching the moon shining through his apartment window blur into a bright stripe with the rest of his surroundings. Someone on the floor above him has tuned their Spotify to some kind of low-fi study playlist, and Bucky feels genuinely relaxed for the first time in… months, actually.

This last week has been rough. Nearly all of his finals ended up scheduled on the same Friday and Natasha had to actually hold him back from leaping out the library window on Thursday night. It worked out alright. The Lighting Design 201 presentation had gone off shockingly well, the History of Stage Design final was way easier than expected, and his group project for Gender in Shakespeare really pulled through in the end. He half-assed the conclusion for his Dramaturgy essay, but there was only so much he could say about August Wilson without the professor realizing he was just spitting his class notes back at him. So now he’s done. A whole five days before the semester ends, too. It feels like a thousand-pound weight has been lifted off Bucky’s shoulders. He hums along to the slow jam echoing down from his upstairs neighbor, scooping up his phone to check his messages.

Nat (3 hours ago) Congrats on being done with finals

Nat (3 hours ago) If you didn’t turn that gd Fences essay in on time I will climb in through your window and strangle you in your sleep

Steve (2 hours ago) Hey! Me and some buddies were planning on going out for pizza around 7 tomorrow. Do you wanna come with? You can bring Clint so you don’t have to listen to grad students all night.

Steve (2 hours ago) Please say yes. I don’t want to listen to grad students all night.

Nat (42 minutes ago) Have you heard from Clint? He hasn’t answered my texts in hours. Not sure if I should be concerned

Nat (40 minutes ago) Send him a dick pic and see if that gets a response

Clint (3 minutes ago) im fckin dropping uot

Bucky ignores Steve and Natasha for now, typing out a quick response to Clint.

Bucky Well I’m done with finals

Bucky Can I convince you to stay in college with some fantastic Fuck Dramaturgy victory sex?

Clint i dont kno what htat is

Bucky I’ve explained Dramaturgy to you like five times

Clint i cant remembr

Clint what day is it

Clint bucky im dyin :’(

Bucky rolls his eyes, grabbing the keys off his desk and pulling on his sneakers. He would have preferred to avoid the Greek side of campus today if at all possible, but he has an idiot boyfriend to console.

Bucky omw

>>==========>

Beta Theta Pi is, as far as frat houses go, not the absolute worst. It had still been kind of a shock when Bucky realized Clint actually lives up to his frat bro vibes. Not only lives up to them but embraces them with the same enthusiasm Clint has for any other thing he cares about. Bucky could probably do PR for the Beta charity drives by now after how much Clint has gushed about them. Lord knows he’d do a better job than fucking Pietro.

Bruce answers the door on Bucky’s third knock, looking surprised to see him and vaguely stoned.

“Bucky?” he says after he gets a few blinks out of his system. Bucky wonders if it’s such a good idea to be smoking in his letterman jacket. Coach Fury’s been known to have a nose like a bloodhound. “Clint didn’t say you were coming over.”

“Has he said anything at all in the last twelve hours?” Bucky asks, shouldering past Bruce because he knows he won’t move on his own. Bruce is actually his favorite of Clint’s brothers. He’s chiller than any offensive lineman has a right to be. He does yoga, for fuck's sake. It’s probably the copious amounts of weed that mellow him out in the end, though.

“I dunno,” Bruce says, still blinking his way back to the present. He gives Bucky a slow smile as he shuts the door behind them. “Do you want tea? I made tea.”

“Maybe later,” Bucky says, because he’s just spotted Rumlow studying at the dining table and that’s the one Beta guy he genuinely doesn’t want to see today. He heads for the stairs.

“Wanna play Smash Bros?” Bruce asks as Bucky bolts for the second floor.

“Maybe later,” he shouts over his shoulder.

Clint’s room is at the far end of the hallway, and Bucky frowns at the closed door. Clint’s the kind of endearingly codependent guy that keeps his door open unless absolutely necessary, never wanting to miss out on anything that might be blocked by a thin layer of wood.

He knocks more as a warning than anything, letting himself in and shutting the door softly behind him. All the lights are off and nothing but moonlight illuminates Clint spread dramatically across the floor, staring up at his ceiling fan like he’s hoping it’ll fall on him.

“Fucking Christ,” Bucky mutters, mostly because he’s not sure Clint even heard him come in.

“I’m gonna die,” Clint answers from the floor. “Statistics is actually gonna kill me.”

“You can’t die,” Bucky says, leaning back against the door. “My mom will be crushed if I don’t bring you home for spring break.” The moonlight is making the angles of Clint’s face look especially soft, and Bucky takes a moment to watch him pout before sinking down onto the floor.

“No, it’s too late. I’m dying,” Clint says, shifting to make room on the rug as Bucky crawls over to him. He wraps his arm around Bucky’s shoulders and plants a quick kiss on his forehead before turning his glazed look back up at the ceiling fan. “You’ll come to my funeral, right?”

“Obviously,” Bucky snorts, sliding his hands under Clint’s t-shirt. He knows his fingers are ice cold, but Clint doesn’t even flinch.

“Wear black, okay? Something sexy, so my enemies get jealous of the hot piece of ass I bagged before kicking the bucket.”

“Should I cry?” Clint hasn’t seen Bucky act yet, but he’s totally going to audition for The Laramie Project next semester and blow his fucking mind.

“As much as possible. Maybe mention how much you’ll miss my massive dick.”

“I will,” Bucky says emphatically. He looks up at the ceiling fan and takes a deep breath, doing his best to bring tears to his eyes. “I’ll never love another dick as much as I loved his.” Bucky’s voice comes out impressively choked up. “I’m cursed to a life of longing. The only man who can satisfy me is lost forever.” Bucky blinks a single tear down his cheek, and Clint’s staring at him when he finally turns back.

“Holy shit,” Clint says, moving to wipe at Bucky’s cheeks like he’s actually worried about him. “Do exactly that, please. When did you learn how to cry on command?”

“When my third sister was born,” Bucky answers smugly. “I didn’t appreciate how much more attention tutus and pigtails got, so I had to find my own edge.”

“Becca’s sent me a few pictures that say you still cashed in on tutus and pigtails.” Clint rolls onto his side so he can face Bucky better, pulling him closer with a hand around his waist.

“I rocked those butterfly clips better than she could ever dream,” Bucky says, and Clint buries his laugh in Bucky’s shoulder. Bucky runs a hand up and down Clint’s back. “What day is your Stats final?” That earns him a despondent groan.

“Monday. I’m so gonna fail.” Clint’s voice is muffled by Bucky’s sweatshirt. “Why the fuck did I decide on a Business major?”

“Because you’re smart,” Bucky insists. Clint shakes his head weakly against his shoulder and Bucky smacks him lightly on the arm. “You are. You’re smart and practical, and once you have your diploma you and Nat can move to New York and open your gym.”

Clint mumbles something into his sweatshirt that Bucky doesn’t quite catch.

“What?” he asks, and he tugs the back of Clint’s shirt just enough to get him to scoot backward and speak clearly.

“I said you’ll be there too,” Clint repeats, rubbing his thumb back and forth across Bucky’s side and making an effort to keep his eyes anywhere but on Bucky’s. “Designing costumes on Broadway. Having a meltdown every other day.”

“Exactly,” Bucky says, and Clint looks up long enough to give him a hesitant smile. “And on tech week I’ll gripe to you all night long and make you rub my feet.”

“Sounds like a dream,” Clint says, and his voice is too soft to be joking. Bucky leans forward to kiss him. Clint brings his hand up to Bucky’s face, brushing his thumb over his cheek while they lose themselves for a moment or two.

“It’ll be awesome,” Bucky says once he’s pulled away. “And all you have to do is pass one dumb Stats final. It’s all easy street after that.”

“No it’s not,” Clint says, but his face doesn’t seem quite as pinched with worry. Bucky shrugs one shoulder.

“Maybe not, but this is all you have to think about right now. And even if you don’t pass, which you will, Momma Barnes will be waiting at the train station, ready to fill that void of disappointment with cookies and brisket. They offer Stats over the summer. You can even get Bruce to help you study.”

Clint smiles a little easier and presses a kiss to Bucky’s cheek.

“Bruce offered to help me study earlier this week, actually.” Bucky raises his eyebrows at him.

“And you’re not taking him up on it? Bruce is pretty much Einstein. You know that, right? What are you doing in here when you could be getting schooled on Stats in the library?”

“Well, you’re here,” Clint says and Bucky just knows his smile goes all dopey at that. “And I think even Einstein would struggle with Stats after smoking that much weed.”

“You’ll study with him tomorrow though, right?” Bucky’s not going to let Clint throw him off that easy. Clint rolls his eyes, but he nods. “Steve invited us to get pizza tomorrow. I’ll pay, as a reward for studying.”

“Steve invited us, or Steve invited you?” Clint asks, scrunching up his nose. Bucky snorts, shoving at Clint half-heartedly.

“Steve invited us. To go out with him and his friends. I dunno why you hate him so much. He thinks you’re pretty cool.”

“I don’t hate him,” Clint says defensively, but he still shifts forward to wrap his arms possessively around Bucky. “I just want to make sure he knows that the position of Bucky’s Buff Blond Boyfriend is already happily filled. Also, fuck him. I’m really cool.”

“You’re ridiculous,” Bucky says. He’s kind of stuck in Clint’s steel trap of a hug. “It’s not like that. First of all, I don’t date grad students, and second of all we totally have more of a big brother-little brother sort of thing going on. I think he’s more into Tony, anyway.”

“Aw, gross,” Clint laughs, letting Bucky out of his death grip. “They deserve each other.”

“People probably say the same thing about us,” Bucky says. Clint grins at him, opening his mouth to share some kind of smart-ass response. A knock on the door cuts him off and makes them both jump.

“Do you guys have pants on?” Bruce’s voice comes through the door way louder than necessary. “If you don’t, sorry. Keep doing your thing or whatever. We’re starting a new Smash tournament, though, if you wanna join.”

“No, Bruce. C’mon man,” Bucky hears Sam say, and there’s the sound of scuffling feet like Sam’s trying to yank Bruce back from the door. “They’re probably having their own Smash tournament in there.”

“Bucky would have invited me,” Bruce insists, and Clint sits up with a laugh.

“We have pants on, Bruce,” he calls, and the door opens a moment later.

“Are you guys just sitting in the dark?” Bruce frowns down at Bucky, who’s still sprawled across the rug.

“Yeah,” Clint says, and then because he catches Bucky’s meaningful look, “Are you busy tomorrow? Think you could help me with Stats?”

“Yeah,” Bruce says, smiling easily. Bucky thinks Clint looks relieved, like he actually thought Bruce might say no. “We can go to the library.”

“Alright, Bruce.” Bucky stands up, offering a hand and hauling Clint to his feet too. “Let’s smash. I call the pink controller.”

[banesbottombitch]

Headcannons of the bowers gang as single parents?🤔 btw, love your writing!

Fuck it, lets do this. I’ve got so many feelings about this. For disclaimers sake, the boys are 20-25, so college age. This is long.

Henry “You are my Sunshine but you’re also a Pain” Bowers

First of all, he was’t ready. Nothing prepared him to end up alone, with a baby that was his newest and most precious responsibility.

The mothers either DIED, or straight up left the baby in his arms and was  like “your problem now” either way, he does not consider adoption. 

Called Vic first, actually crying, because how the fuck does he do better for this kid than his dad did for him? He has no idea how to nurture, to care, to help something grow and thrive. He confesses his fears, and Vic gets Belch and the three of them drive to the closest department store, picking out baby shit.

Has no idea how bottles work. Gets the cheapest kind possible, and is so upset when the baby wont drink from them (texture might be off, his dumb ass didnt warm the milk, his dumb ass gave the baby COWS MILK, the list goes on) and screeches in frustration when they leak because, yet again, he got the cheapest fuckers possible

He’d be out of his dads house by this time, probably college age (about 20-25) but he has made a point to not let his dad know of his child’s existence, because lets face it, Butch would wanna see his grandkid (especially if its a boy). So, Henry keeps the information that he’s a new dad on lock down

Calls Mama Huggins weekly for advice, and actively looks at parenting hacks online. He’s trying his best to be a good dad, and would take extra shifts for work to make ends meet. His kid would probably go into daycare sometimes, but he doesnt like leaving them with strangers and just tries to get one of the guys (or Mama Huggins) to take them for a few hours.

Uses his kid as a chick magnet. Goes to parks and hits on the single moms while he helps his toddler roam around. Gets a lot of ass because of this, since he comes off as a very caring dad (he is, surprisingly).

Dresses his baby girl up like bad asses. His daughter wears his old bandanna with her princess outfit (claiming she is a cowgirl princess, because of course she is) or gets a jean vest with decently kid friendly patches on it, and parades her around when he gets the chance. Insanely protective of her, and follows her when she plays at the park and later as she gets older, he makes her text him where she is at all times. Low key helicopter dad. The type of dad to clean a gun in front of her new boyfriend, 11/10.

 His son’s hair gets styled into a fohawk daily and he’s encouraged to wear cool printed shirts his uncles (the rest of the gang) get him that have various metal bands on them and stuff. Teaches him sports, and drags him along to baseball games when he can. Was a bit torn when he heard his son was causing trouble in school, but decides that he cant have his kid doing the same shit he did and nips the bullying in the bud. His son got his temper, and it upsets Henry sometimes how easy it is for them to snap at each other once he gets older.

Takes his kid fishing, hiking, rides on motorcycles, ect. Lots of out door activities. His favorite is to take his kid out fishing, because they’re TRAPPED with him and he gets to spend the day with his mini-me, making crappy jokes and teaching them how to do proper techniques, like he always wished his dad would have done with him.

Gets really stern with his kid though. Takes no fucking bullshit from them, and lives the line “because I said so”, expecting his kid to listen. He loves them, he would NEVER raise a hand to them, but he’s not above a sit down and heavy glare if they mouth off to him or act up in public.

Lives his life better to make his kid’s life better. Goes to anger management if he thinks he’s starting to emulate Butch, and he’s explained to his kid why they’re so distant from his family. Doesn’t articulate what Butch has done to him, but makes it a point to focus on the fact that they Do. Not. Talk. To. Butch.

Makes a point to take his kid to school every day. Tells his kid how much he loves them. They do not go a day without a clap on the shoulder and a small little smile that he wears just for them.

Reggie “GET THAT OUT OF YOUR MOUTH RIGHT FUCKIN’ NOW” Huggins

He was a little shocked when he ended up with a baby. Dazed, confused. He just sat there with this bundle, all soft and small, and held them close. He didn’t know what to do, but does anyone when they become a single parent without word?

If his s/o died, he would be heart broken, but pull through for the kid. If his s/o dumped the baby on him and ran, he’d be fucking furious and vow to never let them within arms reach of HIS child.

The best at easing into parenthood. He told his mama that adoption wasn’t an option, and that he was going to take care of the baby. “I can do it,” he told her, “I’m a man, and men take care of their kids.”

Mama Huggins is overjoyed to be a grandma, even if she claims shes a little young to start being called Nannie, but she spoils that baby rotten. Reggie has to fight to keep her from buying the kid so many different outfits, as she goes overboard and buys too many, and they grow out of them before they can even be tried on.

Leaves the kid with his mom to work, which is fine for Mama Huggins, but Reggie feels like he’s ghosting his kid when he does it. So he works harder and advances in his career as much as possible, wanting to get to  place where he can maybe get extra days off to be with his kid.

Wakes up early to make them breakfast. Every morning he sits down with them, from infancy till they leave his house (read as, his moms, he never moves out lets be real). He wakes them up gently, or flicks on the lights and heaves a great big “UP AND AT ‘EM, KIDDO!” But its all with love.

Doesnt seem interested in dating for the most part, but ends up meeting someone with kids at some point in time, and is happy to have his kid get a new sibling. He always wanted one himself.

Gives in too easily if his kids misbehave. If they cry, it HURTS him, and he just lets them do as they please. Had to nip this in the bud before they got into school though, because he wasn’t going to deal with a spoiled brat for 12+ years.

Straps his kid into the backseat of the Trans-Am, and has a Dad Bag under the seats for bottles, toys, and general baby shit. Patrick likes playing peek a boo with his kid, and Vic only complains a little bit of he has  to feed the baby.

Stops going out with the guys, and is worried that it will dampen his relationship with them It doesnt, they just start  coming over to his house and hanging out. Henry was scared to hold the baby at first, but Reggie eased him into it, and now Henry’s the first one to grab the nugget and bounce them on his knee to calm them down.

If he had a daughter, jesus christ. Jesus H Christ. His most precious gem, his princess, the light of his life. He spends free time doing tea parties, letting her “help” him with fixing Amy, and lets her run wild in the neighborhood. She is fierce, she is the wilderness- NO, HONEY, DONT PICK THAT SNAKE UP PLEASE- DROP IT. DROP IT. NO, DONT ARGUE WITH DADDY. DROP IT!

His son would have a very healthy and loving relationship with him. Everything is open for discussion, and he tries to lead his son into a better light than bullying or the like. Lots of sundays are spent in the front yard, tossing around a football while his son asks the craziest, but most wonderful shit he has ever heard. “Dad, whys girls gotta be so.. weird?” “Dad, do you think Luke Skywalker would have been cooler if he was a sith?” “Dad, if we die, do we meet god, or do we gotta wait in line with our guardian angel?” Loves his boy, cherishes him. He can do no wrong.

Goes to every single parent/teacher conference, and puffs up in pride when they praise his kid. Because, of course they’re praising them! He raised them right!

Victor “Pinterest saved my life” Criss

Legit hid the baby from his parents/bros for a good week before he ran out of excuses as to why they hadn’t seen him for days. He’s at a loss of what to do, and considers adoption. He isnt a paternal guy. he thinks, this wont work out.

Already moved out, like, come on. He’s a rich boy, his parents set him up in a nice apartment/condo in Bangor for school.

If his s/o was still alive, he’d have given the baby back to them. This only works if they ghosted town, or are dead. Otherwise, he’d have been like “fuck no”

Finally figures he’ll give fatherhood a shot, and quickly realizes how much he did NOT bargain for.

Reggie turned up to help one day with Vic holding his baby and sobbing back at the baby while it shrieked and squirmed, the poor guy having no idea what to do. Vic was escorted to the bedroom, and given a nap whole Belch attempted to get the baby to sleep.

Buys all the nicest shit the baby could ever need or want. Lots of sleepless nights are spent with him rocking his baby and scanning amazon, thinking that yet another Sophie the Giraffe is exactly what his demon spawn needs to keep from sobbing through the night

Turns to online archives and pinterest for advice, and slowly becomes a better dad. Lots of trial and error, trips to the emergency room from Patrick convincing a half-dead Vic that his baby’s cough is from the baby black plague, and some angry sobbing of his own leads to a decent routine that makes him and his kiddo happy.

Instagrams his kid, because to be fair, he made a gorgeous baby. Sends lots of photos of the kid to the guys, and Patrick uses some of the most unflattering ones as reaction memes, because he is a dick. Vic has laughed at them, despite being furious Patrick would dare to make his baby a meme.

Literally cried when his kid called him “Dada” for the first time. On the floor. Sobbing. He called Reggie and made him come over. Henry and Patrick came around and tried to get the bay to say swears. They got them to say “sheet” which is pretty close to “shit” so they called it a win.

Throws the biggest birthday parties for his kid. Confetti? Everywhere. Cake? Three layers and professionally made. Presents? Out of this world.

Most stylish child of the group’s kids. Sunglasses, designer clothes. That kid dresses better than you do by the time they’re five. They own it too, and flaunt it for the camera, because Vic takes 89,005,467 photos of his child on the daily.

Taught his kid Beastie Boys songs, and there are videos of his kid rapping along to “Intergalactic”. Vic is so proud of his kid.

Friend dad. Has a hard time punishing his kid if they do something wrong, and sometimes makes up for his own mistakes (raising his voice, getting to upset) by giving them gifts. Its not an amazing system, but his kid is humble…ish.

Having a daughter, that boy is her best friend. She can tell him anything, it wont phase him. Willingly talks about boys, clothes, music. Loves to take her to the park and watch her knock the boys down a peg or two. she inherits his sharp tongue, and its scary how fast she goes from 1 to 101. Blunt child, that one.

A boy? Vic’s son is given the coolest shit, there is no need for want with this boy. Probably some awful mix of fuck boy and wanna be rapper, but Vic loves him anyhow. Shows him off to the gang CONSTANTLY, and shows up in almost matching outfits without realizing it. Its cringey, but it could be worse. Teaches him how to throw a punch and encourages him to kick ass if people step up against him.

Puts his kid in after school tutoring, and thinks bonding time is shopping or watching TV together. Fills their schedules with sports, dance, and music. Expects a lot out of them, academically.

Loves his kid, even if they’re being an asshole, not matter what.

Patrick “You’re Demon Spawn and I adore that” Hockstetter

Was not here for this dad shit. Considered chucking the baby into the system, and would have done it too, if his mother had’t made him face the music.

Total “This is what you get for having unprotected sex, Patrick” rant from her. It ended with him being forced with a baby and his mother’s watchful eye on him. Shes not going to have another Avery on her hands.

Hates the baby the first few MONTHS. No love. Nothing there. Lets it cry itself hoarse, barely remembers to feed it, the type to forget an infant in a shopping market. Considers the possibility of it being real, since it came from him in one way or another, and feels a little threatened.

Drops the baby off with his parents 99% of the time. the 1% is when his parents force the baby back with him.

The first time he feels a little something for the kid is after getting them back from his parents and sitting in his apartment, with him screaming at the kid to shut the fuck up, (the baby is sobbing, lets be real) and they just stop. Right then and there, silence. 

They lock eyes, and Patrick swears he sees a flash of something behind their little baby eyes, almost as if they are betrayed he’d treat them that way, before they quietly sniffle. And then Patrick Hockstetter, the man, the myth, the self proclaimed Literal Satan, feels guilt for the first time.

He picks them up and calms himself down, bouncing them on his hip and softly talks to them. No hate, no love really, just apathetic words that a baby couldnt understand. He does that for hours, until the baby is sleeping, and even then he keeps going. Pours out every thought he’s ever had to this little version of him, and the next time he puts them in their crib, he does so gently. 

Lowering them down and tucking a blanket in around them. He decides they’re worth something to him that day, and everyone in his life see a drastic turn in his reactions towards his child.

Kind of a distant dad, but his kid knows that Patrick is their father and that he, yes, loves them. He’ll still drop his kid off with his parents sometimes on weekends, but as the kid grows up and he starts seeing more and more of himself in them, he’d be more attentive.

Goes on philosophical rants with his kid, and expects them to keep up. Raises his kid to question everything, and they grow up almost just as creepy and weird as him. He’s proud that they’re a little freaky, otherwise he’d be worried they weren’t his.

Patrick wouldn’t do too well with a daughter. He’d make it work, but there would be some issues. He has no idea what common ground to go off from, and would force his daughter to be more tom boyish and enjoy the same shit he does. Wouldn’t care if she was a bully in school, actually encourages it. Hands her cash, shares his weed stash with her once she’s older, and bids her good day. Doesnt see reason to punish her for misbehaving hopes she doesn’t end up dead in a ditch somewhere from her smart mouth. Grades are the least of his concerns. Will kill anyone who hurts his daughter though, and makes good on his threats too.

Patrick thrives with a son. A mini-me, that is almost indistinguishable from himself. Same creepy little smile, same predatory tilt of the shoulders and with eyes that pierce your damn soul. Praises his son to the high heavens, calls the boy a genius, and 100% thinks of him to be the Jesus to his God, if you feel me. The promised one, type of shit. Think of a young Trick from Black Mirror, and thats the kind of son Patrick hopes to have, if not MORE edgy.

Halloween is his favorite holiday as a dad, because he takes his kid out and scares the shit out of other children and teaches them to steal the candy.

The family photo of him and his kid is them out with the gang, with his kid (about 7) wearing his jacket by a bonfire and flipping the camera off, him squatting beside them and doing the same damn thing with the biggest shit eating grin. Ah. Parenting. Patrick’s a natural.