#i realize now that they’re sodas not cons and that’s why i couldn’t find them on google

[frnkiebby]

idk who i talked to on here about these but i was helping to clean out one of the sheds at the old house and found my old ass suitcase and opened it once we got to my storage unit and LOOK WHAT I FUCKIN FOUND

have your peak Y2K emo formal footwear~🎃

[shesclearlya3]

Can we get some more of Bobby Richter x human Reader, please? Maybe some more fluff, when he comes to camp redwood looking for answers he meets Y/n who's been visiting the camp since she was 15, she's pretty much friends with the ghosts. Thank you!

There's not enough Bobby content on tumblr and he's such a sweet guy 🙁 It'd be amazing if you decided to write it.

Since I already wrote something similar, I did my best to do something different. I hope you like it!

You were on your way to Camp Redwood, earbuds in and bobbing your head to the music while the Uber driver angrily spoke into his phone. You did your best not to eavesdrop, but it was hard. It was September, and the air was cool, your favorite time to visit your friends who were dead.

You never told anyone for obvious reasons, what would your human friends say if they knew you went to a former murder sight to talk to the victims one weekend a month? You’d be in the psychiatric ward with Nurse Ratched before the words left your mouth.

Your driver drove the long path, cursing and hitting potholes like it was nothing. You rolled your eyes, seeing the entrance into camp straight ahead. “You could stop up here!” you said, unbuckling your seatbelt. He came to a stop, and you climbed out, hardly taking a step from the vehicle before he peeled off. The dirt road would only take a few minutes to walk, so you continued your trek until you saw the gates of Camp Redwood up ahead.

You stopped when you saw someone - a man staring up at the faded letters. He was dressed warmly, a bag hanging off his shoulder, and he slowly made his way into camp. You debated on calling out for him, knowing that malevolent spirits were lingering in the camp. The only reason you were untouched was that you had been there for so long and had an army of friendly ghosts looking after you.

You ended up coming closer to him than you would have liked - he was taking pictures. You didn’t want to startle the poor guy but ended up failing when he glanced in your direction, fumbling with his phone.

“Uhh, I’ll move-” he stumbled over his words, taking a few steps back as you gazed at him in amusement. You noticed he was older than you and really handsome. His eyes were intense as you shook your head with a friendly smile.

“You’re fine, I’ve just never had another visitor here at the same time as me.” you explained, entering the camp but still keeping a distance between the two of you. The man smiled a little, his eyes twinkling. You thought he was charming.

“You come here often, then?” he asked, pocketing his phone.

You laughed, “Yeah, it’s nice to get away from the city, you know?”

He nodded, “I’d assume so. I’m not from here.”

You felt stupid, “Oh, yeah… you travel all the way to California to see the wonders of Camp Redwood?” you joked, hoping he didn’t think you were weird.

“I guess you could say that,” he smiled, before holding out his hand, “I’m Bobby.”

You smiled softly, reciprocating his handshake. “y/n,”

“Would you mind showing me around, maybe?” Bobby asked.

You quickly weighed the pros and cons in your head. If you said yes, you could spend more time getting to know Bobby. He seemed kind. If you declined, there was no telling what might happen to him if he went in blind.

“I’d love too.” you said before leading the way.

“You like it here that much?” Bobby asked, watching his feet as you walked around a large puddle of murky water and mud.

“It was scary for the first time I came here. I was alone, I’ve always come by myself. I heard a lot of people had gone missing but I don’t like to be afraid.”

“I’ve heard that too,” Bobby said thoughtfully, stopping to take a few pictures. “I almost didn’t come myself, but I’ve…” he quit, laughing to himself. You quirked an eyebrow, scanning the land, noting it was just the two of you.

“But?” you pressed. Bobby seemed uncomfortable now, but you didn’t want him to feel that way. “If you want to tell me, of course…”

“I don’t want you to think I’m crazy.” Bobby admitted, shifting the backpack resting on his shoulders.

You thought to your friends, fighting a smile. “I couldn’t possibly think you’re crazy.”

Bobby grinned, “I’m trying to find some information on my father.”

You frowned, looking at his sad face. He had to be in his early thirties. “Who was your dad?” you asked.

Bobby swallowed, and you didn’t expect the answer - nor did it dawn on you when you heard his name.

“His name was Benjamin Richter. He was Mr. Jingles.”

Your mouth fell open, and Bobby seemed dejected. You quickly closed it, realizing you were speaking to the son of the man who was partially responsible for the death of your friends. 

“Oh, really?” you said lamely, “That’s.. That’s uh...”

“You don’t have to say anything, it’s not the greatest conversation starter.” Bobby replied, smiling at the surprised look on your face. “I just had the opportunity to finally visit the place that started it all.”

The sun was hidden by increasing cloudiness. You led him through the camp towards the lake where you knew there was a chance of running into Montana, who often liked to sunbathe. You hoped it was too cold even for a ghost.

“Why are you smiling like that?” Bobby asked, grinning at you.

“You’ll find out soon enough.” you joked, before screaming in fright when Montana suddenly walked out of the thick brush of the woods. Even Bobby recoiled, his heart pounding after hearing your shrill cry.

“Hi, y/n!” she said excitedly, grinning at you and Bobby. Bobby stared at you, looking Montana up and down in confusion.

“Hi, Montana,” you smirked, seeing her now eyeing Bobby in fascination.

“I’m Montana, and you are?” she asked, holding a hand out to him.

“I’m Bobby...” he said, shaking her hand slowly.

Montana’s eyes wandered to you, and you slowly nodded. Her mouth fell open, dropping Bobby’s hand. He noticed the alarmed look on her face and grew concerned. “Are you okay?”

“You’re Mr. Jingles son!” she exclaimed.

Bobby was appalled, gaping at her. “How do you know-?”

“We’ve been waiting for you,” Montana explained, before nudging you playfully. “Great catch, y/n!”

“I didn’t go looking for him!” you interjected, trying not to laugh at the alarmed look Bobby was now giving you. “We got here at the same time, didn’t we?” you asked Bobby, who nodded. 

“I’m confused, who are you?” Bobby asked Montana, and you saw him edge closer to you. You suspected it was to make himself feel safe from your rambunctious friend. 

Montana had a rather mischievous glint in her eyes. You slowly shook your head, not wanting them to put Bobby through what they did to you when you were fifteen. 

“I’m a ghost. Dead as a doornail, I got stabbed multiple times and never left this fucking camp.”

Bobby raised his eyebrows, “You’re lying, ghosts aren’t real.”

“Ooh, we have a skeptic on our hands, y/n,” Montana teased, before grabbing your arm. Bobby immediately grabbed your other, startling both you and Montana. He looked scared, so you tried to comfort him.

“She’s my friend, it’s alright, Bobby.” you reassured him. 

“You’re Montana Duke,” Bobby said, “You died here in ‘84.” 

“That’s me!” she chirped, pulling you along. Bobby was forced to let go but quickly followed you into a cabin, where Trevor was lounging on the bed. He smiled at the sight of you and stood up to wrap an arm around Montana’s shoulder. “This is Tre-”

“Trevor Kirchner,” Bobby breathed, “You died Halloween 1989. This is impossible, they’re not real, right y/n?” he asked.

“Bobby-”

“We’re dead, look!” Montana said, pulling out a gun and shooting herself in the face. 

You and Bobby both screamed, toppling over each other to getaway. They did this to you when you first met them, and it still scared the shit out of you. Trevor cheered, taking the gun and shooting himself in the mouth. 

“What the fuck!” Bobby yelled, grabbing you and pulling you outside. You stumbled in the muddy grass, your heart pounding and ears ringing wildly. “What was that!?”

“They’re dead, Bobby!” you breathed, holding the stitch in your side. “I know it sounds crazy, but-.”

“What did we miss!?” Trevor’s voice appeared from behind. He was standing there with Montana, grinning wildly at their new friend. 

“This is it. I’ve officially gone insane.” Bobby mumbled, throwing his hands up.

“You guys!” you scolded, looking at your two friends who now looked sheepish.

“Fine. We’re sorry.” Montana rolled her eyes.

“Are you okay?” you asked Bobby, who looked more at ease seeing that you were able to get through to them. He nodded slowly, his eyes wild. You gave him a playful pat on the hand, but he surprised you (pleasantly so) when he took your hand in his.

“I think we should go somewhere and talk.” Trevor offered, and Bobby reluctantly accepted the offer.

-

“That was fucking insane.” Bobby said later that night as you two sat at a local restaurant. You were drinking your soda, waiting impatiently for your food. You were starving. 

“They mean well,” you said, listening to the 50s music playing in the background. “They’ve been anxiously awaiting your arrival.”

“But you already knew them,” Bobby said, squinting his eyes at you. “You’ve known about them this entire time?”

You smiled sheepishly, “We’re friends.”

“Oh...” Bobby said, drumming his fingers on the old wooden table. “I need to go back there.”

“You can’t go back tonight,” you asserted. Bobby frowned at you. “It’s not safe, for you especially.” 

“Damn it!” Bobby grumbled. You reached over and placed a hand on his twitching fingers. He watched you with a soft smile, which you reciprocated.

“If you’re going back, I’m going with you.” you said, and his smile brightened. “I know we just met, but... I want to help you.”

“I appreciate that, y/n,” he said happily. 

“But I’m serious when I say it’s unsafe at night. It could be any time of the day for you. Your father made some enemies that still linger there. The boys are good at keeping them away, but even ghosts can slip through the cracks.”

“They’ve protected you?” he asked.

“Ever since I met them,” you smiled, “I love them. They’d do anything for me, and I know they’re going to do the same for you. Just promise me you won’t get yourself hurt.”

“I promise, y/n,” Bobby nodded, turning his hand to interlock your fingers. He squeezed your hand, and you felt your cheeks turn red. “Thank you for everything. I uh, I just need answers. I’ve been without them too long.”

You nodded, thinking back to all the stories and secrets Montana had told you over the years. You had an idea.

“When we’re done eating, I want to take you to someone who may be able to help.” You said, watching as hope flashed in his eyes. 

“You know who they were talking about?” Bobby asked, hopefully.

“I think I do. We’ll figure this out together.”

“I’m glad I met you, y/n,” Bobby said affectionally, tilting his head at you.

“Likewise.” you grinned.

You and Bobby smiled at each other, and you knew everything would be okay. 

[elisaphoenix13]

In Sickness And Health

Quill knew Scott was sick before the younger man even woke up. He was running a fever that concerned the god to the point that he asked Bruce to come up and check on him. He could have called Stephen but the man had his hands full with seven kids on a daily basis. Bruce just had a Norse legend and the occasional time a member of the team got hurt. He told Quill it was just a common bug and though Scott's fever was a little high, that it wasn't anything to worry about unless it went up. So Quill left Scott sleeping upstairs with Emir and he went down to make some coffee. One of the few things he was allowed to do.

He had to wait until Cassie got up which thankfully wasn't much longer after he got up. Scott was the only one who wasn't a morning person, and he had even more of an excuse since he was sick. When Cassie came downstairs still half asleep and in her pajamas, Quill raised an eyebrow when he found her wearing an oversized t-shirt that went down to her thighs. No bottoms that he was aware of either but he wasn't about to check.

"Is that my shirt?"

"Mine now." She mumbles and opens the fridge.

"So my husband hates when I wear a shirt and my daughter steals them to use as pajamas." Quill snorts and drinks some of his coffee.

"At least they get used."

"Can't say that about con--"

"Ugh! No! Shut up, it's too early for that!" Cassie smacks his arm before digging some things out for breakfast. "What do you want for breakfast?"

"Whatever is fine. Your dad is sick though, so you think you can make him something when he wakes up?" Quill sighs. "I'd do it myself but...you know."

Cassie nods. "Yeah. Is he okay?"

"Bruce says he'll be fine and Emir is with him."

"Emir is always with him." Cassie rolls her eyes. "Like Flynn is with you."

They both look down at Quill's leg where Flynn had attached himself to the god's sweatpants as soon as he got up. The kit fortunately spent some time with Emir now that the tiger was here, but he was still very clingy with Quill and the tiger was very unlikely to leave the bedroom today. Scott needed his attention more than Flynn did. Cassie started to make some eggs and bacon after putting her hair up and Quill grabbed the orange juice from the fridge and sat down at the table while waiting for breakfast. He mindlessly fiddles on his phone and takes an occasional sip of coffee until a plate full of food is placed in front of him and he smiles at Cassie.

"Thanks Sunshine." Quill puts his phone away and pours her some orange juice as she sits down.

"You're welcome." She had also put some food in Flynn's bowl at some point so the kit had jumped off Quill's leg to go eat. "You have work today?"

"Nope. Gonna be a couch potato and keep an eye on your dad. Would have taken the day off if I did."

"Sounds like a plan." Cassie agrees and eats some of the hash browns she had also made. "I didn't have any plans today and I want to help take care of Dad."

Quill sighs with relief. "Oh thank god. I was worried about food."

The two look up when they hear the elevator arrive on the floor and Maggie and Paxton step out. Quill looks at them in surprise because he hadn't been expecting them and neither Cassie nor Scott had mentioned anything. Cassie looked just as surprised.

"Mom! What are you two doing here?" Cassie asks.

"We told your dad we were coming to visit for the weekend. Did he forget?" Maggie asks.

"Probably." Cassie gets up with her plate and Paxton sputters and covers his eyes.

"Cassie, maybe you should put some pants on?" He suggests.

"I have shorts on."

"I was wondering about that." Quill says and shovels the rest of his breakfast into his mouth before getting up with his plate. "Just letting you guys know that Scotty is sick but you're welcome to the room you used before."

"Alright. Thank you." Maggie turns toward the stairs and screams.

Quill looks over in alarm and finds Emir at the top of the stairs and growling at Maggie and Paxton. Before he can race over and stop the tiger from trying to pounce on the supposed intruders, Scott shuffles out of the bedroom in his pajamas and pats Emir's head.

"'s okay. Be good." Scott mumbles and then looks at the stairs reluctantly.

"Baby, go back to bed. I'll come check on you in a little bit and Cass will make you something to eat." Quill says.

Scott never looked so relieved about not having to climb or descend stairs, and went back into the bedroom without a fuss. Quill was pretty sure that he didn't even realize that Maggie and Paxton were there. The younger man looked miserable and Quill made a mental note to find some medicine or go buy some. Emir followed Scott back into the room and their visitors slowly turned their heads to look at Quill.

"So we have a tiger now." Quill says. "He's harmless as long as you don't hurt Scott and he knows you're okay."

All four of them cringe when they hear the unmistakable sound of vomiting, and Quill dashes up the stairs two at a time. When he steps into the bedroom, he catches a glimpse of Emir's tail in the bathroom doorway and walks over to peek in, finding Scott with his head in the toilet. The tiger was chuffing softly and nudging Scott with his muzzle, but Quill had to direct him out of the bathroom so he could get to his spouse. Scott had since stopped puking and was laying on the floor looking a little pale.

"Feeling any better?" Quill kneels down and checks his temperature, glad to see it hadn't risen.

"Too hot…" Scott moans.

"How about we get your pajamas off and get you back in bed?" Quill suggests. "Cass can make you some soup and I'll bring it up with some juice."

"Ginger ale and crackers." Scott mumbles as Quill scoops him up and stands back up.

"I can do that. Want your clothes off?"

"Nuh...cold."

Quill carries Scott back to bed, and as he gets him back under the covers, Emir hops back onto the bed and lays next to Scott. Any other day, Quill would have kicked him off the bed and cuddled with Scott, but since Maggie and Paxton were there, he had to play host. Something he was kind of terrible at but they were good people. Scott was in no condition to do it either. Quill would manage with Cassie's help.

"I'll be right back with crackers and soda," Quill kisses his forehead and pulls a wastebasket closer.

"Thanks…" Scott mumbles quietly.

The poor guy looked miserable and Quill wished he could heal his illness, but even if his powers could do that, he was still learning about them. He wasn't about to use his husband like a guinea pig to figure it out. He met Maggie right outside their bedroom and he raises an eyebrow when she smiles up at him.

"What?"

"I'm just glad to see he has someone to take care of him." Maggie admits softly.

"Scotty can take care of himself." Quill says and Maggie shakes her head.

"That's not what I mean. Sometimes he gets so focused on other people that he forgets about himself. Scott's a people pleaser...sometimes to a fault. He has a good heart but some people take advantage of it."

Quill sighs and nods. "Yeah. I've definitely noticed that."

"While I'm glad about that…" she suddenly reaches up and grabs Quill by the ear and pulls his head down.

"Ow!"

"I just found out that my daughter has powers! How did this happen?" Maggie says firmly and tugs the god down the stairs by his ear.

Well now Quill knew where Cassie learned this from. He may be a lot stronger than Maggie, but some part of him didn't dare resist when his ear was being held like he was a naughty child. It was funny when Cassie did it to the boys, but not so much when her mother did it to him. This was his husband's ex too so it was somehow worse.

"Mom! Let him go! It was an accident!" Cassie sighs as she comes out of her room.

Properly dressed to Paxton's relief.

"How did you even find out anyway?" Quill rubs his ear when Maggie finally releases him. "She's managed to keep her identity secret and has hardly used them."

"Stephen told me." The woman says flatly. "I talk to him too you know."

"He couldn't tell you how it happened though?" Quill complains and flinches when Maggie holds her hand out to threaten to pinch his ear again.

"I accidentally broke one of Dad's vials." Cassie explains. "They should have turned me into goop but they just turned me into a baby and when I got back to normal, my genes mutated."

Maggie frowns. "Are you okay? Any problems?"

"Mom and Bruce both checked and said I'm completely healthy. They're not worried."

"And what about fighting?"

"I avoid it unless absolutely necessary. I stay home with the girls." Cassie says.

"We're trying to keep her safe just like always." Quill finally says.

"We trust you and Scott," Paxton says. "We were just surprised to find out. Why didn't you tell us yourselves?"

"We meant to. Really." Quill says and Cassie rolls her eyes.

"I could've told you too...and honestly, Dad has been such an airhead lately that he forgot to tell us you were visiting."

Maggie and Paxton look at them and they both nod before changing the subject. Quill was glad they weren't legitimately upset about Cassie's newfound powers, just that they had to hear about it from someone besides them. They were even happier when their daughter didn't seem inclined to join their avenging unless she needed to. Cassie would use her powers to protect the Stark girls.

Quill also, fortunately, remembered Scott's request and went to the kitchen to get some crackers and ginger ale and took them up to his spouse while Cassie and even Maggie set about to make him some homemade soup. Scott was asleep when Quill got back to the bedroom, so he set the crackers and soda on the nightstand and even got some fever reducer from the bathroom to add to the snacks. He set two by the soda, put the bottle back in the medicine cabinet, and kissed Scott's temple before he left and went back downstairs. He found the girls still in the kitchen, and Paxton was in the living room watching tv. So Quill grabs a couple beers from the fridge and joins him.

"So how long are you two staying?" Quill asks as he holds out a beer.

"Just the weekend." Paxton accepts the beer with a thanks. "I have to be back at work on Monday."

"Oh, well, don't be afraid to do...you know." Quill winks. "The walls are soundproof--ow!" Quill rubs his head after Cassie throws an apple at his head.

"Papa! You and Dad are bad enough!"

Quill cackles and picks up the apple to take a bite out of it. "Thanks for the apple Sunshine."

Cassie groans and turns her attention back to the chicken noodle soup she and her mom are making. Paxton was clearing his throat in discomfort, and it made Quill preen. It was always fun to make the man squirm, and usually Scott would laugh with him about it later but he would have to enjoy it by himself this time. He could still tell Scott when he got better but he had a feeling it wouldn't be the same. Last time Maggie and Paxton visited, Scott and Quill went into detail about certain positions and the other couple looked like they wanted to disappear through the floor.

So it was fun when they visited. The reactions they got from Steve and Bucky on the other hand were pretty good too but they could traumatize them whenever they wanted.

"Uh...Quill? What is your fox doing?" Paxton asks and points over at the kit.

Flynn was...well...running around like his tail was on fire. It was something he did that Cassie fondly called the "zooms" and they could never figure out why he did it. Their floor actually had plenty of space for Flynn to run around, but every once in a while he did this. Then he'd stop and dig at the carpet which got Quill to lean forward and clap his hands loudly to stop him, and then he finally jumped up on the couch and plopped tiredly on Quill's lap.

"Beats the hell out of me." Quill shrugs and takes a sip of his beer. "He's a spaz."

"And the...the tiger doesn't try to eat him?"

"Nope. Emir actually grooms him and takes care of him."

"How did you even get him?" Maggie asks from the kitchen.

"Papa saved him from the circus." Cassie frowns. "Emir has scars from the cruelty they showed him. The tent caught fire and Papa saved him and Emir wanted to stay."

"He doesn't try to attack you either?" Paxton asks.

"No. He mainly sticks with Dad anyway."

Quill looks up toward the bedroom. "You know, part of me likes to think he saw that Scott had scars too so he wanted to keep him safe."

Maggie snorts humorously. "Leave it to Scott to attract a god and a tiger to protect him."

"They both like to sleep on him too." Cassie laughs.

"How does he not suffocate?" Paxton mumbles curiously.

"Very carefully." Quill says as he gets up and takes the bowl from Cassie when the soup is finished.

He walks up to his and Scott's room and smiles when he finds the younger man sitting against his pillows and munching on crackers while watching tv. Emir was, of course, laying happily with his head in Scott's lap and chuffing whenever he pet his head or side.

"Hey babe. Brought some soup that Cassie and Maggie made." Quill says and Scott looks at him in confusion.

"Maggie?" Then realization dawns on him. "Oh god, I forgot they were coming to visit!"

"It's alright. They'd rather you worry about getting better than about them." Quill walks over and sets the soup down. "How was your nap?"

"It was okay. Feel less dead." Scott sniffles and carefully picks up the soup.

"Well I'll come cuddle with you later alright?"

"Okay. I've got Emir in the meantime." Scott pats the tiger again and the beast chuffs happily.

"Need anything else?"

"No. I don't think so. I'm good."

Quill smiles. "Alright…and I'm traumatizing Paxton so I'll tell you all about it later."

"Ooohhh! Tell him about the time on the ferris wheel!" Scott says with a grin and Quill cackles.

[eliniei]

Those Hard Days - Chapter 20

Summary: Rae’s brother always made sure she was tough as nails. But when her father flips her world upside down, will she find that there’s a limit on how strong she can be?

Warnings: Rape/Non-con (non-graphic, fade-to-black), child abuse, underage drinking, underage smoking, drug use, violence, major character death

A/N: I love this chapter, really. A lot of research went into it and I think it turned out great!

AO3: here Fanfiction.net: here

Masterlist

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Chapter 20 - Punch

As Buck moved aside to let the girls inside, Rae heard footsteps coming down the stairs. Her brother appeared from around the corner wearing a flannel shirt and a Stetson. Dally climbed onto one of the stools and reached across the bar to help himself to a cup and a fountain drink. Buck shook his head at his friend, but led his own sister into the kitchen to put the casserole dish away.

"Hey, Dal," Rae greeted him, lifting herself onto the stool next to him. He passed her the cup and she took a good swig of it.

“School okay?” he asked her after he’d finished his soda.

"Yeah, I guess," she answered, shrugging her backpack off her shoulders. She tossed it onto the table behind them. “I got this girl on my back, though. Some Soc.”

“She givin’ you trouble? Do I need to, ya know, have a talk with her?”

“No, no-nothin’ like that.” She sighed. “I dunno. She’s like, uh, bein’ nice to me? But I can’t figure out why.” Rae snorted. “She looks pretty stuck up, if you ask me, all red hair and perfect skin.” She tucked her hair behind her ear. He turned to say something to her, but paused, whatever he was about to say lost on his tongue.

“Rae Lee Winston,” Dally reprimanded her, as he took her chin in his hands and forcefully turning her head to the side.  “What the hell is that?”

Ah, he’d finally noticed the earrings.

“Well-,”

“Are you out of your damn mind? Who did this?”

“Chrissy did,” Carrie answered for her, walking back into the room. He released his sister’s chin and focused on her friend. “When they slept over. It’s alright, she’s done it before. Just think of it as a late birthday present.” She held out her hand to Dally, whose eyebrows lifted so high, Rae was sure they’d leave his head entirely. “I’m Carrie Merrill. A pleasure to meet the famous Dallas Winston.”

He stared at her hand in surprise for a good, few, silent seconds, but eventually looked past her to Buck, who was also coming out of the kitchen.

“D’ya know what your sister has gotten into?”

“Kid does what she wants.” Buck shrugged. “Be thankful she didn’t come back with purple hair,  knowin’ that Chrissy girl.” Dally looked back at Rae’s ears and held up his hands in defeat.

“Fine, whatever,” he relented. “Just make sure it don’t get infected.”

“I know,” she assured him. "Anyway, where am I goin’ tonight?"

“Ain’t had a chance to think about it yet. Maybe you could stay here?” Her brother looked towards Buck, who cringed a little at the thought.

“Ya really want a kid to be sleepin’ in a noisy bar?”

"Well,” Carried piped up. “Mom and Dad are leavin’ tonight to go out of town for a few days. She could stay at my house through the weekend.” Rae turned to her friend.

“Are you sure?” she asked, an uneasy feeling gripping her chest. “I don’t want my dad to come after you too. He’s already seen ya with me and-”

“Rae,” Carrie interrupted, laying a hand on her shoulder. “We got a deadbolt. We’ll be fine.”

"I guess that’d be alright," Dally said. "No parties. And get me your number in case I need to get ahold of ya’ll." She nodded and went off to get some paper and a pen. Buck headed off upstairs. Dally turned back to his sister and lifted his hand to her face again. He rubbed at the makeup on her cheek with his thumb. She hissed and jerked her head away.

"Quit it," Rae whined and gingerly touched the bruised area. “I had Carrie cover it up so teachers wouldn’t ask about it.”

“Good,” he commended. “Smart.”

Carried came back into the room and handed Dally a torn piece of paper.

"Thanks," he said, taking it and stuffing it into his pocket. “When ya gotta be home, kid?”

“Well, I didn’t tell mom when I’d be back and since they’re leavin’ tonight, I guess whenever?” He took his cowboy hat off and laid it on the bar.

“Good,” he said, unbuttoning his shirt. He slipped it off to reveal his white undershirt. “The real reason I wanted ya to come here was to show ya how to fight. You’ve been gettin’ lucky and that ain’t good enough.” Dally nodded in Carrie’s direction. “You may as well join in too, since you’re here an’ all.”

“Couldn’t hurt,” Rae conceded and slipped off her stool. She noticed her friend’s eyes dancing excitedly. “Uh- skin or weapon?”

“Both, but skin for now.”

“Go out back,” Buck ordered from upstairs. “Bar’ll be openin’ soon.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Dally called and stood up. He led them out the back door and into the fenced in backyard. Buck opened this area to customers during the spring and summer, but with the weather turning cold, everyone opted to stay inside.

“Now,” Dally said, sitting himself on the top of a picnic table. “Making a fist is the first thing ya’ll should learn. If ya don’t punch right, you could break your fingers.” He clenched his fist as an example. “You two try it.”

“We ain’t little kids, Dally,” Rae argued. He gave her a pointed look and she rolled her eyes, but pulled her hand into a fist, anyway. Carrie mirrored them.

“You’d be surprised how many people tuck their thumb into their palm. Anyway, when ya punch someone, don’t go for the head. Head shots are pure luck and very painful for the person throwin’ the punch. You could also kill ‘em and we ain’t got time for that shit. Plus, ya’ll are short as hell, ya prob’ly can’t even reach a guy’s head if he’s standin’ up. Body shots are always the best.” He stood up and demonstrated. “Right hook.” He went again with his other fist. “Left hook. Whichever side is your strongest.” He had them go through the motions a few times without force. “If ya do have to go for the head, aim for the throat.” He pointed to his jugular. “Best case scenario, you’ll hit gold. If they see it comin’, chances are, they’ll duck and you’ll still get ‘em in the chin or nose.”

“And what happens when they block your hand?” Dally shrugged.

“Kick ‘em in the balls.”

A while later, Rae had discovered that her right hand was dominant, while Carrie’s left was more powerful.

“If you’re on the receivin’ end of a punch, ya need to block it, fast. It’s always better to block it with your arm.” He held his arms up in a boxing stance. “Gimme a shot,” he ordered his sister.

She balled her fist and gave him a half-assed punch. He slowly pushed her hand away from his head with his arm, showing them the movement involved.

“Obviously, if you’re in a real fight it’d go much faster.” He turned to Carrie, moving back into position. “Now, you.”

Unfortunately for Dally, Rae’s friend didn’t hold back. Whether he wasn’t expecting a full-strength shot to the head or she was too fast for him, she couldn’t tell, but Carrie’s fist completely bypassed her brother’s arms and she socked him right in the nose.

Rae’s mouth dropped open when she realized what had happened. He stood still, dazed for a second, and his nose started dripping blood. It was like a scene from a movie. Oh dear god, he was going to give her friend an earful half an hour after they’d first met.

“Oh my god!” Carrie gasped. “Oh my god, I am so sorry, I-” But instead of being mad, Dally laughed. Rae relaxed and rolled her eyes.

“Jesus, kid,” he huffed, wiping the blood from his face. “You pack a mean punch for someone so small. You’d do fine in a rumble.” The back door opened and Buck appeared.

“Ya’ll want some of this casserole before the bar opens?”

“Yeah, sure,” Dally said, facing his friend. “It’s quitin’ time, anyway.” Buck lifted an eyebrow at Dally’s nose.

“You alright, man?”

“This ain’t nothin’,” he responded. “You better watch out for your kid sister, though. She could prob’ly punch your lights out.”

[ohnoboho]

ghosts in the flesh 1 (let’s meet our lovely contestants)

Dear reader, welcome to part one of my newest punk!Sanders multi-part fiction. A few of you voted for it, so here it is! @asofterfan‘s fantastic punk!Sanders Sides boys are going to go ghost hunting, eventually. For now, they are just going to be sassy at lunch (also a little glimpse of what’s to come for poor Virgil). It’s been a struggle to say the least with this, but I hope you will enjoy. 

much love, boho

Virgil watched the beam of the flashlight twist and spiral lazily as it fell through the air below him. The light swept over the decrepit walls of the shaft, deceptively slow. Only the deafening rush of air by his ears gave away how fast he was really falling. And something else, a voice hazy between the wind and his own blood pounding noisily in his throat he couldn’t quite make out. 

Below him, the flashlight finally made contact with the floor, the beam of light violently flailing as it bounced and rolled around the debris. Virgil squeezed his eyes shut and let the terror run swift and frigid through his veins; one raw, guttural shout echoed off the metal walls before the ground rushed to meet him. He knew he was going to regret going that night.

Two weeks prior...

It had started off much the same as any of their other adventures, with a friendly argument.

An offhand comment during lunch hour from a passing student calling Roman a ‘banshee’ for his excessive wailing at the tragedy of dropping his bag of chips sparked it really. After the soda can Virgil had hucked made contact with the back of the offending student’s head and sent the group scurrying off, the punk grumbled something under his breath.

“What was that, Virge?” Patton looked up from his backpack. He tossed Roman a spare bag of cheez-its; the other boy caught it with a thrilled gasp.

“He was just stating that it’s incorrect to call Roman a banshee, because he’s not female. The term banshee translates literally to ‘fairy woman’ and he is neither of those things. Although….” Logan glanced up from the homework he had been working on with a smirk, locking eyes with the other boy. It took only a moment for Roman to catch on to the joke. The two actually laughed together.

“Roman would be a specter or a wraith.” Virgil continued, sliding back into his seat after retrieving the empty can. “I mean really, if he were anything, Roman would be an incubus. A very confused incubus, who’s shit at his job.” Patton and Roman exchanged puzzled glaces as Logan and Virgil elbowed each other cheekily.

“I don’t know what the hell that means, but since you villians seem to find it oh-so amusing, I’m guessing I should be offended.” The steampunk pouted as best he could between fistfulls of cheez-its.

Patton leaned forwards and rested his chin in his hands. “Gosh, Virgil, sounds like you know a lot about spirits and stuff! What would I be?” Virgil had to stop himself from laughing at the juxtaposition of the pastel punk’s very serious expression with his delicate sipping on a juice box.

“I think you’d probably be a brownie.” The punk fiddled with his hoodie string as he spoke, shifting uncomfortably as his stomach let out an audible growl.

“oH MY-”

“He’s not referring to the fuckin’ baked good, Patton.” Logan cut off the boy’s cheery giggles, pushing his glasses further up his nose. “Brownie used here refers to a type of house gremlin.”

“Gremlins?” Patton cocked his head with a frown. Without looking, he plunged a hand into his backpack again and fished around. “Aren’t they usually mean?”

“In some cultures, but not brownies.” Virgil explained, absently accepting the orange Patton slid across the table to him. “They are little fae that pick a family they like and live in their house. They help out around the house with chores and shit and the family leaves them treats and toys to say thanks.” The dark boy kept his eyes on the orange as he carefully pulled at the peel and shrugged casually. “Seemed like a good fit to me.”

The pastel boy cooed, clapping his hand together excitedly. “Awwww, I love them!” Tucked under his hood and his bangs, a small smile crept across Virgil’s face.

Roman finished shaking the last crumbs from the cheez-it bag into his mouth, before tossing it aside. “Well, aren’t you just a regular Necro-NERD-icon! I mean, is anyone really surprised that Sabrina the Emo Witch here knows so much about ghosts though?” Virgil only stuck his tongue out in response. 

Logan offered an explanation distractedly as he scribbled away at the margins of his notes. “When we were kids, we used to go ‘ghost hunting’ around town quite often. To be honest, it was always less about the ghost hunting and more about creatively trespassing into ruined buildings.” Virgil munched on an orange slice thoughtfully and gave a hint of a smile at the precious memories of the little delinquent children they were.

“Woooow! Didja ever contact any ghosts?” Patton gasped eagerly.

“What? No, of course not!” Logan scoffed, tapping his pen sharply on his glasses frame. “Paranormal and supernatural creatures aren’t real, Patton. Although, it did take me quite a while to convince this idiot of that.” He jostled the boy next to him with his elbow and received a sound smack to his shoulder in return.

“You didn't convince me of anything, ass. I just stopped arguing with you.” Virgil grumbled sarcastically, flicking a pip directly at Logan’s glasses. It bounced off with a ‘plink’ as Logan started to squawk angrily.

“That’s just ridiculous! It's an absolute fact that ghosts aren't real and you know that, because there is no way that my best friend is as fucking dim as Dumb and Dumber over there.” Logan pointed sharply at the two punks across from table who froze in place right in the middle of Patton attempting to spit some juice from his straw into Roman’s open mouth.

“Excuse me!?” The steampunk sputtered, slapping his hands down on the table. “First, Specs, how dare you? Puff and I are creative geniuses.” The smaller boy echoed his assertion with a small 'yeah!’.  “And second, Nerd, how dare you? You assume that I believe in the supernatural? Why? Because I have a deep appreciation for fairytales? Because I happen to have an undying love for Disney’s Haunted Mansion ride? Everyone knows the ghosts are projections, Logan! Another fabulously clever way that Disney’s magic comes to life for little princes and princesses and other young royalty! ” Roman gestured about wildly as he ranted. His voice boomed through the courtyard where they sat as his armful of bangles rang noisily. The other students groups perked their heads up at the sounds of a possible fight, but quickly went back to their lunches as they realized it was just Roman.

Logan was taken aback for a moment before he leaned in with a raised eyebrow. “Wait, you don’t-”

He was cut off by a whine from Patton. “Roman?! You don't believe in ghosts? How un-BOO-lievable!” The pastel punk pressed his palms to his chest, miming being shot through the heart.

“I believe in using them as a clever literary device to force a character to confront their baggage from the past.” Roman said with a chuckle, reaching over to ruffle his friend’s colorful curls. “But no, Patton, ghosts and goblins and demons, they’re not real. They’re just fantastic stories!”

Logan blinked rapidly, removing and replacing his glasses a few times. “I’m agreeing with Roman? About ghosts?” His voice was distant and quiet.

“But you can’t know that for sure…” Virgil spoke up, shrugging his shoulders. “I mean, I don't know if I believe in supernatural shit, but there is always the possibility…”

“What?!” Logan balked, dropping his pen with a clatter. Suddenly his closest friend seemed to sprout another head. Another head that was spouting nonsense.

“Yeah!” Patton jumped in, nodding vigorously. “Virgil’s right! You can’t be so sure they aren't real! What about all the people that have had ghost experiences?”

“Oh, Puff, I hate to be the one to tell you this, but people lie, cutie pie!” Roman laughed loudly, striking a dramatic pose. “It’s all just theater. You know, con people are some of the greatest actors! I can’t say I haven't given it some thought for myself. I could make millions!” The steampunk preened.

“I’m agreeing with Roman….” Logan repeated like he was practicing words from a different language, trying to decipher the meaning. The other boys ignored him, intent on their conversation.

“Not everyone is a big fucking fraud, like you, Roman.” Virgil gruffed. He picked at his nail polish, trying his best to sound nonchalant. “And not everything can be explained away, so, fuck it, maybe it's worth it for people to study ghosts and stuff. Someone could find some evidence that changes everything.”

“That’s right! People thought atoms were made out of pudding before they saw them in microscopes!” Patton asserted proudly, crossing his arms resolutely across his chest. Virgil and Roman shared a bewildered look, while Logan just slowly removed his glasses from his face and took a breath.

“PATTON-” Logan erupted loudly, before he was cut off again.

“Yeah, we definitely don’t have enough time for you to dive into whatever the hell that was, Lo. Let’s make a wager.” Roman leaned in over the table. “I’ll bet that we could go a full night in a ‘haunted’ location and not find a single piece of evidence of any of your ‘ghosty friends’.” He chuckled smugly and bounced his eyebrows at Virgil.

Patton lunged forwards to clasp one of Virgil’s hands in his own. “Ooh! The Boo-lievers (that’s us, Virge) versus The Debbie Doubters (that’s you two)!” The table nearly shook as he wriggled with excitement. Virgil held in a laugh behind his free hand.

“The Debbie Doubters?!” Roman scoffed, feigning great offense. “Logan, you will have to help me come up with a better team name than that if we are to win this. Here, I’ll start a list!”

Mercifully, the bell rang before Logan could full come back to his senses. Virgil, grateful for the distraction, tugged at Patton’s sweater to drag him along to their art class, while Logan waited impatiently for Roman to join him on their way to chemistry.

“This isn’t over, you dastardly Boo-lievers!” The steampunk yelled after the other two boys, giving Logan a hearty slap on his back. “The Science Studs will school you!”

“That is the stupidest fucking name...” Logan grumbled, shoving Roman roughly with his shoulder in the direction of their class.

“How about The Eclectic Skeptics?”

“No.”

“The Para-No-mal Punks?”

“Fuck no.”

to be continued...

Taglist:

@funsizedgremlin

[wantediniceland]

(( Soooooooo @safecrxcker and I have started yet another ridiculously stupid plot. This time it’s Wolfgang and Hardison going undercover at a white collar company as part of a larger Leverage con that needs them to steal something the boss of the company keeps in her office safe. H is pretending to work for the IT department and Wolfgang is pretending to be an executive assistant, and they’re pretending they don’t know each other. It doesn’t take long for the entire office to think they must be fucking. Hijinks ensue. Posting part one now because this will probably get long. ))

Hardison sat in the break room with a few of his new colleagues, unwrapping the sandwich Wolfgang had made for him that very morning. "Were there any connectivity issues with the last upgrade?" he asked, making polite, work-related conversation with another guy from the IT department and pretending he couldn't feel Wolfgang's presence behind him at the sink washing out his lunch container.

Wolfgang: Wolfgang shook out his container, debating on leaving it to dry in the sink. He ultimately decided he would never see it again if he left it to such a fate. He packed it away still damp into his plain black lunch pack. He spared a glance to the pair sitting at one of the break tables. “My work application was running at half speed most of the morning.” He said, purely making an excuse to talk to them because it always amused him to see Hardison trying to hide his little twitch whenever he spoke with an American accent.

Hardison tried his best to school his face into whatever 'talking to a new co-worker I've never met before' looked like and probably way overthought it. "We can send someone to look at that." He made eye contact with his IT buddy. "Or, I guess, they'll probably be sending me since I'm the new guy. Name's Rob, nice to meet you," he said, holding his hand out for Wolfgang to shake.

Wolfgang: “Howdy. I'm Günter.” Wolfgang said. It was a testament to Lito's teaching skills that the corner of his lip didn't even twitch when he managed the sentence. “I guess that makes two of us. I just started too.” He held out his hand and shook Hardison's firmly. “I'll fill out an IT ticket. Maybe I'll see you later.”

Hardison choked slightly on his bite of sandwich, coughing a few times and fumbling for his juice box so he could clear the crumbs stuck in his trachea. "Hello, *Günter*, it's nice to meet you," he rasped. "I'll come by in a bit. Where do you sit?"

Wolfgang: “You alright there, buddy?” Wolfgang asked, tone friendly as he gave him a heavy thump on the back. He could hear Lito laughing in delight in the background. “You're supposed to chew.” He waited until he seemed better able to breath before nodding his head towards the elevator through the open door. “fifth floor. I'm the new executive assistant.”

Hardison: Two hours later, Hardison showed up at Wolfgang's desk and cleared his throat. Wolfgang was in a suit and tie, which he basically never wore, and it was doing...things to Hardison. Luckily Hardison didn't have to play fair either. He pushed his very nerdy heavily black-rimmed glasses up his nose and said, "May I see your computer, Mr. Gunter?"

Wolfgang: Wolfgang had been carefully editing a very boring memo when Hardison showed up. He was happy for the break. There was a reason he didn't have a 9-5 job, and undercover or not, he wasn't looking forward to the monotony if this went on for longer then planned. “Sure thing. Gives me a break.” He answered, looking up just in time to see Hardsion adjust his glasses. Nerd chic. Wolfgang was more into it then he'd ever admit. He stood up, smiling and nodding hello to a couple of co-workers walking by who waved. He made a little small talk about 'computer issues' with them as they loitered around his desk.

Hardison sat down at Wolfgang's desk and tapped around on his computer. He wasn't sure if he had been lying about the lag just to make conversation, but it only took him two minutes to make the computer run at triple the speed anyway so he did it. And then, because he was bored, he slid down to his knees beneath the seat to fiddle with the tower. Disabling all the tracking and monitoring on Wolfgang's computer would probably come in handy for them sometime in the future. Wolfgang must've made some reference towards him to the other co-workers he was chatting to, because they were all looking at him kind of expectantly now. "Hmm? Sorry, what was that?" he asked, scrunching his nose and lifting his glasses again as he peered up at them from beneath Wolfgang's desk.

Wolfgang: “I was just saying you were solving my computer issues, and that you're new too.” Wolfgang nodded back towards the two co-workers he was talking to. “This is Andy and Sandra.” Andy and Sandy were definitely fucking, but neither were married and just didn't want to be involved in office gossip, so Wolfgang had decided that was none of his business. Besides. He couldn't exactly cast stones. “They were talking about getting a group together to go out for drinks sometime this week.”

Hardison: "Oh yeah, um, hi," Hardison said, giving them a little wave, still on his knees under the desk. Drinks sounded like a really bad idea, one because the more different settings people saw them in, the more they were likely to suss out something was up; and two because working a whole eight hour day ignoring Wolfgang was boring enough already, he didn't want to spend his own personal hours not being in Wolfgang's lap too. However, it would definitely solidify their place in the company if they made themselves friendly with everyone. Hardison was torn. "I don't know if I'm a big drinks guy..." he hedged.

Wolfgang: Wolfgang laughed a little at that. “I guess you don't really seem the type.” He kept his tone to a light ribbing. “Suit yourself.” He looked at the others and shook his head with a look of 'what can you do?' “You about done there?”

Hardison: "What's that supposed to mean? Are you saying I'm some kinda square?" He pushed himself up and stepped away from the desk, suddenly feeling like the two co-workers were looking at them with a little too much interest. "Yeah, it should be a lot faster now, why don't you try running a few things while I'm here just to make sure?"

Wolfgang: “You work in IT.” Wolfgang let that be an answer in itself. He said goodbye to his other co-workers, throwing a light 'See Y'all later' in there. There was a glint of mischief in his eyes when he looked back at Hardsion but he didn't say anything about it. “Any programs you want me to run in particular?”

Hardison stuck his tongue out at Wolfgang when he was relatively sure the others wouldn't see. "What, uh, what part of Texas did you say you were from again, *Gunter Von Elbrecht*?" he asked pointedly, pretending to look at the service request on his phone. There was no one else around them anymore, and though Hardison wasn't stupid enough to drop character he did feel like he could say, "You can pretty much run any program you want on there now, if you know what i mean."

Wolfgang: “Houston, of course.” He answered without missing a beat. A quick grin pulled at the corner of his mouth before he grabbed his chair, rolling it back to take a seat. “I guess you just made my job much easier then.” He pulled up a few programs, work related for now, and started setting them back up. “Guess I'll see you around. You change your mind about joining us tonight and the first drink is on me.”

Hardison watched Wolfgang for a few moments to make it look like he was doing his job, before taking his leave of him. Right before he walked away, he let his fingertips touch the back of Wolfgang's neck lightly, just above his collar, too briefly for anyone else to notice. He went back to work and counted down the time until home time, until he belatedly realized that if Wolfgang was out then going home was no fun. He sighed. "Hi guys, I guess I thought I should make more of an effort to socialize with my new team," he said sheepishly when he ducked his head into the bar around the corner where Andy and Sandy and Gunter were already seated.

Wolfgang: Wolfgang looked up, smiling up at him and tipping his head in greeting. “Surprised you made it. Must have wanted that free drink.” Wolfgang already had a beer in his hand. The bar they were at was far from his type. He either liked loud clubs or smokey holes in the wall. This was nice, but quiet, clean. There was a group of about eight of them with Hardison included. He let Hardison introduce himself while he went to get him a beer. Well, what looked like a beer. He spoke quietly to the man at the bar and tipped him extra just to come back with orange soda disguised in a brown beer bottle.

Hardison took the beer from Wolfgang's hand and said thanks. When he sipped it, he was surprised to find that it was his usual orange soda inside, and he raised an eyebrow at Wolfgang. "Wow, this is a lot better than the usual brand I get, how did you know exactly what I'd like, Gunter?" he asked, a sightly sardonic edge to his voice masking the overwhelming love he felt whenever Wolfgang did something thoughtful and also just...whenever Wolfgang was in front of him.

Wolfgang: Wolfgang gave him a small smile before he pressed his lips against his own beer for a slow drink. “I didn't, I guess you just like what I like. Hm?” He told him with a little wink. “What made you change your mind about coming out?”

Hardison: "Oh, you know, being new and all, felt like I should make more of an effort to try to get to know everyone," Hardison said with a shrug. He realized he was maybe looking at Wolfgang too much when he caught Sandy and another woman he hadn't met yet kind of nudge each other. He cleared his throat. "So, what were you guys talking about before I crashed your party?"

Wolfgang: “The new work exchange program.” Wolfgang smiles at Sandy. “And how many of us were hired, how far we came. Boring shit. I think I'm the farthest. I came all the way from Texas.” He said glibly, letting the soft accent Lito had drilled into him play a little heavier. “How about you, partner? Far from home?”

Hardison took another long sip of his soda in lieu of biting his tongue so hard that it bled. "Oh, no, I'm just from around Boston," he said, "just boring old me, born and raised and never left, went to school for IT and never did anything else. I'm not very interesting."

Wolfgang: Wolfgang was holding back a grin as he watched Hardsion. No one else would know he was struggling not to yell at him. He knew his boyfriend very well. “Sounds boring.” He agreed, smiling as he said it. “Is this your first time in a bar? Should we celebrate?”

Hardison: "I've been to a bar before!" Hardison spluttered, sounding entirely unconvincing. The woman he hadn't met yet laughed and interjected, "Are you guys sure you don't know each other already? You seem really chummy for new co-workers. You didn't even bother introducing yourself once he got you going." Hardison spluttered some more. "I have no idea what you mean. I just have bad social skills. You know, IT guy stereotype? I'm Rob Pardison, nice to meet you."

Wolfgang: Wolfgang laughed. “I guess it's because I'm the only one he knows here because he fixed my computer earlier. But maybe WE can fix him.” He helped make a few more introductions. He was happy to settle back more into the background after, nursing his beer slowly and making the occasional comment. He could manage office socializing, but it certainly wasn't his preference. He'd rather be at home with Haridson, or dragging him out to a club to dance with him. This was just part of the job. It was also part of his job to talk a little about his past to make it sound natural... Which was how he eventually ended up sharing the story of how he was the two time mechanical bull riding champion back at his local bar.

Hardison: The woman, whose name turned out to be Julia, told a frankly horrific tale about her and her husband's behaviour at a museum on a recent vacation. Hardison wasn't exactly a big patron of the arts but they'd broken into enough of them to know that was *not* how you were supposed to treat the staff or the artworks. He couldn't say anything about it though, since it would've been out of character. And he didn't say anything about Wolfgang's ridiculous story either, even though there was no way in hell he'd ever even *seen* a mechanical bull in his life. It was funny, but Hardison was starting to get a headache. "I'll be right back, I just need to use the restroom," he excused himself.

Wolfgang: Wolfgang listened to a few of the stories going around. When he felt like he'd put in enough face time he yawned while Hardison was in the bathroom and excused himself, telling the others that the bosses had asked him to come in earlier the next day. He felt like it looked better if he just told the others to tell him he'd say goodbye. Once he was outside in the fresh night air he shot his boyfriend a text that he should at least wait a few minutes before heading out, and that he'd pick him up a block away from the bar. Oh, and that they were definitely getting Thai food for dinner.

Hardison splashed some cold water on his face and steeled himself for more inane conversation and pretending not to care about Wolfgang, both of which was a lot more tiring than he thought it would be. The text he got was such a relief that he was tempted to escape out the back or find a window to climb out, but he dutifully went back out to the table instead. He chatted more while finishing his "beer" and Julia for some reason gave him her number. When what felt like an unsuspicious time had passed, he said bye to everyone and tried not to sprint the heck out of there. "Oh my GOD, why is your cover an impression of Eliot?" was the first thing he said when he finally slid into Wolfgang's car.

Wolfgang: Wolfgang had his hand relaxed on the steering wheel as the car idled. He turned and grinned the second Hardison slumped into the passenger seat beside him. “You noticed? Lito and Capheus both thought it would be funny.” He reached out to pat his chest affectionately before pulling out of the parking spot. “I missed you.”

Hardison desperately wanted to lean over and kiss him, or maybe just climb straight onto him, but he was operating a vehicle and Hardison was a big stickler for undistracted driving. He settled for saying "I missed you too" with a deep sigh. It was stupid because they mostly saw each other all day, but it just wasn't the same. "Lito and Capheus are terrible and I hate them," he said, obviously lying.

Wolfgang: “You love them, and they love you.” Wolfgang answered back evenly, which was absolutely true. His cluster loved Hardsion. He was family. “I thought the accent was good.” He nudged him a little with his elbow. “Do you want to get takeout and go home?”

Hardison: "They're okay sometimes" he conceded. "It was too good, that's what made it weird. Home sounds good, honestly I could skip the takeout and go straight to bed, but you said you wanted Thai food so we're getting Thai food."

Wolfgang: “Lito made me practice for hours.” Wolfgang admitted. Lito was a very strict teacher when it came to acting lessons. At least he was with Wolfgang. He thought maybe it was because he worried over him, that if he didn't teach him well enough he'd be caught. It was his way of protecting him in the one way he knew how. “You need to eat too.” He pointed out, leaning to kiss his cheek at a red light. “We can eat in bed.”

Hardison looked at him in mute horror for a few seconds before he found his voice to say, "We can't--Thai food is *saucy*, we'll get sauce on the bed, that's a hard no." He made himself as comfortable as possible on the car seat and closed his eyes. "This is just a lot harder than I thought it was going to be, I'm just tired. Not like the fake job obviously, I could do that blindfolded with one hand tied behind my back. But like the real job, pretending not to know each other, getting on everybody's good side, it's exhausting. And it's gonna be at least another week before the boss trusts you enough to let you go alone in her office. What if I don't survive for that long?" He must have dozed off slightly because when he opened his eyes, they were at Wolfgang's preferred Thai place.

Wolfgang: “Pad woon sen isn't saucy.” Wolfgang countered. “Or, we can get something else and eat at the table, as long as you eat.” They had a long con in front of them and he knew how easy it was for Hardsion to lose focus on taking care of himself even in the best of times. “You'll survive. I'll just start sexting you at work.” He teased him, reaching out to pat his leg. He let him rest until he was parked. “Keep resting, ya? What do you want me to get you?”

Hardison: "No, I wanna go with yoooouuuuu, been away from you all damn day enough," he said, yawning and unfolding all his long limbs out of the car. He reached out for Wolfgang's hands now that he could. "You order for me, I never know what all the names mean and I always like whatever you get."

Wolfgang: “Ok, ok” Wolfgang laughed and hooked his arm around him, forcing him closer as he walked. “You just think it tastes better when it's mine.” He paused before opening the door to the restaurant, giving him a quick kiss. “Noodles, noodles we can eat in bed.” He assured him before he went to the counter and put in their order. It wasn't long before he was being handed their bag and he spent most of that time holding Hardison's hand and playing lightly with his fingers. Back at home he was quick to peel out of his 'formal' clothing. He didn't understand how anyone wore that by choice.

[apathetic-revenant]

now you see it all (part 3)

hey I finally finished this stupid thing

I dunno how well I wrote Wendy? fanfic is hard 

part 1/part 2

Evening stretched into night, but no one went home. There was nothing remotely organized about the gathering, not even any kind of agreement about what they were all doing out there in the first place, just a general unspoken consensus that no one really wanted to be alone just yet. Later there might be some kind of discussion about what had happened, or perhaps not, but for the moment they were, against all odds, alive and intact, and they were going to make a hell of a fuss about it. People formed rings around lanterns or makeshift campfires and passed around food; the Hermanos Brothers had set up a grill and were cooking up a storm, supplemented by whatever could be found from houses and restaurants and grocery stores all across town, while Lazy Susan was serving coffee and hot chocolate from a camp stove. No one seemed to be especially concerned about paying for anything, or about the fact that here and there some distinctly non-human silhouettes could be seen-although the gnomes occasionally had to get smacked aside when they tried to make off with peoples' plates.

In the middle of it all, most of the members of the rescue team had coalesced into an unofficial group. The twins and Soos sat next to Stan, who periodically had people wander over and offer up some anecdote or evidence of their history with him. Mabel's friends were clumped up next to her, while a little ways away Pacifica sat trying and failing to look haughty and distant. Robbie and Tambry sat with their arms around each other, looking completely sickening, but as long as they were being sickening with each other Wendy didn't much care. Gideon was perched in a camp chair being annoyingly ingratiating and thoroughly ignored. There was also a manotaur, improbably still wearing one of Mabel's sweaters, and all of the Sev'ral Timez members. Probably all of them, anyway. Wendy never could keep track of exactly how many there were.

She was sitting on the hood of someone's car parked near the statue, drinking a Pitt Cola and trying to get her head around the fact that it hadn't even been twelve hours since all this had been wasteland and the end of the world was nigh, when Ford finally came back.

His coat and sweater were slung over one shoulder, leaving him down to a dingy old black t-shirt that he must have had on underneath. There were clean new bandages around his neck and both wrists, and a few plasters stuck here and there over the patchwork of scars and tattoos that covered his arms. He stood off to the side, almost standoffishly, looking in on the gathering with an expression that Wendy realized she found familiar. She had seen it on kids at school dances, sometimes, and on Dipper as he lingered at the edges of parties at the Shack, and she had seen it very occasionally on Stan: the look of someone on the outside who had already convinced themselves they would never be allowed in.

No one else noticed him for the moment. The group was laughing over a story about Stan and a fishing trip he had taken with the kids. Mabel and Soos were providing enthusiastic sound effects and gesticulations. Ford leaned against the car Wendy was sitting on and watched with a fond, wistful smile.

“Hey,” Wendy said, quiet-like. “Nice tats.”

Ford gave her an absolutely withering look, but it relaxed slightly after a moment. “I've been meaning to ask someone,” he said, in the same low tone. “How has tattoo removal technology progressed in the past thirty years?”

“Aw, c'mon.” She nudged him with an elbow-very gently, remembering that hand clenched tight at his side. “I'm serious. They're actually pretty cool.”

He rolled his eyes. “Not all of them. Anyway,” he added hastily, coughing awkwardly, “they're not all...needed...anymore. Per se.”

She didn't know what that meant, but it probably wasn't something she really needed to know. “I'll look something up for you,” she said. “I might know a guy. Or Stan might-”

She stopped.

Ford said nothing.

They sat for a moment in silence. The story seemed to have somehow turned into an account of a high-speed boat chase, although Dipper was ranting about cameras for some reason.

“I gotta ask you something,” Wendy said finally.

Ford cocked an eyebrow.

“It's...not a very nice question,” she said, not sure why she was telling him that, not sure why she would care about being nice about this. Ford just shrugged.

“I'm not sure I deserve nice right now,” he said quietly.

She fiddled with her soda can, pulling the tab back and forth, not sure how to put it, not sure what to do with this question that had been squirming around in her stomach all hot and clawed and horrible ever since Ford had pulled out the memory gun, ever since he had told them what had happened to Stan. What he had done to Stan.

“Why did you switch?”

Ford blinked at her. “What?”

“You and Stan...I mean...if you were the one who had what Bill wanted...why did Stan have to...”

“Ah,” he said. He didn't sound angry, exactly-or at least, he didn't sound angry at her. “You think I should have been the one to...make the sacrifice.”

“No,” she said, and she meant it, she really did. “I don't think anyone should have had to do that. I just...”

...had been sitting there turning it around and around in her head, trying to find a reason, trying to imagine how they had worked it out. Trying not to imagine Ford deciding that it was better for his brother to take the fall than him. Trying to imagine some reason that did not involve Stan being judged to be less.

But she couldn't work out how to get it out, so in the end she said, “I just want to know how you decided.”

“We didn't,” he said. “Although, for the record, I agree with you.”

She wasn't sure what she'd expected him to say, but none of that was remotely it. “...uh, what?”

“It should have been me.” He sighed and leaned against the car. “It was supposed to be me. I was prepared for it to be me. It would have been...right. I started this mess. I should have been the one to clean it up. For thirty years...I didn't expect to get any kind of happy ending...all I wanted was to be able to take Bill down with me. And now...”

There was that look again, that lost look, only now it was so much worse.

“Uh, yeah, okay, you do realize that has nothing to do with what I said,” she said. “I don't think...I guess I just...it just seems like kind of a risk, ya know? I mean, what if he caught on that you had switched? I mean I'm sure you had a reason, I just...”

I just really need to know what it was.

“It was a gamble, to be sure,” Ford said. He rubbed a hand through his hair, making it stick up even more ridiculously than usual. “But we didn't have a choice. The memory gun wouldn't work on me.”

“You...what? Why not?”

“I took precautions a long time ago, to protect myself from Bill,” Ford said. “It happens that they also prevent the effects of Fiddleford's device. I found that out...erm, rather accidentally.”

Wendy felt something that had been tight and twisted in her chest suddenly begin to ease away. “So you didn't...you didn't choose for Stan-”

“God, no.” Ford looked horrified. “It was his idea. If I'd had any choice...but we had so little time, Bill would have been back any moment, and he had the kids-”

“Hey, hey. Dude. I get it.” She was a little surprised to hear herself say it-so was he, to judge by the look he gave her-but even as she did she realized that, actually, she did get it. “What you did-I mean, it was a sucky thing to have to do, but I don't blame you for doing it. I just needed to know why.”

So she didn't have to hate him.

That was alright, then.

They sat there for a moment in considerably less tense silence.

“...'Sucky'?” Ford asked eventually.

“What? Oh, yeah. That's a thing us young folk say nowadays.”

“You're putting me on,” he said flatly.

Wait a minute, this guy's been gone for thirty years, how much fake slang could I convince him is totally a thing now? Wait. How much in general can I convince him is a thing now...

...Stan would approve.

“Why are you smiling?” Ford asked suspiciously.

“What? Oh, uh. Nothing.” It wouldn't do to give herself away right off the bat. This was going to be a long-term con. Quick, change the subject. “So, uh-those precautions. Can you, like, elaborate on that? Because I gotta be honest, that gun kind of freaks me out.”

Ford smiled wryly. “I'm afraid my methods are rather more drastic than you would probably be comfortable with.”

“Try me.”

“I put a metal plate in my head.”

Wendy blinked at him. “No shit?”

Ford knocked on one temple, producing a highly incongruous metallic clang.

The sound happened to fall into a lull in the conversation, and suddenly everyone was looking at them. “Grunkle Ford!” Mabel squealed, launching herself off the blanket she had been sitting on and careening into Ford like a small glittery cruise missile.

Wendy was pretty sure she was the only one who heard the pained oof noise Ford made, muffled as it was under Mabel's barrage of questions. “You're all bandaged up! What happened? Are you okay? I've never seen you with your sweater off you have tattoos!”

Ford returned his great-niece's embrace gently. “I'm fine. Just...had some burns, that's all. Bill...er, well, never mind.”

A queasy silence fell. Everyone was looking at Ford; Ford desperately tried to look anywhere else. Mabel's eyes had gone absolutely huge. Dipper came over and slipped his hand into hers, watching his great-uncle intently.

“I thought Bill just turned you into a statue,” Mabel said. “Did it hurt? Was that it?”

For a moment Wendy honestly thought Ford might bolt from the gathering altogether. But after a moment the tension in his face seemed to melt into fatigue and something like sadness. He gently lowered himself to the ground and pulled both twins into a hug, one on either side.

“No, being a statue didn't hurt, not...not exactly,” he said. His voice was low and quiet, making everyone in the circle unconsciously lean in to listen. “But Bill found about the barrier that was keeping him trapped, and he guessed that I would know how to break it, so he unfroze me. He tried to convince me to give him the information willingly. I refused, of course, which was when he got a bit more...forceful.”

Wendy swallowed hard. She could see the expression that must have been on her face reflected all around her. They had all seen far too much of what Bill could do merely out of amusement or petty annoyance; her imagination balked to think of what he might be capable of with such a goal in mind.

“Grunkle Ford...” Mabel sounded like she was on the verge of tears. “You didn't say...”

“It's alright,” Ford said hurriedly. “He didn't have time to do much. Your rescue operation came right in the nick of time. When his minions couldn't take you down he turned me back to gold and left me where you found me.”

Dipper gasped. “So that's why-”

He blushed and looked away as everyone stared at him.

“Hm?” Ford said. “Why what?”

“Why you...well...looked different.” Dipper tugged his hat over his eyes. “I thought...when we found you, you were in a different position...I thought Bill must have unfrozen you at some point but I couldn't figure out why.”

“...Yes,” Ford said awkwardly. “But I was able to watch you defeat his minions. It was the most incredible thing I've ever seen. I could hardly believe it. I was so proud.”

There was a brief pause, and then both Dipper and Mabel burst into loud tears.

Ford looked completely nonplussed as the twins sobbed into his t-shirt. “Um...there, there?”

“Oh, shove over.” Stan abruptly thumped down on the ground next to them. “I want in on this family hug action.”

Ford squawked in surprise as Stan wrapped all three of them in a bear hug, then again as Soos joined the pile with a wail. After a moment's hesitation, Wendy hopped off the car and joined in as well.

“Hey!” Stan barked at her with absolutely no force whatsoever. “This is a Pines hug.”

“I've saved all y'all's butts multiple times,” Wendy said. “I think I'm entitled to one family hug.”

Stan made a “pffff” noise but didn't protest further.

“I sincerely appreciate the sentiment behind this,” Ford said after a long moment, his voice just a little higher than usual, “but this is actually rather painful.”

They quickly untangled, to the sound of a few disappointed noises from the observing crowd. Dipper wiped his face on his shirtsleeve, looking highly embarrassed, while Mabel sniffled loudly and unashamedly.

“I get why you didn't want to wear my sweater now,” she said.

Ford blinked. “Hm? Oh. Yes. Sorry about that...”

“It's alright. Wool's not exactly the best cure for burns. I learned that after the hair dryer incident,” Mabel said seriously, leaving Ford looking confused and a bit concerned. “You can put it on when you feel better.”

“I certainly will,” Ford said with a smile. He coughed and rubbed at his wrists. “So-I heard something about a lake monster?”

It was later, when things were quieting down and people were starting to fall asleep on makeshift bedrolls or just on top of each other, when Ford shifted under the blanket he had somehow acquired and asked, “What club are you and Dipper in?”

Wendy, who had been starting to doze off in her chair, stared at him for several highly confused seconds before she realized what he was talking about. “Oh...you mean what I said in the car?”

“Mm.” Ford took a sip from the paper cup of cocoa Mabel had given him. “Not really important, I suppose...I just wondered.”

“We're in a club?” Dipper said sleepily. He was leaning against Soos, who apparently made quite a comfortable pillow. Mabel had started out leaning against Dipper but had slowly slumped down until she was almost flat on the blanket. Stan had wandered off a little while ago, saying something about wanting fresh air.

“Well, not really a club. More kind of an alliance, I guess?” She sat up a little and rubbed at her eyes. “You remember, when you showed me your birthmark?”

Her exhaustion-lagged brain realized a second too late that she should not have spilled that particular secret in front of everyone else. Dipper didn't seem to notice, though, or if he did he didn't care very much.

“Oh yeah...” He yawned so hard his teeth clicked. “Wait. I didn't realize you even remembered that.”

“Of course I did, dude! We had a bonding moment. It was great.” To Ford, who was looking confused, she added, “I showed Dipper a picture of me as a kid when I was like, super tall, and then he showed me his birthmark and we decided we'd be freaks together.”

Something shifted on Ford's face. “Freaks?”

Wendy realized with a sudden, awful jolt that she might have accidentally prodded a nerve there-but before she could say anything Mabel was wriggling upright and loudly protesting. “No fair! You guys made a freak club without me?”

“It was a private moment,” Dipper huffed, but then his face softened. “I guess you could still join, though.”

“I dunno,” Wendy said, feigning a serious tone. “Do you have anything that makes you really unique-nope, nope, can't even finish that sentence with a straight face.”

“Yay! I'm a freak!” Mabel flopped back down on the blanket with a grin.

“Hey, what about me? Can I be in the freak club?” Soos said. “I was a pig once, if that counts. Oh, and a zombie. And I got shrunk that one time. And I had a crazy AI girlfriend. And-”

The twins cut him off. “Of course you're in the club, Soos.” “Yeah, no kidding. Like we'd leave you out.”

Soos pumped his fist in the air. “Yes!”

“What about us?” a distinctive voice boomed.

Mabel put her arms around her friends. “Grenda. Candy. You are my 100% certified freak friends for life. As associate co-captain of the freak club, I officially-”

“What? No one made you associate co-captain,” Dipper protested.

“No one didn't not make me associate co-captain,” Mabel countered. “Anywayyouguysareinnotakebacks!” she added hastily while Dipper tried to figure her last statement out.

“Oh, fine,” he muttered, flopping back onto the blanket. “But Wendy and I get to be co-captains, 'cause we founded it.”

“Well, of course,” Mabel said. “I'm not an animal, Dipper.”

“Can I join?” a quiet voice said, barely heard over Dipper loudly saying that he didn't know about that.

Silence fell at once. Everyone stared.

“Pacifica?” Mabel said. “You want to be a freak?”

The blonde girl flushed and looked uncertain in the sudden attention, but she set her shoulders and lifted her chin stubbornly. “You've seen what my family are like,” she said. “If that's normal, then I...I don't want to be it.”

There was a long, uncertain pause. Dipper and Mabel glanced at each other. Then, as one, they stood up and walked over to Pacifica.

“Pacifica Elise Northwest,” Dipper said seriously. “As official co-captain of the freak club, I hereby grant you permission to join our ranks.”

All three of them looked over at Wendy. She shifted in her chair and shrugged. She'd never been able to stand the Northwest family-the rivalry between them and the Corduroys went back a long time- and not so long ago she would have been more than happy for any excuse to kick Little Miss Popularity to the curb. But then again, not so long ago she never would have imagined Pacifica standing up to her parents, or saying she wanted to be different from her family, or, for that matter, parachuting out of a robot house on a dangerous mission to save the world.

Anyway, she had more than evidence of what could happen when you held grudges.

“Oh, alright,” she said, affecting a disinterested look. “Permission co-granted.”

“Permission associate co-granted!” Mabel cried, and shook Pacifica's hand. Rather hard, in fact; the poor girl looked a little whiplashed when Mabel finally let go, but she smiled ever so slightly. Dipper shook hands with her as well, more gently.

“So whaddya think?” Wendy asked Ford as the twins returned to their blanket. “Are you in?”

Ford looked down at his hands. There was a very strange expression on his face.

“Freak,” he said softly. “I used to be called that so often. It tormented me for years.”

Everyone looked around uncomfortably. Wendy winced and sank a little into her chair.

Ford didn't seem to notice. “That was what drove me here in the first place. I was looking for somewhere I would fit in, somewhere an anomaly like me could fit in...and then when I found it, I spent all my time pushing everyone else away from me. I was so used to being alone that I ensured that I stayed that way even when there was no need...and Bill used that against me. Even to the last he was taunting me by telling me how alike we were...”

“I saw that!” Dipper burst out. Ford looked at him sharply. “I saw him trying to tell you it was all your fault but it wasn't! I tried to stop him but-”

“You did what?” Ford cried. “Dipper, you were supposed to run!”

“I know, I know,” Dipper muttered, rubbing one hand up and down his arm. “It was stupid...I just got so angry. But then I didn't know what to do...I tried to punch him, but that didn't work...”

Ford opened and shut his mouth.

“Hold up, hold up.” Wendy sat all the way upright in disbelief. “You tried to punch that jerk? With, like, your actual hands?”

“Yeah, kinda,” Dipper muttered. “I was aiming for his eye but he just threw me off. Into a tree.”

“Dude, that is so badass,” she said, ignoring the strangled sound Ford was making.

“But-but I didn't do anything!” Dipper protested. “It was a complete failure! It was worse than a complete failure because all I did was get the journals destroyed! We'd still have them if I hadn't...”

Ford abruptly pulled him into a tight hug, causing Dipper to squeak in surprise. “That was extremely impressive, promise me you will never do anything like it again.”

Dipper squirmed a little. “I mean...I'm sort of hoping the opportunity never comes up.”

“Never do anything like that in general again.” Ford released his great-nephew and put a hand on his shoulder. “Dipper, I don't care about the journals. Not anymore. I used to care far too much, and look where that got me. I'm just-beyond grateful that you survived that encounter. And beyond terrified that it happened in the first place. And beyond amazed that you would stand up to Bill at the height of his power for me...I'm-I'm beyond a lot of things right now, to be honest. Look, just promise you won't do that again. Please.”

“I won't. I promise.”

Ford relaxed a little.

“If it's at all avoidable,” Dipper added.

“Dipper-”

“But we don't have to keep talking about this if you don't want to!” Dipper rushed on, before Ford could get started again. “I mean...about the whole...the whole freak thing. I mean-I know things were really rough when you were a kid-and if you don't like this-”

Ford shook his head slowly. “Things were rough for me. But unless I miss my guess, things have also been rough for you and your sister. And for Soos, for Wendy...I know they were for Stan...for everyone here, I'd imagine. But you are all still proud of being different. Being different together.”

He sighed heavily and ran his fingers through his hair. “I'm realizing now...far too late...that I let Bill use that as a weapon against me. No, not just Bill. Everyone who ever mocked me or pushed me away...even myself. I let it take me over. I was different, but I let myself think that I was more different than I was, that I was the only one, that would no one would ever be like me or understand me...I let it define me. And it's cost me and everyone around me so much...”

No one quite knew what to say to that.

At last Ford looked up, a small, hesitant smile pulling at the side of his mouth. “I suppose what I'm trying to say is...I'd be honored to be in the freak club. If you're sure you want to have me.”

Wendy exchanged a look with the twins. The three of them stood up solemnly. Wendy put her hand over her heart like she was standing for the national anthem; Dipper took off his hat.

“Grunkle Ford,” Dipper said, with the utmost seriousness, “as official co-captain of the freak club, I hereby declare you a member.”

“Permission co-granted,” Wendy said.

“Permission associate co-granted,” Mabel said.

“Permission associate-associate co-”

“Soos, you're ruining the moment.”

“Sorry.”

Ford saluted crisply. “I accept the position with pride.”

“Amen!”

“Here, here!”

“Take back the freakiness!”

“Damn straight!” Wendy yelled, punching the air. “Why should we let Bill claim all the weirdness anyway?”

“Yeah! Just because he's a stupid giant triangle he thinks he has a monopoly on everything freaky?”

“Who does he think he is?”

“He doesn't think anything anymore,” a gruff voice said from the sidelines. “I got that on good authority.”

They all turned. Stan was standing at the edge of the circle, his fez under one arm and a can of soda in the other hand.

“Stan-” Ford began.

“I leave you guys for five minutes and you start a club without me? Some bereaved friends and family you are.”

Ford spluttered. “Stan-that's not-we weren't-”

Stan snorted and turned to Wendy. “He always this easy to get riled up?”

“I'm going to say...yes,” Wendy said. “I don't know him that well, but...yes.”

“Thought so.” He perched on the edge of the car she had been sitting on earlier and took a long slurp of soda. “So, what's this club about? Can I join or what?”

“It's the freak club,” Mabel told him. “You can only join if you're a freak.”

“Oh yeah?” Stan raised his eyebrows. “Hm. I dunno if I'm a freak. I dunno much- hah! Amnesia! That's pretty freaky, right?”

Ford looked pained. “I'm sure it's temporary, Stan-”

“So you're saying I'd get kicked out of the freak club? Well that's no good.” Stan spread his hands in a dramatic show of requesting aid. “Help me out here, guys. What have I got that makes me eligible for the freak club?”

The answers came thick and fast.

“Uh, saving the entire world? That's pretty unique.”

“You've been legally dead for thirty years!”

“You're into taxidermy, which is pretty freaky if you ask me.”

“You're probably the only person ever to punch a pterodactyl with brass knuckles.”

“And zombies!”

“You have a cool hat!”

“You're Mr. Mystery!”

“You pulled off an amazing feat of dimensional engineering just to rescue some jerk from the mess he got himself into,” Ford said. “And you stuck by him, even when he was too wrapped up in his own head to appreciate all you did.”

Stan blinked. “I...I did what?”

Ford stood up, with some wincing, hobbled over to Stan, and threw an arm around his twin's shoulders. “Ladies and gentlemen of the freak club, in recognition of all his truly astounding accomplishments in the name of weirdness, of his long service to this weirdest of weird towns, of the sacrifices he has made to ensure the continued existence of the rest of us freaks, I make a motion to appoint Stanley Pines as our admiral.”

“I second that motion!” Mabel yelled.

“All in favor say aye!” Dipper added.

“AYE!”

Stan blinked several times and hastily gulped at his soda. “I...I don't...”

“Do you accept this position?” Ford asked him seriously.

“I...I uh...” Stan looked at all the faces watching him earnestly. “I...I think I would be honored.”

A cheer went round. Stan cleared his throat and wiped a hand under his glasses. “Alright, alright! That's enough of that. I wanna issue my first decree as admiral of the freak club.”

“That was fast,” Wendy muttered.

“The power's gone to my head already. I'm a tyrant. I coulda warned you.” Stan took a long drink, deliberately letting the tension build. “My first decree...is that you all tell me that story about the pterodactyls, cause that sounds incredible.”

“It was so incredible!” Mabel said. “You were like bam! And the pterodactyl was like awwwwk oh no I'm a pterodactyl and I'm being punched!”

“You know,” Ford said, leaning against Stan a little, “I think I'd quite like to hear this story myself.”

“Yeah, no kidding.” Wendy flopped back down in her chair. “I can't believe you guys didn't invite me on that one.”

“We didn't know what was going to happen! It all started when we went on a heroic mission to rescue Waddles...”

“No, it started before that, Mabel. Back up.”

“That was when the important part started.”

Wendy grinned and leaned back as Dipper went on about chasing a pterodactyl through the woods with Soos.

They were here.

They were alive.

They were weird.

How did that old saying go? The king is dead; long live...us.

[elisaphoenix13]

Blundering Fools

As Tony watched Scott snore quietly on the couch, he wondered why he hadn't bothered to revert the common room a few floors below into something else. The team never used it. They always hung out on the family floor, so the common room was just collecting dust at this point. Maybe he could make it into some extra living space? The tower was filling up, and Tony already had to stick Quill with Scott when the space pirate arrived just a few months ago. To his luck, the two got along fantastically and Quill probably wouldn't need his own floor. Scott had an extra room anyway.

The space pirate himself steps off the elevator when it arrives and he strides over to Scott and drops a bag of fast food onto the sleeping man's stomach. Scott jolts out of his nap at the sudden disturbance, and he rubs the sleep from his eyes as Quill moves his feet just enough to sit down. Tony watches in surprise when Scott puts his socked feet in Quill's lap and fishes his French fries out of the bag as the other man changes the channel on the tv. It was like they had skipped dating and went straight to being married, but they didn't even know they were in a relationship. Which they weren't, but they might as well be.

Stephen steps up next to Tony and watches the duo on the couch for a few moments before glancing over at his husband. "Are they dating?" He asks quietly so Quill and Scott don't hear him.

"Uh...no. I think they skipped straight to marriage." Tony half jokes.

The sorcerer chuckles. "If I didn't know any better, I might have believed you." He walks over to the stove to start heating up some water.

"I almost can't believe they're this oblivious. Even Cap noticed."

"Ignorance is bliss I suppose."

Stephen makes his tea and both he and Tony join the other two in the living room, Stephen with a crossword puzzle, and Tony with his tablet. His attention was split in between it and the tv though. Neither Scott nor Quill moved when the married couple joined them, but Scott did eventually sit up with only a couple inches separating him from Quill when he discovered eating a hamburger while laying down was a little hard. It was Quill's next move that almost had Tony and Stephen groaning in frustration though. He picked up one of the sodas and took a sip from the straw and immediately furrowed his brows before holding it over to the ex-criminal.

"Hey Scotty. I think I grabbed yours by mistake."

What Scott did next wasn't much better. He had taken the offered soda and also took a sip from the straw.

"Mmm...yeah. This is mine. Here." He grabs the other cup off the coffee table and hands it to Quill. It took a couple of seconds for him to notice that Tony and Stephen were staring at them in bewilderment. "What?"

Tony clears his throat. "Just surprised to see you drinking something other than juice." He lies easily.

Scott snorts. "I do like variety here and there."

"Could have fooled me."

All but Stephen return their attention to the show playing on the television, and the sorcerer takes a sip of his tea as he fills in an answer.

"I think he's gay." Quill says as he motions to the show.

"No. Not him. He's got a wife and kids." Scott replies.

"Really? Man. I'm usually pretty good at noticing things like that."

Stephen chokes on his tea and Tony bursts into laughter. These two had to be yanking their chain. Maybe they were secretly dating and were trying to see how long they could have fun with it, but when Stephen recovered and looked over at the pair, he was met with an incredulous look. So they were serious. Their entire relationship was painful to watch but at the same time, everyone found it hilarious. The rest of the team made bets on how long it would take them to figure it out, but it still looked like it would be a while yet. If ever.

"It uh...went down the wrong pipe." Stephen explains lamely and the other two shrug and go back to watching tv. Completely ignoring Tony who was only now calming down from his fit of giggles.

Like all moments of peace though, it had to end. Alarms blared through the tower, and all four men snap their heads up or to attention from their activities.

"Another alien attack Boss." FRIDAY tells him through the speakers.

Tony groans. "Seriously? Do they not know we killed Thanos? You would think that would scare everything away forever."

"Spiderman is already on the scene."

"What?!" Both Stephen and Tony shout. "He should be at school right now!" The sorcerer adds as he stands and Levi settles on his shoulders.

"Yell at him when we get there." Tony says as he stands and activates his suit. "Porcupine and Thumbelina, suit up. FRIDAY let the others know and have them meet us."

"Right away." She responds.

Tony and Stephen step through a portal that the doctor opens and it closes behind them just as Tony steps in front of Stephen. His suit forms a shield on his arm and blocks the laser pulse aiming for the sorcerer and he shoots the alien with his own repulsor beam before looking back at his lover.

"Honey, do me a favor and wear your suit."

"I always do." Stephen responds fondly as he taps his bracelet and his suit covers him.

A small group of aliens approach them, and just as the pair ready their attacks, a car comes flying out of the sky and it crushes the aliens beneath it. They look up to find the one responsible for throwing the vehicle and find Peter in his suit, crouching on top of a streetlamp. The teen perks up when Stephen sighs heavily over the comm, but then flinches at the sorcerer's next words.

"Peter Benjamin Stark-Strange!"

"What did I do?!"

"Why aren't you in class?"

"Oh! The school was evacuated so I'm not missing anything." He webs a few more approaching aliens against a nearby building. "I got separated from Harley though."

Tony flies off to help set up a perimeter and Stephen and Peter deal with the aliens as the rest of the team arrive to help. Quill was the first to arrive, and he had taken out one of the enemies trying to sneak up on Stephen, and to the doctor's very brief confusion, the space pirate seemingly flicked his own shoulder. Then he realized he was flicking Scott toward an enemy. The ex-con grew to normal size to punch an unsuspecting alien, and the battle continued with more of the Avengers joining them. All but Bruce that is. They tried to keep him ready for possible injured friends that Stephen would portal to him, and if they were too injured to move, the sorcerer would stabilize them first before sending them to Bruce.

But then a large flying creature, much like the ones from the Chitauri invasion and the battle with Thanos, showed up and Stephen could hear Tony's breath hitch over the comm. Nobody liked those things and this monster wasn't any better. There was only one person who could deal with that thing.

"Stuart Little. You seeing what I'm seeing?" The engineer asks as he has FRIDAY scan for possible weak points, but she gave him a negative.

Scott kicks away an alien and backs up until his back is flush with Quill's and looks up. "Man, can we have one battle where I don't have to personally hulk out?"

"Apparently not. You're up Thumbelina...and keep it in the Hudson!"

Quill looks over his shoulder after shooting a couple of aliens. "He wants you to deal with that thing? Am I missing something?"

"Make room Spaceman."

"Room for what?!"

Scott rolls his eyes and presses a button on his suit and Quill stumbles back when the ex-criminal grows to over sixty feet and punches the flying creature into the Hudson River before following it. The pirate recovers from his shock just in time to duck a blast to his head and he takes out the creatures swarming him as he keeps one eye on his floormate. Scott was wrestling with the large flying alien until it thrashed around and sent them both under the water with a large splash. Long seconds pass and when the water partially settles, Steve speaks over comm.

"He's not coming back up!"

"Growing like that puts stress on his body! That combined with the limited air supply his helmet has-" Stephen starts, but he stops when Quill flies out from the aliens surrounding him, barely glancing back to throw a grenade in the center of the circle.

It explodes and kills all of the aliens as he flies toward the river, and the outlaw doesn't hesitate to activate his helmet before diving into the water. Using his jet boots he swims down to the obvious giant figure of Scott and presses the button he knew would shrink the man back to normal size. Once Scott is at a movable size again, Quill grabs the unconscious man and swims back up to the surface, where he pulls Scott back onto land.

He kneels next to Scott and presses another button to remove his helmet and gently smacks his cheek. "Come on Scotty. It'll be really lame to be the only member of the Pining Club."

Antman coughs and turns on his side to spit out the water and then groans tiredly. "The Pining Club is lame no matter how many members are in it."

Quill grins. "Try not to remind me." The grin slowly falls away and his hands hover over Scott's body as he looks for injuries. "Are you hurt?"

"Don't think so." Scott mumbles tiredly. "Gonna rest my eyes for a couple of seconds."

Then he was asleep. Actually, it was more like he passed out, but now Quill had to protect him from some aliens that noticed the two stragglers. He didn't have much room to maneuver because he wouldn't step too far away from Scott's prone form, so instead he planted a foot on either side of his floormate and shot the aliens. At least in this position, they couldn't get to Scott as easily.

"Guys! Scotty is down and I've got a few of these assholes coming after us!" Quill informs the team.

An arrow pierces through the head of an alien behind the space outlaw. "I've got your six Quill."

Quill shoots a few more aliens and then grabs a loose piece of rebar nearby when an alien throws a grenade at him. He hits the grenade back toward the alien and blows it up as well as its allies and Clint laughs.

"Damn Quill! You gave a whole new meaning to a grand slam!"

"These chucklefucks have no idea who they're messing with." Starlord growls.

"An angry lover?" The archer says and Quill looks up in Clint's direction on a nearby building.

"What?"

"What?" Barton repeats innocently.

The battle ends after another half hour when Thor summons lightning to kill off the remaining aliens, and Quill bends down from his position over Scott to check the still unconscious man for wounds again. Stephen soon joins him and checks Scott's pulse before turning to open a portal to Scott's floor at the tower.

"He needs rest. Clint, come help-"

"It's okay." Quill interrupts. "I got him." He moves to one side of Scott and lifts the man into his arms before walking through the portal with Stephen.

The doctor moves ahead of him to open the door to Scott's room and when Quill steps in and manages to lay the ex-criminal on his bed, Stephen motions toward the sleeping man.

"Help me get his suit off."

Quill's eyes widen. "Wait, what?"

"He wears it over his clothes." Stephen assures as he starts to remove Scott's suit, and Quill helps him.

"Damn, he's dead to the world."

"That's what happens if he stays in his giant form too long."

"I didn't know he can do that."

Stephen raises an eyebrow when he looks up at him. "He did it in the battle against Thanos."

"Guess I missed it."

They pull back the covers, properly place them over Scott, and then leave the room to go up to the family floor after some reassurance from Stephen that his floormate will be okay by himself. Once they reach the penthouse, Stephen rushes forward when they find Harley sitting at the kitchen table and holding an ice pack to his temple. While the sorcerer fussed over the small cuts littered over the teen's body, Quill returned to his previously vacated spot on the couch and Tony and Peter were some of the first to get back.

"Harley! I'm so sorry! I couldn't find you-" Peter rambles and the older teen waves his hand at the younger.

"It's fine. Don't freak out."

Tony disengages his suit and joins Stephen. "What happened?"

"Just got hit with some shrapnel. It's not that big of a deal." Harley says with a heavy sigh. "Stephen already took care of it."

The doctor nods. "He's alright Tony. Just some scratches."

The engineer grumbles and rubs his eyes tiredly. "Getting real sick of alien invasions."

Quill laughs half-heartedly from the living room. "Sounds like a regular Wednesday afternoon."

It seemed to be true, too. Hardly anyone blinked at the mention of an alien invasion or Hydra crawling out of the cracks like roaches. They just dealt with it and came back home for a well deserved dinner, or even lunch if they took care of the crisis fast enough. Which was exactly what happened as soon as Bucky made it back. They all had an after battle routine. Check to make sure any injured were alright, then head up to the penthouse for food, rest, and sometimes even a movie to wind down and lick their wounds.

With Wanda's help, Bucky made dinner for everyone and they all ate throughout the floor, and even Scott had managed to join them. Of course, he was still exhausted and it took him a little effort to stay awake, but he got his food and subconsciously sat next to Quill and ate. There were a couple of times Scott almost passed out into his food, but both Quill and Natasha kept him awake long enough to finish his dinner. After that, the space pirate had to help the ex-criminal back down to their floor since he was stumbling, and when the elevator doors closed behind them, Clint groaned. Loudly.

"Can we intervene yet?"

Sam scowls. "No way. I've got money sitting on another month."

"You didn't see Quill standing possessively over Scott."

"Really?" Natasha asks with a bit of surprise. "Maybe he'll figure it out first."

"You know...even though he has a Master's degree in electrical engineering, Scott can be really dumb." Peter says and Cassie nods beside him.

"I kind of have to agree...and I live on the floor with them."

Harley takes the biscuit out of Peter's hand when the younger teen picks it up. "Brain smart and street smart are different things."

Sam snorts. "This is a whole different type of smart and Tic-tac is on the stupid end of the scale."

"They both are." Rhodey adds in agreement.

Tony laughs. "One more month. Then we can talk about a subtle intervention."

"Subtle will take forever, love." Stephen chuckles.

"Very true. We'll just throw them in a closet and be done with it."

"That just takes the fun out of it." Harley mutters.

The time was agreed on though. One more month of watching Quill and Scott unknowingly flirt with each other, and then they would talk about what to do next if the morons didn't connect the dots.

The Avengers were turning into matchmakers.