#mini reco

[nethhiri]

Marooned: Chapter 42

Kid x FemReader x Killer

Warnings: Sex (feat. Wire), mentions of murder

Open Doors

The next few days were... easy. That was the only way to describe them. After Kid had helped you remove the bullets, which took all of 10 minutes, you went about your daily chores, getting a lot of compliments on your new accessory, Killer especially seemed invested in it. You spent time with the girls, performing the sacred rituals: painting nails, face masks, gossiping, giving each other hair trims, even waxing each other. Heat joined in for everything but the last bit, even though it was mostly eyebrows and armpits. You sat in silence with Wire, mending nets. It was nice. There was no need to talk. You gave Mini a bath, having to borrow a swimsuit from someone which was a hair too small for you. She was too big for the bathroom so you were forced to do it on the deck. It was about halfway through when you noticed Kid had pulled up a chair, feet kicked up, with a beer in his hand, to enjoy the show. Others did the same, though they were far more discreet about it. Heat had been inspecting the same knot in the rigging for 20 minutes. In the mornings, you and Killer would have coffee together on the bow and watch the sunrise before making breakfast. Some days breakfast was late, much to Kid's chagrin, because Killer ate first. Telling Kid that "pussy was the most important meal of the day" was definitely what some would call a mistake. You had to flee several times to a more private place, because Kid had no qualms about laying you flat on the dining table. 

Lately, Kid had been coming to the infirmary a lot. A smashed finger here, a stubbed toe there, and he had an awful lot of inexplicable aches and pains. Then afterwards, he would linger and ask what you had done with your day or some other dumb shit like what your favorite things were. You hated the way you looked forward to his stupid smirk showing up on your doorstep. Every time he showed up, he would make the tag on your collar jingle to announce his presence instead of knocking. Sometimes you looked up for him when it jingled on its own, a conditioned response that you hated.

It was another night where you couldn't sleep, plagued by thoughts of the future. You were in the infirmary, trying to figure out what to do, even though you really didn't want to think about it at all. You found yourself staring at the place in the wall where the Big Fucking Hole used to be, a bit ashamed to admit that you missed it and all of Kid's silly antics. You went to the wall and put a hand on it. It glowed a soft yellow as a door manifested in that space. Part of it was metal, so that he could open it if he wanted, but there was a different non-metal lock on it, so that he couldn't open it if patients were in the room or you needed privacy. It was the type of door that rolled on a track, so that it would be completely out of the way when it was open. You weren't going to tell Kid about it, wondering how long it would take him to notice on his own. You didn't want to answer any questions about why you did it in the first place, because you didn't really know yourself. 

Later in the day, as you were helping make repairs to the ship with Reck and Pomp, Kid came barreling from around the corner, out of nowhere, yelling for you. You were alarmed, thinking something bad had happened. Kid skidded behind you, crouching to hide, with something in his hand. 

"Ya gotta protect me, Rottie!" There was a shake to his voice that sounded scared, but it was really him trying not to laugh.

You had your gun drawn and pointed where Kid had come from in half a second. Unlike the others, you actually listened and acted accordingly, only because Kid sounded serious, at least to your ears. Before Kid could tell you they were just fooling around, Heat came face to face with your barrel, well more like chest-level, since he was much bigger than you. Your trigger finger twitched, but thankfully didn't pull, recognizing Heat, who had jumped back. You let your breath out and holstered your weapon, with an apologetic look at Heat, who was beyond pissed.

"KID! I swear I'll kill you. Give it back!"

"Insubordination! Get him, doll!" Kid pointed at Heat from behind you.

It was hard not to laugh, when a huge, menacing beast was attempting to hide behind your much smaller frame. Kid knew Heat wouldn't lay a finger on you, but he would light Kid's ass up in a second. You were confused.

"I'm not fighting Heat to protect your ass." You looked over your shoulder at him. "What did you do? Give what back?"

"Kid, please. I'm begging you," Heat pleaded. "I'll give you my dessert for a month."

Kid pretended to think. "Mmm not good enough."

"I'll... do that thing you like."

Kid paused decidedly longer at that. "Tempting."

You snatched the paper from Kid's hand while he was distracted. You were about to hand it to Heat without looking at it, but realized it looked like a wanted poster. It was your wanted poster. It was... altered. You bit your lip to keep from smiling. 

"Y/N I'm so sorry. I didn't know one day you'd be on the ship. Please don't hate me." 

Kid had made good on his internal promise to show you Heat's self-made pin-up of you. Wire and Killer were interested in what was going on, Wire more so because he caught a glance of your gun in Heat's direction, Killer because he knew Kid was being mischievous. 

"I don't know, Heat..." You teased. "I'm pretty upset." The poster was expertly combined with pictures from some racy magazine to make it look like you were totally naked on it. "Did you really think my boobs would be that small?" The model was fairly small-framed and petite. "I've got a bit more meat to me I think." 

It was Heat's turn to be confused. "You're not mad?" 

You shrugged. "It's kind of cute that you have a little celebrity crush on me." You handed it back to him. "Fix it, though. It's completely inaccurate." You stood on your tiptoes to reach Heat's ear. "And that's an order," you purred. You must have guessed his kink right, because when you came away, his face was red and he had a big grin on his face.

"Yes, Cap- Ma'am." Heat corrected himself so he didn't disrespect Kid, but he wasn't opposed to calling you "Captain" behind closed doors, in fact, he would be thrilled. He rushed away with his artwork before he could develop a raging boner in front of everyone. 

"I told him ya wouldn't be mad." Kid stated. 

"Kid! What if I had shot him!?" 

"Ya didn't." A smirk moved to grace Kid's features. "Now who's the guard dog," he said, flicking the tag on your collar.

"Whatever. Next time, I'll let you be incinerated." You walked away from Kid, catching Pomp, Reck, Killer, and Wire staring with amusement. "And what are you bozos looking at? Get back to work." 

Killer and Wire exchanged looks. "Bozos?" 

"Wait. Hang on. I didn't mean you." You glanced at Kid, contemplating switching roles and hiding behind him, but were too proud. It was too late. They had that look on their faces. 

"Better get ta runnin, doll," Kid chuckled.

You barely got two steps before you were slung over Killer's shoulder, Wire smirking down at you walking behind Killer. "You're just gonna let Smallest and Tallest steal me like this? I have work to do!" 

"Yer dismissed for the day." There wasn't much else to do anyway.

Several hours later, you were facedown in a pillow soaked with sweat and drool and tears, trying to muffle your screaming. It felt like your cervix was in a boxing match, and losing, with Wire's huge cock. You were sticky and sweaty, drying fluids on your back and thighs. Your thighs were going to give out from holding your body up for so long. They were shaking even though Wire was supporting most of your body. He and Killer made you climax so many times you lost count. At this point you were begging them to let you rest. Both sets of lips were swollen, from kissing or fucking depending on which ones. Your fingers were curled into the sheets so hard you thought your nails would put holes in them. 

"You're taking Wire so well." Killer was petting your hair, gently tugging it to pull your face from the pillow. "We want to hear you though."

"If we can't hear you, you're gonna have to do it all over again."

You whined. "I can't take much m-more." 

"You talked such a big game and now you're trying to tap out? That's too bad." Wire brought a hand down on your ass. "You're done when I say so." He grunted as your cunt clenched around him. 

"You can do it, darlin." Killer rubbed your back. He was done, throughly satisfied after taking turns fucking your pussy with Wire. You wanted them both at the same time, but Wire didn't think you were ready for that yet. Killer agreed. They were always the two that held back. Heat and Kid were all for whatever you wanted to do and barely ever told you no. 

"F-fuck." The muscles in your body tensed. You were so close, yet reluctant. 

"Come on then. Finish on this cock so I can give you want you really want. Which is what?"

"I want y-your cum. P-please, Wire."

"There's my good girl," Killer said, his hand slipping under your body to play with your clit. 

"A-ah." You fought the urge to smush your face back into the pillow. 

Killer, who had become well aware of the faces you made when you came, could tell you were close. "Cum for us. Let Wire know how much you appreciate him fucking you." 

You opened your mouth in a pained cry as an intense feeling of pleasure seeped into every fiber of your body. The inside of your thighs got considerably wetter. "T-hank you, Wire." If it weren't for him, you would be completely collapsed in a pile of mush in the middle of the bed. All your limbs felt like jelly. 

Wire pulled you tighter against him, shooting his load as deep as he could get it, doubling over you. He kissed between your shoulder blades. "Well done." 

As soon as he let go of you, you flopped on your back, exhausted. 

"Let's get you in the bath." Killer scooped you up.

Wire was putting his clothes back on.

"You're not coming?" 

"I'm too tall. Not comfortable." 

You blew him a kiss. "Night night then." 

"Night night." Wire scrunched up his face. He hated how that came out of his mouth. 

After Killer ran the hot bath, he got in the water and set you between his legs. He massaged your scalp as you laid on his chest, lazily washing your hair. You sighed contentedly, stretching out and letting Killer's hands wander as they pleased when he washed the rest of you. He made you feel so safe when you were in his arms. You'd never had a refuge like that before. You turned around and pressed a kiss to Killer's lips, which he gladly returned. 

There was a knock from the door to Kid's room. 

"Yeah?" Killer replied. 

Kid walked through. "Mind if I join ya?" He was already shedding clothing, and his metal arm, all over the floor. 

Your eyebrows pushed together. "You know how to knock first? And you asked permission? Where's Kid?" 

"Shut up. I can be a gentleman." Kid lowered himself on the other side of the tub. He pointed between the two of you. "So which one of ya is gonna wash me?"

You patted the water in front of you. "Come sit. I like to be sandwiched between my two favorite boys." 

Kid moved to sit in front of you. "Which one is yer favorite favorite?" 

"Well his name starts with K-I." You washed Kid's back, appreciating its broadness. 

"Ha! I knew it was me!" Kid paused. "Wait. Damn it." 

You laughed. There was no way you would choose. Killer irritated you way less, but Kid was devastatingly charming when he wanted to be. 

Killer caught your wrist when you strayed too close to Kid's stump. "Let me get that."

You were a little embarrassed that you didn't think anything of it, but obviously Kid might be sensitive about his injury. "Sorry." You wondered if you could give him his arm back, if he would like it back. You moved to sit next to Killer, watching him methodically wash around the missing limb.

It brought a smile to your face watching the two of them, who very obviously knew each other inside and out, trusted each other completely. You leaned against Killer, still very tired, not opposed to being sandwiched between them again in Kid's bed. You slept better that way. If Kid had noticed your remodeling project, he didn't say. You were a bit disappointed, eager to see his reaction. 

Killer turned his head to you. "Sing that again." 

"Huh?" You had been sining under your breath without being completely conscious of it, waiting for them to be done. "It's just the Bink's brew song." 

Kid groaned. "Killer, don't make her sing it. She's bad at it and that song is annoying." You could always count on Kid to be brutally honest.

Killer looked at you insistently. It made you self-conscious, especially now that he was staring, so you ran through the words quickly:

Gather up all of the crew, it's time to steal all Binks' brew. We will go, to where, who knows? The loot will be our guide. Robbed behind the tavern's side. Thieves and bandits far and wide. Whores they sing, of lustful things to pirates passing by.

"Wow, that was even worse than the first time. Nice." Kid snickered.

"The first time? Kid, you've heard her sing it before?"

"Yeah it was fucking awful. Opposite of a siren. Made me want to jump overboard." 

"Maybe you should have. Damn." You were regretting extending him an olive branch. 

Killer gave you a sympathetic look. "Where did you hear that version?"

"What do you mean? Everyone knows every island's got a spin on it." You were puzzled about where this was going. "It's the one from my island. My hometown." 

"KID!? You didn't recognize it?!"

"Fuck are ya talking about? Ya know I always hated that song. Sounds the same as when Heat used to sing it to get on my nerves." Kid seemed to think about it. "Hang on. That's why it sounded kinda familiar I guess." Kid went on. "Ha! That's funny. Yer island and our island had the same version."

You and Killer had shared a glance immediately when you both realized the connection. Kid was working on it, almost there. 

"No!" Kid snapped his head to face you. "Yer not...?!

"From an island that hasn't got a name because the leadership changes with the gangs? From an island built on crime? Yeah I am."

"NO FUCKING WAY!" 

"Come on. Let's talk about it in Kid's room. The water is getting cold." Killer suggested. 

"Why my room?"

"Because this one made a mess of my sheets," Killer wrapped a towel around your shoulders. 

You felt your face burn with blood rushing to your cheeks. "That's your fault," you mumbled. 

Kid refused to have you wear one of Killer's old shirts that you had become accustomed to. You were in his room, so you had to wear his shirt. Well, first he insisted that you didn't need to put anything at all on, but you had fought him on that. Kid didn't even try to mask his desire for you, eyes glued to your tits, and you really couldn't begin to fathom going another round with him. Killer and Wire wore you out. You had started to lay back down on Killer when he was settled. Kid stopped you and demanded that he get a turn because Killer had you all day and in the tub. It gave you a warm feeling to know that you were wanted. 

Kid went on and on about the adventures of the two of them and the trouble they would get into as kids. He explained that the four of them used to lead gangs themselves before they became pirates. Then he talked about how bad the food was there, when you could even get your hands on it, and how shitty it was to live in the environment as a kid. It made you jealous to hear of their time together. Maybe if you had something like that, you could have survived there. Eventually something would have happened to force your hand though, you were sure of it. 

"So what made ya leave? Other than all the shitty things I already mentioned." 

You took a deep breath. "You already know most of it. It was chaos, as you said." You continued. "Once all my friends were gone, I had no where left to go except to find another gang to join. And by then I was sick of that life. They weren't even friends really. We all just stuck together out of necessity." 

"What happened to them?" Kid asked.

"The same thing that always happens: they died, or they left, or they were stolen." You sighed. "Maybe it would have been different if I had met one of you." 

"No," Killer said. "You had to go your own way to be who you are now."

You snorted. "Would have preferred to skip the torture bit of 'going my own way'." You went on. "I was a sitting duck without a group. I finally decided to leave for good when I saw a girl a little younger than me get murdered in cold-blood. It could have easily been me there instead of her."

"What did the girl look like?" Kid's voice was melancholy. He had a hard time coming to the conclusion you were from the same island, but he already knew the answer before you replied in this case.

"Petite. Short hair. Freckles maybe. I don't know. She was far away."

"Victoria." Kid said, even more sadness in his voice.

"Her name was Victoria," Killer clarified. He was surprised to know that you were even closer to them than you realized, yet somehow never crossed paths. 

Kid moved from behind you to retrieve the picture he had of her. He handed it to you.

"Yeah... That's her." You had thought she looked similar to the girl from your past, but memories were fuzzy and you thought there was no way you could be from the same island. You were wrong. You gave it back to him. "I'm... sorry."

"So it wouldn't have been different if ya had met one of us. We couldn't even protect Victoria." 

You looked to Killer, who was equally sad. There was nothing you could say to make either of them feel better. It was clear that this was a deep wound that you couldn't heal. You felt like you were intruding on their private emotions. "I can leave," you said softly. You felt sorry for bringing it up unknowingly. 

"Please stay," Kid's voice was scratchy. 

Killer explained the whole story so you could put the pieces together. You had switched places with Kid so that his head was resting on your chest. You couldn't see his face, but you could feel the fabric against your chest become damp. He was crying. The only comforting gesture you could think of was to run your hand through his hair. Killer was sad, but he was always better at controlling his emotions. Kid wore his heart on his sleeve. Eventually, you could feel his breathing become slower and deeper and could hear snores coming from Kid.

"Is he okay?" You asked Killer, who was still awake next to you. 

"Yeah. Victoria was our first crush. Kid was head over heels for her. He was devastated, we both were, when she was killed. If he thinks about her for too long, he gets like this." Killer wanted to change the subject before he ended up like that too. "I can't believe all this time we were from the same island."

"Me neither."

"Wire and Heat are going to be beside themselves." 

Your eyes rested on Kid. A few months ago, this would have been insane to you. 

"Don't worry. He'll be the same Kid you know and love tomorrow." 

"Love is a strong word." You narrowed your eyes at Killer, suspicious that he was insinuating something.

"It is." You thought he had fallen asleep the pause was so long, but he continued, "Kid has grown very attached to the idea of you staying on the crew." And more softly, as if not to wake him, "Very attached to you." 

"Funny. He said a very similar thing about you."

Killer's eyebrows went up, a blush spreading across his face. "He did?"

"Well, his exact words were 'Killer really likes his little kitchen whore'." You laughed quietly, trying not to let your chest shake.

Killer huffed. "It's called a sous chef."

"That's what I fucking said!" Your voice was louder than intended. Actually, why were you two even whispering? A sea train could run over Kid and he would still be asleep. You noted that Killer made no other corrections to your statement. 

Next Chapter

[rockdrop]

Fanfic rec list <3

(I am going to put my own mini synopsis of the fic and how many words it haves)

//

A Picture worth a Thousand Cranes

https://archiveofourown.org/works/46426414/chapters/116892559

Ship:mafuena

Words:13,987

Mafuyu begins to do origami cranes bcs of the myth related to it, she ask ena for help with her crafting project

//

Gourmet Pursuit

https://archiveofourown.org/works/55911385

Ship:mafuena

Words:5,222

Mafuyu cooks for ena bcs her speciality

//

love is stored in the soup

https://archiveofourown.org/works/43213344

Ship:kanamafu

Words:1,480

Kanade is sick so mafuyu cooks her a soup

//

A waltz in 3 steps

https://archiveofourown.org/works/45574660

Ship:kanamafu

Words:10,389

Bard kanade meets princess mafuyu and gains a crush

//

Sorry for the crappy synopsis I am trying to not give spoilers 🙏😭

WAHHHH ANON THX SO MUCH FOR THE RECOS i had a really great time reading thru them 🥺🥹 ur choice is so 👌 i loved the thousand cranes and waltz one the best

(Lowkey SPOILERS below in case anyone wants to read them too)

In thousand cranes, ena's whole speech at the end made me teary eyed. IT WAS SO TOUCHING :(( and its so cool how ena always knows what to say to mafumom so she'd be a little less restrictive

And a waltz in 3 steps was oHMYGODD one of the best reads ive ever had 😭 the entire work was so beautifully and skillfully written, esp the intensity and intimacy of some scenes. The imagery too?!?! Holyyy. I almost wanna draw them. And the bittersweetness of their relationship is gonna kill me

[urfavana2]

hejj uznalam na wakacjach ze ide na mini reco, powiedzialam o tym mamie i chyba uda sie pojechac na ten oboz wiec super. Jak wroce do domu to 2 tygodnie bede jadla dosyc zdrowo a potem malo na obozie i wroce do starwj wagi. Przepraszam za brak aktywnosci, ale mam caly czas tutaj jakies wycieczki albo chodze gdzies z rodzicami

[bookaddict24-7]

RECO OF THE WEEK!

The Sun Down Motel by Simone St. James

Synopsis:

"Something hasn't been right at the roadside Sun Down Motel for a very long time, and Carly Kirk is about to find out why in this chilling new novel from the New York Times bestselling and award-winning author of The Broken Girls.

Upstate New York, 1982. Viv Delaney wants to move to New York City, and to help pay for it she takes a job as the night clerk at the Sun Down Motel in Fell, New York. But something isnʼt right at the motel, something haunting and scary.

Upstate New York, 2017. Carly Kirk has never been able to let go of the story of her aunt Viv, who mysteriously disappeared from the Sun Down before she was born. She decides to move to Fell and visit the motel, where she quickly learns that nothing has changed since 1982. And she soon finds herself ensnared in the same mysteries that claimed her aunt."

___

Check out my mini review on Goodreads here.

Add this book to your TBR on Goodreads here.

Add this book to your TBR on The Storygraph here.

___

Have you read this book? Would you recommend it?

___

Happy reading!

[skinnyr4t]

Chłopaki udało się!! Zaczyna się już moje bmi 16 era. Zapewne do końca tygodnia uda mi się zobaczyć już 43 na wadze, bo zostało mi niewiele i wtedy będę mieć już ostatni gw przed ugw (i przed bmi 15):')

Odkąd znowu ćwiczę dużo to jest prościej i trochę lepiej się czuje, ale problem jest taki, że strasznie mnie bolą mięśnie nawet jak mam wrażenie że nie robie za dużo?

W piątek jadę do Karkowa (tak ostatecznie wyszło, bo wcześniej jednak nie mogłam) i trochę sie martwię, że moja mama będzie na mnie naciskać z jedzeniem przez 2 dni w których będę bez mojego chłopaka (znaczy sie, przez jeden, tzn w sobote bo wtedy nie ma rehabilitacji i matka będzie z ojcem ciągle w domu, a tak to będę mogła sobie ominąć jakoś to w piątek), bo on przyjedzie w niedzielę. Ale na szczęście z nim będę chodzić godzinami po mieście i będę mogła mniej jeść, więc może nie będzie aż tak źle.

Btw teraz oficjalnie zrzuciłam 10 kilo od końca marca, co daje mi taki wynik w 5 miesięcy. Generalnie, taka mini historia związana z moim ed- jeśli chodzi o takie porównanie ile schudłam w jakim czasie, to z mojej najwyższej wagi (61) zaczęłam schodzić w październiku 2021 roku, a w sierpniu 2022 ważyłam już 41. Jakby dla mnie teraz, to jest totalne wow, że udało mi się w jakoś 10 miesięcy pozbyć 20 kilo, mając na głowie starych, którzy na og��ł bardzo naciskali na to że mam jeść (poza tym momentem gdy ważyłam 60 kilo, bo wtedy im sie włączył taki fat shaming w moją stronę XD). Więc krótko mówiąc da sie po prostu. Potem niestety byłam na przymusowym reco, gdzie przekroczyłam wagę 50 kilo dopiero po roku, ale gdy zdałam sobie sprawę że wcale nie jestem jakoś mega szczęśliwsza (mimo, że jadłam co chciałam i było to dla mnie super) to jednak dysmorfia wciąż mnie nawiedzała i stare nawyki również, więc yup, skoczyło sie jak się skończyło i aktualnie chyba jednak jestem szczęśliwsza z tym jak wyglądam i mimo to jestem szczęśliwsza, że jakby to głupio nie brzmiało odżywiam się zdrowiej niż wcześniej i staram się mimo wszystko eksperymentować z kuchnią (za co dziękuję mi moja skóra i włosy, które już mi aż tak nie wypadają jak np miesiąc temu, chociaż to też miało bardzo ale to bardzo spory związek ze stresem, teraz próbuje ogarniać paznokcie). Jakby, wciąż nie czuję, że to jak wyglądam jest perfekcyjne i planuje zrzucić jeszcze te 4 kilo, ale wiem, że jestem na dobrej drodze nawet do tej akceptacji siebie Tbh nie wiem jak to osiągnęłam, po prostu włączyła mi się jakiś czas temu jakaś nowa świadomość i musiałam się z wami podzielić xD

[brevityisnotmywit]

Spare Change Series

General Tags: Mainewash, Red Vs Blue, Alternate Universe, Canon Typical Violence, Angst, Fluff

Four Works

Specifics below the cut

COIN FLIP

Damn near everyone wasn’t surprised when Wash insisted on staying near Maine’s side after he’d been shot. Most were also not surprised that the now permanently mute Freelancer shot up to top priority for an AI. (Even South agreed he needed one) No one expected the side effects of implanting Eta before Iota.

Wash was woken up by one hell of a commotion. Maine, seeming to be fresh out of his implant surgery, was tucked into the corner of his bed hyperventilating. 

“Okay, -why- are you here and not in reco-” He didn’t get to finish. A very frightened AI made sure of that.

“WHERE IS SHE? WHY IS SHE NOT HERE?”  Eta was hovering right in front of Wash’s visor, rapidly flashing and distorting. Maine had grabbed his arm, stopping just short of seriously injuring his teammate. “HOW DID THIS HAPPEN? TELL ME!”

“MAINE!” Wash shouted, trying to pry his arm free. (Better safe than broken in three places.) “Who is -she-?!” 

Eta pause, light flickering nervously. Maine’s grip loosened, but he still refused to let go for some reason.

“I…Iota.” The AI whispered. “My -twin-. I need her, why isn’t she here?” 

The mute Freelancer’s face was twisted with grief. Tears involuntarily welled as his AI panicked. 

“You have a tw- no, wait…” It took Wash a second to process this. “They didn’t implant her yet?”

“No. I would know if she was online. -Please- you have to help me-”

“I know I do, I just-” He huffed. AI were anything but patient. “I need you to take a minute because you’re sending a severely wounded man into a full blown panic attack. You can’t find Iota if your partner can’t -breathe-.”

Eta froze, looking back at Maine, who was shaking badly. He flickered, then zipped back over to him, apologizing quietly and asking if he needed medical attention.

He shook his head no, carefully pulling Wash towards him. He growled weakly.

Before Eta could translate, Wash was already getting a water bottle out of the mini-fridge and an ice pack. As he handed them over to Maine, Eta flickered back over to him.

“…You didn’t need me to tell you?” 

“I live with him. I’ve been his translator for years.” Wash explained dryly.

“R-Right…” 

“Look…I don’t know what I can do, but I’ll try everything I can to find Iota for you. Okay?” He had no fucking clue what he was doing.

“You’d-” Eta flickered again. This seemed to be a normal thing with this AI. “You’d do that?”

“Well yeah, no shit. You’re with Maine now, and I’m Maine’s support in and out of battle.” Even his visor couldn’t mask the pointed look he gave Eta. “That means I support you.”

Wash was rather busy juggling a frustrating as all fucking hell computer search, a terrified AI, and a post-op teammate all at once. Handing Maine a fresh bottle of water, he settled back down at his terminal when the speaker in the ceiling crackled to life.

“Agent Washington. You are needed in the Medical Bay. Immediately.”

“Are you fucking kidding me!?” He threw his hands up in the air, saving the page he was studying. He turned to the shaking mess that was inhabiting the bed beside his. “Look, I’m already in deep shit, I need to go see what they want with me.” He didn’t let the pair get in a word before continuing. “It’s -probably- something for you two, so I need to go get it done. Okay?”

Eta flickered nervously, eventually nodding. Maine gave a standard grunt in approval.

“Alright. I’ll be back as soon as I can. I’ll comm’ you if anything comes up.” With that, Wash left.

“Do you understand Agent Washington?” The eerily cheerful doctor asked for a second time.

“No, I don’t understand, you’re telling me you’ve just -randomly- decided I need an AI?! You didn’t even give me the standard lesson shit that everyone else had t-”

“Agent Washington, are you saying you do not want an AI?” The Director drawled from his chair in the corner.

“-No- god damnit! I’m asking why it’s out of the blue! I don’t even know what AI you wa-”

“Well I hope you would. You’ve been snooping around it since the night before last.”  Well that sure shut someone up.

Wash couldn’t even respond beyond nodding. He did make a promise and while this was shady as all hell, at least he could try to rectify his teammate’s over-frightened AI.

“Perfect. Prep him for surgery doctor.” The Director was smiling. That was never a good sign.

It felt rushed, suddenly all of the armor from the shoulders up had to go and get sterilized, everyone was dashing around looking for things. Nurses and doctors popped in and out, hooking him up to an IV, giving him numbing medication, and eventually (thankfully) sedating him.

When he woke up, all hell broke loose.

Neither hell or highwater could stop Iota from forcing her host to get the fuck out of the Med Bay. She was an AI on a mission and protocol be damned. She hi-jacked her still out of it partner and knocked out three medics on her way out.

She could feel Eta and needed to get to him. He was in a panic (but what else is new?) and needed her there to help. He didn’t seem to be able to move but she damn well could and would.

Alarms were never a good thing. Alarms, missing armor, and not knowing why the fuck you were suddenly assaulting medical staff were absolutely horrific things.

“What in the -world- is going on right now?” He thought, not really expecting an answer.

“We are going to find Eta and his partner Maine.” Well this gave new levels of ‘migraine’.

“…Iota, right?” Wow Wash, great start there buddy.

“Obviously. Stop talking, start helping me.”

So he did. When he finally corrected how lost Iota had gotten, he bolted for his room, dodging a rather small group of nurses on the way.

Maine practically tackled him before he could get in the door. 

Wash struggled to figure out where he ended and Iota began and where she stopped and Eta started. Everything was going so fast, demands of knowing what condition the other was in, frantic narratives, jumbled questions. It was overwhelming.

“Eta. Iota. You’re pissing me off. Give him a minute.”

And hearing a silenced voice talk again was enough to make Wash pass out.

When he came to a few minutes later, he realized he could still hear it.

“Wake the fuck up already.” Maine snapped, pressing a water bottle into Wash’s hand. “Drink it. You need it.”

It took a few rounds of back and forth for Wash to realize he wasn’t actually talking. It was also fucking wild to grasp the fact that he and Maine were communicating telepathically. Eta was quick to correct him, explaining that they as AI’s shared a link and thus could relay thoughts. (Fuck him, it was telepathy for all Wash cared at this point.)

So they sat next to each other on the floor, just talking. Eta and Iota became rather mellow once they were reunited, able to offer the dreaded tutorials and check their hosts vitals. Not that they could’ve gotten away with destroying the Med Bay for long.

After an hour or so, they were retrieved, and came along calmly when assured they would be going together.

The Director watched through the glass quietly. He knew they’d become a force to be reckoned with after gaining the twin AI units. He hadn’t really planned on them costing over twenty grand by destroying his hospital.

At least they weren’t against him. Yet.

Epilogue- Penny Drops

It had been several months since Wash and Maine had been paired with the twin AI units Eta and Iota and one thing was for sure, they were insufferable now. Well, for Florida anyway. He always wanted a nice leisurely conversation, rushing didn’t suit him at all. Rushing totally suited the pair though, and it was a force to be reckoned with socially. Social, they’d say, wasn’t their goal.

In all honesty though it was actually a very good arrangement other than that. On one hand you had Wash with Iota, the happiness. The benefit was quite clear there, after all the man had been rather clearly suffering from a stronger depression than the staff was able to keep up with, so Iota’s rather aggressive optimism was one hell of a good thing to have on board.

The other half had been much more dubious. Many had thought Eta’s fearful nature would jeopardize their living tank. Instead of making him paranoid though, it made him -smart-. Before Maine had no issues diving head first into anything and everything and leave it to Carolina or Wash to get him out. Now in addition to Wash knowing where he would be at any time, Maine knew exactly what he was getting into and -how- he needed to go about taking it out courtesy of Eta.

They were in balance as long as they had the other with them. The few times they’d managed to separate them, the AI became unhinged. Eta would force his host into the closest hidey-hole he could find and Iota made hers go on the absolute warpath through the ship.

There were still some bugs to work out. Maine and Wash frankly didn’t care. They had each other, hell and high water wouldn’t take that away.

PENNY IN THE WELL

Maine had quite the reputation. Even before he joined the Project, he was known by many names. Tank was a common one, folks thought it was clever. He didn’t care either way, it wash short and not totally derogatory. He did gain plenty of slurs, since he was from the Philippines. He didn’t cause trouble but they bothered him all the same. He wasn’t allowed to be bothered.

He had a reputation to live up to. So admitting to things like that were a no go.

Just like how he had to pretend he didn’t have a phobia of deep water. He didn’t need to object when they assigned him to do a water recovery with the dive team. Nobody would know he chewed the inside of his cheek raw during the mission. It was his secret.

Then, he was introduced to a new Freelancer. He didn’t know that they hired folks above 40. Despite his age, the rookie was definitely young at heart. He liked curly straws and fruit. He’d crack jokes to lighten the mood if a mission went bad. He was the kind of guy that you go to when you felt like shit and just wanted to forget about it.

He liked to help people. He was very observant and remembered things. He’d be the one to go to CT when she was isolating herself. He might not have been good in battle, but he started stitching everyone back together. Made it better. As much as he could do, he did.

A few months in, they moved him to room with Maine. He didn’t mind sharing, the guy didn’t have much. Pictures of cats, and an old skateboard in addition to the normal armor and Kevlar suits. He would chatter a bit, usually telling him about the book he’d been reading. It was nice to have someone that didn’t need him to talk back. The rookie just rolled with it. Maine liked that.

Later, they’d grown even closer. The man had learned “Maine-Speak” (As named by York.) fluently. He was good at supporting Maine, calling out things in his blind spots, that kind of stuff. It wasn’t flawless, but it was better than before. He was comfortable with the older soldier. 

One day, they’d been ordered to work with the dive team again. He should have known that his partner would start recognizing nervous habits. There was a gentle pat on his shoulder. Not a lingering, touchy-feely kind of pat. Just a light thump.

“It’ll be alright.” Was all the rookie said before adjusting his oxygen tank, and leading the way.

“It’ll be alright.” He said, weeks later. 

They were curled up on Maine’s bunk, hands tangled together. For an older man that had grown up with a mother that smoked, his voice wasn’t raspy. It made his partner feel safe.

“You can tell me if you want.”

Maine huffed a little. This usually meant something like, ‘No, Not now’ or‘Later’. It was probably the last guess. They decided to drop the topic, and practice sign language. Carolina wanted them all to learn it. She said it would come in handy some day.

Why did she always have to be right?

It was a month after Maine had been shot in the throat. They were teaching him about the AI he was going to receive. Eta, was the name that kept coming up. When wash visited him later, the large man stumbled his way through an explanation as best as he could in his state. His partner smiled gently.

“It’ll be alright.”

Alright was not the term he’d use for the first day after he was implanted. Eta kept crying and screaming. He was ready to rip the unit out when he heard a familiar voice cut through the wailing. 

“MAINE!”

He blinked, looking up. When did Wash come in? Then he realized he was squeezing his arm like a vice. He let up a little, but didn’t drop the arm. He needed his support, now more than ever. They went over what was happening, he was handed ice and water. Even though he was talking with Eta, Maine was vividly remembering what his partner told him so often.

“It’ll be alright.”

It was alright again. Iota was helping Wash through his own personal demons. Maine was surprised, the rookie always came off as mentally alright to him. Maybe he was hiding too. It wouldn’t be too far off the mark.

With the twin units, they grew even closer. They picked up on things more. Two (or four of you count the AI) minds could make better guesses than one. It was hard to hide from someone that knew you as well as Wash knew Maine.

They’d gotten back from another dive mission. Wash was quieter than normal, in his head and out of it. He was waiting probably. When they got back to their room, Wash turned to look at him.

“How long have you been afraid of drowning?”

He felt the embarrassment creeping up his neck, trying to play it off. He mentally elaborated that he’d never been good at swimming, that was all. He felt a pat on his shoulder again. Looking back, Wash was looking at him. Searching for…something. He smiled after a moment, not pressing the obvious half-lie he’d been fed.

“It’ll be alright. I promise.”

Wash would later realize that he should never make promises.

DIME A DOZEN

They all dealt with nightmares. Project Freelancer didn’t have enough funding to fix them up when their bodies broke, let alone their minds. So each of them had their own customized little slice of hell to explore when they couldn’t stay awake anymore, and found their ways back to the barracks.

York couldn’t be left alone for long before he started pacing, by the end he was chewing at the ends of his fingers until they were raw. He’d been abandoned as a kid so it hadn’t come as much of a surprise when his nights were filled with seemingly wonderful places, the only catch being they were devoid of all life. Any companionship you could think of was absent. No people, no dogs, hell he’d take robots or even zombies if it meant he could speak to something that animated. Nightmares as they were, that would never happen.

North had frighteningly realistic visions of his sister dying in various ways. He haunted the halls, having to reassure Theta that, no they weren’t real, it’ll be okay. Since he had to talk his AI through it, he was able to recount his nightmares with the most accuracy. It didn’t help that most of them were more extreme results of past injuries.

The Freelancer in question was petrified of having her independence, her free will stolen. Before Eta and Iota came into the mix she often ran into Wash (literally) in the otherwise empty mess hall. The two of them woke up from their own around the same time, North and York having settled back in roughly an hour or two before. So South started venting to him. In her dream she’d been given that AI she wanted above all else, but it stole her body when she looked away, chaining her up in a box. She said it reminded her of Sigma, in the voice at least.

Wyoming required sound, of any sort to sleep. It was the real reason he and Florida had started rooming together, despite the rumor (Lies spread by West and Indiana.) that they both met before Freelancer, in some wild kinky orgy. (They hadn’t even been hired in the same month and came from different colonies.) The way he’d described it, it was like some strange puzzle room, full of brick walls with no sound. No echoes, no footsteps, not even breathing. Just oppressive silence. Without the stereo blasting, he didn’t sleep. When Wyoming didn’t sleep, he took over the kitchen and started cooking with no reason other than an excuse to rattle the bakeware.

Florida, as it turned out (to everyone's surprise) was only a little creepy by default. He explained to Wash when he showed up during one of Reggie’s cooking sprees, that he ramped it up in public to keep people distant. His voice was softer than usual as he elaborated that it wasn’t a good idea to get close to him. He said he was to blame for this trend of his relationship partners (romantic or platonic didn’t matter) getting hurt. With a seriousness he didn’t believe the man capable of, he made it clear he didn’t just mean bruised ego’s. Nothing good happened to the people he cared about.

Wash, ever the unofficial therapist at this point, countered by asking about Wyoming. Florida just tilted his head, long hair not quite hiding the sad way he smiled. As it turned out the man didn’t really care if he got hurt, because he’d be damned before he lost his “Little song bird.”

...Okay they could still be a little odd if they wanted to be.

CT was afraid for people. She kept reminding them hers weren’t just nightmares. No they were very real. Some day, she had snapped at Wash, they’d all be torn to shreds by this damned project, and they’d never be whole again.

To top off, all of their own nightmares, most of the ones with AI had to deal with double the demons. Theta feared just about anything remotely unsettling, Delta has issues when he can’t just logic a problem away and works himself into feedback loops trying to get a solution, Gamma would rage after having dreams of the slightest thought of being stolen from Wyoming, The twins easily whipped into absolute fits at the suggestion of being separated, and Sigma...well the crackling AI had only spoken once to Wash about them. All he said was he was plagued by the thought of not becoming real.

Everyone in the group other than Carolina and Tex had come to Wash at some point, eyes dark and heavy, voices unsteady. Even those with no voice at all.

The whole coin joke had gotten a little (a lotta) bit old at this point, but even what lurked in their dreams went hand in hand.

Maine had been tormented with drowning ever since he was little. His mother, he said, had snapped when he was seven. She had nearly succeeded in holding him under the bath water, but his fingers had snagged into the shower curtain, sending the metal support rod crashing to the tile and alerting his aunt who came to his rescue. If it was any deeper than a tub, he wanted nothing to do with it if it was up to him. Not that anyone ever asked before sending him on dive team missions.

It didn’t bother Wash to sit on the sidelines when the Director gave in to the demands for one shore week a year and dumped them in whatever beach town was closest to hand. He’d already guessed that Maine didn’t like water before they’d been given their AI, but when the full story was laid out before him, his stomach twisted into a sour lump.

So he shared the source of his own night terrors for the first time.

They were a total 180 Maine’s trauma, even in the root cause was similar. The older man’s voice broke before he could launch into it, thick with repressed emotion. Iota relayed the basic path the dreams seemed to take.

They always began with a smothering atmosphere. It could be a building, or a totally open space, but the air was always the same. Like a tiny broom closet in the height of summer. Then came the heat. The all consuming heat. He could feel the heat on his own arms, and when he looked down, Maine swore he saw his skin beginning to distort with blisters. Then he realized they were too dark to be his own.

He looks to Wash. Silence hangs between them for longer than normal. It gives him time to examine the patchy scars on his partner.

“...I told you my mom smoked.” was all he saw fit to say. It was all the explanation Maine needed. The penny had finally dropped. One side was water, the other side was fire.

---

The heat bloomed across his face, curling lazily along, as though it was pretending not to be either capable or intending to sear his flesh. Still, heat meant fire, and David could smell the acrid fumes from the rug that had caught first. When he looks to his hands, he doesn’t see the burns, but his power armor instead. Instinctively he flexes them, and the walls shimmer. Now, it’s his room on the Mother Of Invention. Maine walks in, chuffing a greeting.

The heat has not eased, nor has the smell. He is not awake.

Dream-Maine still had bandages stretching around his throat. They look filthy, like they’d never been changed. Instead of stitches and blood, the skin looks like charcoal. It’s cracked in places and infected pus oozes from everywhere. These observations are forgotten when an orange light flares into the place Eta is meant to be.

“Hello Agent Washington.” is all Sigma says before the room is consumed in flame.

---

Iota wakes him as she always does. By waking Eta, who then wakes Maine, who then wakes Wash. It’s a perfectly functional, and not at all round about system.

Maine can feel it before he’s even totally awake himself this time, the fire clawing at his arms. This was a particularly bad one then. Normally he just has the smell of smoke faintly hanging in the air. Reaching out, he gently tugs on a handful of Wash’s dreadlocks. The man jolts back, and Maine is lucky his nose just hurts like hell and isn’t broken.

“M-Maine?” there’s always this raw edge to Wash’s voice when he’s woken up from a fire dream. His hands reach back as he rolls over, thumbs brushing over where Maine had been shot. “Eta?”

The blue AI flickers into sight, curled up next to where Wash’s hand rests. “Yes?” he responds quietly, the small bunk bathed in blue light. Iota also fades in, making it an almost cheery spring green. There was a silent understanding that when either of the two woke like this, they both showed up, to chase away the colours of their nightmares. Green was safety for the pair. Green was grass on solid ground, untouched by fire or water.

“It...it wasn’t mom this time, Maine.” Wash’s fingers are trembling against Maine’s scars. “It was Sigma. He was your AI, not Eta. Instead of y-” his voice breaks. “-...you weren’t shot. You were burnt. It was awful and i-infected...he started the fire.”

“The fire’s gone, Wash. You’re awake, and we’re here.” Iota soothes him, petting his knuckles lightly.

“A-And we’re here.” Eta parrots, like he usually does when he’s unsure of what else to say. He tries to smile even if he knows it won’t be seen through the helmet. The pair can feel it through their bond and that’s what matters.

“Like he’d ever leave Carolina.” Maine rattles.

---

His mind felt like it was full of cotton. Just the voices. Wait...no.

The lack of voices. Voices that used to be there.

Still, he could make out Eta, Iota, and S-...well everyone he guessed. They begged, He begged Maine to just take Epsilon, take Beta, to escape and remember them all.

“Or-” the one that was the faintest, and yet the clearest of them all, “Do us a favor and just forget.”

Snow is swirling around him, he can feel everything as though it is real. Can see Wash, hear him pleading with the Meta.

He can’t stop. Fire is licking at the back of his mind, to just take the unit, to just remember- -or forget! Shut Up!

He shakes his head to try and clear the voices away. There are so many ghostly words. Candy coloured sim troopers are darting in and out of sight. Then he sees the cliff. He hears the icy water crashing below.

Pain laces in his chest, he hears the metal before he sees the hook being jammed into his wound. It burns with the hollow demands of Sigma, because of all the voices, his is the only one wanting to push through the pain, to be real, to be remembered.

At least in the nightmare, anyway.

Because that’s all it could be. As he’s dragged over the edge, he can see Wash. Hears him cry out his name for the first time in what feels like the history of the nightmares. Not Maine, not Meta, but his real name.

That’s what shatters the feeling of water in his lungs, of the weight of his armor pulling him under, because Wash would never do that. The dream falls apart around him because Wash would never call out his name. The name he hates.

---

Maine wakes to Wash’s elbow prodding his ribs. Judging by how hard the smaller man is coughing and gasping, he must’ve felt the water too. Wash checks again to be sure they are both awake, AI’s illuminating the darkness, before weakly croaking, “Holy shit, we gotta spend less time around Carolina if that fucking AI of hers won’t stop invading our dreams.” he thinks for a moment before adding.

“It’s almost like he’s setting up this whole other universe in our nightmares.”

PENNY PRESS

Eta and Iota seemed to have a knack for predictions. Practically speaking, this was used to map trajectories. Bullets, cars, car related bullets, and anything in between. Beyond that, they chose to create a game of it. Maine and Wash were forbidden from being involved, of course. Being able to influence results was considered cheating after all. Everything, and everyone else were fair game.

Eta had predicted a surprise shipment of fresh produce that had shown up. Iota called the next big fad among local kids. (Giant marbles the size of a fist.) Eta suggested the next time South would get sent to the med-bay, while Iota added who would put her there. (Wyoming) They both nailed York asking Carolina on a date. Eta provided the time, Iota saying that Carolina would sucker punch York in the jaw. In tandem they elaborated she would agree to it the next time she was alone with the lockpick. Little bets with nothing at stake but bragging rights.

Wash had started recording the predictions out of boredom more than anything. A blue gel pen for Eta, yellow gel pen for Iota, and a dark green one for collaborations. (A kid on the Mother Of Invention had given the Freelancer a handful of the glittery pens for helping with a game she’d been playing with her friends.) If they turned out to be right, a bright green highlighter swept across the line of text, orange if it was wrong. Question marks and confused cat faces if there was no real way to find out. (Cats are cute, okay?) The stack of pages grew steadily, and when York had asked about the loose sheets of paper, the answer left him looking confused. Wash had just shrugged before going back to his push ups.

However, the AI couldn’t actually see into the future, nor could they have predicted what was to come.

More accurately, they couldn’t know the full scope of the event. The core of what happened had been written in Wash’s notes many times over, each one varying slightly from the others. Wash kept them tucked away with the others that were disturbing or could cause trouble if they were stumbled across. It starts after South and Carolina are sent on a secretive mission. After they’d returned, South had grown uncharacteristically quiet. None of her usual leaderboard related hysterics. Of course she still glared daggers into the Director's back, but she held her tongue. After the team debrief later that afternoon, she’d vanished when everyone went back to their routines. Wash didn’t give it any thought until they’d grouped up for food.

He notices the hot tempered twin’s absence when he and Maine had settled in to eat across from North. The seat to the left of the blonde was vacant. “Hey, North?” Wash prompts.

“Hm?” The Freelancer was caught off guard with a mouthful of what passed for potato’s on this ship. He swallows quickly, giving a warm chuckle. “What’s up, Wash?”

“Is South alright?”

North is surprised. He hadn’t really expected Wash to be all that concerned over his sister’s absence. After the Director had selected Wash for Iota instead of her, she was making it her personal mission to burn down all their bridges and bury all good feelings between them. The poor old guy probably had no idea. Technically, Iota had always been meant for him, but when Eta had to go to Maine, South was operating under the assumption that Iota would be given to her as some sort of alternative prize.

In the days before the AI debacle, though she’d never admit it, South had found Wash to be a close friend. He was always there to listen after she was torn from sleep by nightmares, eventually waiting for her and offering a warm mug of tea. Now that he and Maine had their AI, Wash didn’t seem to show up when she did. (Unbeknownst to her, he would be there, half an hour later, wondering what he was doing wrong.)

“She, uh, didn’t say anything, but she never misses chow time, so you know she’ll show up eventually.” North says, smiling gently.

Wash looks like he’s going to press the issue when Maine grunts some indecipherable sequence of tones at his partner, who responds as if the behemoth of a man had spoken perfect English. “No, North’s right, it’s Carolina that’s always missing.” a snort “Okay, yeah her and Tex. But South’s here all the time.” a rattle, with a slight shake of his head. “She is!” a dismissive hand motion. “Her literal twin fucking brother just said so! Also, we’re not here on time constantly. She’s normally gone before we show up.”

Maine seems to accept this argument, turning back to his tray and doing that magic trick where he makes food vanish in the blink of an eye.

An alarm slices through the din of the room easily. The lights suddenly pop, throwing the mess hall into darkness. After a few heart stopping seconds, the red emergency lights come on, casting eerie shadows.

“Agents, please evacuate the ship immediately. This is not a drill. Do not await orders. You will be contacted when it is safe to return.” FILSS drones over the speakers.

“Agents-” the voice of the Counselor cuts in. He sounds alarmed, which is always a very bad sign. “-you must get as far from the ship as possible. You are permitted to leave the planet, as long as you come when we contact you. That is all, agents. Leave now .”

The Mother Of Invention shudders in the open air docking station. Inside, Wash can hear the explosions. He snatches both his and Maine’s helmets from under the table, tossing the domed one over his shoulder where he instinctively knows his partner caught it.

One of the great things about Project Freelancer was their ability to mobilize in seconds to any given command. For a short time, they move as a pack. Then they start splitting off and before long, North is the only one alongside Maine and Wash. They all keep their sidearms ready, unsure of the danger that could be stalking the halls. Judging by the scale of the evacuation, it could be just about anything. North finally speaks to the pair after shouting angrily into his audio communication line for five minutes.

“Alright, I’ll stay with you until you get to the launch bay, then head back to find South. Four Seven Niner says she’s going to try and keep space for us as long as she can. The entire crew is abandoning ship.” He sounds frustrated, shaking his head. “This is insane.”

Theta appears on North’s shoulder, projection distorting ever so slightly from the stress. “T-That sounds really dangerous, North. We don’t even know where she might be.”

North swings around the corner of a hall, glancing over at his AI, “Do you trust me Theta?”

“ ‘Course I do.” The purple and pink unit sighs softly. “I just don’t trust things that set off explosions in the ship.”

“It’ll be fine, buddy. I promise. Maine and Wash have us covered.” North soothes.

“Until we get to the ships and go back towards where stuff’s blowing up.” There’s an edge of a pout in Theta’s voice.

“South won’t take long t-”

The group skids to a halt. A wavering light has caught North’s keen eye. When he looks again, he can see his sister at the end of the hall. She’s standing, still as stone. North’s tension melts away, and the relief is clear in his voice.

“See, there she is. Hey, sis’!” he calls out, waving her over.

South turns to look at them. There’s something very off in her motions, like someone else is wearing her skin. She draws nearer and Wash can see what looks like embers dancing across the contours of her armor. A cool, familiar voice fills the corridor.

“As I said, South. He’ll be a breeze.” firelight throws colour along the jawline of her helmet. “Take them out.”

She raises her arm, smoother than she’d ever been before, and fires. The twin AI units run their algorithms.

The shots have a handful of possibilities, mostly involving Wash. He can move towards the others, taking the rounds in his shoulder. He can dive into the empty hall at his other side, but the bullets would hit him in the neck or chest. There’s the option of ducking, but the risk of getting tagged in the visor rather than the reinforced metal was very likely. Finally, Maine could always play meat shield.

They unanimously decide on the first choice. So Wash slams into Maine’s side, and it’s not as bad as it could have been. He’s shot, but it doesn’t feel like the bullets hit anything too terribly important. It still deadens feeling in his arm and hurts like a bitch though.

“Go, go!” North shouts, shoving at Maine while he starts laying down covering fire. He wishes he’d gotten ahold of his rifle but the pistol will have to suffice. “Don’t stop, I’ll be fine!” he can hear the two retreat, and Theta blinks in once more.

“I’m scared, North. I did a scan and her AI slot is filled.”

“I-” the male twin swallows hard around the lump in his throat. “Just trust me, bud.”

Souths moving again. Fast. Faster than North knew she was capable of.

Theta prepares his shield. “I do North. Her, not so much.”

The dome goes up. North lets out a breath. “Let’s start.”

---

Maine keeps Wash’s injured arm tucked between them as they make a mad dash for the launch bay. Eta is rambling nervously in his ear. Wash hisses from the pain.

“I-Iota? What the fuck was that? What just happened?” thudding footfalls bounce around the narrow halls noisily. Iota forms like golden fog, helmet flicking around, watching their blind spots. “I would think it obvious, Wash.” her tone is thick with apprehension. “South attacked us.”

“You heard him too.”

Iota wavers at the edges, wisps of gold curling away from her sides. She nods curtly. “I did.”

“Why is he here then? Omega’s the only one that can jump instead of needing to be implanted.” Wash falters when there’s a series of gunshots followed by an all too familiar cry of pain in the distance. Main urges him on. They’re too close to stop now. “...Where’s Carolina?”

Wash’s question hangs heavy over the group like a wet blanket. The implications of it were too much to linger on. They had no room, no time for what it entailed.

An intercom crackles overhead, yet all that comes is static. They push on, Wash steadily growing more dizzy as time passed. They’re in the home stretch. The launch bay is an utter madhouse. The whole of the Mother Of Invention is there, seemingly. People dash in and out of their way. Wash can see the commanding officers of the dive team herding staff and soldiers into one of the waiting Pelicans. The officer in charge of the secondary drop ship crew looks as if someone caught him in the nose, a trail of blood running from it and dripping from his beard. It was unsettling to see these soldiers he only ever saw in their full gear with just the kevlar suits and civvies to keep them safe. It makes the danger of the situation all too real.

Maine spots Four Seven Niner and starts bodily shoving his way through the crowd. Florida stands on the ramp of the Pelican, ushering a soldier on cobalt armor along. The pair reaches the ship and it hits Maine. He can see the solid wall of people crammed into the back, huddled together like refugees. The realization forming at the base of his mind already has Eta rebelling frantically in his head. When Four Seven Niner looks at the pait, Maine has already made his choice.

“What the hell took you?! Where’s North?”

“Got held up.” Wash mumbles, words slurring. Blood has started seeping through the gaps of his suit.

The pilot looks at Maine, and he knows what she’s going to say. Before she can, he’s already pulling back from Wash. Eta speaks to her for him, voice trembling. “Wash needs medical attention. T-Take him.”

Four Seven Niner moves to pull Wash onto her ship and the older man panics.

“Wait, what? Maine, C’mon what’s-- Maine? Maine?!” he cries out struggling to free himself from the pilot. She grunts, gripping at the back of Wash’s armor, hauling him away from his partner. “Maine, NO!- Eta, please, what’s going on?!” his good arm reaches out, straining to get back to Maine.

Maine is quiet, head bowed slightly, hands curled into tight, shaking fists. Eta is openly distraught, light peeling away from him in flakes. He wants so much to get to Wash, to Iota, but Maine has backed too far away, the invisible leash between them is too tight.

Iota is unable to project herself as anything more than mist, rolling like thunderclouds. She’s beyond words, the sounds can only be compared to wailing.

“There’s no room Wash.” Maine rumbles in a way bordering on sounding pathetic.

Wash’s voice breaks, screaming, “There’s room! There’s room, please don’t leave me! We can’t be separated! The AI, they-”

“Wash, no . There is no more room. It’s just for a little bit. It’ll be fine .”

Four Seven Niner shoves a random officer out of the nearest seat, pushing him towards the standing room in the middle. She strongarms Wash into the chair, locking down the harness and overriding the safety measures so the Freelancer can’t pop it open when she moves away. With an air of finality, she turns to Maine. “Parker still has space. Now back up.” She orders, hand slamming on the controls. The hatch shuts with a resounding echo.

Maine forces Eta’s rising hysteria down. He makes his way to the secondary officer. It’s not until the ship is in the air, ground swiftly shrinking away, that it fully sinks in. For the first time since Eta and Iota were implanted, he and Wash were well and truly separated.

---

“Florida, get over to Wash and patch him up.” Four Seven Niner tosses a first aid kid towards the soft spoken man before heading into the cockpit. “And try to keep him from puking on my floor, please.”

“Of course.” he’s been more tame than usual. “C’mon fella, let’s get you set.” He pulls at the latches holding the armor to Wash’s right arm. The older man squirms, trying to get away from the contact. Finally Florida tugs Wash’s limb out and leans so his hip is pinning Wash at the wrist. He gets to work, biofoam filling the holes South punched into him. Four neatly placed wounds, perfectly curving around the edge of the armor plating. Florida lightly gets Wash to pull away from the seat so he can patch the exit wounds.

“You’re very lucky.” he explains, looping gauze around his shoulder. “They’re all clean from what I can see, didn’t hit bone, by the looks of it.”

There’s a disturbingly cold laugh that floats from Wash. It makes him sound like something deep inside is broken. “How do you call this lucky?”

Florida jerks the gauze ever so slightly, earning a surprised gasp from Wash. “You’re alive. That is luck, whether you like it or not.” the man pauses for a second. “Now, it’s not my place, but let me tell you this. You, my dear Wash, are going to go through hell. You have many paths ahead of you. They branch out in all directions, each sprouting from one of two main roads. One begins at your death. It starts the paths of which you will never walk. Others travel them for you. They can carry on where you left off. They can rally friends and strangers, create a movement in your name. Yet they can also let you go. They can hold your loss close to their hearts. Suffer quietly, or-” Florida pauses, securing the bandages. “-they could forget. About you. About everything.”

The only sounds are the engines of the Pelican. The soldier in cobalt watches them closely, along with the rest that gathered in the shuttle. Florida just packs away the remaining supplies into the kit.

“On the other hand, there’s always the second path. The one where you survive. It is one of constant change. Branches grow, and branches die. They are perpetually shifting. This road is walked by you. You can take revenge. You can make those that wronged you suffer. You can become the things you hate the most. You can be a leader, or trail in the wake others leave behind. You can walk these trails as a myth. This path, you must understand, can destroy all you stand for. It can also hold the key to where you truly belong.” Florida stands, hip cocked. “Of course, many of it’s dirty lanes and back alleys lead you to him. To Maine.”

Wash flinches as though he’s been shot again. His voice is weak, almost timid sounding. “Why are you telling me this?”

“Because a very long time ago, someone told me the same thing.” he explains, stretching his long arms over his head. “And now I’m here, with the chance to give the same advice to you.”

Wash can’t help staring. Iota is still terrified but she seems less...scream-y. Florida just pats Wash’s good shoulder.

“Also, consider it a thanks for helping me and Wyoming with the emotional junk.”

Four Seven Niner shouts from the cockpit. “Cut the heart-to-heart, we’ve got major turbulence on the way. Brace yourselves!”

Florida starts to move away when Wash croaks, “Stay with me, Flo’.”

He stops, returning to where he was, leaning against the wall. “For as long as you need me.”

---

Wash gets out of the Pelican with Florida (Who is now going by his real name for some reason.) and the cobalt soldier. He’d introduced himself as Church. Wash gives Florida an apprehensive look, but they don’t address it. Now that the healing foam had done its work, Wash has feeling back in his arm, though it’s not as good as it would have been with proper medical attention. Florida says he should go over to the far base and stay with them. Something about team balance. Iota’s proximity alarm goes off and Wash has his gun drawn in a split second. “Come out now, I know you’re there.”

A soldier in regulation red launches from the scrub bushes whooping, “HY-AAA! Stop right there ya’ dirty blue- wait, who the heck are you?”

“Agent Washington, I’m-”

“Aaagent, huh?” the odd man rubs at the chin guard of his helmet. “Some sorta special ops? Who sent ya’? You workin’ for them rotten blue vipers?”

“Blue...vipers?” Wash almost doesn’t want to know.

The stranger starts muttering loudly to himself. “Them evil no good, Blue army of Satan.”

Wash glances behind himself at the base where Florida and Church had vanished into. “Do you mean the other base?”

“The den of sin itself!”

“...May I speak to your other teammates?”

---

Wash lays in the bunk he’d been granted at Red base, surrounded by three very distinctive, almost cartoonish snores. He plugs a code into his text communication feed.

WASH: C0N7C724110

AUTOMATIC RESPONSE: Ping sent to contact [Maine]. Channel is clear, ping returned.

By the looks of it something had wiped out the logs. Great.

This is the start of your history with user [Maine].

Wash rolls over, thinking aloud to Iota, “Seems like his helmet’s intact at least.”

She fades in, edges blurry. “I miss them.”

“I know, I do too. I’m texting Maine so we can find each other.”

“Tell them I miss them.”

Wash nods, pulling up the text feed again.

WASH: Maine?

MAINE: are you two safe

WASH: Yes.

WASH: You and Eta alright?

MAINE: we are

WASH: Iota wants you to know she misses you guys.

MAINE: we miss her too

MAINE: where are you two

WASH: This tiny box canyon called Blood Gulch. One of our simulation bases. Florida and some guy calling himself Private Church are the only ones other than me that got dropped here. Where are you?

MAINE: dunno. parker said we’re several planets over from you. doesn’t have the fuel to bring us closer

MAINE: eta says “please don’t cry”

Wash blinks, finding his face wet. He scrubs at his cheeks.

WASH: Sorry. Guess we know the Bond’s still strong, huh?

MAINE: mhmm

WASH: What are we gonna do?

MAINE: we’re gonna find each other. parker just landed. he said he’s gonna help me. once we get enough gas, we’ll be there. just stay in blood gulch. he knows the place.

MAINE: whos with you other than flo’

WASH: This place is stuffed full of crazy people.

WASH: I could go all night, seriously.

MAINE: eta wants you to tell a story so describe them

WASH: Okay, so there’s two teams.

MAINE: red and blue

WASH: Yes.

WASH: I’m not familiar with the Blues, Flo’s the one crashing their party, not me.

WASH: Red’s run by a dude called Sarge.

WASH: Literally

WASH: Sarge.

MAINE: bs

WASH: It’s totally true.

WASH: Iota says he had it legally changed, from the file she read on him.

MAINE holy shit

WASH: He’s batshit. He would kill me if he found out I didn’t tell you he hates Blue team. Seriously if Florida landed over here, he’d be shot on sight for that blue armor.

MAINE: hes not planning on staying with you?

WASH: Nah.

WASH: Blood Gulch is way too into their little RvB games that we’d become targets if we tried moving around too much.

WASH: We’ll meet in the caves if we have to.

MAINE: stay safe

WASH: I will. Back to the story.

WASH: So Sarge was the first one I found.

WASH: He set off Iota’s prox’ alarm and came out of the bushes, hooting and hollering about “Them dirty blues” and demanding to know if I was from their “den of sin.” (he means their base)

WASH: He’s going on about all of this with a shotgun in my damn face. So I’m like, please gods let there be another soldier here.

MAINE: was there?

WASH: Yeah, three of them. A married couple and a robot that only speaks Spanish.

MAINE: married?

MAINE: they told you that?

WASH: No, but if they aren’t at least dating I’d be shocked.

WASH: They act like York and Carolina.

Something twinges painfully in Wash’s heart.

WASH: ...Maine?

MAINE: ?

WASH: I’m scared.

MAINE: i know

WASH: I can’t do this.

MAINE: yes you can

WASH: What do I do without you and Eta?

MAINE: you spent 43 years of your life without me

MAINE: you saved your squad from their c.o.

MAINE: you survived a fire

MAINE: you took care of your sisters when you went to foster care

MAINE: you are strong

MAINE: you are capable

MAINE: you can do this wash

MAINE: and we have the bond

MAINE: this will all be over soon

WASH: …

MAINE: get some sleep. eta says its been 22 hours since you took a breather

MAINE: <3

[Maine] sent a file: [R1D3R50N8.mp3]

MAINE: have iota play this

WASH: Before I do.

MAINE: ?

WASH: Promise you won’t forget me.

MAINE: how could i

MAINE: you are the one man thats ever had a grappling hook snag his balls and live to tell the tale

WASH: wkjrtoertngbfj;

MAINE: night wash

WASH: Night ASSHOLE.

WASH: …<3

---

It had been seven months and Wash was slowly beginning to feel less fearful every waking (and sleeping) moment. On the flip side, his anxiety of never getting Maine and Eta back grew. He’d started to get comfortable with the Reds, though. Their dynamic had shifted to accommodate his needs, nightmares and all. That did wonders for making him feel alright with the current state of his life. Simmons had taken it upon himself to track down Wash when he roamed at night, handing him a glass of water and waiting until he returned to his bunk.

It was nice.

Wash walked into the kitchen, seeing the maroon soldier sitting at the table, coffee (one sugar cube and a splash of milk.) cup clutched in one hand. His leg bounces rapidly while Simmons stares holes into a patch of wall. “Hey,” Wash prompts softly. “You alright?”

Simmons head swivels to stare owlishly at the Freelancer. “Wash, have you ever been in love?”

He’s thrown for a loop. “I, uh, yeah, I’ve got a partner…”

There’s a sharp ‘tick tick tick’ as Simmons drums his metal fingers against the mug. He sips. He waits. Sips again.

Wash starts making his own cup of joe, (two sugars, a dash of whatever flavouring he could get his hands on. Currently banana.) and after a moment of paranoia, he slips off his helmet, setting it on the counter.

“What’s it like?” Simmons blurts out, startling Wash into fumbling with his mug.

“I don’t- wait, are you asking what love is like?”

Simmons nods quickly. He looks at Wash as if the Freelancer holds the key to all of life’s greatest mysteries.

“Don’t you know? You and Grif are a thing, how do yo-”

“ExcusemewhataboutGrifandI?!” Simmons squeaks “Athing?!”

Wash just lost a long standing bet with Iota. She’s grinning at the back of his thoughts. Wash sips his own coffee. “I’d been operating under the assumption that you two had been married for years before I showed up.” Wash intentionally ignores the way Simmons is so red he could be comparable to a tomato.

Simmons mouth flaps open and closed like a fish. He coughs. “That...uh, that sort of answers my question I guess.” The barest hint of a smile reaches his face. “I’ve always thought since basic, that if Grif was a girl, I’d ask...actually, no I wouldn’t be able to talk to him if he was a girl. I’m terrified of talking to girls. I’d definitely be less ashamed about having…” the man gestures vaguely. “Thoughts involving him.”

“Oh, really?”

Simmons damn near hits the roof as he jumps out of his chair, coffee clattering to the ground, mug miraculously not shattering. Wash is just sitting there, admittedly startled, but not reacting outwardly. Grif smirks from the doorway, towel slung around his shoulders. His hair was dry, though, meaning he’d been heading to the showers and not returning from them. He crooks a finger, beckoning the maroon soldier to follow. “C’mere man, got some stuff I want to hash out with you.”

“M-Me??” Simmons balks.

Grif nods smoothly.

Wash simply gives Simmons one of his rare lopsided smiles, making a shooing motion at him. “Sorry, can’t help you with this part. Go on.”

He watches the pair leave and that old familiar ache is back in his chest. He stares at his own reflection in his half full cup. Maine said the timeline was looking upwards of two or three years. The sector they’d gotten stuck in was in an energy crisis and they’d have to earn fuel like everyone else on the planet.

Sarge walks in, Wash giving a slight wave before running his fingers through his dreadlocks.

“So. Ya’ got a partner, huh?”

Realistically, Wash should have expected Sarge to be awake. Grif was the only nightowl of their team. Still, he’s a bit taken aback by the gruff man’s bluntness.

“Yes, uhm...we were part of the same unit. It was...attacked, and we were separated during the escape.” Wash sighs. “He and the pilot of his Pelican are stranded several planets over. They don’t have the gas to get here, so they told me to stay put until they can get to me”

Sarge takes a seat next to the Freelancer. “He got a name?”

“Maine.”

“You two must’a had hippie parents, huh?” the soldier snorts, reaching for an outdated newspaper.

“They aren’t our real names, just what we go by...in any case, you should be careful when you meet strangers using states as names. Especially  Texas.” Wash warns, dark eyes fixed on the other man.

“What’s wrong with Texas?”

“Don’t. Fuck. With. Texas.” He snaps, rolling his bad shoulder to ease the tightness that had built up in it. “Seriously, the dude will tie you into a knot.”

“If yer’ so spooked by the fella, can’t say I’m too keen on givin’ him a go myself, if I’m bein’ honest with ya’.” Sarge gets up to fill his own mug (black, like the souls of the Blues) with the last dregs of the pot.

“Tex is a chick.” Wash goes over to rinse out his empty cup.

“A girl named Texas?” Sarge squints at Wash’s back.

“It makes sense in the context of our group.” he replies, drying the glass with a clean rag.

“Whatever.” The leader of Red team snorts, going back to his paper. “Just tell me when yer boy’s on his way so I can make sure he ain’t some Blue tryin’ to get chummy with a good, honest Red like yerself.”

Wash can’t suppress a chuckle, “I think I’d know if he was a Blue, Sarge.” he says, snapping his helmet back on. “I’m going to start patrol, now.”

---

WASH: Sarge asked about you again.

MAINE: third time this week

WASH: I think he’s adopted me or something like that. Trying to make sure you’re an upstanding citizen.

MAINE: we both kill people on a regular basis for work

WASH: By upstanding citizen, I mean “not a Blue.”

MAINE: because he thinks you’re a red

WASH: Yup.

WASH: Told him your eye colour.

MAINE: why

WASH: He fucking asked, this is the crazy war vet’, remember?

MAINE: right

MAINE: how’re the others

WASH: Lopez has 100% figured out I can speak Spanish.

MAINE: iota can you just read when she subtitles it for you

WASH: Let me have this Maine.

MAINE: eta says to credit the ai for their hard work and also that they’re not google translate

WASH: Sorry Eta.

MAINE: he forgives you

WASH: Good. Anyway, I told you last time, that Simmons spilled the beans to Grif.

MAINE: mhmm

WASH: I’m pretty sure it’s official now. Caught them all curled up on the sofa this morning.

[Wash] sent a file: [GRIMMONSISCANON.jpg]

MAINE: thats almost as cute as the one of you with the cats

WASH: There’s tons of strays here.

WASH: And they’re all mine now.

MAINE: we can’t keep them

WASH: I know. They were well fed before I showed up, so they’re fine without me. Right now, they’re mine though.

MAINE: i gotta go

WASH: Seriously? It’s already work time?

MAINE: drilling rigs start before dawn wash

WASH: Lame.

MAINE: <3 night

WASH: <3 Morning.

---

Wash confirms his suspicions, watching Blue base from the sniping nest he’d hidden high up in the cliffs. (North would be so proud of him) Florida hadn’t come back in weeks, and today was no different. Instead all he saw was the one Blue team member he didn’t know getting into a nice familiar teal set of armor. The Freelancer sighs. He heads down from his perch and finds Simmons first.

“I’m certain their leader is either dead, or has abandoned them.”

Simmons starts, voice off-kilter. He, along with the other Reds, could never seem to sense Wash when he approached them. Besides the thin man was easily startled anyway. “H-How do you figure?”

“It’s been over a month since I last had a visual of him, and the one private has just liberated his armor.” Wash reports, deadpan.

“So,” Grif drawls, lounging in the shade of one of the jutting concrete hides. “Teal isn’t the high score target in Rock Chuck anymore, is what you’re saying.”

“If you actually shot as well as you score in your stupid game, this war would be over much faster.” Wash sighs, slinging the rifle across his back.

“Meh.”

“Ladies! Hn, ladies, and freaky clairvoyant spec’ ops’ folks, front and center!” Bellows Sarge from below.

As he hops down, Wash pulls up the text comm’ he has with Grif and Simmons. Grif had been the last to update and- oh.

GRIF: 8==D~

WASH: Grif, that’s disgusting.

[Wash] sent a file: [54W5U5K.jpg]

WASH: There, much better.

GRIF: Prick

WASH: Shush.

WASH: Anyone know why Sarge is calling me psychic, because this is the fifth time he’s done it.

GRIF: He thinks you talk when there’s no one around at night

WASH: People talk in their sleep, Grif. Simmons does it all the time.

GRIF: Yeah well dreams don’t talk back, smart ass.

Wash goes pale, glad his visor masks the reaction. He only talked to Iota out loud when he thought everyone was asleep or out of the base. Fuck.

WASH: Dunno.

GRIF: That’s a dodgy response, but I guess you’re always like that

GRIF: I don’t really care

SIMMONS: Sarge is talking, you unbelievable douchebags.

Wash looks up to see a car launch off the hill and recoils instinctively. For a moment he just stares, then, “Nope. Fuck this, I’m going on patrol.”

Sarge almost can’t comprehend the response, “Where are ya goin’ soldier?! This is a perfectly deadly car, we’re gonna take her for a spin!”

“It only has three seats, and I’m going to let you in on a secret. Cars hate me, and I hate them back. Anyway, someone needs to keep an eye on the Blues while you’re joyriding.” Wash doesn’t stop walking, and hears Sarge sniffle dramatically behind his back.

“What a good officer. Grif! Take notes!”

---

The Freelancer can hear the mortar fire from below, rushing out the back to be met with a literal godsdamned tank in his face. A tank that sounds exactly like FILSS, if he’s being honest. “Iota, you think you can manage?”

“I’m insulted you feel the need to ask that.” she retorts, voice brisk in the mind they share. “Even more so that you don’t think you can manage without my assistance. You’ve taken down far more threatening things than a Scorpion class tank.”

“Yeah, yeah, my bad. C’mon, let’s get to work.” he grouses, launching towards the tank, dodging an explosion beautifully. Not that it was even really aiming for the Freelancer. Jesus. These sims were so blessed that they hadn’t managed to kill one of their own yet. Wash lands on the tanks canopy, fingers curling into the slats cut into the sides.

“Oh, hello!”

Wash glances beneath himself. There’s a soldier he’s never seen before in regulation blue staring at the barrel of Wash’s pistol.

“My name is Caboose!” He sounds delighted before Wash wrenches open the hatch. When the older man hauls him out of the cockpit by his shoulder, he just whines about ‘not hurting Sheila’. Ignoring him, Wash slides inside the tank, and turns to Iota. She shows up faintly in his peripherals.

“You know the drill by now.”

She giggles coldly.

The tank fries.

He can’t wait to tell Maine about this.

WASH: A mother

WASH: fucking

WASH: tank

WASH: I killed a tank, Maine.

MAINE: you told me 7 times today

WASH: Carolina wo--

Wash stops, erasing it. He switches to something different.

WASH: Yeah, but I got it good.

MAINE: eta says to tell you ‘yes she would have been very proud of you’

WASH: Change the subject.

MAINE: we’ve got a little less than 2/3rds to go

WASH: I can’t wait.

MAINE: yes you can

WASH: Don’t want to.

MAINE: two different things

WASH: ...Maine, I think Florida’s dead.

MAINE: what?

WASH: Or he left, but he isn’t someone that just...leaves.

WASH: He’s been missing for 5 weeks.

MAINE: you know flo’ he’s full of surprises

WASH: They sent another Blue to fill their ranks.

WASH: He shot that Church guy that came with me and Flo’.

WASH: Iota keeps saying Church isn’t dead.

MAINE: she’s probably right

WASH: You know what that means, right?

MAINE: ai

WASH: Mhmm.

WASH: Shit. Hang on.

MAINE: ?

WASH: gtg <3

MAINE: stay safe <3

It has been 17 hours since your last message to user [Maine]

WASH: Tex.

MAINE: ?

WASH: She’s -here-.

MAINE: run

---

Another year and a half had slipped by. Roughly. Wash had started to lose track of time. His wrists still aches dully where Tex had snapped it. His right arm was all sorts of fucked up now. Strangely enough, he and Tex are sitting next to each other in Wash’s sniping nest. He wasn’t totally clear on what events had brought her to him, but here they are. Wind whips around them, and Wash can’t shake the feeling that something big is on the horizon.

“I’m impressed.”

Wash tilts his head. Surely he hadn’t heard that right. “Come again?”

“You’ve gotten softer than when we first met.” Tex is calm, treating this as if it were a debriefing. Wash can feel his face burning, shame creeping up his neck. Knowingly, however, he waits. Something is telling him she’s not done yet. “But you’ve gotten stronger. You’re faster to move and react. You’re more aware of your environment. Your knife work would have made CT’s day to see. Can’t believe you actually got me.” she lays a hand over the hidden scar just under her ear, dangerously close to being lethal.

Coming from Tex, this is praise of the highest degree. Wash stares at his hands. His life was so fucking weird. Tex gets to her feet, watching over the canyon, surrounded by that dangerous air that followed her like a ghost. She slips away, cloaking herself and vanishing from the cliff. Just like that, Wash is alone with his thoughts once more.

It’s hours before anything disturbs him.

MAINE: hey

WASH: ?

MAINE: what are you wearing

WASH: Excuse me?!

MAINE: d:

MAINE: joking aside

MAINE: i’ll see you in 12 hours

WASH: …

MAINE: c:

WASH: Holy

WASH: shit

MAINE: breathe wash, see you then

MAINE: <3

WASH: <#

WASH: shit

WASH: * <3

Wash’s heart is pounding as he scrambles down the cliff face. Iota flashes in, form more solid than she’d been in three years. Trails of mist mark their path, pulling away from her and dissipating into the air.

“Easy, Wash.” she warns, but there’s no controlling the excitement bubbling up in her voice. Through the Bond, he can feel Eta’s presence at the edges of Iota’s place in his mind. Pure, unadulterated joy was the only way he could describe the feeling. “We don’t need you breaking your neck, or whatever it is that breaks when you fall off a cliff.”

“I know, I know!” he laughs, letting that joy feed into his own. It had been so long since he’d been allowed to feel Iota for what she truly was. Happiness. It’s infectious, and all encompassing. He missed this so much. Wash safely makes it to the floor of the canyon, bringing up a text comm’ he’d never touched outside of missions.

This is the start of your history with user [Texas]

WASH: Tex, Maine’s gonna be here in 12 hours.

WASH: Try to not shoot him, please.

TEX: How much you willing to pay so I don’t.

WASH: Tex, c’mon.

TEX: Cheapskate.

WASH: Shoot that new guy on your side or something if you have to.

TEX: Okay.

Wash closes the text feed and skids into Red base. “Sarge!” he calls out, looking around the common area, noticing Grif. “Grif, where’s Sarge?”

“Why the hell are you looking for him?” Grif groans from where he’s draped across the couch. “Are you high?”

“Where would I even get drugs here? Why are you asking me that?”

“ ‘Cause you’re happy.” The orange soldier grabs a beer from the coffee table. “Like, really happy. We’re talking like, I’m getting freaked out because you’re so happy, happy.”

Sarge leans out from where Red team stores their ammo (and Oreo’s because Grif can’t be bothered to put them away, so one of his many junk hoards has appeared alongside the bullets). “What’s got yer panties in a twist, soldier?”

“It’s Maine!” Wash is grinning like a fool under his helmet. “Maine’s going to be here in twelve hours!” the Freelancer can’t even stay still, he bounces slightly on the heels of his boots.

“Yer boyfriend?” Sarge looks bemused. “He’d better meet up to my veeeery high expectations fer him. Oh, one more thing.”

“Hm? What is it, sir?”

“Why’s there a damn ghost on yer shoulder?”

Wash jolts, realizing he’d left Iota to her own devices. She jumps as well before vanishing into a puff of golden light. “I, uh, you remember that Omega, I mean, O’ Malley guy?”

Sarge grunts, “Radio jumpin’ fella?”

The Freelancer nods. “Yeah, she’s kinda like him, but she can’t jump to others. She’s my AI, Iota. She’s nice, though, unlike Omega.”

“She better not start hauntin’ us.”

“No, she can’t do that, Sarge. She’s stuck with me.” Wash corrects another example of this group's strange fixation with ghosts.

“Just know I’m watchin’ her.” Sarge squints at him. Iota fades in, arms crossed.

“I can hear you, sir.” She says, tone light and playful.

“Good! A proper soldier is always listenin’!”

Wash cuts in, a half chuckle stuttering out. “Sorry, but we really gotta start getting ready.”

“Son, it’s not for another twelve hours, ain’t it?”

“Yeah but-” Wash pauses, thinking for a half second. “I guess so, but we just gotta go, Sarge. Okay?” He turns to dash off before the other man can really get a word in.

Grif leans out of the way, so Wash doesn’t barrel through his team mate. He throws a glance down the hall to where Simmons is standing, wringing his hands together. Grif smirks around the unlit cigarette between his lips. “Wait for a few days before you mob him over the AI thing. Your nerd-gasm can wait.”

---

Wash stands on the top of Red base, breathing quickly, eyes watching the aircraft hovering in the open field. He waits as the Pelican touches down. Mere minutes seemed to crawl on for hours. Then the hatch hissed, depressurizing. It opened smoothly, tracing a perfect arc through the air until it came to rest on the half-dead grass. Wash can feel his breath hitch. Maine is glancing around as he exits the craft. Only then does Wash allow himself to move. The Freelancer runs with everything he can muster, bolting across the dusty earth.

“MAINE!” streams from his mouth like steam. It mixes with laughter that must be his own, but he can’t find it in himself to care anymore. Not when Maine is there, waiting for him.

Maine turns, catching an armful of of excited Wash so the impact wouldn’t knock him off his feet. He spins a small bit with the force anyway, broken, wheezing chuckles filling the air. Eta and Iota speak in every possible language they can think of to express what they feel.

For the first time since their implantation, Wash can’t tell where he ended and Iota began and where she stopped and Eta started. Unlike last time, however, Wash doesn’t want to feel anything else. “I can’t- I-I can’t believe you’re here.” Wash admits, knowing that he must be a mess, crying and laughing. It had been three or so years that he hadn’t let himself truly cry. That he’d stuffed any strong emotional reaction into a box and locked it away. He hiccups, gasping for air.

Maine sets him down, but keeps close to the man. “Easy.” he rumbles. “Easy, now. Just keep breathing.” he trails off with a hum, rubbing gently at Wash’s bad shoulder.

Wash giggles, because that’s the only word that can fit the sound he just made. He wraps his arms around Maine’s thick waist, resting his head against the man’s broad chest. He sucks in as much air as he can, not even noticing the heat and dust for once. His body trembles with the adrenaline rush.

“Ah-EM.”

Wash simply blinks, glancing over his shoulder. All of the Reds have crowded around and are ogling the pair.

Sarge is at the head of the pack, shotgun resting in his arms. “Y’ didn’t say you were datin’ a giant, Wash.”

Maine snorts.

Wash reluctantly extracts himself from his partner’s arms. “Maine, these are the Reds.” he points to each as he goes down the line. “Sarge, Grif, Simmons, and Lopez. We had a rookie a while ago but he went...missing.”

An interested hiss.

“No, you probably wouldn’t like him if you’d met him.” Wash waves a hand dismissively.

“Okay, my bullshit detector is going off.” Grif complains, hands on his hips. “I know for a fact that those weren’t real words in any language.” he justifiably points out.

“He got shot in the throat.” Wash starts, noticing the way Simmons recoils, hand going up to touch the kevlar covering his own neck. “Let’s just say I’m fluent in Maine-Speak and leave it at that. Let’s go talk in the base, alright?”

---

Wash is relaxed. He and Maine are in the common room, laid out on the couch. They both still have their armor on, out of habit more than anything else. They practically lived in the suits anyway. Wash’s head is resting in Maine’s lap, close to falling asleep when he feels large fingers run under the edge of his helmet. Maine finds the locks keeping the grey and yellow mask on, flicking them open. Easing it off, Maine takes in the sight. Wash, as he had suspected when he’d lifted the man earlier, had lost weight. A drastic amount in the larger soldier’s opinion. His temples had slightly sunken in, and the ever present bags under his eyes were deeper and darker than Maine thought was possible.

Quietly, he pulls off his own helmet, tossing it aside and rests his forehead against Wash’s. They stay like this, just listening to each other breathe.

Finally, a half-asleep Wash mumbles, “I’m so lucky."

[b-is-not-failing]

prokaryotes

hello! this is the first of (hopefully) many study posts. today i'm covering prokaryotes, specifically what they are and how they function. i am a student and not an expert in any of this, so please feel free to correct any incorrect information, or ask questions if you have anything you want clarified!

evolution

prokaryotes (organisms that make up domains bacteria and archaea) have incredible evolutionary success, which has allowed them to become the most widespread organisms on earth. their small size and insanely rapid reproduction rates is one trait that has allowed them this success - because of how quickly they can reproduce, there is a very short span of time between evolution. this plus frequent mutations equal super saiyan evolution speeds!

prokaryotes also have a wide range of adaptations, which allows them to live in a wide variety of environments, including very extreme ones.

so what are prokaryotes?

prokaryotes are single-celled organisms with no nucleus or membrane-bound organelles. as far as we know, they are the first organisms to inhabit earth. because they have been around for literally billions of years, they have incredible diversity.

prokaryotes are itty-bitty, even compared to eukaryotic cells. they typically range from 0.5-5 micrometers. one notable exception, however, is Thiomargarita namibiensis, which can be up to 750 micrometers (bigger than a poppy seed).

what do they look like??

there are three common shapes that prokaryotes come in: cocci (circular/ovular. little orb guys.), bacilli (rod shaped, think bacteria depictions in media. the beauty standard, if you will.), and spirilla (wiggly corkscrew guys. can also resemble commas or coils).

cocci can hang out alone or form chains with their buddies; sometimes they'll bunch up like grapes. bacilli like to be alone, but sometimes they'll form polite little lines with each other to make long rods. spirilla can be found alone or in chains.

cell surface structures

almost all prokaryotes have a cell wall, which holds its shape and prevents it from exploding into smithereens in hypotonic (low osmotic pressure) environments. prokaryotic cell walls are made of peptidoglycan. archaeabacteria are the weirdos in this, their cell walls are made of polysaccharides and proteins.

bacteria can be sorted by differences in their cell-wall, identified through a process called gram stain. i'll probably make a mini-post talking about gram stain and link it here when i do.

most prokaryotes also have some sort of sticky layer on the outside, called a capsule (or, if less organized, a slime layer). these, as you may have figured out, allow prokaryotes to stick to things. they can also prevent dehydration.

many prokaryotes are capable of taxis - this means they are able to purposefully move in a specific direction in response to external stimuli. the most common structure used for this is a flagellum, which look like little wiggly tails. if you've ever played spore you are probably familiar with these things, and just like in spore they can be pretty much anywhere on an organism.

internal structures

as mentioned above, prokaryotes do not have a nucleus or membrane bound organelles. they're actually pretty simple organisms overall. they usually only have one circular chromosome contained inside of their nucleoid (which is different from a nucleus). additionally, they have DNA molecules that can replicate independently called plasmids.

reproduction

most prokaryotes reproduce via binary fission, which means the cell doubles itself and then the doubles double themselves and then so on and so forth. think like the game 2048.

"but b!" you say, "what about genetic diversity?? if they're just making clones of themselves then there is none!" that is correct! that's where mutations come into play. since there is no exchange of alleles in asexual reproduction, prokaryotes heavily rely on random mutations.

there is another phenomenon that can occur called genetic recombination, which is when you mash together dna from two different organisms. "but... but there's no sex??" correct again! instead, transformation, conjugation, and transduction is how this swap happens. i may go into more detail about this in a mini-post - i will link it here if i do so.

i also wanna make a quick note about dna transfer between different species, which my textbook refers to as "horizontal gene transfer" which sound like one hell of a euphemism to me personally. (for clarification's sake, horizontal gene transfer is a scientific term).

metabolism

the are four major "modes" that prokaryotes acquire nutrition: photoautotroph, chemoautotroph, photoheterotroph, and chemoheterotroph. photo- means light, and chemo- means chemicals. this combined with autotrophs referring to organisms that can create their own food and heterotrophs referring to organism who source food externally makes it relatively simple to interpret these terms. a prokaryote may fall under one or multiple of these categories.

there are also differences in how prokaryotes interact with oxygen. obligate aerobes need oxygen to live and reproduce, while obligate anaerobes are poisoned by oxygen and must get chemical energy through other means.

often prokaryotic cells will work together to carry out metabolic processes that cannot be completes by a lone cell. as these cells band together they may form what is called a biofilm, which recruits even more cells and makes the colonies even bigger.

my next post will probably be an overview of prokaryotic phylogeny + diversity. i'm still figuring out how to format things, so i may try and break down subjects a bit more so i don't end up with such long posts.

[sunb0rn]

last tuesday.

kababalik ko lang ng gym that monday after 3 weeks;

sabi ko hindi ko na (muna) igoal ang 4 days/week dahil na ffrustrate lang ako na di natutuloy. tanggapin ko nalang na 3 days ung pinaka makatarungan for me.

ang magiging 3 days ko ay- mon, wed at thurs instead na tues, wed at thurs na main sched ko for the past months since I started mag gym.

nung araw na 'to, me and kar were just suppose to have our dinner dun sa isang mini bancheto place sa Arca kaso naalala nya na may reco si Anj na drinks sa Landers, so we decided na dun kami after ng dinner.

chance na din sana namin mag "pay back" sa Landers guards na pinag sabihan kami kasi nakipark kami last time sa lot nila kaht di kami member.

naging biruan kasi namin na magpapa member kami sa Landers para lang makapag park ng motor tuwing punta kami ng Arca.

we're on the wrong here okay, alam namin yon. petty lang talaga tayo minsan. and that thinking na "malaki naman yung parking nila, maluwag naman at motor lang yung ipapark natin. saglit lang eh" . di naman kami nabadtrip talaga kina kuya guard, siguro more on feeling na napahiya, (kahit wala naman ibang tao na nakakita when they called us out)

so yon, we had our plan made out- iiwan lang mun namin yung motor tas pupunta kaming bancheto. pag hinarang kami to ask if member ba, we'll show our cards at sasabihin "kakain lang po kami sa kabila" hahaha as if the kuyas will remember na pinag sabihan nila kami months ago, baka nga iba din yung duty eh.

anyway hindi ito nangyare, maybe hinayaan nalang kami makipark or di nila napansin na nag iwan lang kami at di pumasok sa grocery.

ayoon. hindi naman sa excuse/cheat day pero a needed pick-me-uper mula sa pagaka overwhelm ko sa last week's onboarding for my new task as a field coordinator.

//

[randomfoggytiger]

X-Files Collector's Edition: Dad!Mulder, His "Mini Me"s, and Sports

Mulder deserved to bond with his "mini me"s over any sport under the sun. Here are a few fics that do just that.

Loose chronological order below~

Canon Timeline

Susan Proto’s Memory's Promise

""His first, real baseball glove. He smiled at the fond memories he held of his father and he going to the sporting goods store to pick out the perfect glove. He remembered the arduous process of breaking in the glove and trying to follow every single direction his father had given him to do it just right.

He oiled it. And he rubbed it. And he placed the baseball inside to make the perfect pocket and flinched slightly at the memory of how his hands stung when he'd tried to wrap the rubber band around it to hold the ball in place and the band snapped and stung him to the point of tears. He remembered his father found him whimpering slightly, and gently guided him into his den, all the while telling him he had just the thing to keep that ol' ball in place. His dad pulled out the biggest rubber band he'd ever seen; Mulder smiled at the sweet memory of being so taken with something so simplistic.""

Pre-Empedocles Mulder remembers a happy childhood memory of becoming Samantha's protector and learning baseball from his father. He's ready.

@folieadeux1121-blog's What Might Have Been

""Hips before hands!” came a little voice in front of Mulder. William glanced over his shoulder, up at his dad, his smile wide. Now four years old, he was excited for his first baseball lesson, and had been ever since Mulder had told him it was happening.  

“That’s right kiddo.” Bending down, Mulder wrapped his arms around his son to take hold of the bat the little boy was holding. It was almost as big as William was. “Just remember that and when the ball comes towards you…” he nodded at Scully, signalling he was ready for her to pitch. “You follow through like this…” Scully threw the ball, as gently as she could, and with Mulder’s help William did as his dad asked, the bat connecting with it and sending it a short way to their left. “That’s it!""

Mulder teaches his four-year-old son how to play baseball under the happy eye of Scully. It's not real (that is... if you read the last part.)

Lara Means's (Alt. Ao3) Unrealized Reality

""When he had just turned ten, he practically begged his parents to let him try out for Little League. His father thought it was a great idea, but it seemed to her he was more suited to basketball. Tall and thin, but graceful, like his father. No matter. Her husband had already decided their boy would be the 2025 World Series MVP.""

S9 Mulder returned from the run one year later, married Scully, fathering another baby, and taught his son how to play baseball. Alas, it was all false (or not if you skip the last part.)

@frangipanidownunder’s (Ao3) 

Son

""Mulder hoisted the hoop set up to his son, handed him the drill, watched him work. That floppy hair, the gritted teeth, the flashing smile every so often. Pure Mulder. But the steely eyes, the surety of his hands, the precision, that was all Scully.

Back down on the handstanding, admiring his handiwork, Jackson span the ball on his left index finger. A genetic throwback or a learned thing?

“One on one, old man?""

Post Finale Will shows up to fix Mulder's basketball hoop and start to bond over their mutual interest.

Micro Fic Series - Chapter 8

""Mulder have been able to gather them up, press them, ready to keep like a journal of his days without them. When Mulder discovered he’d never hit a ball, he went all Fox Mantle and now they head out every afternoon, bats slung over shoulders, careful smiles on ruddy faces. She watches as her son, their son, bat propped against his legs, hands on hips, flexes his jaw and listens to the instructions. A willing young Mulder outlined in an orange glow. A proud father finally able to share precious moments, in the autumn years of their lives.""

AU-- Post My Struggle II(?) Mulder is recovering from the virus, taking time to teach William to play baseball.

@moldyandskuller's team spirit

""She opens the lid and rifles through it, pulling out stray t-shirts, two pairs of jeans – she’ll steal some boxers and basketball shorts from his drawers. And when her eyes fall on a piece of shiny gray fabric, she wonders what it’s doing in the box, why it doesn’t have a hanger – its own frame, and she pulls it free from its hold.

She looks at her son. “You like baseball?” But it’s more of a statement than a question.

“Yeah.”

She folds the jersey, places it on top of the pile of clothes she’ll lend to him. “When he gets home, you should ask your – ask Mulder to tell you the story about this,” she says. “it’s a good one.""

Mulder and Scully pack a relationship's worth of history into his Gray's baseball t-shirt, passing it onto Will in sundry parts of his life.

@mchalowitz's (Ao3) endearments, part 5

""He swears to Scully that he’s encouraging her interest, not influencing it. He only concedes to listening to sports radio during many sleepless nights during the first year.  

“Katie Mantle steps up to the plate,” Mulder murmurs. “Even in the pre-season, she is playing a perfect game.” 

Katherine purses her lips at him, slightly lifted at the corners. Her eyes are all determined concentration.

Mulder pitches slow, underhand, and he can’t help but be amazed by his child when the ball flies behind him."" 

Post Finale Mulder bonds with his little girl, naming her and not influencing her to be a baseball star (but also...) He's always proud of his growing girl.

@atths–twice​/ATTHS_TWICE’s (team spirit

Baseball Showdown (Ao3)

""She held her bat and got into her stance, ready to hit the ball. He smiled and threw the ball into his glove a few times.

“The pitcher readies his pitch, the batter holds the bat tight and sure, they are both waiting.”

“Daddy,” she laughed, smiling and happy, tilting her head to the side.

“And the pitcher sees the sign from the catcher,” he said, shaking his head as he looked at the net set up behind her, not wanting balls to get lost in the field. “He doesn’t like that one, so he waits for another sign. Oh, he must like that one as he nods and gets ready. And… here’s the pitch!”

He threw the ball underhanded to Faith and she swung, but missed.

“Striiiiiiiike!” Mulder yelled in a deep voice and Faith laughed as she bent to pick up the ball and toss it back as it bounced off the net.""

Mulder lets his Revival daughter win at baseball, celebrating her indoor success and taking her out for ice cream.

Canon Divergent Timeline

Cathey Scully's Ballgame

""Mulder produced 3 tickets for dugout level. He grinned, picking up one of William's hands. "Can't you see it Scully? You, me, and this guy on the big screen that looks over centerfield, while we watch a bunch of guys slap a piece of horsehide with a stick."

"Mulder," Scully sighed in affectionate exasperation. "This is his 'half-birthday' present?"

"Yep." Mulder grinned down at her. Scully rolled her eyes until William called for her attention. She looked down at him to find him grinning a nearly toothless grin at her.

"You too?" she asked, already caving.""

AU-- Mulder drags Scully out of bed for a baseball game to celebrate Will's first six months of life.

Defnotmeyo’s (WBM, Alt. WBM) 

122 Days iv

""Kid’s gonna look good in Yankees gear,” he thinks aloud, and tries to eat his words for a second when her hand stops.

There’s a heavy minute of silence shattered by another whap of the bat, and she slowly resumes ruffling her hand across his chest.

“Bill already bought her a Padres onesie...""

Post Empedocles? Mulder (in this many part miniseries) is warming up to his impending fatherhood. During a baseball game, he's scared he's overstepped by laying claim to the baby's team. Scully smooths the awkward moment. (Love this one.)

Unnamed

""He’s four, the first time it happens.

“Mulder, he’s too young to be slapping horse-hide with a stick.”

“How else you think we’re gonna be able to afford to put this monkey through college?” his Pops lobs back at his Mom.""

AU-- Mulder savvily teaches his son the art of baseball.

An Anon's Unnamed

""Where is he, anyway ? He had a good reason, apparently, but didn’t want to tell her. Scully walks to Will’s bedroom and swears she can smell paint in the hallway.

At this moment, Mulder opens the bedroom door, and she’s face to face with his grey stained tee. She starts speaking when he grabs her shoulders and immediately cuts her : « Wait, wait. Close your eyes, ok ? »

It takes her 1 or 2 seconds to do it, but she obeys, silently praying he didn’t blow up their son’s room.""

AU-- Mulder-- faint of heart-- skips Will's vaccinations; but he made up for it by decorating his son's bedroom in style.

andsocanshe's  Of Pitches and Pondering

""There’s a bag of sports equipment off to the left by the bench, Scully’s leaning against the gate, and Mulder is crouched down on the ground with a toddler in front of him. The five minutes it should have taken to explain the concept of baseball have turned into nearly twenty, but William’s interest in every detail about the game and the park around them is worth it.

He’s at the age of “why’s” and everything is one question followed by another and so on. The questions “Why do we have to go to bed?”, “Why do you go to work and not Daddy, too?”, and his personal favorite, the word “Why?” with no additional context have ruled Scully and Mulder’s day-to-day lives for the past few months. Her mother, psychology, and all the parenting books say that it’s just a phase, one that every child goes through, but Scully often wonders if her son gets this from his father; the constant search for a truthful explanation.""

AU-- Scully observes her sporty Mulders, father and toddler, bonding over Will's first baseball lesson.  

Girlie_girl7’s Day in the Life, A 35

""He holds the bat high making small circles in the air. He stops, stands still, and then swings. An imaginary crack is heard as the invisible ball sails higher and higher matching the pitch of the make believe crowd. Mulder throws his bat down, makes a fist and pumps it in the air. He lopes to the sandbox making sure to tag it then hustles to the end of the pool fence touching an imaginary second base. He jogs to the barbeque grill and taps the propane tank with his foot. He rounds third and begins his trek to home plate tipping his hat and waving to the crowd. He makes one final leap and lands on the flagstone home plate. He is turning to bow to the crowds when he hears, "Da-dee, wha' ya doin'?""

AU-- William is NOT interested in baseball; and accidentally hits Mulder in a very sensitive area.

Polly's (Ao3) Believing in Miracles (Ao3)

""I took my seat as Mulder slid the glove onto Will's left hand. He beamed with fatherly pride as Will punched his fist into the pocket of the mitt a few times before holding it up to his face to inhale the aroma of the well-treated leather.

Lately Will insisted on wearing his mitt when we watched baseball on television, wanting to be prepared in case a foul ball came hurtling out of the set. It didn't surprise me that Mulder hadn't explained to Will that the glove wasn't necessary; it was only surprising that Mulder wasn't wearing one too.""

AU-- It's the World Series: Mulder and Scully and Will celebrate in style-- throwing popcorn, guitar riffing to the anthem, and delving into Mulder's relationship with his father and acting on his hope that, after their day of miracles, he and Scully will be able to pull off another one. (I love this fic so much.)

@contrivedcoincidences6/Spooky66/geektime66’s

Baseball and Horror (Ao3)

""She poked her head out of the kitchen and saw William sitting on the couch wearing a Yankees hat and leaning forward concentrating on the game.

Mulder had his hand on their son’s back and sat back cracking sunflower seeds. She smiled happily at the quaint image before her and decided to move herself and her work to the couch.

William happily moved over when he saw her, “You’re gonna watch?""

AU-- Mulder and Will watch a Cubs game while Scully works on paperwork. She gives in rather quickly.

@blackcoffeeandteardrops‘s (Ao3) Dulcet (Ao3

""After the cake they'd gone outside for party games and a water balloon fight. The other kids and Maggie had all gone home, leaving she and Mulder to clean up the debris in the yard. William was “helping”, but so far seemed more interested in trying to con one of them into giving him more cake. She'd been telling him no and stooping to collect pieces of popped water balloon from the ground when she heard Mulder come up behind her. “Where did you even find that?” she asked, gulping as she realized the object in his hands was a water balloon, still filled and threatening to burst.

“Oh, around,” Mulder replied with a shrug."" 

AU-- William spends his birthday spamming Toy Story and throwing water balloons (that's a sport, right?)

Enough For Now

""Did I ever tell you guys that back in Wyoming I was on the basketball team? I even got the ball in the net from the middle of the court facing the opposite direction,” he said, walking backwards towards the booth. He cocked his head and pointed in Mulder’s direction. “You wanna play?”

In reality, shooting a ball through a tiny hoop on a wall wasn’t much like the actual game of basketball, but Scully leaned her hip against the booth and smiled, watching in amusement as William and Mulder raced to get more balls through the hoops as a timer slowly counted down.""

Part of a great AU series post My Struggle II(?): William and his (new) parents bond over basketball and other family-building activities.

@jewish-mulder/@anders-hawke/@iwtbscully/BananaChef‘s

The In-Between - Chapter 12

""Good one, Dad,” William calls with a grin, tossing the ball back to his mother. “I thought you were the baseball champion of the house.”

“Oh, come on now, don’t gang up on me.” He lifts the bat and Scully whips the ball at him again. It’s a repeat of the first time.

She goes easy on him the third time, allowing him to get a good bat out of it."" 

AU-- Mulder, Scully, and William have a baseball game in the tall grass growing wild all over the Unremarkable House.

Maidenjedi’s All That Once Was Good

""And yes, it was, for both of them. William hit the ball for awhile, Mulder throwing him rather weak, easy pitches so there could be home runs and the elation, the catharsis that goes with them. Mulder knew why William came out here, after all, even if they never talked about it, never said a word about it out loud.

Mulder felt a bit spooked, though, after awhile. William hit a particularly long ball, what would have been a triple had there been a game going on a real field. And he shouted and threw the bat, ran imaginary bases in celebration. He had every reason - but Mulder heard his own voice in that shout, and felt his own reasons for this long-lost escapism flood his heart. Samantha may be dead, but it didn't matter. She haunted him as often as she could, danced in his thoughts and made him long for a reason to search for her still.

He decided it was his turn at the bat.

William took up the pitcher's post with ease. He tossed the ball in his hand, behind his back, expertly searching for the seams so he could line up his fingers exactly. Mulder laughed at him from the plate; what's taking you so long, meat? William smirked and wiped the sweat from his brow with his forearm."" 

AU-- Will is re-adopted after his parents died in a fire. Mulder establishes a mutual bond over baseball, astonished that this wonderful boy is his son. (Love this.)

@all-these-ghosts/all_these_ghosts's the son you always had (iv)

""... In real life Will likes the Nats best, but for one weekend a year, he’ll be a Yankees fan for his dad.

His dad, who is practically glowing with excitement. Once a year, they take the train up to New York, stay in a hotel, and see at least one Yankees game. The first year they went the Yankees went on to win the World Series, so now it’s good luck to keep the tradition. Of course, the Yankees haven’t won since, but every year Will’s dad believes.

For his part, Will is mostly excited to be out of school. He likes playing baseball - and he’s actually really good, thanks to all the afternoons spent playing with his dad - but he really likes playing parent-sanctioned hooky.""

AU-- The Mulder family enjoy a baseball game; but their happy mood dips after Will overhears their fears for him and Colonization.

@aloysiavirgata (Ao3, WBM, Gossamer, LJ, Alt. LJ)

By Falling In and In

""He comes closer and sits down next to her, his rolled-up sleeve brushing her bare, brown arm. "Dr. Livingstone, I presume?"  His worn shirt is soft as flannel, and his long legs appear even longer in the frayed khaki shorts.

"Hey. Where's William? I wanted to show him how to fix the flange on the sink."

Mulder works his toes into the warm sand. "He has no time for plumbing. Jesse finally got the projector working again, so Will and Lusiani went to a movie. Though the pickings are slim. Tonight it's either Little Shop of Horrors or the second Austin Powers."

"Better than the solid month of Star Wars prequels. I noticed Lusiani had been hanging around quite a bit lately. She and William have been playing H-O-R-S-E a lot since you got the basketball hoop back up.""

AU-- Mulder, William, and Scully have a happy life together, trying to balance normalcy with Will's powers and the impending end of the world. Sports is in there, somewhere.

a father’s day ficlet/A Pretty Good Investigator

""Luke brightened. “Did you go to Georgetown?”

“Nah. But the Wizards are a joke, so Georgetown was the next best thing. You a basketball fan?”

“I played in high school,” Luke said. “Point guard, varsity.” He blushed. “Not that there was much competition. I grew up in a really small town. It’s not like I’m gonna play here.”

“That’s great.” Mr. Mulder was smiling now, and it was weird - it transformed his entire face. For some reason it bothered Luke.

“My dad said I had to play a sport, and I’m tall, so,” he said shortly, making sure to emphasize the my dad part.

The smile faded. Good, Luke thought.""

AU-- Revival Will (called Luke) tracks his biological mother down for a "research project", astonishing Scully and actively forging a bond. He slowly strikes up a bond with Mulder, finally inviting him out to see one of his bball games.

Mentions

@greekowl87’s (Ao3) Fic: Day of the Dead

""He was just a big ball of orange polyester fluff. He could roll away if he really wanted to. Of course, he was too young.”

“He might as well have been a basketball. A slam dunk into my heart. Just like his mother.""

On the Run Scully and Mulder observe Mexico's Day of the Dead. She tells him about William's first Halloween; and the two address some of their pain in this sad but beautiful story.

@baronessblixen's (Ao3) Our Son Loves Baseball

""He smiles against his will, thinking of their son. He is out there now doing his own thing, going his own way. Mulder wishes they could be by his side, guide him. It is not meant to be. Not now, anyway. He gets up to use the bathroom. On his way back to the bed he sees something stick out of his pocket: a picture. Mulder picks it up, swallows hard. It’s one of the photographs Scully found earlier. The ones he didn’t dare look at, then. Now he can’t tear his eyes away. There’s William, around eight or nine years old, grinning into the camera. His hands around a baseball bat, his stubborn hair hidden under a cap. The picture before him blurs as tears cloud his vision. One falls down right on the little boy. Mulder wipes it away carefully, afraid that the moment, although frozen in time for forever, might disappear.""

Revival Scully draws closer to Mulder, giving him the baseball photo of Will and deriving comfort from their mutual bittersweet feelings.

@sportsnightnut's (Ao3) she has good taste in dinner options

""He comes around the desk and rests his hand on her belly, and his expression changes immediately. Moments ago, he looked focused, intense. Now, he is practically beaming as he feels her kicking against the palm of his hand. “Our daughter has good taste in dinner options.”

Scully nods. “She would like lots of sour cream, too. And cheese. The full-fat kind.”

“Do you think she’d also like to watch some basketball tonight?” Mulder asks, picking up an umbrella as they approach the door.""

Post Revival Scully gets lost in thoughts while waiting for Mulder to wrap up his work day, marveling at his focus and devotion.

I'm missing my dad a lot right now

""Though her eyes are still open, Caroline yawns.

“I can’t be boring you already, can I? Nah. You don’t even know what boredom is yet. I’ll just keep talking. Here’s the second thing you need to know: in this family, we are Yankees fans. The Red Sox are scum. You are so lucky that you were born a fan of the best team in major league baseball.""

Post Revival Mulder scoops up his newborn daughter, chatting to her about everything and anything. But mostly about his love.

@melforbes/@claup/everydaymsr (Ao3, WBM) hesitation

""though they have a television, the only time it’s ever on is during baseball games, and even then, it simply plays in the background while they go about doing other things. in the kitchen, he keeps basic cookbooks, and recently, he’s been trying to learn recipes, to fry and sauté and simmer in ways he’s never managed to master. hand-stitched curtains, a gift from her mother, billow against a breeze in the living room, and light through glass casts a rainbow along the hardwood floor; the couch is plush and so comfortable that he’s watched scully fall asleep on it more times than he can count....

though he wants to call out in search of her, he stays quiet, leaves the paper on the kitchen table, heads upstairs to see if will’s asleep."" 

AU-- Mulder contemplates his new family's "starting over" house, slowly easing himself into domesticity and out of anxiety while on a morning coffee run. (Such a soft, peaceful atmosphere. Beautiful.)

@xfiles-behind-the-scenes/YouMadeMeAWholePerson's

Watching the Paint Dry

""Scully checked the time as she finished blow-drying her hair, and quickly headed into the kitchen to tell Mulder he could leave for his basketball game. She found him and Will sitting and staring at something on the table. It was unusual for their three year old to be so still, so she approached them cautiously.  

“What’s going on?”  she asked, coming up behind Mulder and putting a hand on his shoulder.

“We’re watching the paint dry.""

AU-- Will wants to watch paint dry in their new house; and Mulder skips his game to spend time with his little tyke.

@we-mad-guys's forgetting the future

""After a short stare down, Mrs. Scully shrugs. “Well, thank you for taking care of him. I had a doctor’s appointment yesterday.”

“It was our pleasure,” Frohike says. “We love the little guy.”

That afternoon and evening, the Scully family and their close friends have to cajole the boy into having a good time. They manage to get him to swim in the kid’s pool, bribe him with sweets, get him into a game of basketball. It all works, for a few minutes. But as soon as an activity’s ended, he’s gone right back into his funk.""

AU-- Skinner, TLG, and the Scully family fill in the blanks for little lonesome Will when his parents have to take extended trips to try to save the world. They join him in time for the 4th; but happiness will always be tempered with sacrifices. (LOVE this.)

all things bright and beautiful

""Scully laughs. “Mulder, I can see the wheels turning in your head. How about you open it? It might be easier to find out what it is that way.”

“You’re no fun,” he pouts, and she nudges him with her shoulder.

Mulder tears the paper off and crumples it into a ball so it doesn’t blow away, and lifts the lid off of the small white box. He stares down at what’s inside.

The tiniest baseball jersey he’s ever seen.""

AU-- IWTB? era Scully surprises Mulder with a pregnancy announcement. Each season gracefully turns while their baby grows. (Love this so much.)

@o6666666's (Ao3) Untitled — 20

""The Earth will burn. After, they will come up from underground.

Will wiggles around until he’s comfortable. “Can you do the story where Mommy hits a baseball all the way into the sky?""

AU-- Will and his parents bunker down during Colonization; and he falls asleep to Mulder telling him about Scully's baseball date.

@scullyphile's (Ao3) Unnamed

""Their son towered over them. He looked very much like Mulder, tall with his father’s distinguished profile. He did, however, have Scully’s red hair and freckles. He looked like he could play basketball, and for a moment Mulder imagined playing basketball with his son. Let’s work on your lay-up, he’d say. Pass me the ball; I’ll show you. The image made him smile. William smiled, too, and Mulder wondered if the boy was hearing his thoughts.

As if in answer, William nodded very slightly and smiled.""

AU-- Monica reunites Mulder and Scully with their son and his parents, ready to forge a healthy dynamic now that he's old enough.

Enjoy!

[eruhatesu]

There was an ask you got that started with “utahime feeling guilty that gojo has been very doting, dependable and an absolute darling of a boyfriend to her and does all these things for her and she feels she doesn't reciprocate” and it reminded me of a fic so I’m here to recommend it to you:

https://archiveofourown.org/works/36181156

It’s basically a marriage of convenience trope where they get together to get the clan off his back and safety and stuff and he treats her very well and she has a mini dilemma about it. There’s also an angsty version by the same author called “how to hold my heart”

link

AAAAAAaaaa i hope the other anon who sent that ask gets to see this bc we about to eat!!!

thank you so much for the reco… i am missing a lot of fic these days. 🥵🥵

love it when thr dash of angst hits the right spot ykkkkkk. When even you can get the feel of guilt . Just the right pinch :3

[norellenilia]

Pour répondre à ton dernier post, l'astuce pour réussir le mini-jeu des boules consistait à refresh l'écran juste avant d'avoir l'écran du score. Tu pouvais faire ça autant de fois que tu voulais sur une même partie pour réctifier ton score. Par contre je ne saurais te dire si c'est efficace ou non puisque je joue la plupart du temps sur mobile.

Ouais pour être exacte l'astuce consiste à jouer en navigation privée, et si tu vois que t'arriveras pas à atteindre le bon score, faut fermer toute fenêtre de navigation privée ouverte, en rouvrir une, se reco et retourner sur la page du mini-jeu, ça marque "reprendre" mais ça reset bien la partie !

C'est hyper chiant parce que la RNG est pas tendre mais bon si on a la patience de se reconnecter 36 fois par partie ça marche :')

[cryotherapy-sa]

How Compression Recovery Boots Enhance Muscle Recovery?

Imagine this: you’ve just crushed a workout, your muscles are screaming for relief, and you're looking for that magic trick to speed up recovery. Enter compression recovery boots, the superhero of muscle recovery gear!

These boots aren’t just fancy equipment; they’re like a spa day for your legs, helping you bounce back faster and more robust.

Let’s dive into how compression recovery boots can transform your post-workout routine and keep you moving efficiently.

The Science Behind the Boots

So, what makes compression recovery boots so effective? It all comes down to science. These boots use pneumatic compression, which involves inflating and deflating to apply pressure to your legs.

This pressure helps stimulate blood flow and lymphatic drainage, reducing muscle soreness and speeding up recovery.

Think of it as a mini massage that targets deep tissues, helping flush out toxins and deliver essential nutrients to tired muscles.

Boosting Blood Flow for Quicker Recovery

One of the most significant benefits of compression recovery boots is their ability to enhance blood circulation.

After a strenuous workout, your muscles need a lot of oxygen and nutrients to repair themselves.

By improving blood flow, these boots ensure that your muscles get the nutrients they need to recover faster. It’s like giving your muscles a VIP pass to a nutrient-rich recovery party!

Reducing Muscle Soreness and Fatigue

Nobody enjoys the post-workout muscle soreness that makes sitting down feel like a workout. Fortunately, compression recovery boots can help alleviate this discomfort.

By promoting better circulation and reducing muscle stiffness, these boots make it easier to get back to your routine without the dreaded soreness. They help you feel rejuvenated and ready to tackle your next workout with less downtime.

Enhancing Lymphatic Drainage

Our bodies have a natural system for removing waste products, but this system can get overwhelmed after intense exercise. Compression recovery boots assist in this process by boosting lymphatic drainage.

This helps to remove metabolic waste products, reducing swelling and inflammation. It's like giving your body’s waste management system extra help to keep things running smoothly.

Convenience and Comfort Combined

Nobody wants to spend hours on recovery. Compression recovery boots offer a convenient and comfortable solution.

You can use them while lounging on the couch, watching TV, or working from home. They are designed to be easy to use and adjust, ensuring you get the maximum benefits without disrupting your day. It’s recovery made simple and effective!

Who Can Benefit from Compression Recovery Boots?

Whether you're an elite athlete or a weekend warrior, compression recovery boots can benefit anyone who puts their muscles to the test.

They’re perfect for those who experience frequent muscle fatigue, have a physically demanding job, or are recovering from an injury.

Integrating these boots into your recovery routine can enhance your performance and overall well-being.

Incorporating Compression Recovery Boots into Your Routine

To get the most out of your compression recovery boots, use them regularly as part of your post-workout recovery routine.

Aim for sessions of about 20-30 minutes to experience the full range of benefits. Consistent use can help you stay on top of your game and maintain peak performance.

Conclusion: Elevate Your Recovery Game

Incorporating compression recovery boots into your fitness routine is like having a personal recovery assistant.

They help speed up muscle recovery, reduce soreness, and enhance overall well-being. With their ability to boost blood flow, reduce muscle fatigue, and improve lymphatic drainage, these boots are a game-changer for anyone looking to optimise their recovery process.

So, give your muscles the relief they deserve and elevate your recovery game with compression recovery boots.

Source From: How Compression Recovery Boots Enhance Muscle Recovery?

[purplesurveys]

1855

Catching up with my liked surveys, don't mind this quick Christmas-themed one! Or do, whatever floats your boat!

When was the last time you saw snow? ❄️ I have never seen snow and remain to be curious about it. How does it feel like when it lands on you - like drops of rain or like soft fluffy feathers or am I super off? What does it look like up close? Can you actually lie in it without freezing your ass off? It will be A Day when I finally encounter snow, hahaha.

What's your favorite color for a Christmas tree to be besides green?🎄 Green has always felt the most Christmassy, but white also has a certain classy feel to it too.

What are three of your favorite things to do when it's snowing outside? I don't know, I can't relate. I imagine I'd have a sensory interest in it the way I like to play with sand, though.

Which name do you like best for a girl: Gloria, Joy, Holly, Victoria, or Crystal? Holly's cute, it reminds me of Breaking Bad. Victoria is a nice name too but mostly a hit-or-miss for me, as there have been some Victorias who are cool but I've also met some annoying Victorias lol. 

Do you own a mini tinsel Christmas tree? 🎄 I don't think I do.

What did you get for Christmas this year? AirPods from my parents, a bunch of knickknacks from my sister but my favorite from her would be a daily journal + a wooden box that plays the chorus of Spring Day; a couple of Namjoon's book recos from Angela...my memory is annoyingly failing me for the rest.

Would you rather bake gingerbread cookies or build a snowman? 🤎☃️ If we're going with things that'd feel more festive to me, I'd pick the cookies.

Have you ever built a snowman out of something that wasn't snow, and if so, what did you use? ⛄️ No. It wouldn't be a snowman then...?

What's the most creative thing you've ever put on top of a Christmas tree? 🎄 Idk we don't really have much allowance to be all witty because my mom would instantly go tHaT's BlAsPhEmY.

Would you say you are joyful and triumphant? Last year I felt neither but I didn't feel shitty either. It was just a meh year.

Which name do you like best for a girl: Epiphany, Winter, Holiday, Laurel, or Grace? Grace.

Do you prefer gingerbread cookies, snickerdoodles, or sugar cookies? I've never had a snickderdoodle but they sound like a delight.

When was the last time you felt completely at peace? 😇 Earlier this month when my term with the account I negotiated to be let go of, ended.

What is your favorite type of pie to eat around Christmas time? 🥧 We don't really eat pie, like in general as Filipinos. That being said the closest thing we have, and it just so happens to be a Christmas treat – is a rice cake called bibingka but personally I'm not a fan.

What is the most creative thing you've ever used as a sled? 🛷 I've never sled(?)ded(??) before.

Would you rather eat fruitcake, angel food cake, or a spice cake? 🍰 I'd give the spice cake a try. I've never heard of it before so I had to look up the ingredients, but even though the combination of spices sound scary and almost gross it definitely still sounds better and more intriguing than horrible horrible fruitcake and boring angel food cake.

Which name do you like best for a girl: Starla, Stella, Angel, Hope, or Victory? Angel. All Angels I know are great people.

Do you like eggnog? I've never had but have been dying to know what it tastes like.

Have you ever made a heart with candy canes for a selfie? I don't think so.

Have you ever used Google's Santa Tracker to see where Santa is on his journey around the earth? 🌎💫 Nope.

What are your favorite Christmas carols? I don't really have a favorite.

Would you rather decorate with a poinsettia, icicle lights, or a tinsel wreath? The lights.

Which candle scent do you prefer: vanilla or cinnamon? Cinnamon sounds and smells like a treat.

Do you like peppermint? It's fine.

Would you rather drink a chai latte, hot chocolate, or a peppermint mocha? ☕️ Either the hot chocolate or peppermint mocha. I've never had a chai latte so not really sure what it would taste like.

Have you ever made your own snow globe? Nope.

Would you rather eat a snow cone 🍧 or ice cream made of snow 🍨? Snow cone. I live in the Philippines – that latter option sounds so unhygienic and gross. Our tap water isn't even potable, so it would be nearly impossible to convince me to make food out of anything that falls on the ground lol.

What is your favorite color for Christmas lights to be? Yellow just gives off that cozy, homey vibe that I love so much. Other colors can never hit it the same way.

Are you having a white Christmas this year? ⛄️ Idk does a white Christmas mean like it's snowy? If so, no.

Have you ever put a Santa hat on your dog? 🐶🎅 Not a hat, but I've had Kimi wear a Santa outfit before so he could turn into his holiday alter ego, Santa Kimi hehe. I got one for Cooper last year but I way way way underestimated his fat ass size and we never were able to put it on him past the head lmao.

Have you ever put a Santa hat on your cat? No.

How many Christmas cards did you receive this year? That's not really a tradition here.

What are you wearing today? Nothing Christmassy, that's for sure haha.

If you could choose between being one of Santa's elves for a day, being a reindeer for a day, or being a snowman for a day, which would you choose, and why? Reindeer, it'd be cool to travel to different places the way they do haha.

Which name do you like best for a girl: Sparkle, Crimson, Ginger, Wonder, or Ruby? Ruby.

Which one of these adjectives would you say describes you best at the moment: peaceful, joyful, blessed, grateful, or jolly? Peaceful.

What are three ways in which you have been blessed this year? 🌟 Answering this from an end-2023 perspective – 1) More time with family, 2) Dogs were healthy all year, 3) Got to travel abroad twice. 

Which name do you like best for a cat: Marshmallow, Snowball, Cinnamon, Nutmeg, or Joy? Nutmeg sounds hilarious as a name yet so endearing.

Are you wearing anything red or green right now? No.

What was your favorite Christmas movie that you watched this year? Love Actually.

Did you make a new playlist of Christmas songs this year? 💃🎶 No.

And last but not least, did you enjoy this survey? Sure! Even though I'm answering it in 50ºC summer weather in April! 

[kpoplrcfiles]

[Mini Album] M.O.N.T(몬트) - IDGAF

[Mini Album] M.O.N.T(몬트) - IDGAF PEAK TIME's Bitsaeon and Roda return to their original team M.O.N.T and join member Narachan to present their fourth mini-album IDGAF! They crave chaos, bake beats and share their music recipes through the four-track reco

몬트 (M.O.N.T) – IDGAFRelease Date: 2024.02.27Genre: R&B, SoulLanguage: KoreanPEAK TIME‘s Bitsaeon and Roda return to their original team M.O.N.T and join member Narachan to present their fourth mini-album IDGAF! They crave chaos, bake beats and share their music recipes through the four-track record, which features the lead single IDGAF. Track List:1. Honestly2. 마음대로 해3. Like You4. Lucky (나라찬…

[teacupchimera]

I TOO LISTEN TO THE PAPER KITESSSSSSSSS!!! I'll exchange 볼빨간사춘기 - 썸 탈꺼야 (sorry im not sure about the english translation for this lol,, also i felt like I reco this before so,,,) I'll also exchange Khloe Rose's Fictional :3 -music anon (omo i wish i cld start a chat but tumblr always eats up my dms TT)

YES the paper kites are so good!!! been loving their stuff lately :D

ooh I don't think you've recommended this one before! I really like it though! I like the other one as well :D

I'll trade you the whole new Mamamoo+ mini album, Two Rabbits! it's so goooood <33

and aww well I'm happy to talk to you here anyway <3

[kingsansa]

It’s there from the beginning, that tension; a chord keyed up too tight, dark, discordant notes drumming heavy down the notches of his spine. Her palm slips into his, slender and damp, then it’s gone.

Up close, the hard lines of her—stark and spectral onstage from a distance—are blurred. The halo-like frizz around her curls. The chipped edges of her black nail polish. The cloud of pink around her ruby red lower lip.

“Do you mind?” Alayne asks him in the mirror.

Jom skims a sweaty palm over the back pocket of his jeans. He tucks his notebook underneath his arm, heart in his throat.

She fists the end of her curls and he plucks the zipper free of her nape; drawing it halfway down her back. Her skin shines dewy underneath the shitty dressing room fixtures.

Alayne peels off the remainder of the high collared lace, draping it carefully over the back of her makeup chair. Her hair continues to be a creature of its own; inky and space dark, curling at the shiny dimples of her back.

“Do you want a drink?” 

“Beer is fine,” He takes out his notebook again, “Thanks.”

She crouches down to peer into the mini fridge. Half of her microphone is still poking out of her black cigarette pants. She pulls out a corona with a sigh.

“We don’t have any of the canned kind. And Wylla always keeps it in her pocket—like it’s a weapon, or something.”

“I’ve got it,” Jon holds his hands out. She tosses the beer to him, and he opens it with his house key. 

“Handy,” says Alayne, sounding so impressed that he can’t tell whether or not it’s an impersonation of someone being impressed.

He takes a short, polite swig—cold and bitter—before settling into the couch.

Alayne follows, carrying a red solo cup the same shade of her mouth. She leaves one cushion of space between them.

“I have rules.”

“Rules,” He echoes. It comes out more flatly than intended.

Her brow arches at that.

“Non-negotiables, if you will.”

Alayne pushes her hair back from her shoulders. Her lipstick smears fluorescent against the white lip of her cup. 

Jon clicks his pen, shifting—carefully, subtly—bringing his notebook closer to his lap.

“Go on.”

“You can bring up my brother once. If he’s mentioned in the article more than that, fine, but I’ll only talk about him once,” Her chin rises, “Jeyne might give you something more than that, but Arya won’t give you anything at all and you’ll just end up pissing her off and Wylla will back her up so—tread lightly.”

Her voice is light, too, but there’s a hardness to the smooth marble hinged of her jaw that belies the truth of the matter. 

Jon didn’t come here to write another story about Robb Stark. 

He didn’t even wanna come here at all. 

“And your parents?” He hears himself ask, pen poised over the page. 

A muscle in her jaw ticks. 

“There’s enough articles about my parents, don’t you think?”

Jon thinks about all of the articles about his own parents.

“Fair enough,” He scribbles her hard limits in the upper margin of the page. 

The distribution of weight on the couch shifts. Her knee burgeons onto the middle cushion between them. Her shiny leather boot taps at the linoleum near his sneakers.

“I saw you perform once,” Alayne says.

“Me?”

The spindly strap of her black bra slips down her shoulder. The silver dragonfly pendant slips from the edge of her clavicle to the valley of her breasts and then she’s closer. Vellus to vellus. Knee to knee. Shoe to shoe.

She smells like sweat, smoke, lavender, and maraschino cherries.

“A decade back,” She flicks a blowzy curl out of her eye, “The house of blues in Chicago. I snuck in.” A secretive smile pressed into her palm as her chin settles into her hand. “You were…different back then.”

He’s a different person now.

There’s an apartment in Brooklyn that had his mother’s name on it before it had his. He has a job that steadily pays, but one that still manages to piss his father off nonetheless—which is good enough for him. He doesn’t have a studio in his apartment. All of his instruments are in storage. He keeps his records in empty milk crates underneath the bed.

He knows better, by now, than to really try to escape the music entirely—even if he really wanted to. It would always find him. 

So he finds it first. And he writes about it. And he’s damn good at it. 

“It was a different time.”

Alayne’s red mouth curves into a grin.

“I didn’t say you were that different.”

Her thigh presses into his, just tentatively at first.

Jon doesn’t move away. 

Her fingers trace the edges of his notebook, lashes lowered, “You still look the same to me.”

He knows better, is the thing.

He also knows worse, when her fingers brush the knees of his jeans, he’s able to see this for exactly what it is—a disaster, yes, but not nearly the worst possible kind. 

tired: rockstar jon

wired: Sansa in a moody alternative girl band and Jon being her reluctant groupie