#so really it is just jess laughing at the 'what about metal chairs?' joke

[leek-e]

Another ink painting of Jess McKenna! <3

[shadowhuntertrash]

Lucie tortured + Merry Thieves

Lucie didn’t often spend time with just the boys anymore. She was often with Cordelia or Anna or Jesse, but it was nice to get to spend some time with her brother figures.

   She was currently walking down the street with James, Matthew, Thomas, and Christopher. It was almost midnight and they had just finished patrol. Matthew and James had their arms around each other's shoulders, stumbling as they walked, both their heads were thrown back in laughter. She always loved seeing them together, they were both wonderful people but when they were together it just brought out a side of both of them that was simply better, easier.

   Christopher was telling Lucie and Thomas about some experiment he was looking forward to conducting. Lucie was on Thomas’ back, having rolled her ankle while dodging a demon. It didn’t really hurt, but she never passed on an opportunity to be tall for once. Christopher was mad because Cecily had put her foot down and grounded him from experiments for two weeks when he had nearly burnt Anna’s shirt during his last one.

   They were all enjoying each other’s company so much none of them heard the footsteps of the people behind them. No one was ready for the attack. They had been walking happily until Matthew turned to make a joke to Thomas and his face had gone a sickly pale color. 

   His silent scream was the last thing Lucie saw before everything went black.

   Lucie woke up in a dim room with a pounding headache. She went to bring her head to her hand but found it was chained to the chair she was sitting in. Panic bubbled up in her stomach and she looked around quickly. She was in a dark room, it looked like a cellar of sorts, damp and humid.

   Her head swiveled to the right when she heard a noise and a loud groan. “Who’s there?” She asked confidence in her voice that she was thoroughly lacking. The person to the right of her made a confused sound. “Lucie?” She heard her brother’s hoarse voice ask in the opposite direction of the other noise.

   She turned to her left and saw her brother, slumped against the wall blinking slowly. “Jamie!” Lucie said, relief and fear soaking her voice. “Where are we? What happened? Where are the others?” She asked quickly, James groaned and she thought briefly that he must have a headache too.

   “Matthew’s to your right, Kit’s behind you, and Thomas is in front of you.” He said weakly. Lucie strained to see him better, to search him for wounds but found it too dark to see anything other than his dark hair. She turned to her left and saw a mop of blonde hair, there seemed to be a dark spot in it and Lucie worried that it might be blood. “Math.” She whispered, trying to determine if he was unconscious. 

   Matthew lifted his head, his green eyes dimmed. “I’m alright Luce. We’re all awake.” He paused, a pained look on his face. “Except Thomas.” He said so quietly Lucie almost missed it. Without a second thought, her eyes were fixated on Thomas. She could see him best of everyone, a dim light bulb hanging loosely right above his head.

  Lucie realized with a start that he was covered in blood and bruises. She gasped involuntarily and leaned as far forward in her chair as possible. 

   Thomas’ face was cut in such a way that reminded her sadly of his mother, their Aunt Sophie, her beautiful face scarred forever. His lip was bleeding, a startling red on his too-pale face. One of his eyes was swollen shut, a dark purple color. Lucie tore her eyes away, a sick feeling settling in her stomach.

   She redirected her attention to figuring out where they were. She shoved the panic down, looking around the room. She assumed Thomas had been awake or at least woken up far before anyone else. There were multiple things turned over, evidence that someone had put up a fight. 

   Lucie was hit again with panic when she thought about the bloodstain in Matthew’s hair. Lucie pulled at the chains, only managing to pinch her skin in the rusted metal. Lucie must have made a desperate noise because James was suddenly calling her name, telling her to calm down. “Luce, it’ll be okay. Don’t freak out or they’ll know you’re awake and come back.”

  Lucie whipped her head around. “Who? Who will come back?” She asked, desperately trying to wrap her mind around the dramatic turn of events that led them here. James’ head tilted, something Lucie knew was his way of thinking before talking. Matthew saved him the trouble and answered her in a hushed whisper.

  “There are three guys, they’ve come down a few times. They did that to Thomas.” He said, pointing to the best of his chained ability to where Thomas sat limply. Lucie said some highly unladylike words and turned back to Matthew. “What do they want?” Matthew shrugged, seemingly unbothered but Lucie didn’t believe that for a second, she knew he was freaking out on the inside.

    Matthew shook his head, eyes not leaving Thomas. “I don’t know. They came down here and started beating up Thomas, something about ghosts and Jesse Blackthorn. Nothing they said made any sense.” Lucie’s whole body tensed.

   This was about Jesse. Who else knew about Jesse? Why had they taken them instead of Tatiana or Grace? What do the men think they know? Questions were firing too fast in Lucie’s brain and she brought her hands up again unthinkingly, the chains holding them back once again.

   James sighed softly. “We’ll be okay though. Mother and father will find us, they won’t stop looking. Our parents have probably already started.” Lucie turned back to Thomas, her heart plummeting when she saw his breathing had weakened. Lucie shuddered and turned back to her brother.

   “I hope they hurry.”

   Lucie didn’t know how long they had sat in the dark before three burly men came in, the door slamming open causing all of them to jump. 

   There were three of them, two were tall though not as tall as Thomas. The other one was shorter but he was deceivingly strong as he reached down and pulled Matthew’s hair, Matthew’s whole body came up and he gave a painful yelp, the man just laughed. “How’s that pretty little head of yours?” He asked, fake sincerity in his voice. Matthew just shook his head, staying silent in a way that made Lucie wonder how many times the men had been in there when she was unconscious.

   The man standing in front of Matthew smirked and slapped him hard across the face. She felt a surge of protectiveness surge through her, James was yanking on his chains in a surely painful way. Matthew glared at the man but stayed silent, the man took him in with evil eyes. “I’m glad you learned your lesson.” He said before slapping Matthew again and turning to Lucie.

   Matthew’s lip was bleeding and his cheek was red but Lucie didn’t have long before the man was in front of her, sneering down. “I’m Micheal, this is Colton,” He gestured to one of the tall men, Colton was squatting in front of Thomas, his broad shoulders blocking Lucie’s view of her giant friend. “This is Mason.” Micheal said, gesturing to the other man, who was standing by the door like a bouncer.

   Lucie didn’t say anything just glared at Micheal as he stared down the end of his nose at her. “Not a talker, well we’ll see about that.” Without warning Micheal struck her across the face, she gasped collapsing back against the chair. James, Matthew, and Christopher who had been silent until this moment all shouted. James and Matthew were fighting against their restaurants, by the sound of it Christopher was too but Lucie couldn’t see him.

   Mason walked behind her and Lucie could hear the sound of chains before she saw Christopher stumble across the room to Thomas. When he reached him Christopher fell to his knees, checking Thomas over and patting his cheek gently trying to wake him up. He was only there for a minute before Colton grabbed his arms and chained him to the wall. 

   Christopher didn’t argue, probably because he was close to his cousin, and instead just sat in a protective stance in front of Thomas.

   Micheal snapped in front of Lucie’s face, causing her eyes to slicker back to his face involuntarily. Lucie looked into his cruel green eyes and watched as an intimidating smile grew across his face. Lucie just lifted her head and maintained eye contact, refusing to appear as scared as she felt. 

   “You’re a strong one, we’ll see how long that lasts.” Micheal turned his back to her and picked up something on the table, when he turned Lucie saw with a spike of fear that he had a large vial of ichor. She knew it would burn but she was used to that pain, she knew she could deal with it.

   Micheal turned his beady eyes to her. “I think that out of everyone here you know the most. So I’ll ask you once before I get the real stuff out, where is Jesse Blackthorn.” Lucie shuddered and shook her head, mouth pulled into a thin line. She would not betray Jesse like that. “I don’t know, all I know about him is that he’s dead. I’m sorry to inform you of that if you had truly thought he was alive.”

    Micheal’s eyes flashed threateningly but Lucie kept her chin held high. Before she knew what was happening Micheal had dumped half the vial of ichor on her cheek. Lucie let out a shriek, her body twisting trying to get it off but only managing to fasten its trip down her neck. James screamed at Micheal throwing curses and pulling hard on his chains.

  Matthew was no better, screaming Lucie’s name and then screaming at Micheal to let her go. Lucie shook her head at the boys, Christopher was watching her with wide scared eyes. Lucie knew her cousin well enough to know he wasn’t scared about himself but rather scared for her, she also knew him well enough to know how long she could last before she gave up, or before her body did.

   Lucie turned to James. “I’m okay, I’m fine.” She turned to look at Matthew who was still thrashing in his chain. “Calm down, it’ll be okay.” She was talking through gritted teeth, the burning sensation growing worse as it set in her skin. Lucie locked eyes with Micheal again.

   “You can torture me all you want but it doesn’t change the fact that you’re insane and I have no idea where Jesse Blackthorn is, other than in a grave.” Micheal watched her for a minute before he frowned. “Fine, you want to do it the hard way that’s fine.” 

   As he walked by James, James hooked his foot around Micheal’s ankle and when Micheal hit the ground James grabbed the front of his shirt, his hands twisting a weird way. “If you touch her I swear on the angel I will kill you. I’ll kill you.” He hissed dangerously in Micheal’s face, a flash of fear crossed Micheal’s face before Mason was hauling a still James away from him.

   Lucie was startled by the darkness lurking James’ golden eyes. She knew he loved her but he needn’t be so protective, he would get hurt. Lucie knew that was hypocritical but she had to make sure James knew it. 

   The three men left briefly and the moment the door shut James was moving as close to Lucie as he could get. “Lucie, Luce, you’ll be okay. How much is on your skin?” He asked urgently, making exasperated sounds as the chains held him back. 

   Matthew had also moved as close to Lucie as he could get. Christopher had gone back to trying to wake Thomas up, but he kept sparing Lucie anxious expressions.

  Lucie tried to focus on seeing how much was on her, trying to ignore the burning sensation and the smell that was making her eyes water. “It’s all over my cheek and neck. It’s setting but it’s not enough to cause too much harm.” Lucie said, her voice quiet but strong. James’ face relaxed slightly, taking relief in the fact that she would be okay.

  Matthew on the other hand looked downright murderous. “That bastard. How dare he? How dare he! First Thomas and now you? All for some dead guy?” Matthew was slurring, his hands made into fists as though he was going to fight someone. For the first time Lucie wished he was slurring due to his drinks, but she knew it was just confirming that his head had indeed taken a bad blow.

   James seemed to come to the same conclusion, casting his parabatai anxious glances. “Math-” James was cut off by the door banging open again, Matthew’s face screwed up in pain and Lucie had to fight down the panic that was rising quickly. 

   They all needed to get out now. Thomas wasn’t waking up, Matthew surely had a concussion, and Lucie desperately needed the ichor off. 

   Micheal walked up to Lucie, a blade in his hand. Lucie’s eyes widened significantly and she started squirming. “What are you doing? Stop! Why do you need him so badly?” She asked, desperate to distract him. He just shook his head. “That, young lady, is none of your concern.”

   He came closer, the knife catching the only light in the room. Lucie’s breath was speeding up, all the boys were yelling and begging him to stop. “Stop it! Take me! Let her go and take me!” James shouted, Lucie was startled to see tears making their way down his face. Micheal turned to him annoyed. “Shut up, if she doesn’t answer you’ll have your chance don’t worry.” 

   James shook his head quickly. “No, let me go first then. Leave her alone.” Micheal glared at him before walking over to James and punching him in the face. Matthew called for his parabatai, pulling hopelessly at the chains. James just put up a hand, signaling he was fine.

  Lucie watched her brother worriedly. His jaw was bent at a weird angle and Lucie was sure it was broken. She watched hopelessly as Micheal approached her again, she was all too aware of the knife he still had in his hand.

   “I’ll ask you one more time before it gets worse for you. Where is Jesse?” He asked menacingly, towering over her petite frame. She locked eyes with him and said slowly, enunciating every word. Micheal looked at her with utter annoyance. “Have it your way.” He said glaring before he dug the knife deep into her shoulder. She screamed as pain blossomed from the wound, snaking around like vines. Matthew screamed her name but James stayed quiet. Lucie turned to her brother but he had his eyes closed tightly, focused on something. 

   Lucie didn’t know what he was doing until he started fading slightly and she realized with a start that he was trying to shadow travel. Lucie gasped and looked to Matthew who was looking at her with determined eyes, he already knew James’ plan.

   She turned back to Micheal who was currently turning to look at James, Lucie panicked knowing she had to get his attention before he noticed James. Mason and Colton hadn’t come back in with him so as long as Micheal didn’t see James, they had a good shot at getting out.

   “Is that all you’ve got?” Lucie said loudly, pulling Micheal’s attention back to herself. She knew it was the wrong thing to say but it got his attention and that was all that mattered. Micheal sneered at her and dug the knife into her side before she could say anything else.

  Lucie’s eyes went wide and her mouth formed a silent ‘o’. She slowly looked down at her wound, Micheal had left the knife in and she could feel the point buried deep inside her. 

   The next thing she knew Micheal was mirroring her expression as he fell to his knees. James stood behind him, the murderous look still spread across his handsome face. Matthew fell to his knees beside her, James having unlocked his chains before stabbing Micheal. 

   Lucie finally let the tears fall as she slumped against Matthew, his arms wrapping securely around her. James put his foot on Micheal’s wound and Micheal gave a pained shout, James lowered his face so he could whisper in Micheal’s ear. “I told you I’d kill you.” James said before plunging the knife Micheal had left on the table into his chest. 

   Micheal’s eyes went wide once more before he let out a long breath and Lucie realized he was dead. James turned his eyes on Lucie and they softened, the darkness fleeing at the sight of Lucie in pain. His brotherly instincts took over and he fell to the ground next to her kissing the top of her head and putting his hand over hers on her stomach to staunch the bleeding.

   “You’re okay. Lucie, you’ll be okay.” James whispered over and over reassuringly in her ear. Matthew let out a helpless sound scrunching his eyes shut in pain. James looked between the two then turned towards Thomas whose head was currently being cradled in Christopher’s lap who was whispering softly, pleading with Thomas to open his eyes.

   “We have to go. We need to get out of here.” James said urgently. Lucie shook her head, she knew none of them were in the shape to be going anywhere other than James and Christopher. “No. No you and Kit need to go get help.” Lucie said weakly, James shook his head face crumpling as he realized it would have to happen.

   “I’m not leaving you, Lucie.” Lucie smiled fondly at him, she knew he didn’t want to. “Someone needs to get help.” Lucie whispered. James fell silent before looking at Christopher. “Kit, get help. I’ll watch them and keep safe but you need to go get help.” Christopher made a noise of resentment but rose to his feet anyway. 

   He looked at Thomas once more before turning to James. “I’ll go but you have to help me get past Mason and Colton.” Kit said softly, James nodded before turning back to Matthew and Lucie. He ducked down to kiss Lucie on the forehead then turned and grabbed Matthew’s hand.

   “I’ll be back.” He said before he and Kit slipped through the door.

[bigmammallama5]

Kara gets an honorary place in the fireman’s bc she helps put out so many fires. Of course Lena has to buy a dozen copies

Like many places around the world, it was tradition for National City’s fire department to offer a yearly charity calendar of very attractive photographs of some very attractive fire fighters. Every year, Lena bought one to hang in her home office above her tinkering table because dammit sometimes you just need some pretty people to look at when you need some motivation. Kara always teased her for having it, but Lena caught her girlfriend glancing at it whenever she was staying over. She may have bought a whole stack this year to hide them around Kara’s little apartment as a joke.

“Miss Luthor? I have a delivery for you.”

Lena looked up from her mess of paperwork in relief as Jess slipped into her office with a squat, square shaped cardboard box.

“Oh-thank you. Leave it where ever there’s room.”

Jess nodded and set it down on the coffee table in front of the white leather couch as Lena pulled another stack of documents towards herself.

“Supergirl dropped it off herself. She said it was from the fire department. Do you know what it could be?”

Lena froze.

“The fire department?”

“Yes.”

“Supergirl delivered it.”

Jess balked, a little confused by Lena’s sudden interest in the delivery. “Yes?”

Lena suddenly felt like she was going to look into that box and get herself into a lot of trouble.

“I see. Thank you, Jess. Please let me know when my next appointment has arrived.”

“Of course, Miss Luthor.”

Jess gave the new box a curious look, but dutifully left Lena to her work with a click clack of her understated heels. Lena stared the box down from her seat, curiosity piqued and urging her to abandon her work for just a few moments. She glanced towards the door and slipped out of her seat when she noticed that Jess had taken a call. If Kara herself hadn’t dropped the box off she would have been happy to let it stay there until she finished her work day. But she had to know now. Why had it been important enough for Kara to deliver it herself?

Lena picked up the box and brought it back to her desk, leaving it on the floor next to her chair and out of sight. She lifted one flap and immediately, Lena knew that she really shouldn’t look.

She really shouldn’t.

She pulled a calendar out of the box.

A brand spanking new, glossy, full-color calendar with a group shot of National City’s most attractive fire fighters half stripped and oiled up spanned the cover of the calendar.

And an equally half stripped and oiled up Supergirl in her very own custom navy and red turnout gear, her jacket nowhere to be seen and her baggy protective pants riding low on her hips. Low on her hips. Her wide-strap suspenders were loose around her thighs.

“Oh no.”

Lena settled into her seat and just stared. She was very knowledgeable in how attractive Kara was. But this? This was extremely unfair. Lena flipped the calendar open, her jaw falling slack when she saw the bonus photograph above the smaller thumbnails for the whole year. Kara was standing nonchalantly, hip cocked out to the side with those stupid pants slipping a little further, one suspender strap on her shoulder and the other dangling, the matching navy sports bra and heavy boots a little dusty, and an oversized metal ladder over her shoulders. She was laughing, her hair messy curls and her arms flexing as she held the ladder steady. On either side of her the twelve other fire fighters of men and women hung off the ladder about a foot off the ground.

Lena tore the plastic wrapping off and turned immediately to the month of June.

Kara’s month.

“Oh no.”

Kara was staged with what Lena knew to be a donated vehicle for a training burn, her booted foot up on the charred bumper and a thick heavy hose inflated across her broad shoulders as she sprayed into the shattered out windshield. Black soot was smeared on her face, arms, and abs. And those fucking pants were so low. She looked powerful. Her hair was wild, sticking to her neck and shoulders as she stared the camera down with her piercing bright blue eyes. And she was wet. Water dripping down her front, dampening the front of her pants and bra, smearing the soot and beading up on the body oil and heaven help her, Lena was about to give that fire hose a run for its money.

Lena was holding her phone to her ear before she had finished dialing Kara’s phone number, too distracted by the sheer amount of skin printed in her hand. Kara picked up on the second ring, the ambient sounds of traffic crackling through the speaker.

“Hi!”

“Do you still have those pants?”

The words were out of Lena’s mouth before she realized and honestly she didn’t care.

“Pants?”

Lena let her eyes get stuck on the low V of her hips.

“Don’t play innocent with me, Miss June.”

Kara laughed lowly.

“I’ll bring them over tonight.”

---

Also on AO3! Thanks for reading

[orange-waterfalls]

Say It Back(Part 1/2)

Host x gender neutral!reader

@thekillingjoke-haha ty for the request!

Part 2

A/N: BRO I FUCKIN LOVE THIS ONE. I was on a writer's block and then CAVETOWN MY LORD AND SAVIOR apparently made a song called "Sweet Tooth". I took a lil bit of inspiration from the chorus(hence, the title). You took inspiration from a song, so did I lol. It took me a bit to find the mood for the story, but once I found it I couldn't stop lol. So. Two-parter. Uh a bit of cursing, Rated T. Slight angst for a minute. The names I used are not people I actually know, they're from a random name generator website. Enjoy!

Word Count: 2.0k

Requests are open!

--

The Host stares at them from across the room.

Well… less ‘stares’ and more ‘keeps his head facing their general direction’. Even so.

They are beautiful. Even with the loss of his sight, he knew they were beautiful. On the inside, at least. He smiles in content as he hears their angelic laugh from across the room. Bing is making jokes again. The Host might’ve been jealous if he were a lesser man and if he weren’t so focused on how their happiness made him happy.

He doesn’t very much understand what he is experiencing. He’d seen movies, he’d read books, he’d listened to songs. He knows what love is. He knows it well.

What it feels like, however, was a completely different ballgame.

Host more focused on his work than on romance. Besides, he just doesn’t like people. He wanted to fall in love at times, but he just couldn’t.

Y/N on the other hand makes him… feel things. He’s not sure if it’s love, he just knows he really enjoys everything they do.

He doesn’t even care that they barely talk to him anymore.

Well… he cares, obviously, but…

You understand, don’t you? Good.

“Host? Hooost. Host!” A voice calls from his side. He hums in response. Bim rolls his eyes and leans back in his chair. “Have you been listening to me for the past ten minutes?”

“No,” Host answers flatly. Bim smiles when he looks over to where Host was facing.

"So you've finally realized you have a crush?" He teased. Host raises his eyebrows.

"Finally?"

"Oh, yeah. We’ve known this, Host, it's really obvious." Host furrows his eyebrows.

"We? What does Bim mean by ‘we’?" They hear footsteps and turn towards the front.

Y/N standing in front of the two, a small, awkward smile on their face.

"Hey," Y/N greets softly. The Host is frozen in place.

"Hey!" Bim says, a wicked grin on his face as he sees the effect on Host. "Didya need something?"

"Yeah, um… Bing told me to ask you where Wilford would be…"

"Oh, well I know nothing about Wilford. I don't think anyone does," Bim explained. “But Host here knows everything, so…” Host turned to Bim angrily. He turns back to Y/N when he hears them clear their throat.

“So, uh, Host?” They ask. Host has to keep himself from shivering at the sound of his name.

“Hm?”

“Where is Wilford?”

“W-Wilford is d-down th-the hall… uh, t-to th-the right f-from the b-bathroom…” Host stutters out, voice cracking once or twice. Y/N smiles and nods in thanks before remembering Host is, in fact, blind.

“Uh, thank you…” They laugh, embarrassed. Host tries to give a small smile. His face isn’t used to that yet, so he settles for a nod. They walk away, and he increasingly becomes more sad and more embarrassed as their footsteps fade away.

“Wow,” Bim laughs, “For a narrator, you can’t talk very well, can you?”

“That is not true, the Host can talk very well…” He pauses, “When he is not around Y/N…”

“Oh, so it’s just them, huh?”

“Yes, they very much affect Host and he isn’t quite sure he likes it…” Bim smiles at Host. “What is the problem with Bim Trimmer?”

“There’s no problem, Host, I’m just happy for you!”

“Why would Bim be happy that Host cannot speak correctly?”

“Because you’re in love, dumbass!” Host would have found the insult very… well… insulting if he hadn’t become distracted by the previous phrase.

‘Because you’re in love’. Was Host in love? He wasn’t sure what that felt like.

There was Serena Munoz in kindergarten. They dated for a couple days. She didn’t like how he read constantly, and decided to break up with him. Host wasn’t in love with Serena. He wasn’t even sure he had a crush on her. Maybe he dated her just because she asked. It didn’t affect him when they broke up.

Then there was Jesse Snow in the sixth grade. He was nice. Trumpet player in the band. They liked to read together in the library at lunch and after school. They recommended books to each other and even wrote a couple stories together. They sat next to each other in math and passed notes in cryptography so the teacher wouldn’t understand. They would, though. But Jesse was scared. Two boys dating in middle school? Not the best for his image. He probably got teased or called gay(which he was) and that’s why they broke up. He liked Jesse. He was sad when they stopped talking. But he didn’t think that was love. It was more of a ‘like’ than anything.

Then Asa Holmes in his senior year of highschool. They were really different. They had blue hair, but he could see the natural-brown in the roots. They wore a lot of black and spikes and chains. They listened to punk rock and heavy metal. Host liked the heavy metal more, so they listened to that more often. They did homework together at Asa’s house, and Asa would start dancing halfway through and it kind of annoyed Host, but he also found it endearing. Then they graduated and promised to keep in touch, but Asa just… couldn’t. Host understood, and they stopped. He was disappointed, but he wasn’t in love with them.

Is this what love feels like? Is it a weird feeling in your stomach when you look at this one person? Is it your heart racing when you see them laugh? Is it hyperventilating when they come over to talk to you? Is that what love is?

Oh.

Oh no.

Host is in love.

Y/N had managed to weasel their way into the dark and lonely place in his soul and fill it with hope and joy and love.

And, oh, how he absolutely loves you.

And what the hell is he supposed to do about that?

--

“Uh, Host?” Bim calls after 20 minutes of silence from the writer. “Are uh… are you okay?”

“No,” Host answers instantly.

“Uh… why not?”

“Because… Host is in love…” Bim is quiet for a second and Host worries he’s gone Deaf as well. But Bim lets out a loud laugh that startles Host.

“Bing! Get your ass over here, you owe me $30!” Bim yells. Bing groans and drags his feet over to them, mumbling as he takes the money out of his wallet. Host begins to zone out, all the noise around him fading into nothing.

Host was… in love. What was he to do? Tell Y/N? No… he couldn’t. They might hate him. They might think he’s awful. They might stop being around him completely. He couldn’t handle that.

So, what was he to do?

“So, what’re you gonna do?” Bim asks, as if reading Hosts mind. “You’ve got to tell them of course.”

“No.”

“No?” Bim scoffs, “Wha do you mean, ‘no’? You have to tell them, Host!”

“Hos does not have to do anything. Host is content with watching from afar.” Host explains. There’s a pause.

“That’s goddamn creepy, Host,” Bim states. Host frowns. It is a bit creepy.

“Host cannot tell them,” He whispers. Bim, finally seeming to understand, sighs and leans forward.

“Look, Host, I know you’re scared. I know this is unfamiliar territory for you, but…” Bim starts. Host leans a bit towards him, wanting to hear what he has to say. He may treat the man like he’s annoying, but ultimately, Host cares about his opinion. Bim sighs again.

“If you don’t tell them, you’re going to regret it. Trust me I know…” Bim pauses, and Host begins wondering who hurt him. “But, these are your feelings, Host! You can’t keep them bottled up inside you forever. It’s unhealthy. You need to tell them and if they like you back, great! If they don’t, that’s too bad, watch ‘Dirty Dancing’ on repeat and eat a tub of ice cream like the rest of us.” Host tilts his head a bit.

“Host cannot exactly watch--”

“Oh, you know what I meant, smartass!” Bim laughs and Host smiles. He does know what Bim meant, and he undrstands. He just needs to say it. How would he say it?

‘Hi. I like you. Say it back.’

That’s a bit too forward.

But forward is what Host does. It’s who he is, he can’t change that.

He’ll just say that to them when they come back.

Y/N walks back into the room where Bim and Host are. They’re wearing different shoes, he can tell. Are they wearing different clothes as well? Why would they be?

Wait…

“Wow, hey Y/N! Who you dressing all nice for?” Illinois says from somewhere else in the room. Host is pale. He doesn’t want to know.

“Well,” Y/N chuckles, “I’m glad you asked!”

No.

No, no, no.

“I’m actually going out for lunch.”

“Really? With who?”

Stop.

Stop!

“It’s ‘whom’.”

“Fuck you, Google. Y/N, spill.”

Don’t.

Please, don’t.

“I’m going out on a date!” They finally finish. The room is completely silent. Not that Host would hear anything with the ringing in his ears.

He felt bad. He felt so bad. He hated this… feeling. He was so upset.

“Well, don’t all talk at once…” Y/N jokes awkwardly. Bim finally decides to take pity on them.

“Wow! Didn’t know you had it in you!” He teased. “Congrats!” The other egos joined in in a chorus of congradulatory phrases. Host was silent.

“Well, I better go. Wish me luck!” They said, practically bouncing out the door. Everyone said goodbye to them, and the door finally closed. Host could feel everyone’s eyes on him. They all knew. The all knew. And he didn’t until he was too late to do anything.

Typical of him.

“Host…” Bim starts. Before he can say anything else, Host shoots up and makes a beeline for the bathroom. No one calls after him, no one tries to stop him, no one does anything, He is grateful for that. He just wants to sit and wallow, and that’s exactly what he plans to do.

--

Host heard a soft knock on the door.

“Host?” Bim asks quietly. “Host, it’s Bim. Are you okay?”

“No,” Host whispers. “Host is not okay. Why would Host be okay?”

“Well, uh… you’ve just… been in there a while. I figured you’d have gotten a bit better…”

“Host has not.”

“Oh…”

Silence for a moment, and Host thinks Bim will leave. No matter how much he may try to seem cold, he does enjoy the man’s company.

“Don’t worry. I’m still here.”

Host lets out a breath he didn’t know he was holding.

“Bim?” He hears the other man shift so he is sitting out side the bathroom door.

“Yeah, Host?”

“Do you think Host is worthy of love?”

“Yes.” Bim said immediately. Host waited for an explanation. He got none. He supposed that’s just how it works. Sometimes you don’t get an explanation.

“Bim?”

“Yeah?”

“Do you think that Y/N could be in love with Host?”

“I think… you shouldn’t bet on it.” Host’s shoulders fall. “But, I also think that there is a possibility and you should tell them soon before they fall in love with someone else.” Host brought his head up. Bim was right.

Y/N was going on a date. Presumably, their first date with this person. Dates are used to figure out if someone is in love, or gives an oppurtunity for someone to fall in love. There was still time. He still has time.

Host swings the bathroom door open and Bim hits his head on the floor.

“Ow! Dammit, Host!” He cursed. Host couldn’t feel bad. Not now.

“Host needs help.”

“With what?” Host turns towards Bim, who pulled himself to his feet.

“With getting Y/N to fall in love with me.” Host heard nothing for a second. Then, a chuckle from the gameshow host.

“Alright,” He sighs, “What do you wanna do?”

[phantomofthepairofdice]

The Rosscars 2020

Wow. It’s that time of year again, only this time it’s different because it’s on a blog that no one will read! (hold for applause) Welcome to the first annual online publication for the Rosscars (hold for applause while the reader acknowledges how positively droll it is that I combined my name with “Oscars”). Who can forget such indelible Rosscar memories like when Steven Soderbergh surprised us all and won Best Director for Out of Sight or Bill Irwin’s beautiful speech upon winning Best Supporting Actor for Rachel Getting Married?! The Rosscars mean something different to everyone, but we all know that they mean quality choices made by a committee of one schmuck. This year’s Rosscars are bizarre because in an effort to be more like the Academy guidelines, film’s nominated have been released between January 1, 2020 and February 28, 2021. As usual, theatrical windows be damned, streamers are welcome. Of course, I have my gripes. I like categorizing movies by release year – specifically, when they become available to the plain old public like yours truly – not at festivals, limited runs in NYC and LA. Well, the Oscars are still weeks away and I feel like everybody wants to forget about last year and move onto this one that we’re already three months into - So here are my awards for the films, performers, and craftspeople that stood out in a pretty exceptional year for movies even though distribution was stranger than ever. 

**A few caveats and guidelines to Rosscar newcomers (which I imagine is just a formality since we all know the Rosscars so well)**

The rules and categories are a little different around here. First, not every category is honored directly. That’s for a few reasons, chiefly that I don’t feel qualified to reward the technical categories properly – I suppose I should say that I feel less qualified to do so than the “above the line” categories. In keeping with the Academy standard, there are five nominees in each category, except for Best Picture, Best Non-Fiction/Documentary Feature, and Best Ensemble Cast which allow up to ten. Every category, save those three, will have the possibility of honorable mentions, because I want to highlight some things that just barely missed the cut. The narrowing down of a lot of these categories was awfully tough.

Nominees are listed alphabetically, and the winners are in bold and italics.

Also, it’s important to keep in mind that I couldn’t see everything (this isn’t a job and it’s still $20 to rent The Father, y’all) and that these are just the opinions of one (self-described) “bozo on the internet.” If you’re a reader and have different picks, feel free to share!

Special Commendations for some things that I want to recognize: • Ludwig Goransson for his Tenet score which is an absolute banger • The costumes of Emma. (Alexandra Byrne), Ma Rainey’s Black Bottom (Ann Roth), and Small Axe (Jaqueline Durran, Sinéad Kidao, and Lisa Duncan) all struck me as exceptional • Trent Reznor and Atticus Ross with their scores for both Soul and Mank. Crazy that Pixar is working with the guy who made “Closer” • The cinematography of Da 5 Bloods (Newton Thomas Sigel), First Cow (Christopher Blauvelt), Beanpole (Kseniya Sereda), and A White, White Day (Maria von Hausswolff)

The Rosscars red carpet was, as usual, a bizarre affair. People filed into the theater and it seemed like the only encounters were awkward ones. Vin Diesel showed up in character as Bloodshot, Aaron Sorkin started getting really verbose about what a lovely night it was, and it became clear that most of the celebrities in attendance didn’t read their invitations closely enough to realize that this was not, in fact, the Academy Awards.

Everyone’s seated, and the show is under way. After a medley about the nominees this year by Common and Seth McFarlane that was more corny but clever than it was funny, the first official category is here, and the presenter is none other than... Ross!

Best Supporting Actor:

1. Chadwick Boseman for Da 5 Bloods

2. Matthew Macfadyen for The Assistant

3. Jesse Plemmons for Judas and the Black Messiah

4. Paul Raci for Sound of Metal

5. Glynn Turman for Ma Rainey’s Black Bottom

Honorable Mentions:

• Lucas Hedges for Let Them All Talk

• Orion Lee for First Cow

• Bill Murray for On the Rocks

Best Supporting Actress:

1. Vanessa Bayer for Barb and Star Go to Vista Del Mar

2. Candice Bergen for Let Them All Talk

3. Gina Rodriguez for Kajillionaire

4. Amanda Seyfried for Mank

5. Yuon Yuh-jung for Minari

Honorable Mentions:

• Jane Adams for She Dies Tomorrow

• Charin Alvarez for Saint Frances

• Talia Ryder for Never Rarely Sometimes Always

• Debra Winger for Kajillionaire

Everyone loves a montage. The audience gets comfortable in their seats as the video screens start to show a montage of some of the most famous moments from Hollywood’s most magical movies. Fred Astaire and Ginger Rogers waltz, gliding across a dance floor like two hovering angels. There’s a clip of Leo declaring himself king of the world in Titanic, the flying bicycles in ET, Bogart stares longingly into Bacall’s eyes, and then there’s some scene where Tom Cruise rides a motorcycle from 2010′s Knight and Day. The audience all seems confused how that last one got in there. The John Williams music swells as little Kevin McAllister screams when puts on aftershave. We see clips of Robert De Niro in Taxi Driver, Carrie Fisher’s Princess Leia embrace Harrison Ford’s Han Solo, Bruce Lee smoothly declares that boards don’t hit back and... wait... was that a clip from Michel Gondry’s Green Hornet with Seth Rogen? And that’s a clip from What Happens in Vegas... Bad Teacher... Vanilla Sky... Shrek 2... Any Given Sunday... Everyone is flummoxed. The last clip fades out and a sole editing credit appears: Cameron Diaz. The lights come up and there’s some applause, but mostly confused murmurs. 

The ceremony has had a bit of a misstep, but nothing it can’t recover from, especially as the next category is announced over the PA, and it looks like the presenter is... Ross!

Best Ensemble Cast:

1. Bacurau

2. Da 5 Bloods 

3. Kajillionaire

4. Let Them All Talk

5. Ma Rainey’s Black Bottom

6. Minari

7. Nomadland

8. Pieces of a Woman

9. Small Axe

Best Original Screenplay:

1. Danny Bilson and Paul Dameo & Spike Lee and Kevin Wilmott for Da 5 Bloods

2. Lee Isaac Chung for Minari

3. Brandon Cronenberg for Possessor

4. Sean Durkin for The Nest

5. Kleber Mendonça Filho and Juliano Dornelles for Bacurau

Honorable Mentions – a very difficult task to weed this down to five.

• Shaka King and Will Berson for Judas and the Black Messiah, from a story by Kenny and Keith Lucas

• Steve McQueen, Alastair Siddons, and Courttia Newland for Small Axe

• Kelly O'Sullivan for Saint Frances

• Thomas Vinterberg and Tobias Lindholm for Another Round

Best Actor:

1. Ben Affleck for The Way Back

2. Chadwick Boseman for Ma Rainey’s Black Bottom

3. Delroy Lindo for Da 5 Bloods

4. John Magaro for First Cow

5. Mads Mikkelsen for Another Round

Honorable Mentions:

• Riz Ahmed for Sound of Metal

• John Boyega for Small Axe

• Daniel Kaluuya for Judas and the Black Messiah

• Hugh Jackman for Bad Education

• Ingvar Eggert Sigurðsson for A White, White Day

We have a break in the action and it looks like Darius Rucker has showed up to perform what he would have nominated for Best Original Song. The crowd is absolutely furious as he starts playing a song that apparently was in Trial of the Chicago Seven. An ocean of sonorous boos and curses overtakes the the once docile crowd. The Rock just ripped his chair from out of the ground. Jane Lynch somehow smuggled in a civil war era flintlock pistol that she’s now pointing at the stage! Suddenly, the crowd unifies around what started as a confident chant of one lone audience member - John C Reilly. It’s growing... Ja Ja Ding Dong, Ja Ja Ding Dong, Ja Ja Ding Dong - it’s like the macabre circus performers from Tod Browning’s Freaks, but instead of chanting “Gooble Gobble” they’re clearly pining for Darius to change his tune to the silly and delightful jam from Eurovision Song Contest: The Story of Fire Saga. Darius, scared for his life, leaves the stage, but here come Will Ferrell and Rachel McAdams to deliver the goods. Busy Philips and Michelle Williams burst into tears. Tom Hanks nods in approval. A segment saved by brave artists placating a toxic group of fans... we’ve just witnessed a live version of the Snyder Cut, folks.

Jack Nicholson seems completely unfazed, giving a thumbs up to the camera and blowing a kiss to the next presenter. Coming to the stage is... Ross... again...

Best Actress:

1. Jessie Buckley for i’m thinking of ending things

2. Carrie Coon for The Nest

3. Han Ye-ri for Minari

4. Sidney Flanagan for Never Rarely Sometimes Always

5. Vasilisa Perelygina for Beanpole

Honorable Mentions – these cuts were especially painful

• Haley Bennet for Swallow

• Morfydd Clark for Saint Maud

• Frances McDormand for Nomadland

• Christin Milioti for Palm Springs

• Geraldine Viswanathan for Bad Education

Best Adapted Screenplay:

1. Charlie Kaufman for i'm thinking of ending things from Iain Reed's novel

2. Sarah Gubbins for Shirley from Susan Scarf Merrell's novel

3. Kelly Reichardt and John Raymond for First Cow

4. Simon Rich for American Pickle from his short story "Sell Out"

5. Mike Makowsky for Bad Education from Robert Kolker's "The Bad Superintendent"

Best Non-Fiction/Documentary Feature:

1. Boys State

2. Collective

3. David Byrne’s American Utopia

4. Dick Johnson is Dead

5. Feels Good Man

6. In & Of Itself

7. The Painter and the Thief

8. Time

Jimmy Fallon has come out on stage to do a bit about the pandemic and watching movies at home. People are just absolutely not having it. He tries not to laugh at his own jokes while doing what I guess is technically a pretty good impression of Dr. Fauci interviewing James Corden as Martin Scorsese (the less said of this impression, the better) on what is or isn’t cinema. The bit doesn’t track and Fallon is absolutely tanking. The producers cut away from the stage to spare the viewers at home from this monstrosity. We see crowd shots of Millie Bobby Brown shaking her head in dismay, Colin Firth is simultaneously grimacing and trying to stave off laughter, Cynthia Erivo is texting, and director Tom Hooper is taking notes for his next film. Corden yells, “Carpool Karaoke! Remember?!” Ron Howard has fainted. This thing is almost completely off the rails.

Coming back to the stage is the next presenter, a clearly embarrassed... Ross! He’s in a total flop sweat, but stumbles his way through a joke about how Fallon should try co-hosting the Oscars with James Franco sometime. There are scant chuckles throughout a crowd that mostly just wants to see who won and go home.

Best Director:

1. Christopher Nolan for Tenet

2. Spike Lee for Da 5 Bloods

3. Steve McQueen for Small Axe

4. Kelly Reichardt for First Cow

5. Chloé Zhao for Nomadland

Honorable Mentions:

• Kitty Green for The Assistant

• Eliza Hittman for Never Rarely Sometimes Always

• Charlie Kaufman for i'm thinking of ending things

• Thomas Vinterberg for Another Round

Best Picture

1. Bacurau

2. Barb and Star Go to Vista Del Mar

3. Da 5 Bloods

4. First Cow

5. i'm thinking of ending things

6. Judas and the Black Messiah

7. Never Rarely Sometimes Always

8. Nomadland

9. Small Axe

10. Tenet

Accepting the award for best picture is none other than Eve, the cow actor who played the titular First Cow! The audience is enamored with how graceful she looks in her cow gown, and her speech, though indecipherable, is likely simple, observational, and deeply profound for those who speak cow.

Wow, what a ceremony! Hearts were broken, property was damaged, dreams were fulfilled... blood was shed? Damn it, Meryl Streep came in and mugged Charlie Kaufman before absconding with the trophy. Oddly, she’s a previous winner, so the attack isn’t out of need for hardware. People are reading through articles about production on Adaptation for potential motives. Streep made time for a photo opportunity, but remains at large.

I could go on ad infinitum about all of these nominees and winners themselves and why they did or didn’t make the cut, but that’d be better served in a different piece. For now, my thoughts on most of these can be found on the Best of 2020 write-up and over on my Letterboxd. And, as always, these awards can be revoked and redistributed at will, so don’t get too cozy with that statue, Danny Bilson!

On behalf of the RAOGL (Rosscars Association of One Guy at a Laptop), thanks for reading, and stay tuned as we’re establishing a tip line for anyone has seen Ms. Streep or her stolen valor Rosscar. We’ll see you next year. Keep watching movies, and keep arbitrarily quantifying them in terms of subjective quality!

[forgadgetsandgizmos]

What Comes Next

My final piece for Alex Manes Week 2020, written for day 6 | Prompt: The Lost Decade. Also, italics may not show up on mobile. They aren’t for me, not sure why. If that happens, you may want to read on AO3. 

Read it on AO3

May, 2009

Alex Manes had lost his virginity to a man.

The to a man part of that statement was important to him. The most important part, if he’s being honest, because six months after basic and it still surprised him. Growing up under Jesse, in Roswell of all places, he had expected to have to bite the bullet with a girl he (hopefully) didn’t hate, therefore crushing of the last thing of he had to fantasize about that his dad couldn’t poison. That, or stay a virgin forever.

Neither were very appealing options.

And it turned out that the poison of his father was far more infectious and lethal than he had imagined.

So yeah, the fact that he had managed to lose his virginity to a man without the world ending was what allowed him to find a bar two days before his first deployment, buy a man a beer, and follow him to his apartment where said man currently laid sprawled out under him, one hand on his chest and another gripping tightly to the headboard.

“Fuck, Alex.” His back arched up as Alex added another lubed finger in his ass, spreading them and stretching him open.

The man – Bryce? No, Boyd, – had started to top, but Alex hadn’t let him get as far as ripping open the condom before flipping him on his back and taking it himself. There was only one person Alex had bottomed for and he wasn’t interested in repeating the experienced for a drunk nobody from a bar he drove an hour to get to. Based off the loud moans coming from the man underneath him, it hadn’t been a problem.

“Just, just fuck me, please,” Boyd begged, spreading his legs further.

Alex pulled his fingers out and pressed his mouth to a nipple instead, flicking it with his tongue. This was his only chance to get laid until after an 8-month deployment.

They were just getting started.

* * *

December, 2010

The beers had yet to stop coming, the cheering and base of the music growing louder with each glass bottom he reached. Alex had raced past drunk 2 hours ago, eager to chase away pangs of regret over the beautiful man at the club’s bar who had caught his eye as soon as he walked in. Half his unit was here, still wearing their t-shirts identifying them as Air Force. Beautiful men weren’t in the cards tonight.

Based off the number of hands clasping his shoulder and inching him towards a group of obviously tipsy, well-dressed women, everyone else hadn’t gotten the memo.

“Come on, Alex, you need to lighten up,” Montgomery yelled over the music from behind him. “I know just the thing.”

And then warmth filled him as soft lips met his and a chest pressed against his own. He wrapped his hands around the hips and was faintly aware of his name being hollered.

The next thing he knew, wind was hitting his face and fingers were fumbling for his belt buckle. Another hand pulled his hair hard and Alex leaned into the touch, eyes closed. The hand on his belt, job completed, pulled up his shirt and pressed a cool touch. Lips hit his own again, a pair of breasts the only thing touching when they did.

Breasts?

Alex flung his open and took in everything he had missed before. He was in an alley, presumably behind the bar. The tug on his hair almost numbed it, but he could feel nails digging into where fingers curled against his skull. Long hair tickled his back where it slipped under his shirt. This was one of the women from the group inside, the one in the tight dress and heels she now teetered on.

Alex pulled back and gently pushed her off.

The dazed woman looked back at him.

“You’re drunk. Go back inside,” he finally said, still flustered. The alley around him seemed to spin.

He ignored the annoyed curses in favor of kneeling over and giving into the churning feeling making its way up his throat. He doesn’t know how long he laid there with a hand pressed against the stained bar wall before the city sounds where joined by faint music from inside.

Rough hands gently lifted him up, tilted his head back, placed something hard against his lips.

“Come on, Alex. Can you drink this for me?”

Cool water rushed down his throat. He grabbed the bottle, chugging the rest in an effort to wash away the taste of beer and cherry Chapstick. It ran down the sides of his chin onto his shirt. He dropped the empty bottle and pressed both hands against the cool concrete, intending to push himself up against the wall.

“Careful,” the voice warned.

Not fast enough. The word had barely registered before what colors he could see in the dark haze swirled together and the building pressure in his head finally popped.

-

Here, open up.

Light burned his eyes. He squeezed them tighter. The light was gone. It helped, a bit. Something small and round was pressed into his mouth, followed by a straw he slowly sipped from. It tasted strangely metallic.

Voices he couldn’t distinguish echoed.

A blanket was laid over him. He pulled it over his head and the hushed voices faded completely.

-

The pounding in his head woke him. At least it was dark this time. He curled in on himself and willed it away.

-

Alex opened his eyes to morning light just barely peeking out from behind his blackout curtains. He was in his bed, tucked under a pile of blankets. A note folded in half was placed on the nightstand.

>>Take these, dumbass

Advil lay beside a glass of water. A trash can was underneath.

Alex moved to sit up and a body in the bed shifted next to him. Jaimie and Nibble’s sleeping forms snored lightly beside him. Across the room, Montgomery slept in a chair, curled up with a blanket Alex recognized from his living room.

They had stayed. Alex did as he was told and laid back down, a ghost of a smile on his face.

* * *

January, 2012

Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell was repealed officially back in September of 2011. He got the news from a friend of a friend while he was deployed in West Africa.

Alex didn’t sleep that night, and it wasn’t because of the heat.

* * *

June, 2013

The couple across from him was laughing. Clay’s old service buddy had told a bland military joke that had sent Clay and the other couple, old friends he’d met before, into a fit of laughter. Clay apparently saw his confused expression over the reaction it had caused and explained: it had been an inside joke from before their unit had split up and the buddy (whose name was currently unknown due to Alex forgetting to listen when the man introduced himself) had retired with an honorable discharge.

To his annoyance, group of 7 isn’t enough to hide in and the wine in front of him couldn’t make up for that or the bland chicken casserole in front of him. Alex consoled himself by remembering that in hour, maybe less, he could excuse himself from the family-and-friends dinner from hell without offending anyone or getting an angry phone call from Dad later about how he had, yet again, disappointed and embarrassed him.

“Don’t like that kind of humor,” a gentle voiced asked. Miranda, Clay’s wife, sat to his right. Clay had taken the seat at the head of the table, leaving Miranda sitting between them.

“You hear it a lot,” he answered. And you did, especially as the youngest of four in a military family where everyone joined a different branch.

“I’ve been a military wife for a decade,” she said with a laugh. “Trust me, I know. But that’s not what I asked.”

Alex tipped his head. “Very astute. And to answer your question, it’s not exactly my niche.”

She hummed. “No date, tonight?”

“I’ve been pretty busy with my station at base. Haven’t had a lot of time for meeting people.”

“Well, we missed you at Christmas.”

It was Alex’s turn to humm. He appreciated the sentiment, but considering he’d had one of the best Christmas’ in years celebrating at Patrick’s place with eggnog, rum balls, and a family that, despite not being his own, had welcomed him with his own stocking hung among the others? He somehow doubted that.

“Okay,” Miranda rolled her eyes good-naturedly. “I missed you at Christmas. You left me alone with a bunch of vulgar boys!”

“I don’t count as a vulgar boy?”

Miranda shot him a sly smile and leaned in until she could speak directly into his ear. “I think we both know you’re the exception to the Manes family, in the best ways possible.” She met his eyes and glanced pointedly down to her stomach and glass of water. “I hope they take after you.”

The wife of Clay’s buddy, who’d brought the bad tasting casserole, caught Miranda’s attention to ask about a fundraiser she was planning.

I hope he takes after you.

Huh. Clay, a father. He felt a twang of regret over the state of his strained relationship with Clay at the idea of missing out on knowing his little niece or nephew.

“It’s for a good cause,” the woman was insisting. “Fundraising is important in times like these. It’ll do good to see a handsome Airman like you supporting them.”

Alex regretting tuning the woman out earlier. Aside from her asking him to involved in a fundraiser, he had tuned out what exactly he was being asked to do, and for what. It must be something military, he supposes. He hadn’t heard them talk about other causes.

“It’ll be good to see you again, Alex.” Miranda nudged his shoulder. “I miss having a brother-in-law around. And you’ll still be placed at Griffiss in December, so it’ll only be a short train ride down.”

“You’re welcome to stay here,” Clay added, almost an afterthought.

Alex took another bite of his chicken casserole, thought about a baby growing up in Clay’s household, with his father and Flint for regular visitors, and agreed.

-

An hour later, Alex excused himself with fumbled explanations and Clay clasped him on the shoulder. “I appreciate you helping out, baby bro." He leaned in closer to whisper “I know this isn’t your usual style.”

“The department really appreciates your donation,” Clay’s buddy (whose name Alex still hadn’t found out) exclaimed with an obvious wink.

The department?

Oh. Not his style.

This was a Christmas police fundraiser. Fan-fucking-tastic.

He would never admit to it, but for the first time in his life, he sent up a (unanswered) prayer to get deployed.

* * *

December, 2013

“Wear your dress blues,” they said.

“Make sure you’ve got a nice change of clothes,” they said.

“You’ll have to plan on staying for a day or two after the fundraiser,” they said.

At no point did they bother to say by the way, you’re going to be on a stage being auctioned off to woman and wives of the force for a date.

Alex got to find that out from the announcer on said stage.

It wasn’t nightmare-worthy embarrassing, but only because an older woman in her sixties named Barbara had bought him for $600 in auction. She said she had a grandchild who’d appreciate “a man like himself.” What that meant, Alex didn’t know.

He got to see Miranda, 7 months pregnant, waddling around in her dress. She beamed at him and pressed his hand to her stomach. She didn’t tell anyone that his eyes teared up when he felt the tiny kicks.

-

Barbara insisted Alex accompany her and her grandson, Will, to mini golf. It was innocent enough until the end, when Alex climbed into Will’s car alone after She ditched them for a friend who she ‘coincidentally’ ran into right as the three finished their game.

It seems that ‘a man like himself’ turned out to mean gay.

Will took Alex back to his apartment where Barbara had insisted Alex drove meet them and then leave Clay’s borrowed car.

He had barely shut the door behind him when Will had him pressed against the wall, inches from his face.

“Is this okay,” he whispered.

Alex leaned forward and kissed him.

They didn’t waste any time before making their way over to the bed in Will’s small room. Sitting against the bed while Will stood between his legs, Alex ripped off Will’s shirt and unfastened his belt while Will undid his own.

Alex grabbed Will’s hand seconds before he could pull down his briefs. “I’m a top,” he stated. “Is that okay for you?”

“Lube and condoms are in the top drawer,” Will grinned.

Alex didn’t tease him. After Will was prepped, he turned him around and lined up his cock with Will’s ass. He traced a finger lightly down his spine, feeling Will’s body tremble at the soft touch, and pushed in.

Unlike Alex, Will wasn’t quiet. He came with a shout onto the bed just before Alex, and both men laid on the bed panting.

They exchanged numbers before Alex left.

* * *

February, 2015

The news came that Miranda had filed for divorce.

In October, a judge grants her majority custody of Eugene ‘Tripp’ Manes IV. Clay would have visitation every other weekend.

-

Alex visited for Tripp’s one-year birthday. It was adorable; Miranda got him this miniature cake that he shoved in his mouth face first.

Clay is there. Miranda says they parted amicably enough, and she wants Tripp to have a father, even if she can’t have a husband.

It’s the best trip there he’s ever had.

-

Alex visited Will before he left and ended up staying an extra day. They don’t do much talking but agree to meet up when Alex comes down to babysit Tripp for a weekend that Miranda and Clay will both be out of town.

-

They do. It’s nice.

* * *

April, 2017

Alex got the notice that he’s being deployed via email at midnight two weeks before he’s due to report.

He almost didn’t, but he called Will. They spend the two weeks in bed.

* * *

September, 2017

He’s a codebreaker. He doesn’t go out in the field. It’s what he told Will when he left (It’s as safe as it can be, don’t worry. I’ll call if I can, okay?) He actually does, too.

“Don’t be typing too much, now,” he always says at the end of every call. “Don’t want those fingers cramping up.” He sounds suggestive when he says it and it reminds Alex what they are: fuck buddies that ended up friends-with-benefits. In that sense, he likes it.

On the other hand, him saying ‘other activities’ always makes him picture freezing up when he needs to pull the trigger, and the other guy pulling it first.

He has nightmares about that.

-

The combatants they’re up against got a new hacker. They must have, because someone had the sense to limit system access to a specific location ping tied to the server that he needs to access.

“What does that mean?” Patrick sounds nervous at Alex’s tone and it’s not fucking helping.

“It means that even if I spoof my location and claim I’m within the vicinity of the system, the server sweeps for a signal to be bounced back within the set perimeters. Since I won’t be there, the signal can’t get bounced back and the system triggers an alarm that shuts it down.”

The team stared at him, silent.

“And?” Patrick again, apprehensive this time.

Alex sighed. “It means I have to go there.”

-

No one is happy about it, but they have a plan.

Another unit fakes a mission gone wrong on the opposite side of base to draw attention. Montgomery takes out the guards left on side Alex needs access to with a sniper. Jaimie and Nibble drive Alex to the perimeter edge so he can step inside. Ten minutes, and his program gets everything they need. He, Nibble, and Montgomery on sniper can watch Jaimie’s back while he drives away.

Alex got all the way inside the perimeter before things go sideways. With three minutes on the clock, they’re spotted. And for three minutes, everything is fine. He’s dressed like them, they all are, so no one attacks him in his hiding spot in a personal tent. He made it within feet of the jeep when the world explodes. He woke up to screams and a piercing ringing filling his head. Smoke clouds his view of anything past him, but he doesn’t need to see to feel the heavy metal of the jeep railing crushing his leg.

The ringing doesn’t stop, he can’t hear, and if he can’t hear, he doesn’t know if it’s safe to call for help or move or do anything. Bullets flying light up the red-tinged smoke. The red doesn’t make sense at first, but he tried to lift his head, to understand, and the dripping on the ground is clear. His eye has blood over it, from a head wound it seems, and the stinging is so bad that despite his best efforts, they shut.

Private.

Can you open your eyes for me, private?.

He’s hallucinating. Why else would those curls be brushing against his head?

Captain Manes!

* * *

October, 2017

Alex let the darkness take him in Iraq and woke up in Germany.

He’s been in a medically induced coma for two weeks. There are three things that he knows.

Jaimie and Nibble are dead. Patrick’s eyes are rimmed red when he tells him.

He missed the funeral.

And it turned out that he’s missing a lot more than a funeral. It’s not there but he feels it, feels it fucking burning and it won’t stop and he’s screaming and screaming and screaming.

Patrick offered to call Will. Alex remembers trying to shake his head and shooting pain. Whatever happened, Will never called.

When Alex opened his eyes after that first time, Jesse was there. He couldn’t deal with – but he hadn’t seen him yet.

Alex closed his eyes again.

* * *

January, 2018

Physical therapy makes him want to pull out his hair, but he still doesn’t think it as bad as actual therapy.

His PTSD triggers aren’t so black and white as a lost limb, and he isn’t about to unload the drama of his abusive Air Force father onto an Air Force-mandated therapist. It’s a waste of time for the entire eight weeks mandated.

* * *

April, 2018

The news was early, which was unusual. The Air Force is anything but fast acting, and he submitted his request four days ago. Allowing for a week, the earliest he should be getting this letter is Friday.

It was Wednesday.

Alex ripped it open and read the words. And read them again. And again.

But no matter how many times he reads them, the words haven’t changed. Aren’t going to.

Per request, you are assigned to Roswell, New Mexico for the duration of your commitment.

He’s going home.

See it on AO3

[winchester-purgatory]

Summary: Sam finally proposes to Jess

Written For: @spnchristmasbingo

Square Field: Christmas proposal

Pairing: Sam Winchester x Jessica Moore

Word Count: 1703

Warnings: None needed 

The alarm went off, blaring and beeping, echoing in their bedroom, stirring Sam from his sleep. He groaned, but didn’t move, still tired.

He and Jess had gone to bed late last night due to an office party at the law firm where he interns. It was kinda boring, most employees being in their forties and up, but Jess was there to make it better - and report about the two employees she caught having a drunken affair on her way to the bathroom. He even had managed to win one of the prizes of the night, a bottle of expensive whiskey, which he'll give to Dean as an additional Christmas present, not being a whiskey drinker.

As tempting as it was to hit snooze, he already hit it two times which meant it was around 10 o'clock.

''Make it stop,'' Jess sleepily complained from behind him, facing the opposite side of the alarm clock. She tried to tug at the comforter in hopes to hide underneath and block the loud noise, but it was hogged by Sam's weight, being a blanket hogger. ‘’Sam!’’

Forcing his eyes open, he reached out to turn the alarm off, making them both sigh in relief. This alarm might do a good job at waking them from a deep sleep, but its sound is damn annoying when it’s a day off.

Sam rolled over and kissed her shoulder tenderly, wrapping his arms around her, not ready to leave the bed yet. The blonde hummed, leaning into her lover's touch. ‘’Five more minutes,’’ she mumbled, eyes still closed.

A chuckle rumbled from Sam’s chest. Okay. Five more minutes.

‘’I’m so glad we got out of hosting the Christmas dinner - again. No need to wake up early and stress with the food or setting everything up,’’ Jess declared, feeling very cosy.

''This apartment is way too small for a Christmas gathering anyway. Where would the guests sit? We don't even have a proper dinner table.''

‘’We could put Cas and Charlie in the living room and Dean and Claudia on the balcony. The patio set should still be there,'' Jess suggested with amusement.

‘’I can already hear him complaining about the snow falling into his beer or that his ass is starting to feel numb from sitting on the metal chairs in the cold.’’ Sam chuckled, imagining the scene perfectly. ‘’It’s better at Dean’s place. He always gets way too drunk and I wouldn’t see Claudia hauling him in the car and to their house. He'd crush her with his dead weight.’’

Although they've been living together for four years, slow mornings like this were rare. Morning where they could sleep in, be lazy in bed and cuddle. They always had to rush to get to class or work - and sometimes even on the weekend on Jess' end, a perk of being a nurse.

Whenever it would happen, they liked to cherish every minute and sometimes even have breakfast in bed. It was a guilty pleasure.

Not today though, as ringtone went off, blaring through the bedroom.

''Ugh, it's mine.'' Jess detached herself from Sam to grab her phone on the right nightstand, checking at the caller ID. ''It's my mother,'' she announced with mild annoyance, a picture of her and her mom at her 40th birthday taking the whole screen as it kept ringing.

Their laughter was cut short when a ringtone went off, blaring through the bedroom.

''Ugh, it's mine.'' Jess detached herself from Sam to grab her phone on the right nightstand, checking at the caller ID. ''It's my mother,'' she announced with mild annoyance, a picture of her and her mom at her 50th birthday taking the whole screen as it kept ringing.

That interruption was the signal that morning cuddles were officially over and they should get started with their day. ‘’I’ll go shower while you talk to her.’’ Sam got up, fetching some clean clothes from the top of the dresser.

''I'll join you if you finish before you,'' Jess said with a smile and a wink before answering her phone. ''Hi, Mom, how's the preparations going? Has Dad started early on the eggnog again?''

Sam looked down and smiled. How did he get so lucky?

.

When Sam returned to the bedroom, Jess was finished with her call. She had opened the curtains and snow was falling outside, dusting a light coat of white in the streets.

She pouted, seeing him half dressed with a towel over his hair. ‘’Already? I was about to join you.’’

''Sorry... How's your mom?'' he asked while dry toweling his hair.

''She's doing good. She's pretty disappointed we won't be joining them for Christmas this year - again. Plane tickets are just so expensive during this time of the year and, no offense babe, but your car wouldn't last the trip.''

Sam chuckled, throwing the towel in the laundry basket. ''It's okay. I know it's crap. Dean reminds me every single time he sees my car and its damaged bumper.''

''She wishes us a jolly christmas eve...and not-so-subtly asked if she has a wedding to plan.'' Jess huffed a laugh, still hearing the echoes of her mother wondering how they weren't engaged after being together for five years. ''At least she didn't ask if I was pregnant.''

''Maybe she does.''

''What? Sam, I’m not pregnant. I’d know if I were-’’

‘’No! Not that.’’ He shook his head. ‘’The part about planning a wedding.’’

‘’I think you skipped a step here: we need to be engaged first.’’

‘’Let’s do it now.’’

‘’Sam-’’

‘’I'm dead serious, Jess! I've been thinking about it for a couple months already. I even got a ring...''

Jess' eyebrows pulled into a confused frown, trying to process all this new information. ''What?'' she asked, eyes rapidly filling with various emotions.

Sam stood and went to their closet, fetching the old box filled with memories from his years at college from the back, and pulled out the blue velvet box where the ring was perfectly resting. He opened the small box and stared at the dainty, simple band with diamond in the middle and nodded. It's time.

His palms were getting sweaty as he returned to the bed, feeling nervous. He wasn't nervous about Jess possibly saying no. He knew she'd say yes, she already made that clear. It's just that Jess deserved the best and Sam wanted the proposal to be perfect. He was afraid of messing up and getting his on-the-moment speech wrong.

Sensing his nervosity, Jess took his hand and tugged him back on the bed. She looked up at him and smiled, sparkles of joy already in her eyes even though he hadn't popped the question and she hadn't seen the ring yet. The beaming look on her face told him this was the rightest thing he'll ever do. He was gonna marry this girl.

''Jess. Since I got that ring, I kept practicing how to present the question and trying to find the right way to propose, the right moment, but I think this is it.’’

10 o’clock on Christmas Eve morning wasn’t your typical ‘perfect’ proposal, but Sam didn’t want to wait anymore. Dean had suggested he’d do it tonight at his place, but Sam didn’t like the idea of a crowd - even his closest friends and brother - watching them. He liked privacy and, what’s more private than between your four bedroom walls? 

‘’This might sound cheesy and overused in proposal speeches, but I wouldn't be who I am today without you. When we met, I was in a bad place. I had gotten into a really bad fight with my father about my future and moved all the way to california to follow my dream. I was miserable and lonely, but there you were in that diner, golden curls and sparkling blue eyes, serving coffee to pay off your tuition. I came to this diner every day for weeks although I was short on money solely so I could see you.'' Sam paused, realizing how stalker-ish his behaviour sounded. ''Unlike the guy at table seven, I wasn't there to ogle your body in your waitress uniform. I was there for the bright smile on your face and to hear your laugh because it was the only thing that would brighten my dark grey sky.''

The blonde reached out and squeezed Sam's hand, remembering the tough times. Freedom hadn’t tasted sweet the first couple months. It was very dark and lonely and difficult on every end. Sam had been long tormented by his past, always thinking about his brother and father he left behind, the absence of support from them.

‘’I remember when I first brought you to my dorm. Collin couldn’t believe I caught a girl like you, so...out of my league. The nerd doesn’t get the hot girl in our world,’’ he said in an attempt to make a joke. ‘’It’s been the two of us since college. Can it be the two of us forever now? You pull me out of my comfort zone and make me do things I would never do on my own without forcing me into anything. You motivate me when my hopes are down, you make me smile when I feel down, make me feel special when I feel alone and misunderstood. You were my home when I had no home to go to. You’re the first girl I loved.’’

There had been girls before Jess. Amy Pond when he was twelve. It didn’t last long, barely over a month, but it still counted. Penelope Svenson, the girl from the café in his hometown. They never went past the first date. She was too self-centered for him. And Rachel Nave, his prom date, who hooked up with his brother on prom night. Thanks Dean. 

Looking back, those relationships were insignificant. 

‘’Remember the night I reserved us a table at this fancy restaurant? I had been saving for weeks to take you there on our anniversary, But when the day came, I couldn’t get myself out of bed and had to cancel. You showed up to my dorm, all dressed up and excited for our date. I felt so bad. I thought you'd be upset and slam the door on your way out, but you just smiled and said we'd go another time. You even stayed in my dorm and we cuddled and watched movies on my busted laptop. That’s when I knew you were the one for me.''

A small frown creased on the blonde’s forehead, remembering that night in Sam’s crusty dorm perfectly. ‘’Sam, that was over four years ago.’’

He looked down and nodded. ‘’I know. You stayed when others would’ve left and that meant a lot to me. It showed me you weren’t only with me for the good and that I could be fully myself with you - no holding back.’’ Sam paused, the velvet box feeling warm and kinda sticky in his clammy hands. ''Jessica Lee Moore, will you marry me?’’

[purplesurveys]

961

What was the most unsettling film you’ve seen? Unsettling films are my jam, man. To name a few, there’s Eraserhead, Room, Midsommar, Eyes Wide Shut, Misery, and most recently, I’m Thinking of Ending Things. Eraserhead takes the cake though. That movie always makes me queasy...

What unethical experiment would have the biggest positive impact on society as a whole? I’m a firm believer in nothing good ever comes out of unethical practices. I’ll never forget reading about an experiment where a group of newborn babies were given basic needs like food and being bathed, but weren’t shown any affection whatsoever and it was meant to see if humans can survive with just the most basic physiological needs. By the end of the experiment period half of the babies were dead. The results were honestly a lot bleaker than how I’ve put it, but I don’t wanna be a downer lol. Suffice it to say that experiment haunted me for days after reading it.

When was the last time you were snooping, and found something you wish you hadn’t? It was around a week or so ago, I’m pretty sure.

Which celebrity or band has the worst fan base? My sister is into K-pop and I hear insights from her all the time, but her one constant is that BTS breeds the most annoying, toxic fans. I’d have to agree. Ariana Grande’s fandom was also annoying at one point, but I haven’t heard much from them making a mess these days.

What are you interested in that most people aren’t? Autobiographies.

If you were given a PhD degree, but had no more knowledge of the subject of the degree besides what you have now, what degree would you want to be given to you? Why would I deserve a PhD on something I’m clearly not qualified for...I’m not sure I’m following this question right, but I don’t feel like thinking too hard about it.

What smartphone feature would you actually be excited for a company to implement? I’m happy with the features that are widespread now, but I wish companies adhere more to countries other than the common ones like US, UK, Australia, etc. I always see ads about phones being able to tell you how much movie tickets cost or track boarding passes, but those are all irrelevant here. It makes a lot of Apple’s basic apps useless on this side of the world haha.

What’s something people don’t worry about but really should? Long-term effects of poor habits like not getting enough sleep or drinking too many cups of coffee. I know because I’m guilty of this.

What movie quotes do you use on a regular basis? “I won’t think about that now, I’ll think about it tomorrow,” but I usually say it to myself, especially when I feel stressed.

Do you think that children born today will have better or worse lives than their parents? Better, but idk if that’s just me being biased because my generation will be the next parents lol. I just think that a lot of Gen X parents still have a lot of dated prejudices and mindsets that my generation was able to learn better from. For example my mom doesn’t like using people’s preferred names, especially if they’ve transitioned -_____- and I know I’d never want to set such an example for my kids.

What’s the funniest joke you know by heart? I know I’ve come across hilarious ones but I always fail to come up with one when asked on the spot.

When was the last time you felt you had a new lease on life? LOL RIGHT NOW

What’s the funniest actual name you’ve heard of someone having? It’s more stupid than funny and I know I’ve already mentioned this before, but Covid Bryant as a first and second name still takes the cake for me. My sister went to school with a girl whose name is just her surname backwards, and for a time I was really weirded out by it. But in the times I’ve seen her she really owns her name and never looks bothered by it, so I quickly stopped caring.

Which charity or charitable cause is most deserving of money? For me it would have to be organizations for animal welfare.

What TV show character would it be the most fun to change places with for a week? Post-El Camino Jesse Pinkman. I wouldn’t want to live through his chaotic shit  from Breaking Bad, but his fate after El Camino is something I’m super envious of.

What was cool when you were young but isn’t cool now? Flip phones, Blackberry phones, Roshes, Frappuccinos.

If you were moving to another country, but could only pack one carry-on sized bag, what would you pack? Phone, laptop, their chargers, important IDs, some of my favorite tops and jeans, underwear, essential toiletries, wallet, a family photo, a journal and pen, earphones, certain knickknacks to remember Gab and my dogs by. Minus the clothes, all of these are pretty tiny so I think these would all fit in the bag just fine.

What’s the most ironic thing you’ve seen happen? I don’t know. I’m not really a fan of rating the most/worst this and that stuff in my life, either. I feel like I unnecessarily rack my brain too hard for them when I take surveys to have a chill time.

If magic was real, what spell would you try to learn first? Probably something that’d keep my dogs from dying.

If you were a ghost and could possess people, what would you make them do? No thanks. I’d be the chillest ghost tbh, I’d like to just sneak up on people’s business and hang out but never interfere in them.

What goal do you think humanity is not focused enough on achieving? Climate change, global warming, alleviation of poverty. Corporations and the few people who actually have the power and money to change things only ever come up with short-term shit like donations and never look at the big picture. What problem are you currently grappling with? So many personal ones. But just like the recurring theme of my surveys so far, “I don’t want to get into it.”

What character in a movie could have been great, but the actor they cast didn’t fit the role? As much as I love Kristen Stewart, I heard she was cast as Princess Diana for an upcoming film and I’m not really feeling that decision. They could’ve gone with a British actress for starters?????? The movie is still in production but it is pretty annoying to think about lmao.

What game have you spent the most hours playing? Probably GTA: San Andreas as a kid.

What’s the most comfortable bed or chair you’ve ever been in? Luxury hotel beds are always so fluffy and comfortable.

What’s the craziest conversation you’ve overheard? Omg one time at a coffee shop Gabie and I sat beside this older couple that obviously was going through some heavy SHIT. There was a lot of animosity and tension between them and I caught the lady silently break into tears a few times. I never overheard anything but then again they sat in silence for hours until the lady finally walked out on him. Never knew what it was about but I’ve always guessed that the man did something crappy, like cheat, and was discovered. It was a really sad sight and a crazy situation to witness and I think I felt even more sorry because they were obviously in their 50s or 60s. I hope the woman is in a better place now as she looked rough as fuck that evening.

What’s the hardest you’ve ever worked? I wore a lot of hats when I was in my college org, and that was on top of balancing my acads as well.

What movie, picture, or video always makes you laugh no matter how often you watch it? That scene from Friends where Ross plays the keyboard for Chandler, Phoebe, Monica, and Rachel.

What artist or band do you always recommend when someone asks for a music recommendation? It depends on what music they’re into and if I have actually have a recommendation in mind for them. I obviously can’t suggest Paramore to someone who mainly listens to metal.

If you could have an all-expenses paid trip to see any famous world monument, which monument would you choose? I’m down for any monuments that are super ancient like Stonehenge or the Pyramids of Giza.

If animals could talk, which animal would be the most annoying? I’d go with frogs, but only because they get annoyingly loud in the evening.

What’s the most addicted to a game you’ve ever been? Playing The Sims, Mario Kart, Rock Band, or games in the Burnout franchise.

What’s the coldest you’ve ever been? Japan was so fucking cold when I was there. Didn’t do my research and ended up being dressed poorly, and I was so cold I could barely talk to my parents or fully enjoy my time. Sagada was also nearly unbearable in the early morning.

Which protagonist from a book or movie would make the worst roommate? Not from a book or movie, but BoJack Horseman. Diane can also be in the running as I always found her too whiny. I get that she had her personal shit to deal with, but I don’t think living with her would be good for my own sanity and mental health.

Do you eat food that’s past its expiration date if it still smells and looks fine? It annoys my chef dad to death that I don’t lol. No matter how great it looks, I’d bounce. I once ate expired Kit Kats that tasted like cardboard and that scared me off of expired food forever.

What’s the most ridiculous thing you have bought? I once bought a stupid novelty soap that to this day I’ve never even opened. It’s in one of my drawers, and I plan to just throw it out at some point.

What’s the funniest comedy skit you’ve seen? Not a fan of these but one that got to me is Dear Sister from SNL.

What’s the most depressing meal you’ve eaten? A few years ago there was a local breakfast place that offered red velvet pancakes for a limited time and I was all over that crap, so I went and ordered. The actual pancakes ended up not being any bigger than my palm, and I remember not being able to hide my disappointment once the server placed the dish on my table haha. I felt so scammed. I had to order something else to feel full, because those pancakes were stupidly small.

What tips or tricks have you picked up from your job/jobs? One of my superiors, when she was presenting a pitch to our director yesterday, kept asking questions and picking at the director’s brain so that she can get suggestions and answers straight from the director herself and so that she didn’t have to do any brainstorming anymore. I thought that was a pretty nifty and clever hack.

What outdoor activity haven’t you tried, but would like to? Hiking a mountain!

What songs hit you with a wave of nostalgia every time you hear them? Umbrella by Rihanna feat. Jay-Z.

What’s the worst backhanded compliment you could give someone? Idk, anything can be the worst depending on the context. I’m not a fan of giving those, though.

What’s the most interesting documentary you’ve ever watched? Unsolved Mysteries’ Dupont de Ligonnès episode was a lot of fun to watch.

What was the last song you sang along to? I think it was Thinking of You by Katy Perry? but I’m not entirely sure. I haven’t sung along to anything in a while.

What app can you not believe someone hasn’t made yet? I don’t really download and use a lot of apps other than the basic ones, so I don’t care too much.

When was the last time you face palmed? Last night.

If you were given five million dollars to open a small museum, what kind of museum would you create? I’d give it away to the Martial Law museum currently being made near my university so that it can do more to show the atrocities of the Marcoses. And so that I can piss off my pro-Marcos relatives.

Which of your vices or bad habits would be the hardest to give up? Uh hating myself, if that counts.

What really needs to be modernized? Public transportation systems in this country.

[rami-hoe]

Confessions (Part Two)

Pairing: Josh x reader

Word Count: 2.1K

CW: pressure to have sex

The last month had been interesting, to say the least. Josh and I started testing the waters of our newfound relationship. For the first three weeks, as far as anyone in our friend group was concerned, nothing had changed. I liked to think we had them fooled, even though Sam insisted she knew it all along. We thought it was better to test the waters first, get used to the new dynamic of our relationship before we went public and had to deal with a hundred questions from everyone we knew. Unfortunately, discretion wasn’t one of Josh’s strong suits, and we found ourselves dealing with near misses on a regular basis. After a while, we agreed that answering the questions would be less work than trying to keep up the ruse. As expected, everybody freaked out. His sisters ran to hug me, Chris clapped him on the back, and while I can’t prove anything, I’m pretty sure I saw some money exchange hands. The excitement died down after a couple days, and Josh and I were able to focus on each other.

Jess and I weren’t exactly close, but after Josh and I got together, she seemed to take more of an interest in me. She kept pestering me to hang out and have some girl time with her, despite the fact that we had never spent five minutes alone together before. After a while, I gave into the demand. We went out for lunch. I figured that was the easiest of all the suggestions she made. I could get through one meal with her, couldn’t I?

As I suspected, all she wanted was to talk about Josh. She wanted details about everything: what kind of dates we went on, if he had bought me any presents, how often we texted. I tried to answer her questions well enough to get her to stop asking without giving her any unnecessary details. I seemed to be able to sate her curiosity well enough. Well, at least until we reached the one particular subject I got the feeling was all Jess really cared about.

“Does he live up to all the hype?” She sipped on her coke and stared at me with those bright blue eyes.

“What do you mean?” I asked.

“I mean the ‘bone zone.’” She laughed and set down her glass. “He talks such a big game- I gotta know, can he actually play?”

“Let’s talk about something else,” I said.

“Come on,” she said. “We’re both girls.”

“What does that have to do with anything?” I popped a mushroom into my mouth and took my time chewing.

“Girls talk about how their man is with their girlfriends,” she said. The condescension in her voice made my muscles clench. “How big is he? I’ve been wondering. I mean, he’s so tall- my guess is at least seven inches. Am I right?”

I pushed my food around with my fork. “I, uh… Well, I’m not sure-”

Jess reached across the table and slapped my forearm. “Oh my god, you haven’t fucked him yet?” Heat rose in my cheeks and I stared at my suddenly enthralling plate. “Why not? I can name fifteen girls who’d kill to get in his pants right now.”

I didn’t doubt that she could, but I didn’t want to hear the list. “We’ve only been dating a few weeks,” I said.

“Josh doesn’t usually wait a few weeks,” she said.

“I know.” I huffed.  

Jess leaned back in her chair. “Hey, don’t get pissy,” she said. “I’m just surprised. Josh isn’t the type to play the long game. You know he has plenty of alternates waiting on the sidelines.”

I dropped my fork on my plate with a clank, finding my appetite mysteriously gone. “Thanks,” I said. “I didn’t mean it like that.” She laughed, but I had a hard time finding the joke.  “You can’t make a guy like Josh wait too long.” She stirred her drink with her straw. “Playing hard to get is one thing, but you don’t want him to think you’re a prude.” As our waiter, an admittedly cute guy who was at least ten years older than either of us, walked by, Jess pulled her straw out of her glass and ran it across her tongue. “I’m just trying to help you out. If you wanna keep him, you have to give him something. Especially if he’s spending as much on your dates as you say he is.”  

I had to bite my tongue to stop myself for telling her where she could stick her friendly advice. “What I give him is none of your business.”

“Why so hostile?” Drops of amber liquid fell from the end of her straw and spattered on the table. “Look, sex isn’t a big deal with a guy like Josh. He’s not gonna think you’re too easy if you give it up.”

My left hand clenched into a tight fist. “I know that.”

She tilted her head to the side. “Then why hold out on him?” My eyes moved around the room, settling on anything and everything other than the woman sitting across me. She leaned halfway over the table, her prying eyes attempting to read my expression. “You have had sex, haven’t you?” I didn’t have to reply. My expression gave her the answer she wanted. “Oh my god! You’re a virgin?” Her whisper-yells were just loud enough to earn a glance from the table next to us. “Does Josh know?”

I gave her an answer for the sole purpose of shutting her up. “We haven’t really talked about it.”

Jess had even more questions about my (lack of) sexual activity than she did about my relationship with Josh, and I wanted to answer them even less. I got out of there the second we finished eating, but it was still the longest lunch I had ever sat through. As much as I wanted to dismiss what she said, I found myself incapable of doing so. My mind lingered on the conversation, on Jess’ warnings and advice. As blunt and intrusive as it was, I had to admit that Jess knew more about this kind of stuff than I did. Virginity wasn’t a huge deal to me; I didn’t even believe in the concept. I just hadn’t really had the opportunity to have sex with the right person. There was no doubt in my mind that Josh was the right person, so why was I so hesitant? Maybe I was overthinking this. If it wasn’t a big deal to me, and it would make Josh happy, why shouldn’t I do it? I mean, Josh had spent a lot on me. His family was rich as hell, I knew that. But I wasn’t prepared for the sheer amount of money he was willing to drop on me, like it was nothing. Whenever we went out, he insisted on paying for everything, and the places he took me to weren’t cheap either. The least I could do is give him something in return.

Jess’ words still rang in my ears days later. I watched TV, and I thought about sex. I did schoolwork, and I thought about sex. I met Josh at his place for a movie date, and I thought about sex. I couldn’t say what was on Josh’s mind for certain, but it had to mean something that he invited me over when the rest of his family was out. We curled up together on the basement suite couch and Josh put on some horror movie nobody had ever heard of. He liked thrillers. To more precise, he liked the idea of me being scared into his arms by thrillers. But I couldn’t focus on the movie enough to be scared by it, and it didn’t take Josh long to notice. He paused it half an hour in to ask me what was up. I didn’t have an answer, and I didn’t try to come up with one. Instead, I took what seemed to me was the only sensible course of action: I swung my leg over, straddled his lap, and pulled him into a heated kiss. Josh’s reaction was delayed only by the shock of the sudden movement. He caught up with me in a few seconds, and wrapped his arms around my waist. His tongue slipped into my mouth, gliding against my own. I ran my fingers through his hair before dropping my hands down to his chest.

I broke the kiss and slid back off his lap. I knelt on the floor in front of him, my hands moving down to tug at his belt. Josh laughed. “What’re you doing?”

“What’s it look like?” I asked. I didn’t look up from my task, but my shaking hands refused to cooperate. Why the hell was I so nervous?

“Hey, hey.” Josh’s hands covered my own and didn’t move until I met his eyes. “You’re sure you’re ready?”

“Why wouldn’t I be?” I winced at the harshness in my own voice, and Josh pulled his hands away from mine.The shame I had felt with Jess made an unwelcome reprise as I stood up and moved away from the couch, crossing my arms over my chest. Josh’s stare bore into my skull, and I heard him fitting his belt back into place.

“Are you gonna tell me what that was about?” he asked.

“Nothing,” I said. “I’m sorry- I’m just being stupid.”

The couch groaned as Josh stood up. “You’re not being stupid.” He put his hand on my shoulder and turned me around. “Weird, yeah, but not stupid.” His fingers used brushing my hair back as an excuse to cup my cheek. “What’s going on?”

“It’s just…” I sighed. “We’ve been dating a month, and you’ve been so good and patient and everything.” I wasn’t aware I was chewing my bottom lip until I ripped off a piece of skin too deep. The metallic taste of blood coated the tip of my tongue. “It’s not fair, me making you wait so long.”

Josh laughed. “Fair?”

I frowned. “What’s so funny?”

“You make it sound like you owe it to me.” The smile fell off his face when I didn’t respond. “You do know you don’t owe me sex, right?”

“No- I mean, yeah. Of course not.” I shook my head, like that would get my thoughts in order. “But you take me out to all those nice places, and I want to give you something in return-”

“You don’t have to give me anything,” he said. “Y/N, I don’t take you to those places because I think I’ll get something out of it.”

“I know that.” I ran my fingers through my hair. “But I know most of your girlfriends don’t make you wait this long, and I thought-” I stopped myself before I finished the sentence, but Josh knew what I was going to say.

“You seriously thought I’d break up with you for not having sex with me?” His voice was quiet, but the hurt in it was deafening.

I shook my head. “No- it’s just, Jess said-”

“You’re not dating Jess,” he said. “You’re dating me, and I’ve never even implied that I’ll leave you if you don’t put out.”

“I don’t think you’ll leave me, I just...” My eyes began to water against my will.

“Just what?” Josh snapped.

“I just want to make you happy,” I said.

“And sex is the only way to do that?” “I don’t know!” I wrapped my arms over my stomach. “I just know you like it, and it’s not like I’ve been holding off for any real reason- I just wanted it to be with the right person and…”

Josh stepped backwards. “You’re a virgin?” He laughed without humour. “Were you planning on telling me that before you started sucking my dick?”

I studied the floor. “It’s not important,” I said.

“Of course it’s important,” Josh replied.

I looked back up at him, my jaw clenching. “I don’t care about virginity.”

The irritation in Josh’s expression matched my own. “So you don’t want to wait until marriage- that doesn’t mean your first time doesn’t matter,” he said. “Whether your virginity is important to you or not, your first time should be something you want to do, not something you do because you think it’ll make me happy.”

I licked my lips and sighed. “I thought it was what you wanted.”

Josh slid his hand down my arm and took my hand. “I don’t want you to do anything you don’t want to do,” he said. “I don’t want our first time together to be something you’ll regret.” He pulled me into his arms, and I wrapped my arms around his waist.

“You really don’t mind waiting?” I asked.

“Hey, I’ve got a fleshlight and a bottle of lube in my bedroom- I’m golden.”

[saelwen]

Hold me close before i’m gone

--Bucky Barnes x Jessica Drew

Request By: @keep-yo-judgments-away

Summary: After Jessica managed to escape Hydra, she been hidden from the world, exiling herself but that change when one day, Natasha Romanoff find her and convince her to join the Avengers, living with them on the compound. Little did she know that she caught the attention of an assassin. (Sorry I'm bad at summarys)

Warnings: angst, smut, fluff

Most of my life, all I've known was pain and death. Being one of the most perfect weapons that Hydra made, I was used to make the world ‘better’ has they told me. I don’t remember much of my childhood, but I remember when I was a teen, waking up on a small cottage in England, not knowing my own name or who I was, that was when Hydra took me, making me believe that they were going to help, give me a home...telling me that I was the key for a better world.

There they trained me, helping me with my powers. They send me on a small missions with a team, killing and torture innocent people. When I was an adult, I could use my power correctly without a fail and that’s when they send me on my first mission alone, and my target was Nick Fury. Let’s say that didn't go well, S.H.I.E.L.D most have known that I was going here because as I was about to shoot Nick Fury, an arrow was throw at me, making me fall from the wall, that I was on, to the floor. As I look up, I saw a guy dressing in all black, aiming another arrow at me, I turn back to run away but a hand grabs my right arm and throw me to the nearest wall, I do a backflip and kick the person who was attacking me. Landing on the floor graciously, I take a good look on my threat and was the one and only Black Widow, we start fighting, i succeeded knock her up so I could run away from there, but I didn’t return to Hydra base, instead I took my ship from my neck so Hydra couldn’t know where I was and run away and hide in Europe, that’s was where I realized who I work for were the bad guys. After that day, I've been running away from Hydra, living in one place for a week and move for another country, leaving no trail behind.

After few months, news appeared everywhere talking about the fight in Washington DC, saying that Hydra was infiltrated on S.H.I.E.L.D and Captain America succeeded to end it up.

And now here I am, being taken by Natasha Romanoff to the Avengers Compound to join the team, as Natasha told me that she saw potential in me. As we arrive to the main living room of the place, I noticed that the whole team was there, Tony was beside the bar with a drink on his hand, Sam, Clint and Scott were talking about something, Bruce was sitting on the sofa looking to some papers, Wanda and Vision were also sitting on the sofa and Peter was in the corner of the room texting somebody. As everyone eyes turn to set on me, I start feeling nervous, thinking how could a monster like me join a team that was full of super heroes and good people, I try to push those thoughts a side and put a smile on my face, trying to look nice. The first one talking was Tony “So this is the famous Hydra assassin?” with those words, I take a deep breath and look down but Natasha grab my shaking hand “Yes, Tony! This is the EX assassin from Hydra.” she told him with a threatened voice, she looks around and turn to Tony “Where is Steve?” he rolls his eyes “He texts me saying that he was get his little friend. So, he will be late.” has he ends his phrase, the elevator door open and Steve come out with someone behind him, “Sorry for being late guys.” Steve says looking to everyone in the room, “Yeah, yeah we know Cap, let’s get this over with so I can go to get ready for my date.” Tony said taking a sit on the high chair beside the bar. Steve looks at me with a smile “Hello ma’am.” I smile and wave, feeling a bit shy with all this attention, he walks towards the sofa to sit and then I realize who was behind him. My breath got caught and my eyes widened, in front of me was the winter soldier, looking at me with the same face “You...How..?” was all he said , everyone looks at us with a confused face. Natasha took a step, so she was standing in the middle of us “Do you know each other?” I nod and say “We were in the same Hydra base...He was one of my teachers who trained me.” she nods and look to Steve, who was with a worried face.

With all the stuff they did to me, he was the only one who was more gentle. The only one that I bonded the most, my only friend, even if we didn’t speak to each other.  

Bucky suddenly took a step towards me, pushing Natasha away, and hug me with such strength that it could crush my small frame, “I thought I've lost you...They told me that you kill in combat.” he whispers at my ear. We stay like this for a while until Tony ruins the moment “Well that’s a lovely moment but can anyone tell me what's going on?” I chuckle a bit at his words and start tell them everything about my past and my powers.

When I finish my story, everyone was quiet, panic start rising inside me, thinking that they will send me to some kind of jail or kill me but my thoughts were interrupted with Sam saying “Sooo...you are a badass version of the spider kid over here?” Peter looks to him with offended face and everyone start laughing, making more relaxed. Maybe this wasn’t such a bad idea.

Days passed and I start bounding with the team, everyone is really nice to me and help me with everything, Natasha is like a big sister to me, always protecting me even if I don’t need it, Tony can be an asshole but most of the time he nice, Sam and Clint were always cranking jokes, making me laugh, Scott sometimes is in the compound but he’s mostly in his house with his daughter, Bruce is always in the lab, getting out when it’s time to eat, Wanda and Vision were always together but they were nice, Wanda was the one who help me when my nightmares get the best of me, Steve is always a gentlemen and looking out for us. But the one who I am mostly the time is Bucky, we are always make stuff together, going on a run in the morning, training together, going on a walk on the park, laughing about the stupid stuff that Sam and Peter do. Everybody knows that if I'm in the room, Bucky was near.

I was sitting on the sofa in the living room, reading a book, “Jessica!” Bucky voice grab my attention, I look up to him with a smile “The team is going out, to a Bar that Tony said was good. Do you want to go?” I shake my head “No thanks, I'm good here.” just thinking about a small place full of people with loud music gives me a small shiver, I'm not ready to be surrounded by people.

Bucky nods and send a text to Steve, then sits beside me and turn on the Tv, I look to him with a confused face “Aren't you going with them?” “Nah, I'm good here with you.” he gives me a smile that could bring any girl to her knees.

We stay chatting and watching old movies until late. My eyes start to feel heavy and Bucky notice “Well, let’s get some sleep. It’s late.” “Yeah. Maybe it's better.” I say with a small smile. We said good night to each other and I go to my room. I change into my pajamas and lie down on my bed, letting sleep take over me.

Feeling like I'm falling into an abyss, everything is black around me, I could hear the scream of agony and cries for help, suddenly the voices were all around me calling me murder, monster, freak but one voice was calm, calling my name over and over, I start focus on the voice.

Suddenly I open my eyes, seeing Bucky worried face above me, rubbing his hand on my cheeks, putting one piece of black hair behind my ear “Wh..What?..” I try to talk, only to start crying “Shhh it’s ok Jess, it’s ok...you’re safe.” Bucky voice was gentle making me calm down, he lies down beside me, pull me to his chest, hearing is heart beat.

After a while, my breath was normal and my tears have stopped, feeling Bucky’s hand rubbing my back gently, I lift my head, gazing at his ocean blue eyes, feeling a pull, like magnet. His lips touch mine gently, like I was going to break, I bite his lower lip making a growl escape from his mouth, he pushes my back into the mattress, caging me in his large frame, deeping the kiss, pushing his tongue into my mouth, making me moan at the attention that he was giving my mouth.

He kisses my jaw down to my neck, sucking on the skin.  His hands move inside my shirt, massaging my breasts, a loud moan escape from me as the cold from his metal hand touch my nipple, he smirks at this and pinch my nipple with his metal hand making me scream from pleasure.

All the sudden we were both naked on my bed, kissing each other with passion and lust, moans and screams was all I can hear in the room. Bucky move ones of his hands to my wet cunt, rubbing my clit, my hips roll to feel more friction “Please Buck....Take me!” he bites my neck making me scream more “I know baby... I know. I will take care of you.” I feel the head of his cock in my entrance, I move my hips to try making move faster but he chuckles “Easy Doll” I groan try to be patient, he rubs his cock on my folds, making it wet for him to enter easily. Suddenly, in one movement he was inside me, feeling full as he was huge, he starts moving making the bed rock against the wall, I meet his movement with hips making more pleasure rise in me “Harder! Bucky!!” he starts pounding me into the mattress, screaming as the pleasure was too much, “Jesus,doll...so tight...God!” I feel my orgasm start forming “FASTER!!BUCKY!....I’M CUMMING!!” I shout “Cum doll....cum NOW!” with that I feel my juices running down his cock, kissing him hard.

He moans into my mouth, shooting his seed inside my womb. He falls down, laying his head on my neck, staying like this until I caught my breath. I wrap my arms around his neck, pulling him to me so we could cuddle. He kisses my head whispering “I love you” I smile and kiss his neck “I love you too” letting again the sleep take over me with a smile on my lips.

Hey!! Here a Fanfic of Bucky and Jessica!! It’s not my better work cause I'm sick but I tried. 😊 Hope you like it!!

[tiny-maus-boots]

Wild West AU ch 13

A/N: Many many many thanks to my bestie @chloes-yellow-cup who listens to me bitch about writing, betas my work, pats my head and tells me my words are pretty and then posts on ao3 for me so I don’t delete my work immediately after posting. She’s amazing and I love her. 

Aubrey

She didn’t want to leave Stacie behind but she didn’t dare look back at the other woman. One sight of Stacie standing alone on the bluff would keep her from doing what must be done. Aubrey sucked in a deep breath and slid through the narrow fissure into the dark cool interior of the mountain. She could hear the sounds of people laughing and talking, even the faint sound of someone playing a fiddle, but she couldn’t see them and the ledge was far too narrow for her to lean over. She only had one option really, to climb down into the mess hall and search for Kat and Emmy.

Carefully and as quietly as she could she eased down the ladder and peeked around the edge of the wall. Plenty of Jesse’s boys were sitting around drinking, completely unaware of what rode their way. If they knew, if they had even the hint of suspicion they would all be armed to the teeth and ready for a fight. Aubrey hummed softly to herself as she considered how helpful that may be for their retreat. A thick, hairy paw landed on her shoulder and instinct took over.

Aubrey whirled and yanked the body close to her, close enough to bring her elbow into the face of the man that dared grab her. The pained squeal he let out was too loud and too obvious and she kicked at his knee to drop him enough for her to wrap her arms around his neck in a choke hold Avery had used on her far too many times as children. “Shhhhhh. Sleep.”

She waited until she felt the weight of his body sag against her before she released him and pushed him away roughly. It was just another nameless man on Jesse’s team but one she didn’t need touching her. Cautiously she slipped out of the shadow and crept around the edge of the mess until she reached the cook area. With a sigh of relief at not being seen she ducked into the alcove and grabbed a gunny sack from the work table.

“Aubrey? What are…oh Lord. Who’s dead?” Kat’s voice lowered as she spoke, trying to keep secret any bad news she expected.

Aubrey swallowed hard and shook her head. “No one yet. But a whole heap of us any minute if I don’t get you and Emmy out of here right now.”

“What do you mean? What’s going on?”

“Mama! Mama they have him! I know they do!”

Before she could explain Emily came careening around the corner into the small room, nearly colliding with Katherine in her haste. They both turned to her confused and alarmed by the trail of tears sliding down Emily’s face. “Who baby, who has…oh no…”

The question didn’t need an answer. They knew who Emily meant. Her Deputy Benji was the only ‘him’ that Emmy ever spoke of. And the only other person that could cause this much distress in the younger Junk woman. Aubrey slapped her hand down on the table and shook her head in frustration. He wasn’t important to them now. Not now that the plan was underway and he’d given them all the information they had ever asked him for, but he was theirs, for better or worse and they couldn’t let him rot in Penitence. Especially when he was so important to Emily.

“The Army is a little more than a league out by my best guess. There’s no time to waste, I need to get you two out of here and we’ll worry about the good Deputy later.”

Emily’s back straightened even as she clung to her mother and she turned her gaze on Aubrey. It was fierce and determined and despite the fact that she wasn’t going to allow Emmy a say in things, she was proud of her grit none the less.

“I’m not leaving without Benji.”

“Emmy…” Kat tried to console her daughter but Emily was having none of it.

“No! I’ll be damned if I let that sonofabitch Sheriff hurt him so if you don’t want to help me fine! But I’m not leaving without him.”

Aubrey’s lips twitched with the effort not to smile at Emily cursing and dropped her head to hide her face. She couldn’t even find fault with that kind of loyalty because it was the same thing that bound her to Stacie. And the same kind of love and loyalty that bound them to Chloe and Beca. She’d die before she let any of them suffer at the hands of the Sheriff. Or her brother. It was a sobering enough thought and she nodded quickly.

“Alright Em…alright. We’ll get him but not this second. First we run. Then we fight.” Kat gave Emily a reassuring squeeze and the younger woman nodded hesitantly.

Aubrey reached out and gripped her shoulder trying to convey sincerity of her words. “We won’t leave him behind. I promise. But we aren’t any good to him dead or caught ourselves.”

When she was sure she wouldn’t get any more guff she peeked back out to the mess and nodded. It looked as if no one were the wiser. Kat moved in close, standing at her shoulder eyeing the people littered about the room. “Not all of them are Swansons. Not that any of them are innocent, we’re all hiding here for a reason. But not all of them are caught up in your war Aubrey. You let them face the Army without warning then that blood is on you. All four of you.”

Damnit. She knew Kat was right and had already been trying to decide if she should warn them or not. Aubrey gave a nod and pushed back. “You and Emmy take the ladder up to the tower. Stacie is up there waiting for you, y’all get. You hear? All three of you. You get to the girls and you get the hell out of here.”

“Aub…”

Kat opened her mouth and Aubrey shook her head, green eyes narrowing as her stubborn streak took hold.

“I said git. Now.” Kat knew trying would be useless but Aubrey could tell she wanted to argue until she had no breath left to speak. Just as they were about to turn and walk away Aubrey almost lost her resolve, reaching out to stop Katherine from going further. “Tell her…anything you have to. Anything to get her to go. So long as you tell her...tell her I loved her.”

And she did. She loved Stacie with every single part of her being. There was not an ocean she would not cross, not a mountain she would not climb, nor an army she would not face for Stacie Conrad. There was nothing to her without Stacie and she desperately hoped that one day Stacie would forgive her for dying. Because she wasn’t going to survive what was coming. Probably no one left in the caverns would.

“You’re not dead yet so you can tell her yourself.” Kat’s no nonsense tone made her smile a bit sadly but she gave a nod. It was easier to just let Kat believe she was going to be fine. “You’re gonna fight until you’ve got nothing left to shoot at Aubrey. Because that’s who you are, and because you know she needs you still. So you aren’t going to die.”

And with that she shoved the shotgun she had kept stored on a high shelf against Aubrey’s chest and pushed Emily out to the main hall. The cold metal in her hands helped settle her and push back all the regret and doubt that lingered in her mind. There was no time for that, there was only time for action. Aubrey ducked down the hall to the cave where they kept all their supplies and filled the sack with as many shells for the shotgun as she could find.

The blonde worked furiously, rummaging through boxes and bags until she came across a large crate with a bold letter S painted on it. Aubrey kicked over a few tarps and baskets until she found the pry bar and wrenched open the lid. A slow smile graced her face, widening until a chuckle spilled out of her mouth from deep in her chest.

“That’s my girl….”

Quickly as she could she packed what she dared take in the sack and hoisted it carefully over her shoulder. The shotgun rested against the other and she slipped back down the hall as quiet as a church mouse. Emmy and Kat were nowhere to be seen but she suspected they were already gone up the tower. Someone came around the side of the wall blindly and ran into her. He smelled like sweat and dirt, which wasn’t uncommon, but his soft doughy body bounced off hers and she knew who it was immediately.

“Hey…Aubrey. What the…what are you doing here?” Bumper gave her a confused look then frowned. “What’s all th…ow!”

There wasn’t really time to explain so she shoved him out of the way and walked into the center of the main hall. It seemed almost as if no one noticed her at all the way they all just kept on. With a growl she placed the sack on the ground and climbed on to a table currently being used for a game of cards. Aubrey pulled off a glove and raised her hand to her lips to blow out a shrill whistle that silenced even the furthest corners of the cave.

“Listen up. The Army is damn near here. I reckon they’ll cut y’all down just as soon as look at you. You’ve got half a tick to get armed before they ride through the pass.”

Bumper rubbed his shoulder from when she’d pushed him into the rough wall and strutted forward, chest all out like the Beale family prized cock. “So you say. How would the Army even know where to look?”

They weren’t going to believe her. They might even shoot her just for thinking it let alone saying it so she decided to avoid a direct answer. Aubrey took a breath and shook her head. “Because a traitor went and told them where to find us.” It was the best she could do to not outright name him but the way Bumper watched her made her think his mind was on who exactly had told.

Someone else pushed forward from a back table, his voice more of a growl than a human sound. “So what? They want your lot, not us. We should just string you up for them.” It started a round of agreeing laughter but she noted that Bumper was not at all laughing or participating in the joke.

He took a step forward and kicked the chair nearest him. “Y’all shut up now. You think the Army is gonna care about who they shoot? Ain’t we all guilty of something, somewhere?” They ignored him mostly, a few of them maybe listened a little more intently. But for the most part they didn’t care what Aubrey had to say and just assumed ignore her rather than try to argue. Ignore them both. Idiots.

“You’re right about that. They’ll shoot first, the bodies can be sussed out after. Army policy.” He gave her a nod as if he expected that and looked around. There were a lot of men and women in those caverns yet. A few of them looked close enough to believing but they didn’t have time to convince them all. “You can stay if you want to, but if you leave now you might ma…”

The rushed clatter of hooves almost to the mouth of the cave brought all their attention up. There was a tense frozen moment before she leapt down from the table and kicked it over on to its side. The first shot zinged by a group of men to ricochet off the wall and find its home in the face of one of the men still sitting in his chair, cards grasped in his now lifeless hand.

“DOWN!”

They were seasoned fighters, all of them. They knew how to hold themselves in a gunfight. And they knew how to recover from surprise. But it still wasn’t quite fast enough to evade the first few sprays of bullets into the room. Bumper’s heavy body ducked down behind the table with her and she gave a mild grunt. “Told you so.”

“Yeap.” He hefted the shotgun she’d put down earlier and rested it on the edge of the table before pulling the trigger. “I knew it too. You can be a real bitch but ya ain’t no liar.”

It was about all the compliment she would ever get from Bumper so she took it for what it was and let him keep the gun. A bullet winged by her hand as she tried to reach for the sack, finally grabbing it and pulling it toward her cover.

“That’s almost sweet Bumper. Dingo’s been having a real nice effect on you.” He gave her a snort and fired again, taking down a soldier trying to run at them. Around them tables turned over and people scuttled for hiding spots as best they could. Most of them already firing into the void, hoping to hit a target. It was a foolish waste of ammo but she wasn’t about to caution them. A bottle rolled toward her over the uneven ground and she picked it up. It was still mostly full and she smirked. “Stay here.”

“Got no place else to go, Posen.” She dug some shells from the sack and put them near his knee with a pat to his shoulder. It should help him give her some cover. Aubrey scooted out and lunged for another rolling bottle. It was too hard to grab more than a few since most of them were just broken bits of glass and trickles of whiskey scattered on the ground. Another volley of shots peppered the wall just above her head and she tucked down and half crawled back to the table.

It was loud, so loud, with shots echoing in the cavern, too loud to focus on any one area of danger. So she put all her attention to yanking the sleeve off her shirt to tear into rags. She doused them with a little alcohol and stuffed them into the necks of the bottles she’d scavenged. “Hey Bump…”

“Yeah?” He didn’t look at her for longer than a second before firing on another soldier. Bumper Allen was not the person she wished she was back to back with in a gunfight but he wasn’t so bad at the moment. She maybe even felt like they had an understanding between them. Enough to for her to trust him more than she had ever trusted Jesse. At least. Right now.

“Lay out some cover fire for me will ya?” He gave her a nod and loaded the shotgun as she worked to frantically light the rag with her flint kit. It lit up in a brief blaze and she was grateful when it caught fully. Bumper rose slightly and started to shoot into the soldiers spilling into the cave like a swarm of insects. They ducked and scattered from the buckshot but she was right behind Bumper, her height making it easy to throw the glass bottle with all her might to smash against the entrance to the caverns. Fire licked up the wall, consuming the alcohol that had splashed everywhere. Some of it splashing the nearest men and making them scream in pain. Bumper crowed in delight and not for the first time she was reminded of a rooster. She ducked back down and tried to light a second one as he reloaded.

“Got two left, they don’t last long but it will distract them so we can move from here.” He nodded at that but said nothing and she took that to mean he understood her meaning. But just to be on the safe side she continued. “I’ll let these two fly, we bug out. Meet at the train if you survive.”

“You think I might die?” Yes. But she didn’t want to say it so she shrugged and looked around the side of the table to gauge when to throw. It was enough for him and he gave another grunt. “Was it Jesse?” Aubrey turned back to him and gave a short nod making his scowl deepen. “No, ma’am I’m not dying today. I gotta have a little vengeance before I see my maker.” He thumbed back the hammers and raised the gun. They might not be friends, hell they really didn’t even like each other, but it was the most they had ever respected one another she thought.

Aubrey looked at her last two bottles and shook her head. If she was going to die like a sinner she might as well die sinning. She pulled the cork out with her teeth and spit out before taking a long deep pull of the bottle. It burned something harsh and she passed him the bottle for his own drink. “Remember. Get to the train, Dingo’ll be there.”

He nodded and passed the bottle back. Aubrey took another drink before putting a rag in the top and lighting both bottles. They rose together, him in front shooting a line of fire across the entrance, her behind him a lit bottle in each hand. Aubrey didn’t even think, didn’t hesitate, she launched the bottles toward the targets and ducked back down the second the smooth glass slipped free of her hands. A tongue of flame licked up the walls, some of it catching the support beams that kept the entry arch open. That was it for her, she had nothing left to try so she swept up the sack and bolted for the back ladder.

Climbing up it might have gone a lot faster if she didn’t have to lug the sack and the weight cost her some time. Too much time it seemed. A bullet whizzed past and for a minute she didn’t realize it had ricocheted back and struck her. But the liquid fire that raced down her leg as she slid back down the ladder gave her an all too painful signal that she was hit. The burn in her flesh when she moved made her bite her lip. Climbing the ladder was out of the question now. Somehow she’d known she wasn’t going to make it back. Even as she left Stacie’s side to slip into the mountain, she’d known. Aubrey sat up slowly, inching herself to the minimal cover of a few busted chairs and the dead body of another of Jesse’s boys that was slumped over them.

She was going to die there and she knew it. Aubrey reached into her vest pocket and pulled out the last stub of her cigar. It was crushed to pulp and she muttered a very un-lady like curse and tossed it away. The body of the man jolted with the impact of another bullet and his coat fell open, a brand new cigar dropping out of it to the ground beside her. The blonde smiled and grabbed it, biting off the end. “And even in my dying moments he shineth his mercy and light upon me…Thank you Lord.”

If only her father were here to see her now…

Aubrey swallowed thickly at the rise of emotions that swelled up in her chest. She would have wanted him to be proud of course but he never would be, he would never love her. She didn’t regret that in the least however, her only regret was that she wouldn’t get one more kiss and one more night in Stacie’s arms. The only heaven she ever knew. She lit the cigar finally after a few failed attempts, hands too slippery and shaky to hold the flint, and leaned back with a sigh. At least she knew love. At least she knew hope. And soon she’d know peace. The smoke curled around her head as she dug around in the bag until her blood slicked fingers curled tightly on the hard cylinder. They’d all know peace now.  

It was too hard to strike her flint now, so she used the end of her cigar to light the fuse on the stick of dynamite and laughed when it sparked and started to fizzle. The whiskey and shock of her wound must have made her damn near delirious because she laughed again before rising in a wobble to her knees to chuck the stick as far as she could across the cave. Another bullet took her in the shoulder and her knee gave with the pain, her vision going gray and blurry at the edges. She was vaguely aware that she was on her back staring up at the ceiling waiting for the blast as the blood seeped far too quickly from her rapidly cooling body but she hadn’t the will to pull herself together. Aubrey blinked a few times then smiled when the ceiling transformed into the shape of Stacie’s face.

“My angel…”

She knew Stacie wasn’t there. But she saw her none the less and thanked God for giving her that one last view of the most beautiful creature she’d ever set eyes upon. Her gloved hand reached up weakly to touch that divine mirage before her eyes closed and her hand dropped limply to her chest.

[shadowhuntertrash]

So honestly i am a type of person who loves dramatic, traumatic, character development scenes where we get into a characters head. So i haven’t finish COG yet but i don’t mind spoilers but I think you should make a fanfic about Lucie getting hurt or tortured right in front of the merry thieves. But i especially REALLY want to see james’ reaction because i freaking LOVE sibling scenes and I can never get enough. But also especially Matthew, because honestly Ik ik uncommon ship but i rly like Matthew and Lucie together so his reaction too. So if you think you could do something like that, that’d be amazing!!! <3 Thank you!!

Have funnn *laughs evilly*

Lucie didn’t often spend time with just the boys anymore. She was often with Cordelia or Anna or Jesse, but it was nice to get to spend some time with her brother figures.

   She was currently walking down the street with James, Matthew, Thomas, and Christopher. It was almost midnight and they had just finished patrol. Matthew and James had their arms around each other's shoulders, stumbling as they walked, both their heads thrown back in laughter. She always loved seeing them together, they were both wonderful people but when they were together it just brought out a side of both of them that was simply better, easier.

   Christopher was telling Lucie and Thomas about some experiment he was looking forward to conducting. Lucie was on Thomas’ back, having rolled her ankle while dodging a demon. It didn’t really hurt, but she never passed on an opportunity to be tall for once. Christopher was mad because Cecily had put her foot down and grounded him from experiments for two weeks when he had nearly burnt Anna’s shirt during his last one.

   They were all enjoying each other’s company so much none of them heard the footsteps of the people behind them. No one was ready for the attack. They had been walking happily until Matthew turned to make a joke to Thomas and his face had gone a sickly pale color. 

   His silent scream was the last thing Lucie saw before everything went black.

   Lucie woke up in a dim room with a pounding headache. She went to bring her head to her hand but found it was chained to the chair she was sitting in. Panic bubbled up in her stomach and she looked around quickly. She was in a dark room, it looked like a cellar of sorts, damp and humid.

   Her head swiveled to the right when she heard a noise and a loud groan. “Who’s there?” She asked, confidence in her voice that she was thoroughly lacking. The person to the right of her made a confused sound. “Lucie?” She heard her brother’s hoarse voice ask in the opposite direction of the other noise.

   She turned to her left and saw her brother, slumped against the wall blinking slowly. “Jamie!” Lucie said, relief and fear soaking her voice. “Where are we? What happened? Where are the others?” She asked quickly, James groaned and she thought briefly that he must have a headache too.

   “Matthew’s to your right, Kit’s behind you, and Thomas is in front of you.” He said weakly. Lucie strained to see him better, to search him for wounds, but found it too dark to see anything other than his dark hair. She turned to her left and saw a mop of blonde hair, there seemed to be a dark spot in it and Lucie worried that it might be blood. “Math.” She whispered, trying to determine if he was unconscious. 

   Matthew lifted his head, his green eyes dimmed. “I’m alright Luce. We’re all awake.” He paused, a pained look on his face. “Except Thomas.” He said so quietly Lucie almost missed it. Without a second thought her eyes were fixated on Thomas. She could see him best of everyone, a dim light bulb hanging loosely right above his head.

  Lucie realized with a start that he was covered in blood and bruises. She gasped involuntarily and leaned as far forward in her chair as possible. 

   Thomas’ face was cut in such a way that reminded her sadly of his mother, their Aunt Sophie, her beautiful face scarred forever. His lip was bleeding, a startling red on his too pale face. One of his eyes was swollen shut, a dark purple color. Lucie tore her eyes away, a sick feeling settling in her stomach.

   She redirected her attention to figuring out where they were. She shoved the panic down, looking around the room. She assumed Thomas had been awake or at least woken up far before anyone else. There were multiple things turned over, evidence that someone had put up a fight. 

   Lucie was hit again with panic when she thought about the blood stain in Matthew’s hair. Lucie pulled at the chains, only managing to pinch her skin in the rusted metal. Lucie must have made a desperate noise because James was suddenly calling her name, telling her to calm down. “Luce, it’ll be okay. Don’t freak out or they’ll know you’re awake and come back.”

  Lucie whipped her head around. “Who? Who will come back?” She asked, desperately trying to wrap her mind around the dramatic turn of events that led them here. James’ head tilted, something Lucie knew was his way of thinking before talking. Matthew saved him the trouble and answered her in a hushed whisper.

  “There’s three guys, they’ve come down a few times. They did that to Thomas.” He said, pointing to the best of his chained ability to where Thomas sat limply. Lucie said some highly unlady like words and turned back to Matthew. “What do they want?” Matthew shrugged, seemingly unbothered but Lucie didn’t believe that for a second, she knew he was freaking out on the inside.

    Matthew shook his head, eyes not leaving Thomas. “I don’t know. They came down here and started beating up Thomas, something about ghosts and Jesse Blackthorn. Nothing they said made any sense.” Lucie’s whole body tensed.

   This was about Jesse. Who else knew about Jesse? Why had they taken them instead of Tatiana or Grace? What do the men think they know? Questions were firing too fast in Lucie’s brain and she brought her hands up again unthinkingly, the chains holding them back once again.

   James sighed softly. “We’ll be okay though. Mother and father will find us, they won’t stop looking. Our parents have probably already started.” Lucie turned back to Thomas, her heart plummeting when she saw his breathing had weakened. Lucie shuddered and turned back to her brother.

   “I hope they hurry.”

   Lucie didn’t know how long they had sat in the dark before three burly men came in, the door slamming open causing all of them to jump. 

   There were three of them, two were tall though not as tall as Thomas. The other one was shorter but he was deceivingly strong as he reached down and pulled Matthew’s hair, Matthew’s whole body came up and he gave a painful yelp, the man just laughed. “How’s that pretty little head of yours?” He asked, fake sincerity in his voice. Matthew just shook his head, staying silent in a way that made Lucie wonder how many times the men had been in there when she was unconscious.

   The man standing in front of Matthew smirked and slapped him hard across the fact. She felt a surge of protectiveness surge through her, James was yanking on his chains in a way that was surly painful. Matthew glared at the man but stayed silent, the man took him in with evil eyes. “I’m glad you learned your lesson.” He said before slapping Matthew again and turning to Lucie.

   Matthew’s lip was bleeding and his cheek was red but Lucie didn’t have long before the man was in front of her, sneering down. “I’m Micheal, this is Colton,” He gestured to one of the tall men, Colton was squatting in front of Thomas, his broad shoulders blocking Lucie’s view of her giant friend. “This is Mason.” Micheal said, gesturing to the other man, who was standing by the door like a bouncer.

   Lucie didn’t say anything just glared at Micheal as he stared down the end of his nose at her. “Not a talker, well we’ll see about that.” Without warning Micheal struck her across the face, she gasped collapsing back against the chair. James, Matthew, and Christopher who had been silent until this moment all shouted. James and Matthew were fighting against their restaurants, by the sound of it Christopher was too but Lucie couldn’t see him.

   Mason walked behind her and Lucie could hear the sound of chains before she saw Christopher stumble across the room to Thomas. When he reached him Christopher fell to his knees, checking Thomas over and patting his cheek gently trying to wake him up. He was only there for a minute before Colton grabbed his arms and chained him to the wall. 

   Christopher didn’t argue, probably because he was close to his cousin, and instead just sat in a protective stance in front of Thomas.

   Micheal snapped in front of Lucie’s face, causing her eyes to slicker back to his face involuntarily. Lucie looked into his cruel green eyes and watched as an intimidating smile grew across his face. Lucie just lifted her head and maintained eye contact, refusing to appear as scared as she felt. 

   “You’re a strong one, we’ll see how long that lasts.” Micheal turned his back to her and picked up something on the table, when he turned Lucie saw with a spike of fear that he had a large vial of ichor. She knew it would burn but she was used to that pain, she knew she could deal with it.

   Micheal turned his beady eyes to her. “I think that out of everyone here you know the most. So I’ll ask you once before I get the real stuff out, where is Jesse Blackthorn.” Lucie shuddered and shook her head, mouth pulled into a thin line. She would not betray Jesse like that. “I don’t know, all I know about him is that he’s dead. I’m sorry to inform you of that if you had truly thought he was alive.”

    Micheal’s eyes flashed threateningly but Lucie kept her chin held high. Before she knew what was happening Micheal had dumped half the vial of ichor on her cheek. Lucie let out a shriek, her body twisting trying to get it off but only managing to fasten its trip down her neck. James screamed at Micheal throwing curses and pulling hard on his chains.

  Matthew was no better, screaming Lucie’s name and then screaming at Micheal to let her go. Lucie shook her head at the boys, Christopher was watching her with wide scared eyes. Lucie knew her cousin well enough to know he wasn’t scared about himself but rather scared for her, she also knew him well enough to know how long she could last before she gave up, or before her body did.

   Lucie turned to James. “I’m okay, I’m fine.” She turned to look at Matthew who was still thrashing in his chain. “Calm down, it’ll be okay.” She was talking through gritted teeth, the burning sensation growing worse as it set in her skin. Lucie locked eyes with Micheal again.

   “You can torture me all you want but but it doesn’t change the fact that you’re insane and I have no idea where Jesse Blackthorn is, other than in a grave.” Micheal watched her for a minute before he frowned. “Fine you want to do it the hard way that’s fine.” 

   As he walked by James, James hooked his foot around Micheal’s ankle and when Micheal hit the ground James grabbed the front of his shirt, his hands twisting a weird way. “If you touch her I swear on the angel I will kill you. I’ll kill you.” He hissed dangerously in Micheal’s face, a flash of fear crossed Micheal’s face before Mason was hauling a still James away from him.

   Lucie was startled by the darkness lurking James’ golden eyes. She knew he loved her but he needn’t be so protective, he would get hurt. Lucie knew that was hypocritical but she had to make sure James knew it. 

   The three men left briefly and the moment the door shut James was moving as close to Lucie as he could get. “Lucie, Luce, you’ll be okay. How much is on your skin?” He asked urgently, making exasperated sounds as the chains held him back. 

   Matthew had also moved as close to Lucie as he could get. Christopher had gone back to trying to wake Thomas up, but he kept sparing Lucie anxious expressions.

  Lucie tried to focus on seeing how much was on her, trying to ignore the burning sensation and the smell that was making her eyes water. “It’s all over my cheek and neck. It’s setting but it’s not enough to cause too much harm.” Lucie said, her voice quiet but strong. James’ face relaxed slightly, taking relief in the fact that she would be okay.

  Matthew on the other hand looked down right murderous. “That bastard. How dare he? How dare he! First Thomas and now you? All for some dead guy?” Matthew was slurring, his hands made into fists as though he was going to fight someone. For the first time Lucie wished he was slurring due to his drinks, but she knew it was just confirming that his head had indeed taken a bad blow.

   James seemed to come to the same conclusion, casting his parabatai anxious glances. “Math-” James was cut off by the door banging open again, Matthew’s face screwed up in pain and Lucie had to fight down the panic that was rising quickly. 

   They all needed to get out now. Thomas wasn’t waking up, Matthew surely had a concussion, and Lucie desperately needed the ichor off. 

   Micheal walked up to Lucie, a blade in his hand. Lucie’s eyes widened significantly and she started squirming. “What are you doing? Stop! Why do you need him so badly?” She asked, desperate to distract him. He just shook his head. “That, young lady, is none of your concern.”

   He came closer, the knife catching the only light in the room. Lucie’s breath was speeding up, all the boys were yelling and begging him to stop. “Stop it! Take me! Let her go and take me!” James shouted, Lucie was startled to see tears making their way down his face. Micheal turned to him annoyed. “Shut up, if she doesn’t answer you’ll have your chance don’t worry.” 

   James shook his head quickly. “No let me go first then. Leave her alone.” Micheal glared at him before walking over to James and punching him in the face. Matthew called for his parabatai, pulling hopelessly at the chains. James just put up a hand, signaling he was fine.

  Lucie watched her brother worriedly. His jaw was bent at a weird angle and Lucie was sure it was broken. She watched hopelessly as Micheal approached her again, she was all too aware of the knife he still had in his hand.

   “I’ll ask you one more time before it gets bad for you. Where is Jesse?” He asked menacingly, towering over her petite frame. She locked eyes with him and said slowly, enunciating every word. Micheal looked at her with utter annoyance. “Have it your way.” He said glaring before he dug the knife deep into her shoulder. She screamed as pain blossomed from the wound, snaking around like vines. Matthew screamed her name but James stayed quiet. Lucie turned to her brother but he had his eyes closed tightly, focused on something. 

   Lucie didn’t know what he was doing until he started fading slightly and she realized with a start that he was trying to shadow travel. Lucie gasped and looked to Matthew who was looking at her with determined eyes, he already knew James’ plan.

   She turned back to Micheal who was currently turning to look at James, Lucie panicked knowing she had to get his attention before he noticed James. Mason and Colton hadn’t come back in with him so as long as Micheal didn’t see James, they had a good shot at getting out.

   “Is that all you’ve got?” Lucie said loudly, pulling Micheal’s attention back to herself. She knew it was the wrong thing to say but it got his attention and that was all that mattered. Micheal sneered at her and dug the knife into her side before she could say anything else.

  Lucie’s eyes went wide and her mouth formed a silent ‘o’. She slowly looked down at her wound, Micheal had left the knife in and she could feel the point buried deep inside her. 

   The next thing she knew Micheal was mirroring her expression as he fell to his knees. James stood behind him, the murderous look still spread across his handsome face. Matthew fell to his knees beside her, James having unlocked his chains before stabbing Micheal. 

   Lucie finally let the tears fall as she slumped against Matthew, his arms wrapping securely around her. James put his foot on Micheal’s wound and Micheal gave a pained shout, James lowered his face so he could whisper in Micheal’s ear. “I told you I’d kill you.” James said before plunging the knife Micheal had left on the table into his chest. 

   Micheal’s eyes went wide once more before he let out a long breath and Lucie realized he was dead. James turned his eyes on Lucie and they softened, the darkness fleeing at the sight of Lucie in pain. His brotherly instincts took over and he fell to the ground next to her kissing the top of her head and putting his hand over hers on her stomach to staunch the bleeding.

   “You’re okay. Lucie you’ll be okay.” James whispered over and over reassuringly in her ear. Matthew let out a helpless sound scrunching his eyes shut in pain. James looked between the two then turned towards Thomas whose head was currently being cradled in Christopher’s lap who was whispering softly, pleading Thomas to open his eyes.

   “We have to go. We need to get out of here.” James said urgently. Lucie shook her head, she knew none of them were in the shape to be going anywhere other than James and Christopher. “No. No you and Kit need to go get help.” Lucie said weakly, James shook his head face crumpling as he realized it would have to happen.

   “I’m not leaving you Lucie.” Lucie smiled fondly at him, she knew he didn’t want to. “Someone needs to get help.” Lucie whispered. James fell silent before looking at Christopher. “Kit, get help. I’ll watch them and keep safe but you need to go get help.” Christopher made a noise of resentment but rose to his feet anyway. 

   He looked at Thomas once more before turning to James. “I’ll go but you have to help me get past Mason and Colton.” Kit said softly, James nodded before turning back to Matthew and Lucie. He ducked down to kiss Lucie on the forehead then turned and grabbed Matthew’s hand.

   “I’ll be back.” He said before he and Kit slipped through the door.

Sorry its so long but I'll make a part two of them being reunited with their parents for some family fluff if yall want it

[lunaraen]

Prompt: 22. "Who the fuck are you?"

It’s never anything as simple asa broken leg, the flu, or a sprained wrist. It couldn’t possibly be a normalcold, or a headache, or insomnia that wasn’t fueled by trauma or terriblenightmares that required more help than a potion or paste.

Ivor’s job would be a lot easierif it ever were.

“Who the fuck are you?”

The potential complications ofhis role as healer, many of which are unexpectedly emotional in nature, are nothelped by how much of a comedian Petra seems to think she is.

Her dedication to one joke isadmittedly admirable.

(It’s not a joke he’s fond of,given how much it reminds him of how her amnesia and pain had been his fault,caused by his monster, pain and confusion that slowly sapped away at Gabriel’swill, pain and confusion inflicted on who knows how many more people, butIvor’s well past the point of not liking it through the sheer tedium.)

Still, Petra’s humor is oftentied directly to her sense of how much she doesn’t want others to worry, thoughbeing lightheaded might have something to do with it this time.

“Charming.” Ivor rollshis eyes, crossing his arms over his chest as he leans back in his chair, bothunwilling to go through with her overused, poor excuse for comedy, and relievedthat she’s awake and aware enough to have such poor humor shine through.“Contrary to what you might think, it really isn’t as funny to hear thefifth time.”

“No, seriously, who the fuck are you?”

She never manages to repeat itwithout laughing, or cracking a wide grin, if she even bothers to keep pushingit at all, but there’s no humor to her voice this time, no smile to be found inthe tight frown.

He raises an eyebrow.

Petra’s eyes narrow further, theglare more frightened and nervous than it is heated, one of her hands tightlygripping her wrist as her body seems to curve more into itself.

Lovely.

“…I see.” His gaze isslow, controlled enough to keep it from seeming shifty or as frantic as thebubbling unease in his core would like him to be, as it moves from Petra toJesse, the only other person he allowed to be in the room in order to givePetra plenty of breathing room while letting at least one of the others bethere to greet her. He lifts a hand, having to actively fight to keep itsmovements from being sluggish as he points to Jesse. There’s a twisted humor,he’s sure, in how his gaze fights to be wild and erratic while his body feelsnumb and heavy, but he’s had enough of poor humor. “Do you recognizeher?”

Jesse’s eyes are widened slightlywhen Petra looks to her, Jesse’s smile warm but the rest of her expression notquite yet smoothly shifted from her previously open alarm.

The wave she gives is small andquick, smile widening and stretching enough to let a sliver of her teeth showfor just a moment, and while Ivor wouldn’t expect it to be calming, Jesse’s thebetter of them when it comes to soothing others and being friendly with peoplein tense situations.

“…nope. I didn’t even knowthere was anybody standing there, so that’s nice and creepy. Uh, hey.”Petra’s wave is weak, little more than her raising her hand with a lingeringglance in Jesse’s direction before gripping her arm once more, gaze shiftingbetween Jesse and Ivor. If she has anything more to say, even solely out of adesire to break the awkward silence, she doesn’t act on it.

Jesse doesn’t either, meaningthat, once again, it’s up to Ivor.

He’s very, very tired of today,and it’s little consolation that they’ve finally reached the afternoon.

“What’s the last thing youremember?”

The sound she makes is almost toogentle to be a growl, quiet and weak, and there’s a lack of any bite to how hereyes narrow.

“Y'know I’m expecting to geta whole lot of answers from you too, right?” Her tone’s dry, expressionrelaxing as she glances down at her fingers, busy drumming them against thetable as she shrugs. “…I remember it being dark, and I heard voices. I–we were moving? I think? It felt like I was tied up.”

The last part is pointed andIvor’s huff is its own bitter chuckle, though it takes half a moment to realizethat it doesn’t relax Petra the way it once did, invites no bickering orexasperation on her part.

He’ll give her credit; it’s apowerful glare.

The smile he gives is as genuineas the huff, but better controlled, easier to mold to be more clear about his intentions.

Gentle, less sarcastic, notpatronizing but not threatening.

“You were brought here onhorseback. From the sound of it, Axel had a decent grip on you, and you’d beenbundled in blankets to keep you from growing cold.”

When Ivor points to the pile ofblankets sitting on the floor beside the table, her gaze is reluctant tofollow.

She doesn’t argue, though, andher shoulders relax as she looks back up at him.

“That’s also sort of thefirst and only thing I remember too.I feel like I should have a lot more than just that. What’s an ‘Axel’?”

“He’s a fr– person youknow.” Convincing her that she likes them and is meant to feel safe herein their temple, her home, will take more than calling people she can’t recallfriends and brushing off her paranoia of having been attacked and tied up.“The reason you don’t know who he is right now is because you haveamnesia. Congratulations, you’ve somehow managed to once again snatch the titleof ‘sudden amnesiac’.”

“What’s amnesia?” Shepauses, her frown seemingly not directed at him this time as she looks away,brow furrowing and her nose scrunched. “And why do I feel like I reallyshouldn’t have to ask?”

“Amnesia refers to losingyour memories–feeling like you know how to do things or what some things arewithout remembering how you learned about them in the first place.” Shedoesn’t say anything to that, which is fair. For all she knows, he’s lying, buthe doubts she has any better explanations for her patchy memory, or overalllack thereof. “First rule of mining.”

Her response is almost instant,words certain if short, and there’s a confident humor to them that’s beenmissing so far, the most Petra-like thing he’s heard from her.

“Never dig straightdown.” A pause. Then, a frown, her head tilting to the side as she shrugs,upper lip curling as she watches him, gaze distasteful and unsure all at once.“I can’t tell you why that’s thefirst rule, though.”

“Exactly, but any miner, oranyone who’s ever held a pick or shovel, could.”

“I don’t think it’s supposedto make my head hurt.”

“Usually not.” Ivor reachesinto his bag, absently rearranging several of the vials and corked bottlesbefore retrieving two small healing potions. Glancing up before he straightenslets him know that Petra’s still intently watching him, her brow furrowed morebut the rest of her expression less pinched. “That rule’s because of lavaflows and underground chasms, if you were wondering.”

“What’s lava?”

He nearly drops one of the vials,fingers belatedly curling tighter around it as he presses them into Petra’shands, not letting go until he’s sure she’s holding them.

“Alright, and it seems thereare some things you’ve just forgotten entirely.” He smiles, perhaps a bittoo wide with too forced a chuckle as he meets Jesse’s gaze, both of themglancing at each other, before he looks back to Petra. “It’s notunexpected. You were the same way the last time you had amnesia. This time, wehave better access to healing potions. When you drink those, that should helpwith the pain.”

He wonders how much pain she wasin last time, how much he could’ve helped but didn’t. Would it have mattered ifshe spoke up?

Would he have been too bitter todo anything other than look down on her for it and try not to let the guiltconsume him, the way he tried and failed at the time to keep from being slowlyeaten alive by the earned guilt that came with Ellegaard’s death?

It doesn’t matter. It just feelslike it does.

“Last time?” Petrafiddles with one of the corks, twisting it absently before tugging it out,glancing up at him again before peering down at the potion, one eye closed andthe other squinting as she swishes the potion just enough to make theconcoction bubble and froth. “So, is this like… a me thing? Or a regularthing?”

“It’s very much not.”Ivor snorts, flicking the bag shut as Petra empties the vial, hesitating beforeshe tilts it back. It doesn’t last long, though there doesn’t have to be muchfor it to be strong, and she’s grimacing before she begins drinking the secondone more quickly. “But you do seem to have that sort of luck. The lasttime was far more complicated; you were terribly sick, and it wasn’t until theWitherstorm was killed that your memory returned.”

Petra mulls that over as sheplays with the now empty vials between her fingers, the way she often playswith them after needing potions, probably trying to decide which questions sheought to bother asking. 

Her fingers still as the glass begins to slip, and hermovements are more stiff, rigid once again as she quickly sets them down besideher on the bed.

While she does, Ivor’s gazetrails to the necklace she’s wearing, no doubt looted from the ruins they’dentered, and he wonders just how he forgot to take it off when he was removingher armor, worried about her vitals and potential poisoning or other causes offainting.

…actually, the panic andover-bubbling of feared potentials probably had something to do with him notbothering to mess with something as trivial as a trinket that wasn’tobstructing any examinations.

Still, looking at it now, hecan’t believe he hardly spared it a thought, practically overlooking it.

It shines brighter than thelighting or even more colorful glow of nearby potions should allow, glintingwarmly in a way that all but demands attention.

He can’t imagine how he missedit.

Granted, Ivor can’t imagine howhe’s begun to hold the pendant before even realizing his hand has moved, thathis fingers are curling around warmed metal.

Given that Petra’s been wearingit, it’s no surprise that it’s warm.

What is surprising is the way itthrums, pulses beneath his fingers in the brief moment before Petra herselfshoves his hand away.

The wordless snarl is deep andquick, sharper than a growl and with more barbs, and Petra doesn’t even seemaware of it herself, expression melting back to curiosity as he pulls his handback and as her own falls back to her side.

She doesn’t seem aware of how hereyes respond either, not that it’s surprising when she doesn’t seem to haveregistered her own growl. Ivor’s aware of it, though, all too aware of how hereyes flash with light not their own, narrowed and burning with energy thatdemands attention, bright and powerful and somehow dim in comparison to thefire and determination normally burning in Petra’s eyes.

Beyond the more emotional,spiritual comparisons, her eyes also flash with actual light, pale and ghostlyand as quick as the snarl, looking almost more like a warning flare or thrum ofmagic.

Ah, lovely. It couldn’t just be arelapse or regular amnesia, could it?

“Well, if killing a– awhatever you said fixed it before, can’t you just… kill it again?”

He takes a bit too long torespond, staring at her and utterly lost before remembering that they have beencarrying out a conversation, up until this point.

“I’m afraid that’s no longeran option to us.” Ivor gets to his feet, nearly bouncing with what hehopes seems like optimism instead of alarm. “However, I do have a fewideas for how to handle this.”

Jesse’s watching them now, nolonger busy staring at her hands, but there’s no alarm to her expression, nofear like Ivor’s busy shoving aside. With their luck, she didn’t see it, maybeonly heard the snarl, but Ivor’s more than willing to fill her in.

After all, he has his fair shareof questions to ask her.

However, the time and place arenot here and not now, not in the infirmary with Petra looking more lost thanscared and Ivor desperately trying to remember passages from texts older thantheir world itself. He’ll just have to remedy the setting a bit.

“Ah, Jesse, you were therewhen Petra passed out. I’d like to ask you a few more questions, just so I cannarrow our options down to something realistically helpful. Do you mind if westep out for a minute?”

The last part, directed at Petrayet again, is almost sickeningly sweet in how it’s said, but it’s too late totake it back.

Lucky for them, she seems morebothered by the idea than the tone.

“…sure? I mean, you’recoming back, right?”

Too innocent, too insecure.

(Too Petra? Or too clearlymisleading, too obviously crafted to capture his attention and soften hisguard?)

“Right. Just sit tight– anddon’t touch anything.”

It’s as quick a relaxed exit asIvor can make, though his own hastiness is easily tempered by how he and Jessehave to pause in the doorway, waiting for the others to back up enough fromwhere they’d been eavesdropping to let the two of them out into the hallway.

They have the decency to not fakesudden regret and look ashamed, sheepish as their smiles may be.

That’s alright. He has thedecency to not look surprised.

Ivor prods Jesse to the side, notclosing the door behind them fully even as he motions for the rest of them tomove away from it.

It may be a dangerous game to play,making it easier for it to hear them, but he’d much rather be able to hearPetra moving should she try anything, and he’s had enough practice by thispoint to nearly master the art of being scathingly quiet while still very muchscathing.

And the rest of them have had thepractice to follow his lead when he lowers his voice so much.

“I thought Harper wasexaggerating when she said you’d all get into trouble without propersupervision.” The issue is, as accurate a statement as it is, it onlyleaves them chastised to the point they’d have expected from going on anadventure only to bring back an unconscious teammate. They all certainly looklike they’ve felt bad enough about that aspect. It might even be fitting for anamnesiac teammate. All the same, it’s not fitting for their current dilemma,and they have the right to know it just as much as Ivor has the right to not bethe only one ridiculously worried. “So, when did Petra go and get herself possessed, exactly?”

Jesse blinks at him beforegrinning widely, all teeth and somehow double the nervous energy he thought shecould have.

He misses Harper. Her advice cutsthrough confusion the way his own thoughts don’t, her knowledge wouldundoubtedly be a bonus in this situation, and the general support would begreatly appreciated.

Ideally, they’ll have this littlematter taken care of by the time she returns from her latest community projectfor Crown Mesa, and she won’t have to worry about it.

He misses and envies her.

“…please tell me you’rekidding and that I’m not supposed to actually answer that?” Ivor doesn’tbother reacting in any way, arms remaining crossed over his chest as his gazestays unimpressed and solely on Jesse. “Oh, great. Just now? Or, well,just before we left the ruins, when she passed out?”

“I’d rather say that’s notPetra at all, if only because that makes pest control much easier.” Heknows better than to think a creature capable of mimicking another’s form willbe easy to finish off, but there would certainly be less emotional baggage orethical concerns about, say, tricking it into drinking a fatal potion orslicing its head off while its back was turned. “But I’m fairly certainit’s still her. Most mimics are… shoddy at best, and rather grotesque atworst. Given that she has the right number of limbs, fingers, eyes, and thather scars seem to be exactly the same, possession’s more likely. The thing’susing her as a vessel, of sorts. It might be aware and might have wiped hermemory, or it might be pretending, or it might not know much of anything itselfeither. Possessions tend to be much more trouble than they’re worth.”

He has little firsthandexperience with them, though not none, and what he lacks in personal experiencehas been more than made up by the flurry of warnings in any book or scrolldetailing anything remotely related to possession.

“How could it possess her?Or, why Petra, and not all of us?” Ivor chokes off the snide remark beforeit can enter his throat or think to reach his treacherous tongue.

He may be tired and as unhappy asthem about this, but those are fair questions and it would be pointless to snapat or blame Lukas for asking. The closest experience any of them have to such asituation, especially Lukas, is PAMA, and its constant desire for dominationand expansion had been a bit of a theme.

“I don’t suppose you foundfive of those necklaces, did you?”

Any follow-up questions seem todie then and there, realization mixed with regret, and he’s further contentwith his decision to be more manageably snarky.

“We weren’t even expectingto find one. We probably would’ve missed it if Lukas hadn’t found a hiddenchest.” It could easily be phrased as an accusation, as pinning the blameon Lukas for inviting this trouble into their team, this entity into their friendand home, but Olivia sounds quiet and more factual than anything, nearlynonchalant even as one of her hands tugs on her hair while the other tightlygrips her arm.

Lukas still looks like he expectsIvor to blame him; lucky for him, Ivor hasn’t the time to entertain the notion,or half the stomach for it. Even if he did, a fight is the last thing theyneed, and he’d never solely blame Lukas for such a matter.

(The borrowed quills Lukas hasn’treturned are a different issue, but even that can be handled in a direct butcivilized manner and at a more appropriate time.)

“Was there anything else inthat chest?”

“Not anything more than afew cobwebs and a layer of dust.” Lukas rubs the back of his neck, halfsmile weak even as his voice falls lower and he clears his throat. “I, uh,I probably would’ve put it on if Petra hadn’t.”

“You mean if you two hadn’tfought over it until Jesse made you knock it off.”

Bickering is regular enough to beworth immediate reporting, but Ivor wonders how he’s only hearing this partnow, as Lukas’s ears pinken to the point of rivaling Petra’s hair in color.

“We weren’t fighting.”

Lukas’s own silent plea to Jesse,his eyes wide and too forcibly innocent, is met with nothing but a weak shrug.

“You guys were gettingpretty riled up.”

“Oh, come on, that’s justhow Petra is. She’s super competitive.”

“Like you aren’t?” Axelhas a point, the verbal nudge said quietly and as gently as anything else, thoughIvor doubts there are any of them are missing at least a slight tendency forbeing competitive. Perhaps to illustrate that point, while Lukas’s face returnsto something of a more normal color, his eyes narrow as he weakly glares up atAxel. It’s a more wounded look than anything, and Ivor’s beginning to wonder ifthe heightened tension is helped any by this possession business.

(The emotional fallout is sure tobe a mess, however this goes.)

Olivia doesn’t let Lukas arguethat one, stopping a squabble between him and Axel before it can begin, and ifIvor has half his sanity after this ordeal, he’ll be sure to thank her for it.An extra healing potion ought to do.

“Lukas, you insulted hersword and said she was just confused and ungrateful. And cocky.”

“Only because she called me a hack and said my booksonly sold well because I was milking our fame and riding your guys’coattails–” Lukas, still whispering even as he begins to hiss, pauses,wincing as his posture slumps and visibly loses steam. “Okay, yeah, it gotkind of heated.”

His smile is once again sheepishas his shoulders slump and he combs his fingers through his hair, other handhanging limp at his side, suddenly rather interested in watching his shoesscuff the floor.

“Only kind of?”

“Well, it’s nice knowing weonly said that stuff because of whatever was in that pendant.” Lukas’s handpauses before falling past his hair, rubbing the back of his neck.“…I probably should’ve realized it was cursed before Petra passed out.”

“Nobody else did.” Jesse touches his shoulder, voice as gentle as her movements. Ivor knows better than to hope she doesn’t blame herself. Her smile weakens, doing a poor job of looking any less guilty as she looks back to Ivor, voice stronger but no louder. “Petra gloated for a little bit, but it was just teasing and it didn’t last long anyway, not after she collapsed onto Axel.”

“Hey, better me than thefloor. Maybe those bricks were a million years old, but they were still roughand solid. I don’t know if Petra’d really care about the blood stains, butfainting sucks enough with getting a concussion or cracking your headopen.”

It’s an unpleasant mental image,even if the damage would likely be limited to less drastic consequences thanthat by Petra’s helmet.

(Ivor may just give them allextra healing potions after this. 

They certainly seem to have earned it.)

“So Lukas and Petra foughtover an oddly shiny piece of jewelry almost immediatelyafter finding it, becoming uncharacteristically surly and cruel, and Petrapassed out only a few minutes after donning it?”

“If you’re trying to say itwas obvious that the necklace was cursed…”

“Yeah, we know, we’regetting that.”

(For as dry as his words are, asslow and sarcastic as he feels his tone has the right to be without beingoverly mocking, Ivor’s not sure he can blame them.

They clearly knew something waswrong when she passed out.

They clearly weren’t comfortablewith the bickering.

They just also didn’t find it souncharacteristic that Petra and Lukas easily turned on each other, and giventhe nature of their past few arguments, Ivor doesn’t blame them.

He’s also not sure what thatsays.

What it means, when he knows hewouldn’t have thought much odd about Lukas and Petra bickering, not even whenit took a turn into being nasty and sharp. Maybe he’s more used to the ideathat friends can turn on each other. Maybe they’re all just a little more usedto Petra and Lukas growing snippier with each other than they once were, barbsjagged and hooked as personally cutting insults and snide comments haveovertaken gentler teasing.

All friends fight; it’s just notcomforting that every group Ivor’s seen has undergone a schism of some sort.It’s even less comforting when he considers how Lukas already knows the pain oflosing dear friends, how Petra’s been lonely enough in the past to never wantto return to that. They should know better.

Once, he thought they did.

It’s disturbing, but not asdisturbing as the possessed warrior still sitting on the examination table, onedoor away in a room filled with some of his best and most powerful potions.

Craning his neck to peer into theroom, the door left cracked open just enough to let him view the table, Ivor’slips tug into a frown as Petra begins– well, as her current host beginsswinging its legs, still perched right where she was left. The expression maybe more curious than Petra’s normally is, but the pose is familiar, even moreso as its fingers begin drumming lightly against the table the way hers alwaysdo when she’s in for her checkups, or dragged in by someone else for treatmentof her wounds.

Familiar, unexpected, and fullydisturbing.)

“How do we fix it?”

“If I took over somebody’sbody, and if it was as big a pain as Ivor makes it out to be, I wouldn’t wantpeople to just shove me back out.” Axel’s grin is brief but wide, toothyand slightly maniacal, matching the brief glint in his eye as he looks to therest of them. “They’d have to fight me for it.”

The smile weakens once Olivianudges his ribs, the jab itself quick and as short lived as the grin.

Spoken like a true griefer king.

(There’d been a time when Ivorhad thought Magnus an oddity, even among griefers. He’s since learned well thatMagnus was just part of one particular, peculiar breed.)

“Quite. It won’t just handher body back over if we ask nicely. However, it reacted poorly when Iattempted to touch the pendant.” Poorly may be an understatement, but anentity wishing to fit in would have no reason to overreact if the necklacewasn’t important to it in some way. “Getting it away from her may be thebest, or only, solution we have. The question then, of course, is if taking thecursed item from her will transfer the curse.”

“Which means…?”

“It’s possible whoevermanages to successfully remove the necklace will remove the spirit or entityfrom Petra, allowing it to either roam to a new host or be transferred intotheir own body.”

Olivia winces, the answer likely as unpleasant as she expected to get but unpleasant all the same.

“Oh. Great.”

“What if removing thenecklace doesn’t remove it?” Jesse’s holding onto her chin, briefly bitinginto her finger as she glances at the others. “Or it ends up possessingall of us when it’s free?”

There’s a fixation on thatpossibility, of overwhelming and total possession, that Ivor would maybe have aharder time understanding if he didn’t know how familiar they were with theterrifying idea of being controlled against their wills, if their most hatedpoints didn’t come from being unable to help each other or do anything otherthan watch chaos and harm unfold upon their friends, if he wasn’t as horrifiedof the idea and as frustrated by not being able to save them.

And, frankly, Ivor knows justenough about possession to know how unreliable and hectic it can be, and heknows so little about this situation that he can’t rule out the possibility.

“That’s why none of you willbe attempting to remove the necklace.”

“What?” For all theirback and forth today, it’s the one question they have no problem with agreeingon, incredulous and confused enough to border on raising their voices just abit too much.

He’s quick to shush them, butthey don’t seem anymore understanding of his answer.

“Not right now, at least. Ineed to do more research, and if it’s only faking being oblivious, it’scertainly suspicious enough after my attempt. Don’t forget that it’s currentlyinhabiting one of the best warriors out there, one we would all rather nothurt.” There’s some shifting, each of them once again avoiding his gaze. Theymay be more understanding of his reasoning, but none of them seem particularlyplacated by it. “We don’t need to give it more reason to act out, or toharm Petra, until we’re certain removing the item will safely remove theentity.”

“And if it won’t…?” Lukas leans his shoulder against the wall, jacket sliding against the quartz perhaps just a bit more than he expected. 

Still, he does a good job of hiding his surprise behind a raised eyebrow and lips that aren’t quite twisting into a frown, and it’s yet another fair question, yet another concern they have to worry about.

Ivor wishes he had a fair answer.

“Then we’ll have to figureout a compromise that’s safest for everyone. Until then, we’ll just have toplay along.“ 

Which is hardly comforting. 

Ivor glances back at the door,waiting a few moments until he’s sure everything seems as he left it. Close enoughto his expectations, at least, Petra not having gotten to her feet even as shecontinues to fidget and look around, seemingly far more interested in hersurroundings than the hushed whispers she hopefully can’t hear. Curiosity seemsso innocent, but it goes hand in hand with strategizing and plotting.

Ivor sighs, expression softeningas he looks at the others, well aware his smile is weak and strained but stilla smile, still as gentle and warm as his voice becomes.

“Don’t look so miserable.You’re heroes of how many worlds now? You know how to be careful.” Hestretches his arms out in front of him, fingers interlocked and palms facingaway from his body as he straightens up, knuckles popping as quietly as hisback before his hands return to his sides. “Now, the rest of you can starttrickling in. It’ll be expecting some company, if it thinks we’re really herfriends.”

If that’s all it suspects, thenit hardly knows anything at all. 

They’re her family, as much as she’s theirs, andits influence on them has been wholly unwelcome and undesired, just like itscurrent residence in Petra.

Ivor huffs again as he opens thedoor, muttering to himself as Jesse gently pushes past him and Axel followssuit, their steps more cautious than the hurried scuttle away from the door hadbeen just minutes ago.

Ivor’s words are grumbled and lowenough that he can hardly hear himself over the others’ footsteps and his own,hardly hear himself over Axel and Jesse’s friendly but not too forcedintroductions, hardly hear himself over the theories and ideas beginning totake root in his mind.

“Notch knows we’ve certainlyfaced worse than a dangerous amnesiac.”

[mosylufanfic]

I can't believe I only just saw you were taking requests! I absolutely love your writing. Could you please do 25. “Don’t leave me.” for killervibe? Good luck with NaNoWriMo, I'm doing it too and it's HARD! Sending you lots of good-writing vibes :)

Hey, my fellow Killervibe fan, you have the dubious distinction of getting the darkest and grittiest prompt fill that I’ll probably do all month.

I knew I wanted to write something about the nightmare hellscape dystopia that Cannibal Wells (of the Council of Wellses) came from, but when my original idea hit the ten-page mark and there was still a lot more to tell, I accepted that it would not be a NaNo prompt and filed it away to work on later. This, then, is in the same world but happened before that original idea. In spite of the way it might read in the first section, this really, really is a Killervibe story.  And it wound up being 6ish pages anyway.

It being a nightmare hellscape dystopia, there are references to acts of terrible violence, one in particular that I had to draw from the episode, so take care of yourself if you need to.

Mosylu what are you doing?

In the After

By the standards of before, the motel was a craphole. One of those skeevy places that advertised rooms for 39.99 on the giant signs you could see from the freeway, free HBO and wifi, and a pool for the kids. The bedbug infestation came on the house.

By the standards of the after, it was a kingdom.

Julian Albert couldn’t see much of it from his position just inside the razor-wire fence, but he could see that some of the windows still had glass, and curtains, and the ones that didn’t were all neatly boarded up, no gaping holes. A few even had what looked like shutters, cracked open as if the occupants of the rooms behind peered out at him. The little corner of the pool-for-the-kids that he could see had been fully drained, no water sitting around creating mosquitoes and mold.

This was a prime spot, capable of sheltering up to a hundred or more people in reasonable comfort.

And its queen knew it.

Iris West lounged on the motel’s front porch in a folding chair, looking bored and faintly contemptuous. For the after, her look was downright stylish - a leather jacket, jeans without any holes, a black tank top. She even wore tiny gold earrings, almost lost in her frothing black curls.

She had her similarly-attired entourage around her - a young man with long black hair sprawling in a chair next to her, his right arm hooked around the back. A young black man stood at her shoulder, and a petite white girl stood at her other elbow, both of them looking like it would be a downright pleasure to rip his throat out.

And then there was the white-haired woman behind him, holding the knife to his throat. It radiated chill, almost as if it were made of ice, but it wasn’t melting.

Julian couldn’t work that out and didn’t bother to. He’d bargained with groups before and the trick was in the first ten minutes, in showing each other who you were and what you had of value.

“Jesse,” Iris said. “Take his weapons.”

A brief wind surrounded him, and when it abated, a pile of weapons clattered to the concrete in front of the girl. He catalogued them, his stomach twisting up. His shotgun, his sidearm, the knives from his hip and his ankle and even the needle-thin ones from his wrist. Everything.

Shit.

He’d heard there were freaks in Central City. People who’d gotten special powers from the particle accelerator explosion that had turned their world into fucking Mad Max. Looked like he’d found some of them.

“I’d better get those back,” he said, nodding at his weapons.

Iris smiled at him as if she knew what he was thinking. “So,” she said. “Frost tells me you’re requesting shelter.”

“An arrangement, yeah.”

“An arrangement,” Jesse mocked in a high, affected faux British accent like a movie Cockney. “Listen to that accent. Posh.”

Snickers all around.

He managed a tight smile of his own. He knew somebody who’d had their tongue cut out for not laughing at the right joke. He pressed on. “Not just for now. Anytime I come through.”

He’d had a stopping point in this area, but when he’d dropped in this morning, he’d found the house thoroughly sacked and the walls painted with blood.

Well. It happened.

But it did mean he needed another landing place. And this one was bigger than the two or three families that had been living in the house. They’d need more things.

“What’ll you give us?” Her eyes dipped to his meager packs. “Doesn’t look like you have much to offer.”

“Information. I’m a trader,” he said. “I travel all around the metro area. I know every warehouse and supply cache in the city limits. Whatever you want, I can get it.”

Usually this was a trump card. But Iris laughed. “Pass.”

“What?”

“We’ve got our own sources of information. We don’t need yours.”

“Do you know where the warehouses are? Who’s got the best supplies? Sitting here in your little motel on the outskirts, you can’t get more than the dregs.”

The sprawling young man drawled, “Like she said, Tea Boy, we have our ways.”

Iris gave a little nod, and Julian let out a yelp as something yanked at his hair, hard. The black boy stood next to Iris with Julian’s hat in his hand, smirking.

He handed it off to the sprawling man, who spun it around his finger once or twice. “Hmm,” he said. “Julian Albert. You’ve made the lap around the metro area on your scooter - sweet ride, by the way - no fewer than fifteen times in the past four years. You have similar trading arrangements with eight - ” His eyes flickered. “No, seven locations. But for the most part, the places you hit for supplies are places we’ve already been.”

He gave his hand a flick. The hat sailed off it and thumped Julian lightly in the chest before flopping down to lie at his feet like a dead animal.

“You see,” Iris said. “We just don’t need anything you have to give us, and we don’t need another drain on our resources. So, I think it’s time for you to go.”

Julian swallowed. “Right,” he said. “Right.” He turned his head very carefully to look into the glowing white eyes a few inches from his own. “You mind dropping that knife there, Frost, so I can get out of your hair?”

Her mouth curled up in a tiny smirk, and she dropped the knife - literally, opening her hand and letting to crash to the ground, where it shattered on impact.

“Just so you know, I don’t need a knife to hurt you,” she said, and held up her hands. They poured out mist, and he could feel the cold like he’d climbed into a deep freezer from the before. “Frostbite burns like a bitch.”

Jesus fucking Christ. He’d found all the freaks, hadn’t he?.

He leaned down to get his hat, shifting so most of his weight was on his right leg, calculating how much gas his little scooter had and whether it could get him to one of his regular spots before nightfall.

“Wait,” Frost said sharply. “Where did you get your leg?”

He stopped. Turned, careful not to limp or wince. “My what?”

She leaned down and yanked up his left pant leg, exposing the plastic foot laced into his boot and the metal pipe-like leg that ran up to just below his knee. “Your prosthetic. Where did you get it?”

“Caitlin,” Iris said, and whether it was a warning or a question or just trying to get her attention, Julian couldn’t tell.

“Maybe I always had it,” he said cagily, watching Frost - or Caitlin. Whatever her name was. “Maybe I lost my leg in the before.”

He finally pinpointed what was different - her eyes had gone from white to brown. The change shook him more than he cared to admit, even to himself.

She dropped his pant leg and straightened up. “If you had, you’d just say so. And after four years of the after, it would be a lot more beat up. That was recent. Where did you get it?”

The long-haired man abandoned his sprawling posture and sat up straight. With his right arm out in front of him, Julian could see what had been carefully hidden before - it ended just below the elbow. The stump was wrapped in crisp white gauze, and the way he handled it told Julian the loss was recent.

“Got an owie there, mate?” he asked.

The man’s eyes narrowed. “Stung a little.”

“How’d it happen?

His lips barely parted. “Harrison Wells. He chopped it off with an axe. Then he cooked it and ate it in front of me.”

“Yeah,” Julian said. He’d tangled with Wells before, in the city center. Some people survived the after, and some thrived. Harrison Wells thrived, to an unsettling degree. “Sounds like him.”

He looked around, feeling the power shift and tilt. “Well, well, well,” he murmured. “Seems like I have something you want after all.”

Cisco paced the front lobby. “No,” he said. “No, no, no, no.”

“A warehouse,” Caitlin said. “An entire warehouse of medical supplies. Almost untouched as of three months ago, he said. A whole section of specialized items, including prostheses!”

“Three months! A lot could have happened in three months. You could get there and it could be burned to the ground, or ransacked to the walls, or all the fakes could be those fancy-ass myoelectric models that all got blown out with the EMP!”

“His wasn’t,” she said. “I have to try.”

Cisco whirled. “Iris, tell her she can’t do this.”

Iris opened her mouth, but the thunder of feet on the stairs leading to the second floor brought her head up. A moment later, two toddlers careened around the corner of the staircase, followed by an older man - Iris’s father and her twin children.

“They woke up and wanted Mama,” Joe explained unnecessarily, since Dawnie and DJ were already attempting to climb their mother’s leg, demanding kisses. “You take care of that fella?”

“Sort of,” Iris said, hoisting DJ onto her hip and giving him a big kiss, then setting him down and repeating the motion with Dawnie. “That’s what we were talking about.”

“I could hear the yelling from upstairs,”  Joe said dryly, and Cisco looked abashed.

Iris straightened her daughter’s poofy ponytail, put her down, and said, “Go play, babies.”

When both children had raced off into the next room and were safely away from the argument, Cisco pointed accusingly at Caitlin with his remaining hand. “She wants to go someplace with a virtual stranger on the off-chance that she might find a slightly better fake arm for me.”

“Dammit, Cisco, it’s not a fake, it’s a prosthetic, and I’m after a much better one,” Caitlin snapped. “The one you have now is barely better than a stick, and it hurts you to wear it.”

“I just have to get used to it,” he said. “Or maybe I won’t wear one. Maybe everyone will just have to get used to Stumpy here.”

Caitlin looked at Iris. “It’s not just the prosthetic, which could significantly improve Cisco’s quality of life,” she said pointedly. “We’re dangerously low on a lot of medical supplies and this is my chance to stock up.” She started ticking them off on her fingers like a Christmas list. “I desperately need more syringes and needles. Gauze, medical tape, surgical-grade thread for stitches. IV bags would be amazing. Tubing for blood transfusions. Slings and braces. Antibiotics, pain killers - ”

“You wouldn’t be low on those if you hadn’t used them up on me,” Cisco muttered.

“I’d make that choice a thousand times,” she snarled. “And we were getting low before. We would have gotten to this point whether I used them all on you or doled them out like gold or threw them in the river.”

“We could get those from our regular places.”

“Most, not all. Definitely not the prosthesis.”

“He’s still a stranger. What if he cuts your throat and leaves you for dead?”

“He’s got a point,” Joe said. “Even in the before, I’d say that to a young lady taking off with somebody she barely knows.”

Caitlin said, “I hear what you’re saying, Joe, but, you know - ” She held up her free hand and let the cold surge up her arm, center in her palm, spill out of her fingers in streamers of mist. “I can take care of myself.”

Joe nodded. “That you can.”

Iris said, “You got a look at him, Cisco, with his hat. Do you really think he’s the type?”

Cisco flopped down on the couch. He looked very pale, patches of sweat decorating his hairline. Caitlin gripped her hands behind her back to stop herself from going over and checking his forehead for fever. He’d only fought off the last of the infection from the amputation a week ago, and his energy levels were still low and liable to sputter out unexpectedly.

“I want to say yes,” he muttered. “But it felt like he’s exactly what he says - lone wolf type, goes around making his own living, touching down in a few places around Central City to trade and share news.” He looked up at Iris. “His original spot near here was 1748 Magnolia Avenue. The people who lived there? They’re gone.”

“Gone as in - ”

He looked at his hand. “He buried what was left.”

Iris closed her eyes. “I told them they should come here.”

Caitlin put her hand on Iris’s shoulder. “You can only defend what’s inside this fence, Iris. It wasn’t your fault.”

Iris nodded, eyes still closed. “He buried them?”

“Mhm. Said a few words too.”

“Well, that speaks well of him, even if he is an obnoxious jerk.”

“Jerk is pretty low on the scale of terrible these days,” Caitlin said.

Joe added, “Here’s something you haven’t thought of. If this fellow’s on the road that much, he might catch wind of Barry.”

The specter of Iris’s beloved, the father of the twins that he’d never seen or known about, seemed to hang in the center of the room. She looked at nothing for a few minutes, then nodded once.

“Okay,” she said. “Here’s what we’ll do. Jesse and Wally will transport Caitlin and Julian to this warehouse of his.”

Cisco sat up. “Iris!”

“You’ll take the long way around,” she told Caitlin. “Through the outskirts. It’ll still be a shorter trip, time-wise, than that little scooter of his, and safer if our speedsters can zip you away from trouble.”

Caitlin nodded.

“If the trip goes well, if you find he has good information, then we’ll consider the kind of trading relationship he wants.” She dusted her hands on her jeans. “I’m going out to talk to them now.” She narrowed her eyes at Cisco and Caitlin. “You two - have that fight that’s brewing, but do it away from my babies.”

Cisco shut his eyes and slumped down into the couch cushions.

When Joe and Iris had left, Caitlin sat next to him. “Are we going to fight?”

He’d put his hand over his eyes. “Fuck. I don’t have the energy to scream and yell, but I really want to.”

She gave in and touched his forehead. He muttered, “I don’t have a fever. The vibing wiped me out, that’s all.”

She dropped her hand back to her lap, digging her nails into her knee so hard she could feel it through her tough pants. He never used to get tired after vibing. Not this tired. Maybe it was the lingering effects of the infection, or maybe his vibing ability had been permanently affected by the loss of one hand.

After all, he’d lost his breaching ability entirely.

“Look,” she said. “It’s your choice about the prosthesis. If I bring one back and you use it as a paperweight for the rest of your life, then fine. That’s your call. But if you’re saying you don’t want one just because you’re afraid I’ll get hurt going to get it - ” She shook her head. “Well. No. I’m not allowing that. Make your choice again.”

He dropped his hand from his eyes and looked at her for a long moment. Then he raised his right arm, holding the gauze-wrapped stump in between them. “If this happens to you - or something worse - you know I’d lose my fucking mind, right?”

He didn’t like her touching his right arm anymore. He accepted it when she had to treat the wound site, but other than that, he hated for her to lay her hand on his bicep or touch his elbow to get his attention. He wouldn’t even wrap it around her in a hug. Left arm only.

That was why she moved around his upraised stump and settled carefully in his lap, resting her forehead against his. “Do you think I don’t know how you feel? I spent hours wrapped around you in our bed, while infection was eating you alive. Begging the antibiotics to work, begging you. ‘Don’t leave me. Please, please, don’t leave me.’” She put her hands to his face and kissed him. “Don’t leave me alone.”

His left arm wrapped around her waist and pulled her close. “So why?”

“Because this isn’t just for you. Don’t get me wrong, it’s mostly for you. But we’ve got a motel full of people and I need medical supplies.” She traced the dear shape of his face with her fingertips. “You didn’t leave me. And I’m not going to leave you. I am coming back.”

He rested his head against hers. “You can’t say that, not for sure.”

In his voice, she heard resigned acceptance. She would take it. She curled into him, laying her head on his left shoulder. “No, I know. But we never could. Not even in the before.”

FINIS

[superboverwatch]

JM-008

Rated: G Warnings: Angst. Just Angst. Pairings: McHanzo Notes: Unbeta’d. Just a drabble.

Hanzo stands outside the door, unwilling to move forward. Maybe, just maybe, if he doesn’t go into the room, then everything that has happened will be a dream. Maybe, just maybe, he will wake up in their bed, warm and cold no longer. Maybe, just maybe, this nightmare will be over. He opens the door and steps inside. It’s plain and white. White tiled floor, ceiling, and walls. There’s a sturdy oak table in the center, a chair on either side. Hanzo has been in here once before. That time, he took the seat facing the door. This time, he takes the seat facing away. 

“Good afternoon, Hanzo. Thank you for coming.” At one point, Athena dropping ‘Agent’ from addressing him would have been a problem. Now? Now Hanzo needs it. Needs those breadcrumbs of affection, “You are here to watch recording JM-008. There are two options: audiolog or hololog. Due to previous Agent interactions, I would suggest audi--” “Hololog.” Hanzo responds immediately, not waiting for her to continue. Silence floods the chamber. “Hanzo, I would advise against that. Hololog has shown to cause extreme emotional reaction and your current mental state--” “Hololog.” He is less strident now. Tiredness effuses his voice. Even softer, he whispers, “Please.” Another breath of silence. Hanzo squeezes his hands into fists on the table, his knuckles white.  “Understood. Loading Hololog JM-008.” He expected it to take some time, but it’s almost instant. The first change is the tiles. The floor turns hardwood, the walls into an earthy stucco color. A fake rug lies below the table. Windows outside show arid desert beauty. All around, succulents and cacti hang or stand, blooming in glory.  But the thing Hanzo is staring at, with eyes so wide, is the man in front of him. He looks pristine, his hair a little messy, but otherwise normal. Wearing a button-down flannel, a cigar hanging from his lips. He smiles nervously. It makes the crows feet in his eyes more prominent. Hanzo’s breath hitches. Quietly, the cowboy clears his throat and gets comfortable. He pulls out peacekeeper and sets her on the table. Then, he takes off his hat and sets it down too. Hanzo bites back a sob, hand covering his mouth. He’s shaking uncontrollably, but he can’t stop this. Not now. Jesse runs a hand through his hair and then scoots the chair forward a little more before setting his arms onto the table. Hanzo has the irrational urge to reach out and touch the flesh and metal hands. He’ll pass through them, of course, but he wants to so badly. “All right, lesse.” If the image was bad, the voice is worse. Hanzo heaves a sob, shoulders hunching forward. The warm whiskey words tumble into him, caressing his skin. “Name is Jesse McCree. I’m Forty-one years of age, sound of mind and health. This here is an update to my previous will. Thought it was ‘bout time for me to fix it up.” He needs to focus and hear this. He has to hear this, to savor the words. Wiping his eyes, Hanzo looks back up to see Jesse holding a wrinkled piece of paper. “For my worldly belongings... I hereby give Overwatch any currency I have at the time of my passin’. I give my video games to Hana Song. I give my bullets and unsued ammunition to Overwatch. I give any land or assets in my name t’Overwatch. “My clothing, personal effects, and my gun I give to Hanzo Shimada. That... That ‘bout covers the uh, worldly goods. Don’t got much, if’n I’m honest.” Jesse shrugs and scratches his bearded chin. Hanzo soaks in the words, the motions, like a plant takes in the sun. He needs it to live, to keep going. It is his energy.  “This here ends the normal will part and now we’re gonna get into... Uh... Well personal shit. So, if’n you ain’t Hanzo, this is gonna get real fuckin’ weird.” His laugh is strained, smile wobbly. There’s a little uptick at the ends of his words, the way it does when Jesse’s trying not to cry. Knowing his cowboy was getting emotional speaking this makes Hanzo shiver, fresh tears forming. “Hanzo Shimada, I don’t know what the future will hold. I don’t know if... If we’re still together, or if you finally got a sense and went for someone better.” The cowboy looks so nervous and unsure. It doesn’t fit well with the bombastic memory, with the lively cheerful yelling and hollering. It doesn’t fit his Jesse, but it also does.  Jesse shifts and looks down at his hands, his brows furrowing together, “I love you, Hanzo. I think about y’night and day. I think about how much joy y’give me and how much I... I want y’to be happy.”  Happy isn’t really an option for Hanzo. Not really. He feels the gnawing agony and sadness opening its hungry jaws. It seeks and seeks and seeks to destroy him and it’s winning. It is tearing him apart and there’s not much left of Hanzo. Not much fight. “Baby, sweetheart, pumpkin... Please, keep goin’. Live, Hanzo. Find someone who can make you feel good and live again. I’m beggin’ ya.” Jesse’s voice hitches and breaks at the end. Tears trace his tawny cheeks, jaw shuddering until he clenches his teeth and hisses through it, “Pleaaaaaaase.” McCree hunches up and chokes on a sob. For an agonizing moment, Hanzo watches as a hologram of his love cries. Every fiber of his being begs him to comfort him, to touch and hold his hands, to make him stop speaking these awful, sweet words. It hurts, and Hanzo is once again stuck watching from afar as Jesse is torn apart. “I love you, and I want you to be happy. We both know this life we lead is dangerous, and I... Fuck, I wanted to leave this so you would know how I feel ‘bout ya.” Oddly, as Jesse speaks, he picks up peacekeeper. Carefully, the cowboy begins to take the gun apart. Hanzo has seen this a million times - he cares and cleans his gun religiously. Each part is laid out in a neat order, with deft hands that know what they’re doing. But there’s something new. The grip of the pistol is tapped against the edge of the table. Jesse runs a finger along the leather inlay’s seam. After a few seconds, it pops out. A hidden mechanism. From inside it, he fishes out a key and sets it down on the table. “Off the record, I got a safehouse in New Mexico. Coordinates are 36.425768, -107.536382.” Jesse waited patiently, for what Hanzo is unsure. He stares gobsmacked at the change in tone, reeling from shock. “There are answers there, darlin’. Maybe the things you need to move on. No matter what, Hanzo, I love you. Be good.” Jesse blows a kiss and then the recording ends. Hanzo is back in the white tiled room. His beloved is gone. A startled, sharp gasp wrenches from his clenched jaw, heart aching fiercely.  “Download this and then erase it.” Athena is quiet, and Hanzo wonders if she will do as he said. “Erasing files is not prohibited, Agent Shimada.”  “Then,” Hanzo stands, feeling purpose and drive flood him in waves. He has a goal. He has something to do. “Delete the part recorded for me.” “That is inadvisable, Agent Shimada.” “If,” Hanzo’s voice is firm and loud. His oyabun voice, Genji used to joke. The one that tolerates no nonsense, “It is made for me then I am allowed to destroy it. Do as I ask.” “As you wish, Agent Shimada. The will has been downloaded to your com. The part addressed to you will be deleted.” That night, Hanzo leaves. Bags packed, com stipped of data. He carries peacekeeper on his hip, a cowboy hat on his head, a serape in his bags, and determination in his soul. He chases a ghost for an answer. He misses the service for Jesse J. McCree. It’s beautiful. There are flowers and speeches and tears all around. There is Taps and an honorary burial. His absence is noticed, gossiped about. Genji is stoic beside Angela. His friends, his family essentially, wonder how someone so close to Jesse could just run off like this.

[yashkonu]

Cryotherapy

(Mei/Mercy, around 2k words. AO3)

They were cute, Mei decided.

It wasn’t that she thought they were cute. They looked like some radial cousin of a bacteriophage, infinitesimal wagon wheels with a ring of grasping spines. She wasn’t above a deep discomfort with the idea of it; a thousand of the little constructs darting about their purpose in every milliliter of her blood.

Still, she understood. They were something on the other end of the scale from her work, and no less important. Climatology, as Angela had once told her after a few drinks, was the science of making sure we as a species get our security deposit back.

Mei had asked the question begged: “Get our deposit back after what?”

Angela had orchestrated her answer with a wave of a half-empty beer bottle. “After this, Dr. Zhou. After all of this is done.”

She’d drained the bottle after that. Even back then, the bags under her eyes had been ever-present. It was easy to imagine a cold wind sweeping down from Angela’s mind, barren half-circles forming on the lee side of her eyes.

They were unsettling, Mei thought.

"They are cute little things, aren't they?"

Angela laughed, a honey-sweet sound that lifted a smile to Mei's lips.

"You would see it like that, Dr. Zhou. Once I am able to accelerate production, these will save… innumerable lives. They will do things no doctor ever has."

"You're engineering miracles, Dr. Ziegler."

Angela tilted her head, a grin spreading sideways across her lips. "Are you winding up for a pun on my name, Dr. Zhou?"

"Mei-be, mei-be not."

"Incorrigible. Simply incorrigible."

Angela rested the syringe at a steep angle against her forearm, brushed a thumb over the mosaic of warning labels, and injected herself with the prototype before Mei could even think the words "are you sure about this?"

Mei watched Angela die.

It wasn't even a combat mission, just a supply run to a mountaintop watchpoint, with Angela along to ensure the shipment of newly minted nanomachines survived the journey intact.

Non-combat missions with Angela were Mei's favorite sort. The thin-ice brittleness that clung to Angela in combat melted away, and she remembered how to smile and laugh and joke. It was good.

Angela was first out of the transport when it landed, a hand on her hat to keep it from flying away. She rounded the transport to the cargo hold as a pair of agents approached across the landing pad.

"There's really no rush, Angela!" Mei chuckled as she hopped out of the aircraft. "We'll be staying for a few days yet, so it's not like--!"

Mei had exactly enough time to register the glossy black shape of a shotgun leveled at Angela's back before it was too late.

A thunderclap shot sounded across the mountaintop, and Angela dropped like a stone. Silent shock crossed her face before she fell, sprawling out across bloodstained crates of food and medical supplies. She didn't even have time to scream.

Neither did Mei. The weapon swung toward her--but Jesse's tips at the range paid off, and Mei was faster. A foot-long spear of ice punched clean through the attacker's visor, and the shotgun clattered to the ground.

The second pressed a hand to his ear and opened his mouth to shout into a headset.

He didn't have time either.

"Angela!"

Mei rushed to her side and sucked a shuddering breath through her teeth at the sight of the wound.

"Angela, Angela hang in there okay? I can get the nanomachines from the…"

Mei's trailed off when she saw Angela's eyes. It was all too quick, too brutal, and now--now Mei knew she had watched her dear friend die. Mountaintop wind whipped across the landing pad, stirring ripples in a spreading pool of blood that hadn't yet had time to freeze.

A hydraulic hiss caught Mei's ears. On Angela's forearm, a massive syringe built into the bracer--one Mei had sincerely hoped was just one of Gabriel's 'decorative touches'--began to press itself down. Slowly but surely it drained, and Mei's breath caught as her friend's corpse began to stitch itself back together.

Bone re-formed, muscle re-grew, organs repaired themselves in a span of seconds--and unmarked skin spread like spilled milk to cover the wound. After five truly, deeply unsettling seconds, Angela was healed.

"... Oh, Angela. It would have worked, it was just-!" Mei fought down tears; they'd freeze, and she couldn't allow that. "It was just too fast, there was just no time. I'm sorry, Angela. I'm so, so-!"

A whine. A rising electric whine, just at the edge of hearing, and a calm synthesized voice announced 'Clear' before Angela's body bucked with a noise like the crack of a whip.

Angela Ziegler gasped a desperate breath, her eyes wide and fearful before she fell into a fit of coughing.

"Angela!" Mei lifted her friend into her arms as quickly and carefully as she could, keeping her exposed back covered from the elements as best she could. "Angela? Can you hear me?"

Angela covered her mouth with a hand, and one last chest-quaking cough brought with it a metallic clink. When she opened the hand, several pellets of shot sat in her palm.

"I can hear you, Mei." Her voice rasped, and she swallowed hard. "I am… very pleased to see my resuscitation system worked."

"Resusci--mercy me, Angela, I watched you die!"

"... I know. I am sorry you had to see that." She cast a quick glance around the landing pad, her gaze falling onto the bodies of their attackers. "You protected me."

"I don't think it counts as protecting if you're already dead, Angela." Mei shuddered at the thought.

Angela's slender, neatly trimmed fingers came to rest against Mei's cheek. "It was only for a little while. I can't just die on you all."

Only for a little while.

Mei laughed, and laughed, and laughed until she cried.

Mei watched, the first time Angela died.

Mei was warm, and comfortable, and very very sleepy.

This scared--as Jesse might have put it--the good god-lovin' soul out of her.

Hypothermia. Bad. Stay awake. Sleep is death.

She could feel her breath coming slow, too slow, and poured every ounce of her willpower into forcing her eyes to open.

Mei Ling-Zhou saw an angel, and wasn't sure how to feel about that.

"...with me, stay…"

The angel seemed nice. Mei wanted to stay with her, though she wasn't sure if that meant staying alive or dying. Memories bobbed to the surface of her mind, and suddenly Mei was also unsure which of those she would prefer.

"Hold on, Dr. Zhou."

Oh. The angel was using her title. How courteous.

"You may feel a--oh, who am I kidding, your extremities must be utterly numb."

...What?

Like fog melting off in harsh sunlight, the haze fell away from Mei's thoughts. Her vision cleared, and the angel stayed.

"... Amshla?"

Angela Ziegler frowned and tucked a stray hair behind Mei's ear. "I see your mouth is still numb. It's me, Mei. Angela. How do you feel?"

Mei took a moment to run her tongue over her parched lips, and spoke in a rasp. "I think I died."

Angela sighed and shook her head. "Not quite, and thank goodness. We got here just in time."

More memories made themselves known, now slashing in sudden flashes to the forefront of her mind. It must have shown on her face, because Angela's expression turned sorrowful.

"It… we were too late for the others, Mei. If there were anything at all I could do for them, I would do it. I'm sorry."

The news settled in with a dull sort of finality. She'd known, of course. Every single day, she'd visited, and one by one she'd seen their heart-rate monitors go flat.

"... How… long?" Mei tried to clear her throat, failed, and Angela passed her a bottle of warm water.

"Take it slow. Are you sure you want to know right now, Mei? It… may be best if you wait to catch up until you're somewhere more comfortable."

The first sip burned on its way down, but the second and third were blissful. "Please, Angela."

"... Three years. If we could have come sooner, if we'd only known we would have found a way, Mei you have to believe me-!"

"Angela, Angela." Mei raised a trembling hand and pressed it to Angela's cheek. "I have never known you to do less than everything you could. I--I'll need some time, though. Three years…"

Angela nodded and wiped her eyes. "Let's get you home, Dr. Zhou."

For the whole flight back, Angela kept a hand on her. The transport was well-heated, the flight was smooth, and the droning of the engines soon lulled her to slumber.

Mei was warm, and comfortable, and dreamed of an angel.

It was on a quiet day, one of very few that they'd had since the recall, that Mei found Angela in her room for once. She was still hunched over her desk and working on something, but then that was par for the course.

"Angela?"

A few keystrokes later, she turned in her chair. "Ah, Mei. Are you adjusting well enough?"

Mei fidgeted. "Well enough, I guess. It's hard not to feel like a stranger everywhere I go."

"The world has changed quite a lot in the last few years. You still have us, though." She stood from her desk and clicked on an electric kettle. "And you certainly still have me."

"That certainly helps. Honestly, I don't know what I'd do without you." A shade of pink tinted her cheeks. "That's, ah, part of what I wanted to talk about, Angela."

Angela blinked in surprise, watching Mei as she prepared two cups for tea. "Is something wrong?"

Mei laughed, but the sound was nervous and strained. "I don't know yet. I have to say some things, though, and I hope you don't mind hearing them."

Angela nodded, and silently passed her a steaming mug.

"After what happened, I keep thinking about how much time was… stolen from me."

Mei laughed again, but the sound wasn't any happier this time.

"And there was never enough time, even before. Not enough for too many important things, and I'm done letting things fall through the cracks. I'm making time."

Angela took a sip of her tea and nodded encouragingly.

"I-I've always admired you, but… I think I have to admit it's more than that. To you, and to myself."

She shrugged and smiled helplessly. "I'm very fond of you, Angela. I love you, and I'm done waiting for the perfect time to say it."

Angela set down her tea. "I haven't feared death in a long time. Knowing it can simply be undone, treated just like any other condition… well, it takes the sting out somewhat, yes?"

She took Mei's tea, too, and set it beside her own.

"When we found you in that damned pod… I was terrified, Mei. I'd just found you again after three years thinking you were dead! That there was any chance I might have found you only to lose you all over again was… horrifying. I seldom fear death, but in my bones I feared yours."

Mei took a step closer to her and held out a hand. Angela took it.

"I suppose all this beating around the bush is just to say--I am very fond of you as well. I want you safe, I want you near, and I am glad you feel the same."

Mei's free hand came to rest against her cheek, arm and gentle. "Mei I kiss you, Angela?"

Angela chuckled, even as she leaned down to meet Mei's lips. "Simply incorrigible. And yes, you Mei."