#some of these might be marvin himself but leave me alone

[playingfamilycharades]

christian trying not to laugh in marvin hits trina

[iamvegorott]

Change of Life

So I decided to hop on the Vampire Jackie trend real quick This is an angsty one~

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Change of Life

Jackie felt…cold? Was he cold? He was shivering, body trembling against his will. Was he actually cold? Something about his everything was wrong. 

He was also so hungry. He was starving, but it didn’t matter how much food he ate it was never enough. Eating to the point of illness and still feeling so empty and weak. He was getting angry cause of the hunger, lashing out at those he cared for, and it hurt to see himself like that. 

Jackie needed answers, needed to figure himself out and get away before he went too far. 

He curled up into a tighter ball. The dark alley that hid his body only had the sounds of passing by cars. Jackie failed at trying to find answers almost immediately. The sun had been too bright, making it almost impossible to see, and he’d been cowering in the alley for hours, too scared to leave his spot. 

The others had to be looking for him by now, and that made his heart ache even more at the thought of them worrying about him. He was the hero. He took care of the others. This isn’t how it was supposed to be. 

How did he even get here? Ever since that weird guy attacked him, it’s been downhill from there. Jackie was just trying to get wood for some project Marvin was working on. He never questioned what that man was creating, he was just excited to be helpful and went looking for some sticks that matched the little list of requirements he had been given. A little side quest, he thought of it as. It gave him an excuse to go out and check out the little forest near their home. Admittedly, it was much later into the night than it should have been for him to be exploring since they had heard howls before, but Jackie was brave and strong. Even if something came after him, he’d be fine.

But something did come after him.

And it wasn’t a coyote.

It was a man. 

 A really weird man. A man who tried to grab his neck and instead bit down on Jackie’s arm when he broke free. The man didn’t seem to expect Jackie to fight back the way he did since he simply stood there as he ran back home.

Jackie rolled up the sleeve of his hoodie, looking at the two puncture wounds on his arm. He tried to figure out how the bite left the mark that it did. They were red and sore to the touch. Jackie knew he should have told the others about it and gotten them looked at, but that would have caused so much worry, and Jackie would never be allowed to go out alone again. However, he might be losing the privilege regardless, given his current choices. 

“Shit.” Jackie cursed when he pressed too hard on the mark, and it sent a jolt of pain through his arm, almost like a quick zap of electricity. “Man…I think I messed up.” He hugged his knees to his chest, telling himself he should get up and go, but he couldn’t. He needed something and had no idea what that need was for. “Oh, not now.” Jackie groaned when he heard voices coming down the alley. He really didn’t want to deal with people. A rarity for him, so that meant he really didn’t want people around him. 

“Leave me alone!” One of the voices stood out, filled with fear. “Help! Someone help!” Jackie quickly scrambled to his feet, unable to stop himself from running over. “Help!” He saw a young man being held by two others, a third digging through a backpack, tearing out books and papers from it. 

“Would you shut up!?” One of the men snapped, yanking on the smaller man’s arm and getting him to yelp in pain. 

“Hey! Stop!” Jackie felt a voice in the back of his head yelling at him that this was a bad idea. Standing alone took so much effort from his body. He was weak and hungry. Nothing was right, and a fight should be the last thing on his mind. 

“Buzz of kid, don’t try being a hero.” The man with the bag scoffed. 

“I’m not trying. I am a hero.” Jackie puffed his chest out, trying to appear tough despite the hollow feeling behind his eyes. 

“This is annoying.” The man stood up, pulling a pocket knife out. “You don’t want to get involved in this, alright? It’s none of your business. Just go home and let us do our work.” 

“Yeah, no.” Jackie took a step forward and watched as the man reacted.

The world felt slower.

The knife went toward him, and he simply swiped it aside, like knocking away a cobweb. He took another step and threw a punch, fist connecting with the man’s nose. He could hear and feel the cracking of it. 

“Holy shit!” One of the other men yelled. Jackie’s eyes widened as the man he punched held his face, blood gushing from his shattered nose, seeping between his fingers. He didn’t mean to hit him that hard. It was just supposed to be a quick jab. 

“I…” Jackie looked at his hand, blood on his fist. 

Red… dripping…blood.

Jackie thickly swallowed. The scent was so…oh it was so good. Tempting. Alluring. 

A new ache was beginning to form in his mouth, and he didn’t care. Jackie brought his hand to his mouth and dragged his tongue along it. That rich iron taste of blood felt like a blessing, just barely scratching at satisfying his need. 

“Dude! The hell!?” Jackie heard the shout. Heard the disgust in their voice, but he didn’t hear them. He didn’t hear anything anymore. Didn’t hear the screams, didn’t hear the cries of fear and comments on his body. All he could focus on was the blood. That sweet, delicious, precious blood that was going to waste as it fell to the ground. 

Jackie’s body started moving on its own, sights only on the man bleeding. Newfound instincts took over as he caught the man, tearing at the collar of his shirt to expose more of his neck. He could see the pulsing of the vein, knowing that more blood was hiding from him and that all he had to do was-

Jackie bit down, sinking fangs into the flesh, popping through and opening the thick vein, and allowing mouthful after mouthful of blood to be sucked out. Each swallow filled Jackie with a comforting warmth, holding him, embracing him, finally getting that need to calm down, to give him back his strength. 

The man could only cry, helplessly punching at Jackie, begging, pleading to be let go. But he was trapped, hits getting weaker and weaker, and Jackie drank and drank and drank. 

Until there was nothing left. 

Nothing more came out. 

He was dry. 

Jackie dropped the body and gasped for air he didn’t need anymore. 

He swallowed the lingering taste on his tongue, and as he calmed, reality sank in. 

“S-Sir?” Jackie squeaked out. “Sir…are you…sir?” He saw the emptiness in the man’s eyes…in the corpse’s eyes. “I…did I…” 

His hands were caked in blood. He could feel it rolling down his chin and neck, soaking the collar of his hoodie. Jackie took a step back, believing that something was squeezing his throat with how tight his chest was. 

“N-No…No, I-I didn’t…I…” Jackie fumbled and fell back, eyes never leaving the body. “Sir?” He tried despite knowing the truth. “Sir, please. Sir, get up.” 

If the man moved, then it didn’t happen, right?

He didn’t-

He didn’t kill him…

Right?

“Jackie! Jackie!” Chase’s voice called from further away, searching for his friend. “Jackie!” 

“I-I was…I was just hungry.” Jackie whispered to himself. “I…please…please.” He didn’t know who he was begging to. He just wanted someone, anyone, to listen. To help him. 

“Jackie!” Chase’s voice was louder, getting closer as he finally found him. “Jackie are-oh, fuck!” He shouted at seeing the body. 

“Ch-Chase?” Jackie looked up, a tear rolling down his cheek. “I didn’t...I didn’t mean to.” 

“Fucking hell, Jackie.” Chase breathed out, not knowing what else to say yet. “Fucking hell.” He repeated and crouched down. “Are you hurt?” He asked, noticing the blood on him. “You…dude.” Chase’s thoughts shifted when he saw the red in Jackie’s eyes and the fangs stabbing into his lower lip. 

“Help.” Jackie’s voice cracked, and he wrapped his arms around Chase, hugging him and trying to hide from what he’d done. From the life he took. “I couldn’t-I couldn’t stop.” His explanation was muffled, body shaking like before but from his own sobs this time. “I didn’t mean to. I didn’t. I-I swear. I swear I didn’t.” 

“It’s okay, man, it’s okay.” Chase hugged Jackie back, glancing over at the body before quickly looking away. “We’ll get this figured out. We’ll call the others.” 

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry.” Jackie continued his cries. “I’m sorry…I’m sorry.”

[beerecordings]

The Other Monster - Part 2

Previous Chapter l Next Chapter

Marvin is handed over to his captor. JJ helps with an errand. Anti doesn't want to talk about things. He wouldn't know how to if he tried. Unfortunately, his little brother has questions.

Warnings for ongoing themes of human trafficking and sexual abuse (not on-screen), as well as imprisonment and dissociation.

.

The walls of this prison, Marvin finds, are different from the last one.

“Shall I bring you something to eat?” asks the girl who escorted him here, raking her eyes down him just once before looking him in the eye.

He blinks. “What?”

“Shall I bring you something to eat?” she repeats.

He glances around him, the fire flickering over his face. The warmth is an old friend, one he thought he lost the memory of. The room is stone, but clean, with tapestries and a wide rug pinned beneath the bed. His bare feet dig into it.

“Where are we?” he asks her. She turns away from him slightly, frowning. “The keep.”

“Whose keep?”

“Your new lord's.”

He stares at her blankly. She puts her hand on the door.

“I'll bring you some dinner.”

Marvin sits down heavily on the bed. It's soft against his palm, which opens over its surface as though not quite sure what it is sensing.

He wasn't there for his own purchasing. One day, he was sitting on his cold bench in his cell room, half-naked and hungry, and then, perhaps an eternity later, he was... here.

How far from home, he does not know.

The serving girl brings him a tray filled with so much good food it makes his head swim for a second. She waits by the door for a long while, but he doesn't touch it until she's gone. If she's gone, after all, she can't take it away from him. Soft brown rolls with butter – the leg and wing of a chicken falling tenderly from its bones – potatoes and carrots –

He's going to make himself sick. He shoves the tray away for a moment, remembering to breathe, chewing carefully through the mass in his mouth. The grease on his fingers is a fine dessert until he hears the door open again.

After that day, he never forgets the eyes that look at him again.

“Darling,” says the man, closing the door behind him. Marvin would flinch at the noise if he wasn't paralyzed against the headboard, holding his knees to his chest. “I'm so glad you're here.”

I don't know you, Marvin thinks, but he doesn't say it. Don't call me darling.

Maybe he expected some ugly old man, and to be sure he's seen buyers like it coming through to look at him and the other Monsters. But this is a young man, only older than him by perhaps ten years, and not unattractive. He smiles at Marvin broadly.

It's more unnerving than any snarling old slave-driver who could have come towards him.

"You are so very beautiful," says the man. "Prettier still than when I first saw you."

Marvin's gut turns over. When did he see him? When he was sleeping in his cell? Did he come through and stare at him?

"But so pale," he adds. "Did they treat you badly?"

He comes to sit beside him on the bed. Marvin feels so stiff he doesn't think he could even move his eyes if he tried - until the man touches his face.

Marvin lunges with his teeth and his captor yanks his hand back, laughing aloud. "Oh, they told me you weren't quite broken in!"

Marvin's had enough of this. He shoves himself off the bed and rushes at the door, but the man has him around the waist a second later, lifting him fully off the ground. Marvin howls and strikes at him, trying to flail loose, but he's thrown onto a plush fur behind the bed, and the man stands between him and escape.

"We'll have fun together, you and I," he says, his voice louder now, booming, and Marvin shoves himself into the corner, panting. "Don't you worry about that. I'll try you right, my Monster, but you be careful of yourself. You never know who else around this castle might want a bite of you in return."

"Leave me alone," Marvin screams at him. "Try and touch me and I'll cut your fucking dick off!"

Another huge laugh, overwhelming, like it's grating against something inside him. "That's alright, lovely, there won't be any touching tonight. You're just here to get comfortable. You'll have everything you need, Fabian. You'll get used to this, soon, and then won't we enjoy each other?"

"Go fuck yourself," Marvin snarls.

"Get some rest. I'll leave you be. You'll find out soon, my Monster... there are a lot worse men than me in the world."

He expects him to be grateful. Marvin feels like he's been punched.

The man leaves and the door closes behind him. Locks behind him.

His stomach starts to ache, and he pulls up his shirt to find his skin yellowing in the place where the man got his arm around him and threw him into the corner, like a little dog trying to get out of its kennel.

He stares around him. The walls are all stone, and he's cold again despite the fire.

Marvin buries his face in his knees and promises himself he won't cry.

"Please come get me, Jackie," he whispers. "Please find me. I'm running out of time."

.

Jameson had thought that when Anti said 'girl,' he meant they would go get someone his age.

He still remembers how Anti saved him, when he was just little. Anti slipped into his closet and waited for Jameson to be tucked in and left alone before he opened the door. Jameson knows, now, that he should have been scared, but he doesn't think he was. He doesn't remember exactly what Anti said, but he knows he saw the bruising on Jameson's body, and he knows he picked him up tenderly and took him home. No one has hit him since.

And nobody ever will again, Anti tells him sometimes.

But the girl that runs towards him as he waits by a farrier's stable must be at least seventeen, probably even older. His face gets a little hot. The only times he sees teenage girls are when they ride through the meadow near the keep. Some of them even wave at him.

This one seems a little more distracted.

She's panting by the time she gets over to him, and she only sees him when he's a meter away, looking at him in surprise. “When he said a boy was waiting for me, I didn't think he meant an actual child.”

Well, touche.

Any further conversation (or the lack thereof) is cut off by a strangled scream from the house down the hill. The girl whips around in alarm, but JJ just peers over the window, waiting for Anti to appear. It's true, he doesn't like to see him kill, but now that he's here, it feels even worse to know that his brother's in trouble without him.

“Will he actually kill all of them?” asks the girl.

Jameson glances back over his shoulder and gives her a thumbs up.

“Well, then,” she says. She looks faintly ill, but her voice doesn't waver. “They deserve it. Done worse things to others than they did to me.”

Jameson doesn't think it would be polite for him to speculate. She looks thinned out, though, something hollow in her face. He reaches out to fetch her a packed honey cake from inside White Horse's bag and hands it to her.

“Wow, thanks, darling.”

His face flames. He's not sure he's ever had a real girl call him darling. His nanny didn't count.

“Hey, I'm here. We're going. Now.”

The girl sticks the cake in her mouth as Anti pushes into the darkened stables, grabbing White Bird's reigns. Jameson swallows and wonders if he should get him a honey cake too.

It's not the first time he's seen his brother like this: covered in blood and shuddering in rage. It always scares him, though. He doesn't move from his place by the window, looking at Anti with big eyes. At his side, he thinks the older girl is doing the same.

"They're gone," says Anti, rough through his mask and rough with his hatred. "Get up."

Jameson gets up and the girl comes with him.

"You have anyone to go home to?" Anti asks.

"I'll give you one guess."

Anti laughs darkly. "Come on. There's a convent up the street."

"Yeah, I'll fit right in with the nuns."

"They'll feed you and give you somewhere safe to sleep."

She crosses her arms over her chest. Jamie wonders if she's cold without a cloak. "Look, I have someone out in Serenis, but we've never been able to afford the fare. That's how I... ended up here."

Anti stares at her for a long moment. Jameson can almost feel him thinking.

"Someone who won't hurt you?" he asks.

"Yes," she says, perhaps a little too quickly. But she says it, and Anti nods slowly.

"Okay," he says. "Fine."

He reaches into White Bird's bag and pulls out a cloth bag heavy with coin. When he turns it over to her and she looks inside, JJ hears her suck in a tiny breath of astonishment. Her gaze turns up to Anti, steely.

"And in exchange?"

"Just get out of here. I assume you can get around with that much money without being robbed. Or do you need a babysitter?"

"I can handle it just fine," she says, tenderly tucking up the bundle as Jameson stands on his toes to try and look inside.

"Use it however you want, I don't care," says Anti. "But don't be looking for favors from men like that if you can help it. I mean, your body, fine, but..."

He gestures back to the house. "It always ends up like that, doesn't it?"

"As if you'd know," she says lowly.

In a flash, Anti has her shoved back against the wall, and Jameson lets out half a croak, as much of a vocalization as he can make, grabbing Anti's shirt to try and pull him back. Anti's bloodied face is inches from hers, his eyes cutting through the black fabric that hides the rest of him, and she gasps and closes her eyes, pinned against the side of the stable.

"Maybe I would," Anti hisses.

He slides a knife from his sleeve and Jameson reaches up to grab his hand - but Anti just turns the handle towards the girl, an offering. He pulls away and she rubs her throat. Jameson swallows back the burn of tears, hiding against Anti's side.

"Get out of here," says Anti. "You know your options."

"Anti, wait," Jameson protests, tugging his attention back to him. "If she needs somewhere to stay, she can come to the servant's quarters for a night. You can have someone you trust sail her home!"

Anti scowls and signs to him in return. "You want her to know where we live?"

"Why not? She wouldn't hurt us!"

"You don't know that. You don't know what she might find out. Who she might tell. And anyone I know to take her by boat is less trustworthy than whatever captain she might pay to take her."

"We should take care of her, she's all alone."

But Anti's shaking his head, offering the knife out again. "Get out of here," he repeats.

She doesn't question him. Takes the knife and the bundles and puts them in that worn leather bag. Jameson wonders if she has anything inside. It looks so light. What was precious to her inside that house? She looks down at him and clucks his chin in a way that makes him think of his mom, for a moment. "Bye," she says to him, and she takes off down the road.

"Get up here," says Anti, gesturing at White Bird, before Jameson can get out any questions. His brother reaches down to hoist him up onto the horse.

"Anti?" he signs.

Anti shakes his head and puts his arms around him, taking White Bird's reigns. "Hold on tight. We'll talk at home. We've lingered too long already."

He takes off in a rush, and White Bird seems all too happy to comply, storming into the quiet streets. They're out into the countryside again in a flash, heading back towards the keep, several minutes from the city. Jameson glances up at Anti, looking at the blood on his mask and the flint in his eyes, but Anti doesn't look down at him. He isn't doing his looking-at-nothing thing. Instead he seems to be looking out keenly at every blade of grass and leaf on the air around them. Jameson puts his fingers in White Bird's mane, and Anti wraps an arm firmly around his stomach. He wonders if his brother felt his need for security. Sometimes, Jameson thinks he senses what Anti needs. Maybe that's something people can do when they love each other.

He just wonders if Anti loves anybody but him. When he was a little boy, he liked being the center of all Anti's attention. He even liked that no one else seemed to like Anti either, and how it made him feel special, wanted, needed. But now that he's older, it sits in his stomach in a heavy sort of way.

"You're even mean to people we're rescuing," signs Jameson, as Anti reaches up to pull him down from White Bird, back in their own stables.

"You're right."

Unapologetic. Not that Anti ever apologizes for anything.

"Well, I'm saying you're not supposed to be," Jamie insists, following Anti around White Bird as he starts to take off her tack. "Who was she? Why did we go get her?"

"It was adult stuff," Anti says flatly. "Don't worry about it."

"You brought me along, though, so I get to worry," he insists. Anti just hums. "How do you even make money like that? You don't do so many assassin jobs anymore."

"My merchandise."

"Which is what?"

"A kind of medicine."

"So it's expensive medicine?"

"Sure, your highness. It's expensive medicine."

"You don't have to talk to me like I'm five anymore."

"I'm talking to you like you're ten."

He doesn't like it when Anti's irritable, but this flat dismissal is almost worse. Jameson scowls and steps firmly in front of him as Anti goes to hang up Bird's saddle.

"Why couldn't she have come and stayed here a couple nights?"

"No one needs to come here," Anti all but spits. "You know why we have to hide."

"That's just it, though, Anti, I don't!" Jameson signs sharply. Anti snarls.

"If somebody found out about me, you know they would - "

"They would what?"

Anti sets down the saddle and stares at him in astonishment. He's certainly cut through his apathy.

"You've always told me how dangerous everybody else is," Jameson says. "But why? Why even a girl with every reason to be grateful to us? She needed help, not money. Won't she be unsafe all over again? Why was she even being held prisoner? Why do we have to shut everybody else out? What would they do to you if they knew you were a Monster?"

It feels like a relief, letting all the questions go at once, dropping them like rocks into the river. He's thought about the girl all night, but he's been wondering about Anti far longer. When he was a kid, the vague understanding that someone would hurt Anti or take him prisoner was all he needed to know. But why? And why will Anti never explain it?

Long seconds have passed and Anti's still just looking at him. Jameson shifts in place, some of the triumph giving way to uncertainty.

"Anti?" he signs. "What would they do?"

His brother straightens up, looking out at the door behind them instead. He doesn't speak.

"Anti." Jameson reaches out to touch his hand, and Anti yanks it back. Jameson pulls it to his chest, blinking.

Anti settles his hand against White Bird, and Jameson hears him draw in one deep breath, two, three.

“You don't know anything about anything,” Anti whispers – hisses – voice cutting like a blade. “You don't know anything about anything.”

Jameson swallows. “You won't tell my anything.”

Anti gets a knife out of his belt and throws it at the wall, embedding it down to the hilt. Jameson sucks in a sharp breath, eyes flinching closed for a second, and Anti clutches his hand into a fist, staring at the wall. He grips at White Bird's mane and seems to struggle to breathe.

"Go up to bed," he says finally.

Jameson squeezes at his shirt for a second, heart fluttering nervously.

"I said go up to bed."

"Come with me."

"I have to take care of White Bird."

His voice is so raw. Flayed.

"I want to stay with you."

"Go up to bed."

"I didn't mean to make you mad, Anti. I'm really sorry."

And Anti does it again. He looks at him and then right through him. At something else. He's faraway.

"Go up to bed," he says one more time.

"Okay," signs Jameson, but he doesn't. He doesn't move at all. Anti turns away from him and finishes untacking White Bird, fills up her trough and brushes her neck for a few minutes, moving like a tree learning to walk. Then he just stands beside her, his hand on her throat, breathing.

"They would..." He starts, but he never finishes. "They would all..."

Jameson tries to touch his hand again. His fingers are limp.

"Anti?" he signs.

Anti doesn't move.

"We can go up to bed now."

"I'm not trying to scare you," says Anti suddenly, voice disjointed. "I'm not..."

"I'm not scared," Jameson lies. Slowly, he moves forward to wrap himself around Anti's waist. When his brother doesn't react, he presses his face into his stomach, holding himself there and refusing to cry.

Anti's hands lower and touch his shoulders. After a moment, he leans down to squeeze him against his body.

"Sorry," Jameson signs against his back.

Anti lets out a shaky breath. "I'm not mad. I'm... I'm just..."

Jameson tries to grasp at that feeling, because he thinks he can sense it, a little. Something wispy and sorrowful. Red and hurting. He can get a taste of it on his tongue, sort of. It makes his eyes burn.

Anti leans down to pick him up. Lately he's been finding it embarrassing that he's still small enough for Anti to carry him, but right now, it's all he wants.

"I'm sorry if I brought you along to something too scary," Anti murmurs. His voice is more steady as he picks him off the ground. "Let's go home."

Anti carries him up to the keep. Jameson rubs his back and clings closely to his neck.

He just wishes he had learned enough to stop him from wanting to ask again. But maybe he just has to accept this. He'll never figure it out, and Anti will always be... not mad, just... scared?

He hugs his brother tighter, and Anti pets his hair.

Next Chapter

[thealmightyemprex]

70's comic review:All Star Western #10 (Jonah Hex's first appearance )

So for several years ,I have been fascinated by Jonah Hex .For one I love westerns,but its more the character himself that interests me , a scarred Bounty Hunter who is kind of unphased by weirdness ,able to do traditional Western tales,but also can fight monsters,zombies,or hang out with Batman through time travel .I've seen a lot of the media with Hex (Favorites being the Batman the Animated Series episode Showdown ,the Jonah Hex animated short with Thomas Jane,the Jonah Hex motion comics with Jim Cummings who might be my fave voice for the character ,and the Batman Brave and the Bold episode Duel of the Double Crossers ),and yes I have seen the movie,its bad .However while I love the character of Hex ,I havent read any of his comics ,so I am happy that the poll picked Jonah 's first appearance .Also am JUST doing the Jonah Hex story here,not all of All Star Western # 10,because the Hex story is all I found on Internet archive

In this 1972 comic Hex arrives in Paradise Corners,having killed members of an outlaw named Big Jim(Who looks like Lee Marvin for some reason )'s gang ,but is feared by everyone save for a young boy who admires

......So this is one of the best first appaearance of a character I have ever read cause you get most of what he is about ,it establishes him very well.Basically he is a scary guy,hes a big mean horribly scarred gunslinger who is an expert at killing......But honestly,all he wants is to settle down.....And no one will let him,so he act mean and tough to hide the fact he is hurting .Its a classic western story,he is necesary ,needed to dispose of the bad guys .....But the town doesnt want him .When he asks about buying a place the town leaders lie and say theres no room as they are afraid he would hurt their image of a perfect town .He is feared both by those he protects and those he opposes ,leaving him alone .And he does have noble aspects ,punching out an animal abuser ,and being touched when the boy says he should visit cause his ma is making apple dumplings.

Artistically it is a gorgeous book ,I like how you dont get a ful look at Hexs face till halfway though ,where its night and its lit by a match showing his scars ,and the ending where he punches the towns sign hit me hard

Great story.Great character,Will read more

@ariel-seagull-wings @countesspetofi @the-blue-fairie @princesssarisa @filmcityworld1 @themousefromfantasyland @piterelizabethdevries @barbossas-wench @theancientvaleofsoulmaking @amalthea9

[my-brothers-corrupted]

'Ey Quin, in all seriousness, you've got some people here who have some experience in some of what you and your brother are going through. Keep brushing off as you'd like, but they (and us, if we're on!) can be a resource. Take care of yourself!

And goes double for the boys, well done! Time to also take care of yourselves!

Max, Jackie, Chase, Marvin, and Schneep meet JJ, Adrienne, and Cedar in the hallway. JJ grins up at them. "Will you guys wait for the car upstairs? We're going to have our first meeting of the British magical society for, oh, five minutes."

"Top secret," Adrienne agrees.

"Yeah, I need the sun on my face," agrees Jackie, already moving past. Chase pauses to touch JJ's shoulder fondly, and then all five of them give them their space.

Cedar's slumped back in another armchair with his eyes closed and his foot suspended. Adrienne turns to JJ, suddenly looking on the verge of collapse.

He smiles back at her softly, just as tired.

"Going to be okay tonight?" he signs.

She closes her eyes and breathes in, out, in, out.

"Tonight," she whispers. "I'm going to feel every feeling it is possible for a human being to feel, and then five more."

He laughs. "Are you sure you don't want to stay with us?"

"Oh, I couldn't force you all and him into the same space again, and I won't leave him until he's... himself again."

"The others are right, that's all. You're not alone in this. Even the most ridiculous parts of it."

"Right." It's her turn to laugh. "Yes, I... I saw."

There's a moment of stillness between them before JJ lifts his hands to sign again. "You know, even my brothers don't know the full extent of the things I went through with Anti. You've seen a lot today that I never told you about. If you don't want to see me again, I'll understand."

"Jameson," she breathes out.

At this point, you're pretty sure they might have forgotten that Marvin left a camera next to the armchair where he's sitting.

"I did see a lot, and I also saw... every moment you fought. And everything you've done to fight since. And..."

She pauses herself, eyes watering, covering her mouth. She almost retreats from it, for a second, her expression damming up, but then she lets it go again, looking at him with big eyes.

"I happen to think you're incredible," she whispers, and he starts turning pink again, looking down at his lap. "And I hope Cedar can be like you now. Can recover. Can be better. But even when you were with your monster, you never hated anyone the way Cedar does, and I - I just think - "

His hand reaches out, and she takes it. For the second time tonight, she looks up at him with gold eyes, and they communicate without words.

She breathes in. So does he. They breathe out together.

"That, um, file," she says.

JJ blinks.

"You asked about it. I know where it is. Let me grab it real quick. Come on, you can just wait here."

She brings him outside a room and leaves him by the door while she steps inside, both of them out of Cedar's view for a moment. She re-emerges with a stack of papers for him, and he puts them in his backpack without looking at them. They look at each other for a moment, and he brings his hands up again.

"I don't mean to overwhelm you, when you've had too much to think about tonight already," he says. "But, I happen to think you're incredible too - "

It makes her smile, and then frown because she smiled, and then smile again. "Jackass," she whispers.

He laughs and presses on, stepping a little closer to her. "Adrienne, do this with me. I need a translator, but you know this society too, and you understand so much that I don't, and I... need your help the way you needed mine to do this."

"You'd really like me to lead with you? I've been in this order since I was a kid and nobody ever gave me responsibility."

"That's just because Creighton was scared of you."

She looks lighter now, smiling at him. "Okay. I'll think about it."

"Good," he says. "I didn't want you to feel like I only cared about one thing."

"What thing?"

Jameson pushes her back against the wall and kisses her, and she grabs him by the hair, and they both wrap together like one person, just for a moment, suspended in time.

[mewintheflesh-2]

YESSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSYESYESYESYESYESYESYESYEZYEZYESYESYEYSEYSEYSEYSEYESYWEYSYEYS)CYESYESYESYESYESYES

Dr. Fuse 🤝 GB

Not having names that start with M

(might include Vamps. Not sure yet.

GB would probably only have a singular decoration in his entire room and it’s just a poster of the Team Rocket logo. Literally nothing else. GB my boy I love you but PLEASE make your living space more of your own.

I think there would be a repeated gag about people not wanting to hang out in GB’s room because it’s boring. I don’t think literally anybody would enjoy how bland his room his compared to everyone else’s. I don’t think Moro, Mantis, McCoy, Moss, Marvin, or Marius would particularly mind, but everyone else is like “No I don’t want to hang out in your room. It’s boring.”

I feel like after McCoy dies, someone would break into his room to steal fireworks for either a distraction, or to explode someone.

ALSO MORO MY BOY 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭 There would absolutely be an ice rink in the hotel. I think there’s at least on room for each person that pertains to their Ultimate.

GOD I WANT MIKIE’S ROOM SO BAD. That solar system stuff sounds amazing

I think both Mikie and Nikey would have rayquaza’s carved into their bed frames, spiraling like a serpent on the sides and on the posts of the bed.

OH I just had an idea. Nikey at some point is woken up by loud banging and screaming in the hallway and on his door to “LET ME IN.” I don’t think he’d ignore it, considering he’s trying to keep the most people alive he can. He’d probably jump out of his bed and grip a weapon just in case it’s a trap. He’d open the door, the person would run his side deep into his room much to his dismay, and he’d shut the door and lock it. He’d start interrogating them, accidentally scaring the shit out of them considering he is very much still wielding a weapon in his hands. He’d refuse to put the weapon down, just to be careful. The person would have to explain themselves. They’d been walking back to their rooms after likely just trying to get something from the kitchen, but someone was there waiting for them, and had begun to chase them, sprinting at them with a weapon of their own. They’d tried to run back to their room, but they couldn’t open their door in time. They sprinted all the way down the hallway and banged on Nikey’s door hoping and praying he’d answer.

Nikey realized he could’ve seen who was chasing them, if there was anybody actually chasing them, if he’d just looked through the peephole in his door after closing it, but he couldn’t risk having his back to anyone. Nikey realises this person can’t leave his room now, unless he’d escort them personally, and even then he would walk back alone, vulnerable to attack. So he really had no choice but to let them stay in his room. He probably tosses a pillow to them and one of the thinner blankets, and makes them sleep on his floor. They’re very scared but they don’t really have a choice. I mean would Nikey even kill them? He seemed so adamant about keeping as many people alive as possible. Whatever, if they died, then he’d die too.

I think Merryweather would have a few gothic things in his room himself, courtesy of Vamps bringing them in when he’d come to his room. Vamps would probably have one of Merryweathers personal crochet items in his room as well. A large, pink and white gradient blanket, with white Pom poms dangling along every edge. I think after Merryweather dies, he’d hoard all of his projects, blankets, and sweaters in his rooms, making a sort of nest out of them on his bed. He feels his sink every time he looks at them.

I think Moss and Mantis would hang out in each others room a lot, courtesy of them of course being friends, and just because their rooms are so similar.

The Axis Trio absolutely hangs out in eachothers rooms interchangeably. I think they’d change each room they hang out in via shifts. They hung out is Moss’s room yesterday, so it’s Darklord turn, and then the next day they’ll hang out in Mellan’s. It gets VERY loud in Darklord’s room with both Darklord and Mellan jamming the hell out, and Moss just happily listening. I think they’d get complaints about the noise from other people particularly Marius and Nikey.

I think Marvin’s room feel very dangerous to be in. You know he couldn’t hurt a cutiefly… maybe… uh. Actually he seems to have heavily implied before that he’s killed someone… uhhhhhh. Either way you do not feel that safe in his room. There’s a shit ton of heavy and easy to wield tools, power tools as well. All very dangerous. If someone hit you on the head hard enough with anyone you’d be out cold. But Marvin doesn’t seem like he’d do that to anyone… right???.?? There’s no way… maybe…………

I think the fact that Marvin hangs around Fuse so much sets off some red flags with most everyone else. He’s the only one who can tolerate him and his shit.

Nobody (aside from Marvin) goes in Fuse’s room. It’s right across Nikey’s at the end of the hallway. Everyone REFUSES to even stand in front of his door if they can afford not to. I think if someone came into his room it’d be a desperate last resort to survive something/someone. I don’t think Fuse would let them leave without conducting atleast one experiment on them, and if he feels merciful for the night, he’ll keep it at one. Otherwise you’re screwed either way. You either die, or Fuse fucks you up bad (you also probably die.). Your choice.

Did I ever mention Fuse is also very handsy? I don’t think being in his room alone with him would be very comfortable at all. You’re just like “can you please leave me alone” and he’s like behind you with his hands on your shoulders like “No, I don’t think I will.”. And you’re just like audhwihdowndowjeoehfoeheojeoejeoeneoeje 🫠🫠🫠🫠🫠🫠🫠🫠🫠🫠🫠🫠 I don’t think anyone could get any sleep in there, either from fear, or because Fuse wouldn’t let them.

OH YEHA ALSO MRITHUN’S HERE TOO. I think his curtains would be very dark and tattered near the bottom. Weird footprints all over his carpet floors. Very suspicious liquids all along his vanity and nightstands. The drawers to his vanity chained up and locked. There would be a portable stove in his room, various vials and dangerous chemicals all around the place, on the vanity, on the nightstand, and even on some messily organised piles on the floor. A lot of newspapers on the floor with bright liquids spilled on them. His bed, however, would be completely clean and untouched by anything else. The sheets would be very dark, and the bedframe would have patterns carved into it mimicing dripping liquids.

I don’t think Magnus would literally let anyone in his room unless he deems them “worthy enough.” He’d only let Darklord and GB into his room, rarely at first for GB, but more and more frequently as time goes on. Magnus and Darklord just click really well in a way Magnus has literally never experienced before. (Not in a romantic way obviously.) I think being in his room would make you feel either like you’re high as balls or like you’re on another plane of existence. He could probably send you there too if he wanted!

I want so badly for everyone to have just atleast one Pokémon. More specifically because of Moro, because in one of my unposed headcanons, he has a service alolan Ninetales.

I think GB would have a little pet ratatta friend that he feeds. Mrithun’s would be an alolan grimer/muk, Moro’s would of course be his alolan Ninetales. I think Moss would maybe have a Whimsicott, and Mellan maybe an emolga.

Mikie either has Air Bud or his Crobat, but I think it’d be funnier for Air Bud to be there just so Nikey gets very pissed off at him every time he sees the dog.

Nikey would likely have a Gliscor, McCoy would… hmmmmmmm…….. Heatmor came to mind first but I’m not sure. Maybe Darumaka? Darmanitan? Darmanitan sure does match his explosive attitude.

Magnus would either have a Natu/Xatu or an Abra/Alakazam.

Fuse…… Fuse. I so badly want to give him Arceus but I can’t for obvious reasons. I also really want to give him a Zoroark just to piss him off but that doesn’t make sense to anyone else but me right now. I think we could give him a chansey, but make it the most offputting chansey you’ve ever seen in your life. Like you just look at it and get horrible horrible chills down your spine as it smiles at you with its peircing black eyes. You swear you can see red in there.

Marius would probably have a golduck or Primarina, and I really want to give Marvin a magearna. I think Fuse would be very intrigued in its soul-heart.

Merryweather would have a shiny Obstagoom, but I also want to give him a wigglytuff/clefable. But I ALSO want to give Darklord a obstagoon. So it’d make more sense if he had it instead.

Okay so, Darklord has a obstagoon, and Merryweather has a Clefable. Vamps would have either a Woobat or a Swoobat. I think Mantis would have either a Leavanny, Scyther, Vilillon, or maybe a Ribombee.

Mikeyverse Danganronpa AU Hotel Room Layout!!!! :D

Also I just had a thought: Moro and Merryweather both make and gift large crochet blankets to eachother (they’re like. Really fast at crocheting.). Moro ends up making one for McCoy as a thank you for everything he’s done for him. Lots of reds, oranges, blacks, and whites. Merryweather ends up making Vamps a blanket too because he will not. Stop. Pestering him about it. He still makes it with completely love and care though. Reds and blacks, with little decorative red Pom-poms dangling from the bottom of the blanket. Vamps adores it and is instantly even more in love with Merryweather, much to Merryweather’s “detriment”. (He doesn’t actually mind, he just has to brace himself for vamps to be even more clingy and demanding than normal.).

ANYWAYS!! Vague look at what the bed frames look like:

They’re something more akin to these:

Also!!! Some extra notes :)

Ignore the comment about the shower

[castiel-kline]

once upon a birthday

Birthdays haven’t always been Jack’s friend, but he’s starting to realize that every May 18th he reaches is a miracle rather than a tragedy.

May 18, 2017.

Jack saw that combination of letters and numbers everywhere on his first day of life. He saw it on the corner of the newspaper on Sheriff Barker’s desk, watched her scribble it on a page of notes she was writing up about him, saw it light up on Clark’s phone when he opened it to show Jack something “cool.” 

It would be a while before he realized that date’s significance.

-

May 18, 2018

Jack was seated around a campfire with the other kids of the rebel camp, staving off their fear of the incoming dark by telling them a story. It was just the plot of Clone Wars, but since it didn’t exist in this universe no one called him out on it. 

Bobby’s voice carried over the sounds of the camp settling down for the night, low but still decipherable. 

“...our supply’ll run out by the 25th. We have to keep moving, get some more.”

Jack never did learn what they were about to run out of, because Mary’s response snared his attention even tighter.

“Remind me what day it is now? I lost track while I was… you know.”

“Right, I get it. It’s May 20th.”

And Jack stopped short in his tale, the realization that he’d been alive more than a year hitting him like a blast from one of Michael’s soldiers. The little girl next to him nudged his elbow and asked if he was okay.

“I’m fine,” he said, smiling gently. “It’s just that my birthday was two days ago. I only realized now.”

“Oh, I’m sorry. We could sing to you now?” All the children nodded their agreement, but Jack shook his head.

“Thanks, but it’s okay. Besides, I need to finish telling you about Ashoka’s rescue mission, right?” They leaned in closer around the fire, and Jack went back to his narrator voice. “Now, she knew it would be a dangerous journey, but…”

That night when Jack was trying to sleep (Mary made him promise to attempt four hours, even though he didn’t really need it) he wondered if birthday celebrations lived up to their reputation. He wondered if his was ever going to be worth celebrating, given all the pain and death that day had brought.

With the new knowledge that he was a year old, Jack dreamed of his mother- wafting through hazy gold memories of a furniture warehouse, Castiel beside her, in the days before Jack was capable of hurting anyone because he couldn’t control his powers. In the days when he still felt safe.

-

May 18, 2019

“How’s it goin’, kiddo? Enjoying the quiet?”

Jack whirled around to face the Empty head on, unwilling to show just how much its appearance had startled him. It didn’t bother him much, per Billie’s instructions, but sometimes it liked to taunt him. Usually it appeared as his mother, sometimes Cas, but today it looked just like him.

“What do you want?” Jack asked, lifting his chin. His doppleganger mirrored the action, before smirking and sauntering closer.

“Oh, calm down. I don’t bite, I’m just delivering a message.”

“A message from who?”

Billie would just deliver a message in person, and no one else could contact him in here. Maybe Cas could-

“Hmm, I don’t know,” it interrupted Jack’s thoughts. “Time? The Universe? Anyway. Happy birthday, sport. Enjoy the official start of your terrible twos.”

With that the Shadow vanished, leaving Jack alone in the dark once again. He sat down and curled his knees to his chest, wishing there was a corner or a wall he could press his back against. He felt exposed and vulnerable in the vastness of the Empty’s nothing, and it was making him uneasy.

He closed his eyes and tried to imagine what his family was up to down on earth. Would they be sad? Too busy fighting Chuck to notice? Were they even alive?

He wished with all his might that they weren’t alone. Alone wasn’t what you should be on somebody’s birthday.

-

May 18, 2020

As endings went, Jack’s was shaping up to be okay. He’d finally had a good birthday- even if it was both impromptu and a few days early. He laid in bed, belly full of his first ever birthday cake, for once not thinking about his upcoming demise.

A soft knock on the door sounded, and Jack sat up in surprise. A glance at his phone confirmed that it was nearing four in the morning, which only thickened his confusion.

“Come in?”

When Cas pushed open the door, Jack smiled.

“You’re back!” he exclaimed, pushing off the blanket and swinging his legs over the side of the bed.

Cas pushed the door to a close behind him and shuffled further into the room. “Sorry, I know it’s late, but I had a feeling you’d still be awake.”

“Is everything okay? Nothing went wrong with talking to the angels, did it?”

“Don’t worry, everything’s fine,” Cas assured him. “The angels are going to keep an eye out for Amara, but that’s not why I wanted to talk to you.”

Jack frowned. Then why…?

“Happy birthday,” Cas said, pulling a gift bag out from behind his back. “I know it’s early, but I heard you celebrated while I was gone. So I picked something up on the way home.”

“Thank you,” Jack breathed, taking the gift and settling it on his lap. His first birthday gift.

Cas took a seat next to him, giving Jack’s arm a gentle nudge.

“You can open it now, if you’d like.”

Jack didn’t need to be told twice. He tore into the tissue paper, eagerly unveiling the surprise it hid from view. At the bottom of the bag was a teddy bear, clad in overalls that smushed down its soft brown fur.

“Your mother always wanted to buy one for you,” explained Castiel. “We placed the order, but it didn’t arrive before…”

“Before.” Jack sighed, throat suddenly tight with emotion.

“If you don’t like it I can take it back-”

“No, Cas, it’s great. I love it. Does it have a name?”

The question didn’t faze Cas in the slightest.

“Well, the official name according to the store is Marvelous Marvin. But I believe it’s customary to name a stuffed animal anything you’d like.”

Hmm. Jack studied the bear’s face for a moment, tilting his head. “Marvin’s good,” he declared. “I like it.”

“I’m glad.” Cas smiled, then stood up. “You should get some rest.”

“Wait!” He hadn’t meant to say anything, but as soon as the word was out he realized he really, really, didn’t want this day to end. “I saved a piece of cake for you. And I’m not tired, so…”

It only took about ten seconds before Cas gave in with a fond shake of his head.

“Okay. Let’s go.”

Jack followed him to the kitchen, Marvin under one arm.

His third birthday, and his first good birthday.

What would almost certainly be his last birthday.

-

May 18, 2021

There were many things in life Jack had learned to think of as little miracles. Some seemed utterly insignificant, like the flowers that managed to grow between cracks in the sidewalk. Saying hello to his mother should have been just as beautiful and commonplace, but to Jack every chance was more wondrous than the sun shining through a storm.

He whispered it now, breathing another miracle into being in two precious little words.

“Hi, mom.”

Kelly looked up from what she’d been reading, face lighting up in joyous surprise. She came forward and swept him up in her arms, and Jack allowed himself a moment to be grateful. In spite of everything, the universe allowed him to have this.

“I didn’t think you’d be back yet,” she said as she pulled away, her hands clasping his. “I mean, you said you had to fix all the parallel universes, and Cas said there’s hundreds of them…”

“I’m not done yet,” he said. “Amara’s still out there, and I’ll have to go back soon, but... I really wanted to spend some time with you today.”

Kelly frowned, concern taking over her features. “Is everything okay? Do you need help, or-?”

“I’m fine,” Jack assured. “It’s -on earth, anyway- it’s May 18th. 2021.”

Realization struck. “It’s your birthday.”

“I wasn’t sure if you’d even want to celebrate, because my being born wasn’t a good day for you, and-”

“Jack, baby.” Kelly put a hand on his cheek, swiping away the tear he hadn’t known was falling. “My death was not your fault. Okay? Of course I want to celebrate your birthday with you.”

“Really?”

“Really. We can call Cas down here, watch some movies, make a cake-”

Kelly was already moving to the kitchen, all ready to start baking.

“Mom, wait. I… I had a birthday cake once,” he told her. “And that was… special. Could we think of something else to do? Just you and me and Cas?”

“Of course, honey. It’s your day. Cookies?”

Jack nodded, and he smiled. Because in that moment it was crystal clear that each year spent growing older, especially those spent with the people that he loved most, were little miracles too.

And he had plenty more birthdays to look forward to.

[michals]

May I request some Luther & the showgirls working for Jack, as they seem to get along well. Though it seems like you already got quite a few requests, so feel perfectly free to ignore this. Hope the muse will become a bit more cooperative <3.

Thanks for your patience with this, sorry took a little longer than expected! Put a little bit of asexual Luther in here, hope that's okay. Also this is Gordo and this is Valentina.

-

Luther’s dinner is interrupted when a newspaper appears in front of his face.

“Look at this Lulu!” Patsy chirps over his shoulder as she holds it, “First woman in space! Can you believe it?”

“Not even long after the men,” Sandra says, leaning on the bar next to him, proud smirk on her face.

Luther takes the paper, acts like he’s surprised, like he didn’t already know. “Wow, look at that!” he says.

He’d learned about Valentina Tereshkova when he was just a kid, hell he’d been able to list all the Mercury Seven by the time he was four. He’d been upset, actually, that he’d been dropped at the tail end of December 1962 and had missed almost all their flights. At the very least he’d seen Gordo go up, the first to stay up for a whole day. Despite how he got here Luther’ll remember that as one of his favorite days of his life.

“A woman,” Marvin the bartender mutters as he sweeps up behind the counter, “and a Russian at that!” He scoffs and shakes his head.

Luther bites back a smile, Marvin’s gonna be real disappointed by a whole lot of things if he lives a lot longer.

“Hush, you,” Patsy says, shaking her hands at him, “you gotta start being more modern, like Luther.” He rolls his eyes and keeps sweeping.

“Nice to have some forward thinking men ‘round here,” Sandra says, leaning over the bar to grab a bottle of brandy. She was the one who’d given Luther a tour of the place, had teased him when he’d looked away as they passed the changing room.

She pours herself a glass, tips the bottle Luther’s way. He nods and lets her top off the glass at his elbow. He says, “Thank you.” They love how polite he is.

The girls all like him, or seem to at least. Luther’s never been anywhere that…well, anywhere, ever, especially where he’s around actual people. He acts how he’s sure he’s supposed to act and so far it’s working. This is still new, even months later; he wonders often if the day’s gonna come when he slips up and reveals a whole lot about himself they won't understand.

But he does like them, that's true. “How’s Bobby?” He asks.

“That lout!” Sandra says, rolling her eyes, holding up her left hand. “The day I get a ring on this finger is the day the saints come marching just for me.” She and Luther take a drink together.

Autumn bustles through the door then, gives a cheerful hello as she comes up to the bar, setting down a Tupperware container.

“Tell me those are lemon bars,” Patsy says, peering over them with a grin.

“Ma made ‘em this afternoon,” Autumn says, cracking open the lid to give her a peek. She points a finger at Luther, “And you’re gonna take some this time mister, none of that ‘no sugar’ nonsense.”

Luther gives an apologetic smile, “I have a fight tomorrow.” He’s always had a strict diet, his whole life, to keep in fighting shape. Sugar was a luxury saved for mom’s birthday cakes. He’s found it’s not all that different- training for dad’s missions or Jack’s matches. It’s alright though, he’s used to it, even if the lemon bars are tempting.

“Again, so soon?” Autumn’s expression turns concerned, “This hasn’t even healed yet!”

She reaches out towards him, to the cut that sits over his right eyebrow still sporting three stitches, but doesn’t actually touch. The girls are sweet, used to being flirty with patrons, but they’d learned within the first week that Luther was strange about physical touch. They’ve all been careful about it ever since, an unspoken agreement between him and them. He’s embarrassed by it, he tells himself it’s a stupid hang up to have, but it’s a relief and he’s thankful to them for it.

“It’s really not that bad,” he assures her. He heals fast, he can’t tell them why though. “I just won’t get hit there again.” He already knows he won’t, but he can’t tell them that either.

“Jack!” Autumn calls, looking over Luther’s shoulder and he turns to see Jack arriving, starting across the room to his office. He doesn’t look up from the papers in his hands.

“Yeah? What now?”

Sandra twists in her seat, “You gotta give Luther a break! You’re gonna ruin that pretty face!”

Luther ducks his head, tries not to blush. The only times he’s been called ‘pretty’ or ‘handsome’ was in some magazines when he got older. He doesn’t think of himself that way, especially now.

“Pretty face isn’t what keeps the lights on girls, it’s the muscles,” Jack says.

That’s always why Luther’s been useful.

Jack stops outside his office door, “Those lemon bars? Save a few for me.”

“Of course Jack,” Autumn says with a smile. The girls like Jack, he’s easy to work for.

Music comes on as Marvin puts a record on, a signal for the girls to start getting ready. Patsy whines that she wants to listen to Elvis Presley and Sandra says of course she does. Patsy gives Marvin doll eyes and he relents and the song switches, ‘There’s Always Me’ filling the bar with Elvis’s smooth voice. Luther likes it enough but some days he misses Cyndi Lauper fiercely.

“Promise?” Autumn says, still behind the counter, looking at Luther with a soft expression, “That you won’t get hit there again? It’s gonna leave a nasty scar.”

Luther gives his best reassuring look, “Promise.” He can’t tell her it’s all planned, every punch and kick. Luther spent 24 years of his life training to fight much worse people than some thugs in an dirt floor ring in a shack, every hit he takes is on purpose. Jack’s the only one who knows something’s a little off about Luther and he says he has to bleed a little, can’t make it look too easy.

Luther sees it as a requirement, a small sacrifice. He’s got a room and a job and free meals, and he knows he’s gonna win the fight anyway. What else is he supposed to do? He was dropped in the middle of nowhere, decades out of time, and dad…well, he won’t help. He tries not to think about how dad spoke to him that day, about the look on his face.

Autumn smiles like she’ll believe him for now, then takes the Tupperware with her off to the backroom to change. Luther finishes his dinner and drink alone at the bar until the first patrons show up, rubbing their hands together in excitement, eyes on the stage even as they order drinks. Luther starts his rounds.

It’s an easy job, he just mills around, warns the guys who get too loud, shoves out anyone who gets too rowdy or handsy. There’s strict rules on how exactly the men interact with the women and Luther makes sure everyone knows it. And he always makes sure Jack’s happy.

Luther’s not really interested in all the skin on display, he never has been. It’s another item he’s added to the list of ways he doesn’t quite fit; he’s supposed to like this kind of thing isn’t he? All “red blooded American men” like it, that’s what Jack says. Luther just nods, says, “yeah, of course”; something’s always told Luther it’s just not for him..

“You’re not a slobbering goon like the rest of the guys in this place,” Patsy had told him once after he’d thrown out some guy who got too bold, “You’re a real gentleman.” But he doesn’t understand how he couldn’t be, not with them, and that’s not even because of the other thing.

The night goes well enough, he only has to talk down a group of sailors who get too noisy but they get an eyeful of him and simmer down. Autumn makes her rounds, comes up to him at one point.

“Can I ask a favor Lu?”

“Always.”

“Well April borrowed my car yesterday and left it with a flat, didn’t bother to tell me-”

“Oh April,” Luther says, shaking his head. He’s used to these kinds of stories about her sister.

“I know right? That girl, I swear. Anyway, I was wondering if you’d walk me home tonight?”

“Of course,” Luther says, “I’ll check with Jack, make sure he doesn’t have anything for me at close.”

She beams at him, “Thanks Lu, you’re the best.”

He has to check with Jack because he’s got to put Jack first, it’s just part of the deal. He doesn’t have anything to do with parts of Jack’s business, parts that he doesn’t look into or think about too much. There’s an irony there about being a former superhero working for…whatever Jack is, but he has to run errands, sometimes even at 2 a.m. But tonight he’s free, Jack waves him off saying, “Yeah yeah, make sure my girls get home safe.”

Autumn’s waiting by the door in her street clothes when Luther finishes with Jack. Marvin locks the door behind them as they step out onto the quiet street.

Autumn gives a sly look as she opens up the Tupperware container, now half empty. “Come on now, you’re gonna make my ma real sad if you don’t at least try one.”

Luther purses his lip against a smile, sighs. “A bite.”

Autumn’s nearly giddy as he breaks off a piece, pops it in his mouth. She watches him expectantly. “Your mom’s an amazing baker,” he says and she grins proudly.

It is amazing, reminds Luther of a lemon cake mom had made when they turned 14.

The night is quiet and warm, the only place still open is the 24 hour diner down the road. Autumn says she likes their pancakes but other than that they don’t talk much. Luther finds it’s kind of nice that they don’t have to.

Her place isn’t far and he stays to watch her unlock the door and go in, she gives a wave as he stands at the gate.

It’s a longer walk back to his place from here but he doesn’t mind it. He never just walked around his neighborhood, back when he lived at the Academy. He wonders how different it might all be if he did. He tells himself it’s not a thought worth wondering though, he’s here, there’s no changing it, all he can do is make the best of it, but he’s got a few people who make it easier. He looks towards the sky, thinks about Valentina passing overhead.

[naancypants]

maybe this is perfect

Alright here is my finalized repost of the fic I accidentally published yesterday, LOL. If you enjoy, I'd love some support on Ao3 (work link is below)! I wrote this after 2x12 (+ updated to reflect news about 2x13 & 2x15, hehe) as a sort of speculative, "personal ideal" confession scene for the finale episode.

Ao3 | 2,051 words

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

"Hey," Nancy says from behind, twisting both hands around the strap of her messenger bag. "Can we talk?"

At the sound of her voice, Ace straightens from in front of his locker. He lets out a close-mouthed sigh as the question sinks into his stomach, and when he turns towards her, the discomfort she's feeling becomes evident in her body language.

"Yeah."

A beat passes where neither makes a move.

Nancy, however, is the first to take a step, drawing in a shuddering breath. "You've been avoiding me... for a while now. Ever since the whole life-and-death thing with Daniel West. And I'm sorry that I was willing to let people die to save you. I thought you would understand, that you would've done the same thing-"

"It's not about the list," Ace cuts in with a shake of his head, "That was a long time ago."

In reality it had only been a few weeks since Nancy and Grant traded a hit list to a professional killer to spare Ace's life, but time seems to move inordinately slow in Horseshoe Bay.

"I know. But that was also the same time I called in for a favor with Celia Hudson..." she allows her sentence to drift off there, urging Ace to connect the unspoken dots.

He hadn't tried to hide his feelings on the whole Celia situation, especially whenever he and Nancy talked one-on-one; yet still, her ability to pinpoint the root of behaviors she already notices in him never fails to surprise.

"I just... wish you would have consulted me before you made a deal with the devil."

Nancy recalls a talk during which she was alone with Ace, where he'd briefly confessed his dismay at her recent dealings with the Hudson matriarch.

A string of monotone words all run together as she attempts to explain, "We already went over this, Ace. I-I-I had to figure out how to save you, there was no time to consider my options."

"Maybe it wasn't worth it."

Within a second, revulsion twists every feature on Nancy's face.

"I'm sorry, what?" she demands.

Ace doesn't elaborate. Instead he lifts his raincoat from its hook and shuts the door to his locker, staring down at the garment in his hands with a shamed expression. It isn't long before Nancy has his elbow in a firm grip.

"Hey," she convinces him to whirl around and face her. "You're worth it to me."

You're always worth it to me. You're worth everything to me. A thousand times over, she wants to say. But she doesn't.

"I guess that's my problem."

"Your problem is that I care about you?"

"I don't want to be the reason you sell your soul to the Hudsons."

Nancy blinks, her ferocity weakening as she pulls away. "Aren't I allowed to make my own choices?"

"Of course. But... that doesn't mean I have to like them."

The way he says it is so casual, so lacking in venom that it makes her stomach wrench. He doesn't realize that the only approval Nancy craves is his; she is willing to stand up against even the closest of people in her life - Nick, George, her own father - but not Ace. His opinion of her serves as a compass whenever Nancy is too tired or worn down to trust her own judgment. His opinion is the one that matters most.

"Then what do you want from me? Tell me what I can do to make it better."

It's the most fragile, the most desperate she thinks she's heard herself. Nancy Drew is independent and decisive and strong. So whose voice is it that wobbles in fear, laying down her pride in the hands of another?

If there's anything Nancy can't stand, it's being clouded over with emotion, but the tightness in her throat only warns of an oncoming flood.

"Honestly, Nancy, I don't know right now. Maybe just... help me understand why before you make these kinds of decisions. I don't want you to get hurt."

Their eyes linger for what feels like an eternity, distanced by walls that neither of them know how to tear down.

When Ace moves, he turns decisively away.

Panic beginning to swell in her chest, Nancy pushes past all the other emotions running through her mind - fear, guilt, uncertainty - and takes one last step into the room before he has the chance to get away.

"I did it because I love you."

If anything could stop him cold in his tracks, it's that particular confession. His eyes meet the floor in front of him, speechless and calculating, each second ticking by in tense silence. He turns to face her once more.

There in the center of the room she stands, the bold and courageous girl detective herself, looking smaller than ever. Her voice is barely above a whisper now, eyes in danger of spilling over, "Ace... I think I might be in love with you."

Ace stands motionless in awe, save for a swallow and quick shift of his weight.

When Nancy gets nervous she often rambles to relieve some of her tension. "I didn't know how to say it before, and I- have never actually been in love so maybe I didn't even know what I was feeling until recently, but, you were with Amanda Bobbsey and not in love with me and it's all... very confusing..."

Breath leaves her lungs as quickly as words leave her tongue, anxiety shaking her down to the core. She blinks when the self-awareness sets in; lowers her gaze to the floor for a length of awkward silence.

"Nancy."

Eventually she looks back up to find him just a few feet away now, having crossed the room sometime after she finished prattling on about nothing. His raincoat hits the bench.

"There are.. a lot of reasons why I can't do this right now." He indicates himself with a curved hand to his chest.

Though her heart sinks, Nancy's eyelids still flutter. "But you- you would? Hypothetically?"

His mouth flattens into something that's not quite a smile, eyes as earnest as ever. "It's just that... y'know, Amanda's only been gone for a week. And I don't want to lose what we have - what all of us have."

"You won't," Nancy states with a furrowed brow, "Why do you think you would lose us?"

He bobs his head a bit. "Things could get complicated between us. Especially considering... things."

"What do you mean? What kind of things?"

"Well, I'm not trying to point fingers, but... there is your track record. With relationships."

It doesn't escape her attention that he refuses to make eye contact when he says the last part. She tenses up and repeats, "My track record?"

Ace opens his mouth to soften the words, but the look on his face is enough to suffice as an apology. Nancy retreats on her own as three particular guys - Ned Nickerson, Owen Marvin and Gil Bobbsey - flash through her mind's eye. Guys she had used as a distraction, a rebound, and a means of sexual gratification, all of which Ace witnessed firsthand from the sidelines.

"Yeah I deserve that, don't I," she says quietly.

"No, you don't. That part's fine. It's about everything else."

"Everything else being the Hudsons, Amanda, and losing what we have."

He offers only a nod. Draws in a breath. "Nancy, I want to love you too. And I'm not saying that I don't, but..." his voice breaks, just a bit, but enough for Nancy to notice.

"...It's not the right time," she finishes for him with a resigned nod; "yeah," under her breath.

This time it's Nancy who won't meet Ace's eyes. She darts them all across the room in avoidance, lips pursing together. "I'm- I'm sorry. This is.. not really who I am and I probably shouldn't have said anything to begin with, but-"

"No - no, don't apologize," Ace says with the usual gentle firmness and a slight tilt of his head. "I'm glad you said something. Really glad. In fact, um, if you're not opposed... there is something I wouldn't mind trying before you go off to Columbia."

"Ha. Who says I'm getting into Columbia?" she asks sardonically, crossing her arms.

Ace gives a subtle grin of support. "You'll get into Columbia."

She stops to consider his words, but then emits a soft chuckle, smiling gratefully at her best friend as though there were no mistakes, no confession of feelings, no heartbreak to contend with.

Time drags on as his vague statement from before remains unaccounted for, though almost as if pulled by gravity, there's a mutual instinct that draws them closer together.

Along with instinct, however, is hesitation - a slowness in the way they line themselves up, a caution in the way they read each others' eyes. Gradually his hands find their way to her jawline and before she knows it, in stark contrast to their prior pace, her back is up against metal with the most satisfying warmth she's ever known on her lips.

Nancy's entire body lights on fire, so much that it takes a dazed moment before she is able to react. Her eyebrows lift as she takes full advantage of the moment, kissing him back with the fervor of months worth of pent-up feelings all finally coming to surface; hands crawl upwards from his arms, to his shoulders, and eventually land on either side of his neck.

For a few rapturous seconds, they allow themselves to melt entirely into each other with the realization that things won't be like this again for a while; not until they're able to overcome the doubts, the obstacles, the emotional walls that they both know would cause more harm than good if they were to pursue this now.

Maybe this is perfect. Maybe one kiss - one blissful, ravenous taste of just what it is they're missing out on is enough to satiate their appetites for the time being and prepare them for what's to come.

With one last surge forward, hands sliding down his chest, Nancy realizes that kissing Ace never felt this good in her dreams.

Then, sooner rather than later, it's over.

Though their lips disconnect, everything else remains. A breathless minute comes and goes before either have any words to speak.

"Are you- are you sure you don't want to change your mind?" Nancy finally asks through her teeth, eyes drifting down to his mouth more than once.

A smirk tugs at his face as he steps back, hands remaining on Nancy's forearms for perhaps a touch longer than necessary. "Few more of those and I might."

Nancy gives a wistful giggle, using her shoulders to launch herself away from the lockers right when her phone buzzes.

Ace watches with curiosity as she opens her latest text notification, but waits silently to be filled in.

"It's George. She says they're waiting for us at their place," Nancy murmurs with her brow lowered, looking at Ace for a potential answer to her confusion.

Rarely one to disappoint, Ace nods in recognition. "Oh yeah, they took it upon themselves to reschedule game night. I was supposed to tell you."

Nancy raises her eyebrows in good spirit. "Ah. Well, I'm sure glad you told me in plenty of time."

"Come to think of it, Bess pretty much insisted I be the one to tell you. The whole thing must've been a ruse."

Nancy shrugs. "Eh, you know what they say. What's done is done." she waits a beat before thumbing towards the back door over her shoulder. "Join me?"

"Yeah," Ace agrees as he grabs his raincoat and the pair start walking out. "Yeah but I have to warn you, none of what just transpired is going to have any affect on how badly I demolish you in Absurd Code Word."

"Wow, Ace, I think you're underestimating my game night abilities. Have you ever seen me in Absurd Code Word?"

"Don't need to."

"I see. Is it because I'm a girl?"

"C'mon, Nancy. You know me better than that."

The ease with which they're able to shift gears serves as a delicate reminder of how intrinsically they are connected; of the level of comfort and stability within their potential when the time is right.

Whenever that may be.

[plotting-against-you]

Will It Ever Be the Same (Part 1)

Fandom: Nancy Drew (TV 2019)

Characters: Ryan Hudson, Nancy Drew, Ace, Bess Marvin, George Fan, Ned 'Nick' Nickerson

Prompt(s): This is based on two prompts. One of those prompts is from Alicia, who asked: "Could you do one where Nancy is 13 instead, has blonde hair like Lucy, and blue eyes like Ryan? She goes to his place like in 1x17 to get help for the ritual and on the way out she gets dizzy because she's been working herself to exhaustion. In that moment Ryan notices how similar she looks to Lucy and himself but decides not to say anything but also knows Nancy is his. She eventually tells him before doing the ritual. They go back to his place and he just says 'I know it's you'. She gets overwhelmed, almost passes out, and he just sits with her and tells her to rest."

This is also for @nancydrewcentral's week 2 hiatus prompt: Time Period AU.

Warnings: Panic/Anxiety attacks, mentions of anxiety and coping mechanisms, mentions of character deaths (past and present), mentions of suicide

Nancy wrapped her arms around herself as she bent over, heaving shallow breaths into the air. The sky grew lighter now, as she’d been running for most of the night, and she found herself unsure what to do or where to go next.

“You’re DNA wasn’t a match for the female hair.”

“It’s a mother-daughter match for Lucy Sable.”

“She’s me. The baby is me.”

She couldn’t believe the information she had just found out, and she wished she were older. She thought that if she were older, she might have had more experience in life to handle this sort of life-shattering revelation, but being only fourteen years old, all she felt was betrayal.

And heartbreak.

And panic.

So maybe she felt a lot of things, Nancy admitted to herself, but she felt she had the right to do so. Her whole life had been turned upside-down in a matter of a few hours, and she wasn’t sure what to do now.

She’d been told stories of how hard freshman year in high school could be, but she was positive her friends hadn’t meant this.

She saw headlights approaching and ducked behind a tree, holding her breath as they passed. Though she knew it could be dangerous for someone as young as her to be out alone all night, she was in no mood to face her father. Besides, it wasn’t like she was inexperienced.

She was Nancy Drew, after all.

Or was she?

She let herself plop onto her butt in the grass as she contemplated what to do next. She couldn’t face Carson—for calling him ‘Dad’ now was too hard—but she couldn’t stay out there for too much longer. She’d left her jacket as she climbed out her bedroom window and had started to shiver as soon as she had stopped running.

Her heart ached for the only woman she’d ever known as mother, Kate Drew, and her feelings were mixed there. She didn’t want to be bad at her…whatever she was to her now. Kate had died only a year earlier, and coming to terms with the fact that she’d lied to her hurt more than she wanted to admit.

Then she shivered again and realized she had to find somewhere to take shelter.

She could go to The Claw, she knew. She and her friends had picked up summer jobs working there for cash—under the table of course and no pun intended—and Dawn had always said they could go there whenever they needed. But her friends wouldn’t be there for a few hours yet, and Nancy wasn’t entirely sure she was ready to explain her new parentage to them yet.

As the rush of memories from the night prior filled her head, she picked out one statement that kept replaying itself.

“Ryan Hudson is my biological father.”

She’d seen Ryan Hudson in many different ways over the last few months. For fourteen years, she’d known him as the rich, arrogant hill topper who only graced their town when it was convenient for him or his business dealings.

Then his wife had died during her shift at The Claw, and they’d all been thrown into what she thought would be the weirdest time in her life. Being a murder suspect at fourteen wasn’t what any of her friends had expected for their lives, but it had happened. It was while she was trying to solve that case that she started to see a different side to the man.

Then she’d found out everything regarding his painful loss of Lucy Sable, and her heart broke for him.

Though she’d wanted to help him and Lucy’s ghost in some way, she was forced to put her feelings on pause as even crazier things came to pass—it would be just their luck to call to a sea spirit that wanted them dead—and she’d had to change her list of priorities.

Now all she could think about was how she knew the difficulty in trying to reconcile something in your brain that you had no control over and no knowledge of, no matter how hard you tried.

Standing from her spot in the damp grass, she took a deep breath and started walking again.

This time she knew exactly where she was going.

…

Her phone rang just as she was approaching Ryan’s house.

Groaning as she assumed it was her…Carson, again, she lifted it to hang up but stopped when she saw that it was Ace instead.

He’d been at The Claw with her the night before when she’d read the DNA match on John Sanders’ laptop. So far, he was the only one to know her secret outside of herself and Carson, and she’d only let him stay because he refused to leave her side.

Though he was usually more ‘chill’ than that, he could be a very protective boyfriend when he wanted to be.

She knew that he would be worried about her, especially considering he knew her better than anyone else in her life. So, deciding it would be a good idea to at least tell him she was alive and not eaten by a bear or killed by the Aglaeca, she answered and lifted it to her ear.

“Ace.” She breathed his name out like he was the life raft she needed to save her from drowning.

“Nancy.” She could hear the concern in his voice. “Where are you? Are you okay? Your dad called my parents and said that you ran away.”

She bit her lip. “Carson told me the truth after I confronted him.”

“Oh, Nance…” He used her nickname, and it squeezed at her heart.

“I’m sorry I made you worry.” Her voice was thick with tears as she felt them rush to her eyes. “I can’t be around him right now.”

Ace’s voice was soft as if he were calming a scared animal. “You could have come to me.”

She shook her head, though she knew rationally that he couldn’t see her. She had the brief thought that maybe he had hacked a satellite and could possibly see her. When they’d started dating, he promised he would do anything he could to keep her happy and safe.

“I’m sorry. If I had come there, your parents would have told Carson, and I just….”

“I get it.” His voice was equal parts comforting and protective. “Just tell me if you’re okay.”

“I’m okay.” She sniffed.

“Good. Because I know you’re dealing with a lot, but uh, George’s mom says the Aglaeca’s coming after us.” He said it quickly as if ripping off a band-aid.

This stopped her in her tracks, and she paid no mind to the fact that she stood on the side of a dangerously curved road in the middle of nowhere.

In her silence, he continued. “Nick, Bess, George…we’ve all gotten these really weird visions. Portents. Have you?”

She sighed and closed her eyes in defeat. “I vomited up a seaweed wreath yesterday morning.”

“I would say that qualifies.” He said lightly.

“When I went to look for it later, it had turned to sand. Are you saying the Aglaeca did that?” She hadn’t believed in the supernatural before Tiffany Hudson’s murder, but she wholeheartedly believed in it now.

“Yeah.” Ace hesitated. “Apparently, it’s like a bloodhound. And because the Aglaeca responded to your call for Lucy’s bones, you’re acting as its gateway.”

“What, Ace? What aren’t you telling me?” Nancy knew her boyfriend well, and he was holding something back from her.

“Uh…well, that also means you’re the one that’s capable of stopping it.”

“You don’t sound hopeful about that.” Her heart lurched in sudden anxiety. “Do you not trust me to do it?”

“No!” He said quickly before correcting himself. “I mean, yes. Obviously, I trust you. It’s not that.”

“Then what is it?”

It was his turn to sigh. “Well, George’s mom says that you can throw it off your trail by mixing your blood with somebody else’s. Disguising yourself so that, you know, the curse can’t find you, because if it can’t find you, it can’t find any of us.

“Uh, but…the ritual has to be done with a relative. Your blood relative.”

There was the catch and the reason for his earlier hesitation. “Well, that’s a problem, because…you saw the test results last night. My closest relative is not my blood relative.”

“But Ryan Hudson is.” He sighed again. “Listen, I know that poses certain challenges, and don’t worry. You know your secret is safe with me. But…”

“I, uh…” She started walking again and let the gears in her head turn. “I think I have a plan.”

“Nancy, babe, what are you going to do?” His voice held concern again, but also admiration.

He constantly made sure she knew how in awe he was at her detective skills and her ability to make the best of even the worst situations.

“I’ll meet you guys at Bess’ aunt’s party, okay?”

“Can you at least tell me the plan?” Ace was quick with his words, knowing full well that she could hang up at any moment.

“I have to talk to my father.”

…

Ryan crouched on the ground, frozen in place as he looked at the papers scattered in front of him. He’d been up nearly all night searching for any clue as to why Lucy hadn’t talked to him before taking her own life.

Then he’d picked up on the clues she’d written in her journal, and his mind had stopped.

Stroking his finger over Lucy’s baby picture he’d found in her yearbook, he allowed his mind to wander to every what-if scenario that came at him

What if Lucy had been pregnant? Were either of them ready to be parents at eighteen?

What if she’d told him about the baby? Would it have made a difference?

What if she’d lived? Could they have raised their baby together?

What if his parents found out? Is that why they threatened her?

Ryan was so lost in his thoughts that he almost missed his front door opening and whipped his head up to make sure it wasn’t either of the elder Hudsons coming in. He couldn’t have them knowing what he knew—they could react any number of ways. If he did have a child out there, he didn’t want them anywhere near his parents.

Then he caught sight of Nancy and sighed. “What, did you break-in? Figured you and your dad would be celebrating by now.”

Nancy remembered how Ryan had thanked them after the hearing had adjourned. He’d been upset by everything that happened but also grateful that they’d found out the truth of what happened with Lucy.

She felt horrible for having to go back on those things and hurt him again.

She wondered how she was supposed to once again break the heart of this man who had been through so much. He was only thirty-two and had lost the love of his life and his wife. Now, after twenty-four hours of thinking he knew exactly what had happened, Nancy was supposed to add more to his plate? It was causing her heart rate to spike, and she knew a panic attack was coming.

She saw the hopeful look in his eye and couldn’t do it. She wasn’t going to be the one to deal another blow to his fragile mental health.

“I need your help.”

“Uh, sorry, I can’t today. I have to get over to the free clinic in Trenton.” He was still crouched on the ground as he spoke.

Her face scrunched in confusion, and something shifted in his brain that he couldn’t quite place.

“Don’t you have rich people health insurance?” She questioned him as she moved over to the counter.

He rolled his eyes at her teenage sarcasm. “It’s not for me, okay? I’m trying to get answers on Lucy. The court clerk gave me a copy of her journal.”

Her already accelerated heart rate sped up as she turned to him. “Why?”

“Why?” He sounded appalled by the question and stood. “Because my dad threatened her! I wanted to make sure he wasn’t being physically violent. I didn’t see anything in her journal about that, but I did find some other helpful things.”

Every time he spoke, he made her anxiety worse, not that he was aware of it. “Like what?”

“I mean, you’re still young, so I don’t want to read some of it to you, but in early spring of 2000, she was writing stuff that makes me think….” He trailed off, unsure if he should tell her what he found.

She was only fourteen, after all. He didn’t know what she knew or if she was even comfortable with the subject.

“Go on.” She looked at the back of the papers in his hand, not being able to meet his eye. “I’m not a child.”

Ryan sighed. “I think she might have been pregnant.”

Nancy fought to keep the gray from edging into her eyesight as she swallowed down the rising panic within her. She knew if she didn’t give into the feelings soon, or at least do some techniques that she’d been taught, she’d pass out or worse. But she didn’t want to give away her secret to him just yet—if ever—so she shook her head.

“And you think the baby was yours?”

He scoffed. “Of course, it would have been mine! Lucy and I were…dating…around New Year’s, and so yeah. Mine.”

“You mean you were sleeping together around then.” She corrected for him and rolled her eyes at the shocked and slightly horrified look on his face. “Oh, stop that. I’m in high school now. I know these things.”

Then she caught the new look on his face and froze. He no longer looked shocked or horrified by her words but stared at her as if he was looking right through her. She felt her throat tighten and took a step back.

Ryan stared at her as if he was seeing her for the first time. Whatever had shifted in his head minutes earlier when she’d scrunched her face had returned the moment she rolled her eyes at him, and all the puzzle pieces had come together.

Both of those faces were exact replicas of his and Lucy’s expressions respectfully, and suddenly he was seeing what he hadn’t through their entire “working” relationship.

Besides the fact that Lucy had been haunting both of them, the young detective had told him she was allergic to wasps’ stings, and so was he. In addition to that, he remembered seeing her bite her lip when she was nervous, a trait that Lucy had right up until the day she died.

Then there were her looks. Her blonde hair may have been turning redder every day, but it was undoubtedly Lucy’s, as were her blue eyes his. She was the perfect combination of them, and he knew the truth in his heart.

Lucy had been pregnant. And Nancy was their daughter.

Then his surroundings came back to him, and he saw how she looked at that moment.

Her usually snarky yet confident expression had turned to fear, eyes wide and pale skin merging together to make her look gaunt. Ryan saw her throat moving quickly and knew she was trying to either swallow down tears or suck in air. Her hand, which now gripped the papers he’d handed her, shook enough to be visible, and she looked utterly exhausted.

He knew a panic attack when he saw one and knew that she also knew the truth.

Not wanting to push her, he told himself he wouldn’t bring it up to her. But, still, he had to make sure she was okay. The last thing he wanted was for her to be hospitalized because she was panicking over this added thing in her life.

“Nancy?” He kept his voice even, though he could hear the worry in it. “Are you okay?”

As he said the words in the same way Ace had said earlier, she told her brain that it was her boyfriend’s voice she was hearing and forced herself to relax. “I…”

“Can I get you some water?” Ryan moved away from her, walking to the sink. “You look pale.”

“Yeah, I, uh…didn’t get any sleep last night.” She forced herself to take some deep breaths while his back was turned and felt a bit more stable when he brought her the glass. “Counteroffer…I’ll help you find out if Lucy was pregnant if you do me a favor after.”

He’d do anything she asked of him, he realized, even if it meant doing her favors or playing along with something she clearly didn’t know he knew. “Deal. Do you need to call your dad?”

He saw the way she cringed at the word ‘dad’ and confirmed his theory that she wasn’t doing as well with the news as he was.

“Uh, nope. I’m good. He’s probably at work anyway.”

He didn’t call her out on the lie, instead holding the front door open to follow her to his car. He’d find out more about that situation later.

…

She’d lied to him. She’d looked him right in the face and lied to him.

They’d taken the trip to Trenton, and acting like a spoiled, entitled rich guy had made Ryan realize just how shitty of a person he probably was in everyone’s eyes. After Nancy had insisted on speaking to the doctor herself, he stood in the waiting room and thought about it.

He knew that he was different from everyone else in Horseshoe Bay, but until he was pretending to threaten to shut down the clinic, he had never realized how those people might see him. It was hard to come to terms with the fact that you had been an asshole for thirty-two years of your life, but Ryan had decided at that moment there wouldn’t be another.

He was going to change for Nancy, even if she never knew it was for her. He never wanted to see the look on her face as he had when she’d shut him up or told him a flat-out lie after leaving the clinic.

Sitting in the driver’s seat of his car, he thought about the story she’d spun for him, telling him that Lucy had been pregnant but had died with her child still inside her womb. He had done the math and had figured out that Nancy had been born weeks earlier than her due date, and she must have too.

Her knowledge of life and her ability to spin a tale baffled him.

“So, are you going to like…tell me why we’re going to Diana Marvin’s house?” He questioned, not wanting to sit in silence any more than they had.

Nancy huffed. “It’s Bess and her cousin Owen’s house, too.”

Owen Marvin was quite unlike the rest of his family. Being their age and having so few family members that were, he sometimes joined Bess at The Claw during her shift to hang out with their group. Of course, they all knew that he primarily came to flirt with Nancy but had been sweet enough to stop once her relationship with Ace had come out.

“I know, but still. You know that I’m like persona non grata, so you want to tell me what this favor is or what?”

“Yeah, in a minute. Can I ask you something?” Nancy had shifted her head lazily on the headrest so that she could look at him.

She still looked slightly pale, something the doctor had also noticed when they walked in, but her breathing seemed to be better, and she looked less like crying.

“Yeah, sure.”

She opened and closed her mouth only once before speaking. “What would it have meant, if-if you’d had the…the baby? Do you think you were ready to be a dad at eighteen?”

He should have known this question was coming. Even so, he answered honestly as he figured she’d be able to tell if he was lying. Besides, she looked too vulnerable as she stared at him.

“At eighteen? No…” He chuckled slightly. “No, hell no. A kid like me, I was dumb and spoiled, and I had horrible parental role models, as you know, so no. That would have been a disaster.”

He thought of his parents again and internally cringed, promising himself he’d do everything in his power to keep them away from Nancy.

“Do you think…do you think that you would have tried to…?” He saw her tuck a strand of hair out of the corner of his eye before she froze and started pulling at her hair. “Oh my God.”

“Hey, you okay?” He glanced at her now, then nearly hit the breaks as she started choking. “Hey. Hey, h-hold on.”

He swerved dangerously to the side of the road and brought the car to a park. Nancy was throwing herself out of the car the second they were stopped, and he followed her actions, panic welling up inside of him.

He wasn’t sure if she was having a panic attack again, but it looked different than it had before back at his house. When he finally got around to her side of the car, she was breathing again. He reached her side the second she slammed the door shut and watched in confusion as she stared at her reflection in the tinted windows.

“Hey, what…what, are you having a panic attack?” He knew he wasn’t supposed to ask, but it scared him.

Then he saw her look at her hand and the pile of sand that sat in it that had definitely not been there a moment prior. “No, no, uh…it was a portent.”

“A portent?” How did she even know what that word meant? He sure didn’t at fourteen. “What, you mean from Lucy?”

“No. From something completely different.” She looked scared now, but differently from before.

This had nothing to do with their familial relationship, and that seemed to worry him even more. He wondered if her whole life would worry him, as she seemed always to be ingrained in some dangerous happenstance.

“This is the favor that I had to ask you, actually.” She sounded upset, tears threatening to fall. “A few days ago, I did something unusual to get the evidence to exonerate my…to exonerate Carson. Uh, my friends and I did this ritual to call to this sea spirit.”

He was completely confused but tried to keep up. “Sea spirit. Like…like dolphins?”

She shook her head as she sat on the ledge overlooking the sea. “Stay with me. It’s a local legend. Uh, and it worked. The Aglaeca answered my call. But the problem is…is I couldn’t hold up my end of the bargain.

“The…the Aglaeca wanted Owen Marvin’s blood. All of it. So we couldn’t go through with it, and now we triggered this, uh, curse, and I have to fix it. And in order to do that, I need to do another ritual to make sure that the spirit doesn’t lock onto its target, and…and that’s where you come in.”

She hated having to get someone else involved, but she was desperate for anything that might save the lives of her and her friends.

Though he wanted to wrap his arms around her and whisk her away to be somewhere safe from all this nonsense, he knew that wouldn’t solve anything. He’d seen enough of Lucy’s ghost to know that supernatural creatures existed, and if his daughter was tangled up with one, he couldn’t let her down.

“Why me?” He was genuinely curious and hoped it didn’t come off as a refusal. “I mean, unless this Aglaeca takes cash, then I’m….”

“It’s not about your money this time, Ryan.” She snapped at him now, and he could see the panic setting back in. “It’s about you specifically, because….”

He froze, watching her face carefully, and wondered if this was the moment she would reveal that she knew she was his daughter.

Then he watched as she hesitated and shook her head. “It’s a long story, uh, and one of which you don’t need to know all the details. But if you just come with me….”

He nodded immediately. “Yeah, no, of course. I mean, it sounds urgent.”

They stared at each other for a second, and he watched as Nancy tried to blink away the tears that had pooled in her eyes. He felt his resolve breaking before taking a deep breath and deciding to take a leap of faith.

“Do you need me because I’m your father?”

Part 2

[thebrownssociety]

Space Jam 2 AU [AKA Across The Serververse] Part 2.

Hey! Roxy Goth here. So, just a couple of quick note before we carry on, firstly -  from now on I think I’ll just have the title of this as ‘Across The Serververse’ and drop the Space Jam 2 AU bit. 

Secondly - I can’t remember exactly how Rhythm got the toons into the Servereverse, by that I mean if they literally just stepped into it, ALA Dom + LeBron or if they had to go into a spaceship like Marvin’s. 

So I’ve just done something that may or may not be right. Enjoy!

Warning: Swearing

*6 months later*

Pepe and Penelope were excited. After 6 awesome - but admittedly long - months they were finally coming back to Tune Town. As they had been last to be picked up last time it meant they were also last to be dropped off, so by this point they had the boat to themselves.

“Ah, mon leetle cherry-blossom.” Pepe said, embracing Penelope. “The other passengers, they have gone, which leaves a monsieur and a mademoiselle alone together. What do you suppose we do in ze short about of time we have?”

Penelope giggled and hugged him, but as she hugged him she got a view of their home world. “P-p-pepe-” She said, faintly.

Not liking the nervousness in his wife’s voice, Pepe turned and his jaw dropped.

Tune Town was deserted. There were no signs of life anywhere, tumbleweeds ambled lazily across the desert parts of it, while in the forest parts the trees had started to go somewhat wild. That had always been Elmer and Sam’s job [and Marvin’s, if he was around] to cut down the trees. So where were they?

Before either of them could really process what was going on, the trees started shaking with so so much force that Pepe and Penelope were inclined to cling to each other, despite the fact they were on a boat.

“What is it?” Penelope whispered.

“I don’t know.” Pepe said, forgetting to put on his French accent. 

Just then a small figure darted out of the trees and ran towards the beach. “Don't stop!” The voice of Bugs Bunny called. “Keep goin’!” They could see him properly now, running down the beach and along the jetty. When the boat got close enough the rabbit braced himself and jumped onto it, hitting the floor with so much force he became flat.

“Hey! You have to pay!” The boat-captain yelled, while Pepe shook Bugs so he became 2-D again.

The rabbit reached into hammerspace and pulled out a couple of notes before just hurling them at the captain with an impatient. “Dere, does dat cover it? Now-” He turned to his friends. “Am Oi glad ta see you two!”

Pepe and Penelope were to stunned to respond to that, there eyes taking in the rabbit’s appearance. His eyes were wild and excited, his chin had stubble on it, his fur was messy and unkempt and - the most worrying of all for Bugs Bunny - his ears were down. He had also seen fit to dress himself in a tramps outfit. 

Seeing his friends horrified look, Bugs looked down at himself and said. “Eh...I guess ya wanna know what happened, don’ cha?” Upon getting a nod Bugs yelled to the captain to ‘park it a moment!’ and - grabbing a torch out of nowhere - began with: “It all started a mere two weeks after you left meself, Daf and Elmer were practising our famous ‘Duck Season, Wabbit season’ routine, actually, ya know what? I’ll show ya in flashback. Hold on-” He put his hands to the side of his head and concentrated.

*Flashback starts*

“Duck season!” Bugs said, ripping down a poster,

“Wabbit season!” Daffy snapped, yanking down another poster.

“Duck season!”

“Wabbit season!”

“Duck-!”

Bugs was cut of in his witty comeback by Elmer suddenly sighing and sitting down on the grass.

Bugs and Daffy looked at each other in confusion, before simultaneously shrugging and sitting next to the hunter, one on each side of him. Bugs got a carrot out his hammerspace and took a bite. “Eh...what’s up, Hunter?”

“Sowwy.” Elmer said, tiredly. “I’m not feewing it today.”

“No prob-lemo!” Daffy said, before Bugs could speak. “What do you want to do? We could go to Australia!” He pulled down a backdrop of Australia, causing them all to sweat. “Or France!” He pulled down another backdrop and threw a string of onions round both his brothers necks. “Or England!” He pulled down another backdrop and grabbed a cup of tea out from hammerspace. “Justh name a place!”

Elmer, holding a cup of tea with a string of onions slung round his neck, looked wide-eyed and confused. “...Home?” He said, simply.

Daffy sighed and the backdrops fell around him. “Okay then. I suppose we’ve had enough for one day. Oh, Bugsy, Bugsy ol’ buddy, ol pal!” He slung an arm round the rabbits shoulders. “Might I enquire what you are making for dinner?”

“Eh...ya can ask.” Bugs said nonchalantly.

As Daffy started to try and barter his way into a good dinner, the scene switched to the middle of Tune Town, where a tall, black, slightly shimmering man was talking to the other LT’s.

Bugs’s eyes narrowed and he marched towards them, yelling. “Hey! Who de hell are you? Dis is a private island, ya know!”

“I am Al-G-Rhythm.” The guy said, smoothly. “I am Warner Bros newest mode of technology. The link between all of your worlds. The Serververse. No longer will you have to travel between world like a second-class citizen, you can all live in one place together.”

“An’ dis benefits us...how?” Bugs asked, not believing all this for a second.

“You get to expand your horizons. Actually go into other characters worlds. You can explore, who knows? Maybe even rebrand-”

“Eh...I don’t think so.” Bugs said, confidently. “We’ve done enough ‘rebranding’ over de past few years. We’re all good here.” The other toons nodded along with him. 

“That’sh what YOU think!” Daffy said, dramatically poking Bugs in the chest. “I for one would LOVE to spread my wings!”

“Eh...jus’ talk ta Warner Bros, Daf. I’m sure they can get you a role spoofing some of de other properties.” Bugs said, easily.

“Of course.” AL-G-Rhythm purred. “With the offer I’M making you you can go anywhere and be whoever you want to be. All of you.” He added, seeing the other Looney Tunes beginning to look interested. “Anything and anywhere you want to be. I mean, let’s face it, you’ve all done so much for this stup - I mean, Warner Brothers over the years, isn’t it time you cut loose and had some fun?”

Bugs’s eyes narrowed. The Looneys were perfectly capable of having fun without needing to go across the serververse, thank you very much. He looked around, expecting to see his family with similar expression, but instead they were all talking to each other about it and sounding...excited?

“I can take you anywhere you want to go.” Rhythm said, his voice raising a little above the noise. “Hogwarts, Austin Powers, Matrix, you name it, WB have probably done something with it at some time. And if you wanted to go back in time, no problem, we still have the Paramount Pictures stuff on a different planet.”

“Reawwy?” Elmer -who was a big fan of The [original] Addams Family - asked.

Rhythm smiled. “Reawwy - eh, really. All you have to do is step into the serververse...” He stepped to one side and a suddenly a glowing door appeared from nowhere. “...And you can go anywhere you want. Now...who’s with me?”

The other Looneys looked tempted, they really did.  But after a shared glance and one of those ‘telepathic conversations’ they were so good at, Porky shook his head and said, politely but firmly. “T-th-thanks for t-t-the offer, Mr R-r-rhythm, but if it’s all the sa-the sam - makes no difference to you, we’ll stay here.”

The other looneys nodded.

Al-G-Rhythms eyes grew hard and his voice dropped to a baritone level as he said. “Well...don’t say I didn’t try and do it the nice way.”

Before any of the toons could ask what he meant though, Rhythm raised his hands and every toons except Bugs was lifted in the air, all with various shouts of surprise.

Bugs heart pounded as he looked at his family's frightened faces - some of them were clearly in pain - and he yelled. “Let ‘em go! Take me if ya hav’ ta!”

The other Looneys all started yelling at him not to do it, that it was a stupid idea. Rhythm looked at the grey rabbit and seemed to be considering it. Then he shrugged and - with a dramatic swoop of the arms -  made all of Bugs family disappear. 

“NNNNNNOOOOOO!” Bugs yelled and kind of did a little dance where he tried to go to one side, then the other, but realised that unlike his cartoons he had no idea what had just happened. “A’ight Buster.” Bugs growled. “What the fuck have you done with my family?”

“Oh!” Rhythm said, with false innocence and Bugs’s fist itched to punch him. “That was your family? Oh...I had no idea. From the way you treat them I thought it was the ‘Bugs Bunny’ show.”

“Yeah, a’ight, ya made ya point. Now bring ‘em back!”

“And where would the fun be in that?” Rhythm smirked, then became deadly serious. “Now listen to me ‘wabbit’ and listen carefully, course I ain’t sayin’ this again. I have sent your assistants-”

“-Brothers and sisters you mean.” Bugs corrected.

Rhythm looked surprised. “You consider Lola Bunny a sister? I thought you were dating.”

“Eh...” Bugs waved a hand. “That’s in canon Doc. This is ‘off-stage’ so ta speak.”

Rhythm hummed thoughtfully then - remembering he was supposed to giving a monologue - carried on with. “Whatever they are to you is no matter. The point is they are all spread across the servisverse and they’ve all been sent to random places that-” He laughed. “-Hell, even I don’t know! And YOU-” He pointed at Bugs. “-Have 6 months to find them and if you DON’T they will be deleted!” He started laughing hysterically.

“Eh...” Bugs said, left eye beginning to twitch. “Ya know Warner Bros have access to the servers as well and will realise we’re not in our world? They’ll then send us back.”

Rhythm scoffed. “You think I’m an idiot? I’ve thought of that - you wanna know how? Well, FORGET IT!” He suddenly bellowed, getting right in Bugs’s face. “I’m not going to tell you! You’ll have to figure it all out for yourself. but I’ll make it fair for you.” He said, voice taking on a soft, almost fatherly quality. “I promise that I won’t look at your progress until the last day, deal? Then you can’t say I’ve interfered. Deal?”

Bugs yelled his protestations at the top of his lungs, but Rhythm just laughed and disappeared back into the serververse. 

*End flashback*

After the end of that flashback it was safe to say Pepe and Penelope were quite shocked. They were still trying to get there head around the fact that all this had happened in the 6 mere months they’d been away, when they heard a strange sound and saw Bugs crying.

Penelope hushed him and Pepe offered him a handkerchief. Bugs blew into it noisily at exactly the same time the horn blew before handing it back to Pepe who looked at it in disgust and threw it over the side of the ship. 

“So what happened after that?” Penelope asked, fearing she already knew the answer. “Where are they?”

“Oi don’t know, okay!?” Bugs wailed. “I don’t know! Dere in different worlds somewhere, but I don’t know where and I don’t know how it works! Oi don’t know if they’ve just gone to the worlds, but without being able to shift so they stand out like a sore thumb or if they’re replacing someone else within dat world! In which case, where’s de character dere replacin’? Oi don’t know which worlds dere in, oi don’t know if dere safe or happy or bein’ tortured - I DON’T KN-!”

*SLAP*

Bugs blinked and felt the imprint Penelope’s hand had just left on him. “T’anks. Oi needed dat.”

“We weel get them back.” Pepe said, placing a hand reassuringly on Bugs’s shoulder. “Myself and Penelope will help you. We will not rest until out family, it iz complete!”

Bugs smiled shakily and wiped his eyes. “Well, dere’s one issue with dat-” Seeing his brother and sister’s curious look he gave a half-hysterical laugh and asked. “Well, why do you t’ink oi’m still here? Oi can’t get out. I’ve tried goin’ back through to Warner Bros central, oi can’t do it. The portal we use physically won’t let me through. Oi t’ink Rhythm has put some kind of block on me. To stop me leaving so oi can’t find da others. It’s de only thing that makes sense. An’ I’ve tried different versions of me as well from all across the years. King me, jester me, classic me, new me. I even tried Ace Bunny, dat’s how desperate oi was! I can’t leave-”

“-What about Chungus?” Penelope asked. Seeing the weird looks Pepe and Bugs were giving her she explained. “It sounds like Rhythm has put some sort of block on YOU. But...Big Chungus...he isn't technically a version of you, is he? He started out as a meme taken from when you were shape-shifting”

“He’s in ‘World of Mayhem.” Bugs said, doubtfully.

“Which is a game!” Penelope said, excitedly. “Not a tv show! Have you tried it? No? Well, give it a go!”

Feeling excited for the first time in 5 and a half months Bugs took a breath and started to shape himself into the monstrosity that was Big Chungus. When he had finished he smiled, leapt onto the mast and - donning a pirate hat and sword - yelled. “Full steam ahead! Warner Bros Central here we come!”

As the exit - aka the portal - that led to Warner Bros Central loomed over him Bugs felt nervous. ‘Please work, please work, please work-” He chanted under his breath. 

Then with a flash of blinding light, they went through. 

[beerecordings]

Werewolf AU - Part 5

By the time the next evening rolls around, Marvin's thinking that yeah, coffee might actually be a good idea.

It's the sleep that's the worst of it. The stress – the hours spent trying not to remember his teenage years too hard, and failing miserably – it would be okay if he just had to get through the emotional nausea for a couple days. But he really can't sleep. He's been up all night, scrolling his phone for too long, because if he stops watching stupid videos or checking feeds, he has to think about things, and he's had too much of that already.

I should just text Jackie.

No, he might still be mad and avoiding me. I'll let him be.

No, I should text him. Just to be sure. Just a 'you alive?' text.

Sean will call him. I'm not going to worry about it.

He's my cousin, though.

But what if he has seen Graham again? What then?

Doesn't that mean I need to check on him all the more?

But I can't see him go back to the wolf he was. I can't.

If he had an off-switch for his brain, he'd hit it and let himself shutdown til someone came to force him to think again.

His fiftieth sigh of the day leaves him. He slings some actual pants on and pulls out his phone, shooting a text to both numbers Sean gave him.

It's a bit of a walk to pick up both Chase and the doc, but he doesn't want them going to that part of town alone. It's the most wolf-inhabited part, and he loves that. But that means there isn't exactly a mountain of wealth flowing into businesses and infrastructure, and everybody's always getting harassed by police, and yeah, there are a couple bad wolves who have used the broken system they live in as an excuse to be even bigger assholes than they already would be.

Besides, Marv needs the wandering time. He's a wolf! He has to roam. He and Jackie used to take hours-long walks around town, stopping at any place that looked interesting, bringing food to the cats in that junkyard by the river.

Sigh number fifty-one.

Okay. He can do this.

Coffee. Coffee will make it all better.

And hey, maybe the new wolf's enthusiasm cheers him up a little bit, too.

“Hi!” Chase calls, all but leaping out the door to greet him. “You came to get me!”

Marvin runs his eyes over him, surprised how a single day has changed him. He's got a flush in his cheeks and he's exchanged a worn-out hoodie and sweatpants for jeans and a nice grey shirt, combined with a rich kid watch and some hair gel fluffing up his fringe. He actually looks like the young guy in the pictures on the internet that come up when you type in his name.

“Course,” Marvin answers him. “It's no trouble.”

Chase joins him on the pavement. “I'm so excited.”

He can't help but laugh, shaking his head at the new wolf. “What a turnaround!”

“Hey, come on! After weeks of angst I actually felt yesterday like this could be an okay thing. Maybe even a good thing. And now we're going out, and I haven't been out in like – well, too long.”

“You don't go out with friends?”

Chase kicks at a rock on the pavement, smell misting sadly for a moment. “Um. Kind of had some fall-outs after... everything.”

Marvin hums, leading him down the street towards Sean's. “Youtube fallout?”

Chase's gaze shoots up, his mouth dropping open. He flounders for a second, shaking his head. “You – know who I am?”

Marvin snorts. “Looked your name up after last week. Like to know who I'm running with.”

Chase's face has flared with heat. “I'm – I'm not – not that guy anymore.”

“Would it be a bad thing to be that guy?” Marv asks, blinking at him. “Bro Average? Looked like pretty harmless stuff to me, trickshots and pranks on friends and reaction videos. A little frat boy, sure. But I bet you made money off it, and you didn't hurt anybody.”

Chase looks back to the pavement. “I... did make money. For a while. Still have the house, as you can see.”

Marvin glances back at it. Yeah, it's a big posh house, probably two stories and a basement, probably a lot of extra rooms Chase doesn't need, in a nice part of town.

“But I did get very... wrapped up in it. I know, it does look like frat boy stuff. But it started to consume me, you know, after a while. Obsessive about my numbers. Working too much. And then working with the wrong people, and making friends with people who just wanted to use me, and the people I did work with before stopped seeing me as anything but content too.”

Marvin's surprised by the honesty. He wonders if he's talked to anyone else about this at all, or if he's just been waiting in that big house for someone to come ask him how he's doing.

“So then the popularity started to fade, I was making less money, and my kids' mom took off around the same time. Everything fell apart. Suicidal over my stupid channel crashing... can you imagine that?”

“Sounds like there was a lot going on at one time,” Marvin concedes. “Is that when, uh, the drinking...?”

“It had been a problem for a while at that point. Just wasn't fair to my kids. Some days, I don't blame her for leaving with them, cause I was being such a selfish asshole on top of drinking so much, but she just won't give me any chances since! And now with this, I – I have to get a hold on it. Have to be able to prove without a doubt in anyone's mind that my kids will be totally safe with me.”

There's a pause. They tread down the road, scents mingling with the warm summer air.

“So no,” Chase adds. “Haven't been out in a while. Don't know who I'd go out with if I wanted to. And I just pray no one recognizes me! I haven't made videos or posted on any social media for about seven months now, and I was already not wanting to be recognized before all this. Don't want questions about what happened, where I went. Now, it would sure be a news story if people found out I was a wolf. I just... hide, kind of. In that big house where my kids and partner don't live anymore. I needed to get out.”

Marvin hums. “For what it's worth, it's been a pretty long time since I tried to be social too.”

And if he slings his arm around Chase's shoulders for a minute there, you can blame it on a sad story and a nice chocolate and electricity smell, but don't go telling anyone Marvin might be feeling soft that evening, and maybe a little bit like he knows what it's like to be lonely.

.

Henrik doesn't like this either.

Okay, look. He gets it. He knows he's been a grump compared to everyone else. He knows he's not cooperating, he knows it probably doesn't look like he's trying.

“You're just going to go out for coffee,” Sean had told him, a little exasperated. “You love coffee.”

“I didn't even go out with people for coffee before all this,” Henrik replied. “I don't think I want to start. Why can't you come with me, Sean?”

Sean had looked at him in a funny way, trying too hard to smile. “Let's talk about that tomorrow. I have to go help with prosecution prep for a pup with a trial coming up. I'll be back later, okay?”

Henrik had hovered around him as he left, trailing after him when he exited through the door, watching him go with a smell he hopes isn't too pathetic.

He just likes it when it's him and Sean. Maybe they just don't need anyone else. Maybe Sean really would let him move in. Or better yet, he could buy a nicer place for him to work, and they could both stay there, and then Sean would be grateful instead of probably annoyed Henrik is taking up space in his cramped apartment.

A part of him registers that these are weird thoughts for him, maybe even obsessive. But he has enough to worry about without questioning his one comfort right now.

He also has enough to worry about without ticking his one comfort off, so he gets ready to go to the stupid werewolf cafe whatever even though it's eight at night. They really are nocturnal.

“Don't look so sad, doc,” laughs Marvin as he picks him up, Chase in tow. “It's just fucking coffee.”

It's just another change he didn't ask for. He sighs, steeling himself to not be irritable, and follows him down the road.

“Okay, listen up,” Marvin calls. “Part of the reason Sean wanted me to take you out is because he wants you to learn about werewolf spaces and that sort of thing. But the other side of that is that you two are unpacked, newbie werewolves, and other wolves will be able to tell. Now, most of them will be nice. There's just a lot of them, nice and not nice, who love to get newbie wolves in their packs. Alphas have instincts to grow their packs all the time, and unpacked newbies who weren't turned by someone already in a pack? There are lots of Alphas who would love to snap you up. Maybe they'd even treat you real well, teach you everything you need to know, love you like you'd been pack forever. But you can't know which Alphas are good and bad until you've had time to consider, see them in action, that sort of thing. So no matter how nice a big pack looks or smells or feels to you, don't go running off without me, okay? Sean would have my head if one of you came home tomorrow marked by some asshole Alpha who couldn't give you space.”

“Why would we run off?” Henrik demands. “You think we're stupid, huh?”

Marvin laughs. “I do think you're stupid, but that's besides the point. Pack instincts are some of the strongest instincts you have now. Wait until you get your first smell of an Alpha who's scent-marked by their whole pack. A dozen wolves, sometimes, all united in their Alpha. Good Alphas smell like pure safety. You're going to want a piece of that one way or another.”

It's only a moment later that a group of four wolves is passing them by, one of them actually in wolf form, following a tiny female who does, in fact, smell like all three of her companions. She glances back at Henrik after he's passed, examining him from head to toe, and when she smiles at him he turns quickly away, flushed.

“I don't think I like this,” he says.

Marvin just laughs again. “Stick close, newbie. Cafe's chill anyway. The parks and the bars, though, whew. I wouldn't send you without Jackie. Doesn't help that you two have nice natural smells.”

Do they? He glances at Chase, who just shrugs. Damn him, he looks excited. Henrik raises his eyes to the Heavens, muttering under his breath.

Okay, the cafe's nice, though. It's not really just a coffee place. There's lots of food on the menu, and alcohol too, and something called scenters for just a pound each. It's packed with wolves, though, and Henrik can't help but be tense. A wolf passes Chase, almost knocking his shoulder, and Chase presses closer to Henrik, alarm perking in his scent.

Oh, no. Marvin's right. Everyone is looking at them. Henrik grabs Chase's arm almost on instinct, swallowing. “Do we have to sit in here?” he whispers to Marvin.

“Yep. You're safe. I know most of these wolves anyway.”

“Why does that not reassure me?” hisses Henrik.

“Get your coffee and shut your mouth.”

Marvin and the cashier know each other, and he curses Marvin out with vitriol before giving them the friends and family discount and cleaning off a table in the corner for them.

“You two have definitely slept together,” Chase says. “You are out of his league.”

“Shut up,” sings Marvin. “It got me cheap drinks, didn't it?”

They laugh. Henrik shifts in place, sighing. He never gets along with guys his own age – or any age, really – and this will not be any different. He's just in that place where extroverts take pity on him for a few weeks before they realize he's no fun.

“Your brother's not coming, still?” asks Chase, taking a sip from his smoothie. “Thought he might.”

Marvin bites down on his lip. Henrik pays careful attention to his scent, but Marvin doesn't let it change. “No,” he says shortly. “He's my cousin.”

“Oh! You look so alike.”

“Yeah. We get that a lot. Grew up together from post-primary school on, too.”

“Aw. That's sweet.”

“You grew up in Ireland or here?” asks Henrik.

“We were both born in Ireland, but Jackie's parents moved here for work when they were still together and brought him with. I got sent out here with him after my parents split. Uncle Graham was the Alpha of a pretty big pack at the time, and Jackie and some of the pack kids were about my age. My dad sent me here so I could learn what it was like to grow up in a pack.”

“What is it like?” asks Chase.

Marvin's smile is bittersweet. “Oh... you're going to make me reminisce? Hell. I loved the kids my age. We were all so fucking close. And the pack, I mean – we all loved each other. I never felt safer or happier than when I was with the whole pack. Twelve adult wolves and their kids. We were huge. Ran a whole section of town at the time, all renting this big section of an apartment building so I could run to anyone's house whenever I wanted. It was always Jackie and me in those days.”

His posture changes, then. Henrik watches him pull his hands into his lap, shoulders hunching.

“But I think that there are very few Alphas who are actually deserving of that kind of leadership, or even capable of handling it. It can change them. And when we lost Uncle Graham, the pack fell apart completely. We went from a huge pack with a strong Alpha to just the two of us. I think it nearly destroyed Jackie.”

“Your Uncle Graham... died?” Henrik asks, taking a drink from his own coffee.

“No,” says Marvin shortly.

They're interrupted by a figure approaching from across the room. “Marvin, hey!”

“Here we go,” chuckles Marvin.

The wolf stands beside their bar table, smiling brightly, first at Marvin, and then at Henrik, his eyes running down the length of him. Henrik hides in his coffee, hoping his scent isn't betraying his anxiety.

“Hey, no need to be nervous,” laughs the wolf.

Well, great.

“Marvin, never thought I'd see you babysitting newbies.”

“Fuck off, Mohammed, Jack McLouglin is making me.”

Mohammed laughs. “That man's a wolf saint. Well, hi. I'm Mohammed.”

Henrik doesn't look up. Chase waves timidly beside him. “I'm Chase.”

“You're not packed, huh?”

Henrik realizes Mohammed is looking just at him. He uncurls from himself, sighing. “No. Not interested, thank you.”

“Not trying to steal you, newbie, deep breaths. Just saying hi. You'll have to come say hi to me in a few weeks when you're feeling a little more interested, okay? We run things real easy, no submission required. You can come and go as you please. Might have fun with us, though.”

“From what I understand, it's a little more complicated than that,” Henrik replies, straightening up as best he can.

Mohammed nods. “Jack McLoughlin would make sure you knew.”

He sets his elbow down on the high table, resting his head on his hand, and that pulls his head – and his neck – closer to Henrik's nose.

He smells fantastic. Henrik stares at him, unable to resist taking a deep breath in, and... wow. Nutmeg, fresh bread, night air, confidence, warmth, safety, fresh oranges, cloves, hibiscus...

Henrik doesn't realize he's stood up until Marvin's grabbing his arm, pulling him against his side.

“Wow, he's like new, new,” Mohammed says, astonished.

“Give him some space, Mohammed.”

The Alpha backs off politely, raising his hands and turning his back. “You come find me if you need me later, pup,” he calls. “We always got space.”

“You're good, doc,” murmurs Marvin, both of his hands settling on Henrik's shoulders. “You're good.”

He feels... dizzy. Why is Mohammed leaving? He didn't like Henrik? He rejected him, just like that? What's wrong with him? He tries to push Marvin off, ready to go after the Alpha, but Marvin doesn't let go. Puts his body in front of him and carefully pushes him down into his chair again. “Chase, share your scent with Henrik for a minute, there you go.”

Chase is touching him tentatively a moment later, and Henrik inhales the smell of chocolate and... is that new? Like a storm, almost, a smell on Chase's neck? It distracts him. He turns to Chase, blinking, and allows himself to put his nose up and scent at Chase's smell in the air. Chase turns his head for him, and then, after a moment, politely defers to him, setting his head on Henrik's shoulder.

Henrik blinks several times, the dizziness clearing a little.

That's when he realizes how little he liked that.

“No, no,” he croaks, pushing Chase off him. “No, I – I want to go. I want Sean. I'm going home, I – ”

Marvin grabs his wrist. “You'll stay.”

“No, no! That wasn't – I don't have any control, I c-can't – ”

“You can,” replies Marvin, voice as strong as Henrik's ever heard it, powerful as a car crash. “You absolutely can. But you have to stop running from it, Henrik. Now. You are going to stay here and practice trusting yourself with your instincts. You are fine. I will not let an Alpha make you do anything you don't want to do. You're fine.”

He feels like he can't breathe. His shoulder aches so bad he squints his eyes shut, but that makes him break his gaze with Marvin, and somehow he needs to be looking at him right now.

“Tommy,” calls Marvin to the barista. “Bring us a scenter, yeah?”

Tommy comes over without complaint and places something in a wide candle-holder dish in the middle of the table. He strikes a match and lights it, and Marvin dismisses him with a couple grateful flirtations.

It leaves just the three of them at the table again. Chase is still holding his arm. Marvin blows on the fiery circle in the middle of the table. Smoke wafts out from the candle-holder. For a second, Henrik isn't sure why it's called a scenter, because it doesn't smell like much other than, well, smoke. Then the smoke spreads to the three of them. Within moments, he and Chase both have their noses lifted, scenting it curiously. It smells... like them. Like all three of them. It seems to wrap around them, sharing their scents around the table like a pipe passed around. Lemon and chocolate and mint, along with Henrik's slight salty hints of the ocean and Marvin's rosey undertones.

“Ground yourself in it,” Marvin murmurs, letting his own eyes slide shut. “Damn. Long time since I lit a scenter.”

It's almost like they're having tea together instead of coffee. Mint tea with lemon, and chocolates to go with.

“Your sense of smell is a wonderful thing,” Marvin continues gently. “Don't let human stink convince you otherwise.”

Chase giggles despite the tension still clearing from the air, and Marvin smiles at him properly, a wide, white smile. His front teeth are slightly crooked. His smell is wonderful.

Then he starts talking, low and patient, and Henrik is leaning in to listen to him before he can convince himself to withdraw. He knows Marvin is trying to distract him, but... it's working.

And there's some great relief that comes with that.

“My Uncle Graham was incarcerated for some of the things he did to my cousin and I,” Marvin is saying, his eyes reflecting the flickering light of the scenter as it burns. “He deserved it, and much worse. But I... loved and hated my uncle, you know? He was my guardian as well as my Alpha. For a long time... Jackie and I just hid everything. Even from the rest of the pack. They didn't know what was going on behind closed doors. We were scared of being taken away from Graham, of breaking up the pack, of his retaliation if we ever told. And Jackie is... I know you only met him once. But he's one of the most passionately loving, caring people, wolf or otherwise, that you will ever meet. He loved his father. Even when he hurt him, he loved him.”

There's a smell of sorrow in their scent, but it's not just Marvin's. Henrik looks to his side and sees Chase with his eyebrows drawn back, something haunted in his face. The sorrow-smell, misty as the dawn, makes Henrik uncomfortable for a minute. When Marvin talks, though, and lets his smell out without trying to contain it, and they share that sorrow... there's something powerful to it, and delicate at the same time. Like Marvin and Chase are both placing something in his hands, and asking him to be gentle with it.

“Jackie never said a word when the police came,” Marvin whispers. “I was the one who finally told everything. We were placed in a group home until my dad came to pick me up and Jackie turned eighteen. Graham bonded out of jail the same day they charged him, and they put a no-contact order in place, but Graham didn't follow it. He would stalk Jackie and get him to sneak out to meet with him. He kept hurting him. Eventually we had to testify, and Jackie was supposed to say I was a liar, that I had made it all up. He broke down completely on the stand instead. Cried so hard he nearly passed out, and they released him from testifying. But I had to. Sat in that chair with Graham staring daggers into me and told them everything, once and for all. There had been bruises, when I first told my teacher... he was sentenced on four counts of child abuse. Not on anything he'd ever done to Jackie, though. Just mine. It was... hard. Feeling like I had to do it alone, when I so badly wanted Jackie's help.”

“But he – it was his dad,” says Chase, and Henrik tries not to stare at him when he hears his voice trembling. “It's not that he didn't love you. It was just... his dad.”

Marvin smiles weakly at him. “I know. I don't hold it against him. Just painful, that's all.”

“I'm so glad you got some justice,” Chase says. “That doesn't – it doesn't happen for everyone, you know? Even when everyone knows it's true, they might never go to jail. Not enough evidence. I'm glad your uncle did.”

“Me too,” says Marvin heavily.

“But now he's out,” Henrik interrupts.

Marvin looks up at him, eyes wide.

“Yes,” he says after a second. “Yes, he's out now. And Jackie – ”

“You think he might be with him.”

Marvin's lip trembles, just for a second. He leans back in his seat, closing his eyes.

“What happened to the pack?” asks Chase softly. “When Graham left.”

“Fell apart faster than you can blink,” Marvin retorts, derision darkening his tone. “People actually moved out of the apartment complex after he left. Jackie and I were just picked up from school by the police one day and never saw any of them again. I don't know if any of them cared to look for us. They should've, I think. They should have come with me to the trial, or brought us our clothes from the apartment, or something, anything. But no one did. Sometimes I think that most of them were just mad that I reported. I broke the pack up.”

Chase winces and looks at Henrik.

“So,” Henrik says, swirling his coffee in its cup. “History of abuse, combined with some guilt you don't deserve and abandonment issues from the pack that was supposed to protect you... and you still don't have a pack to this day, right?”

Marvin narrows his eyes at him, smiling darkly. “Where are you going with this?”

“What I'm saying, Marvin, is that maybe there's a reason you get into fights every chance you get. And maybe that reason isn't just 'they were being assholes.'”

“Oh, shut up, Freud,” says Marvin, and somehow, that's what breaks them all down into laughter. Or maybe it's Chase stupid giggle, high-pitched and wild as he crumples over himself on the table, shaking his head. Henrik's laughing too, despite himself, his hand over his mouth, and Marvin berates the two of them, shaking his head.

“Marvin!” wheezes Chase. “You have fucking issues, dude, have you ever seen a shrink?”

“They made me in foster care but I hated that grandma, man, she sucked.”

It only makes them laugh worse.

“You actually need intensive psychotherapy – ”

“Shut up!”

“And they sentenced you to Sean's class?”

“That's what they do! If it's a werewolf being violent, they think it's because we're werewolves. Never mind the way the system has treated us, or the personal shit we have going on. It's sad.”

“That is sad.”

They end up talking for a long time, and Henrik is surprised by how easy it comes. It's something about Chase, he thinks. Now that he's at ease, Henrik can see this easy charisma he has, disarmingly selfless in the way he talks to people. He listens genuinely to everything they say, fills in gaps in conversation without hesitation, and never answers a question without asking at least one in return.

They're talking about Chase's kids when a second Alpha approaches them, several friends in tow. But the smell of the scenter surrounds Henrik, and he doesn't get such a heavy whiff of this pack's scent, although they still smell good. He finds himself clinging tensely to Chase's arm as they come by, but Chase doesn't comment on it. The Alpha asks him a couple questions about himself and what it's like being a doctor, gives Henrik their number, and leaves him alone without causing a fuss. Honestly, it just makes Henrik glad he's not a woman, because he could not deal with this sort of attention from wolves and humans trying to hit on him.

“The Alphas are only talking to Henrik,” says Chase, blinking. “Is that normal?”

Marvin frowns. “You're right, actually. I don't know why that is. Maybe you've been a wolf long enough they can't tell you're new anymore? They might think you're like me, unpacked but not looking, either.”

“I thought it was cause you had a new smell,” says Henrik, wrinkling his nose despite himself. “Um, like electricity? It's almost familiar.”

Chase freezes, eyes wide. Henrik glances between him and Marvin, not sure why Chase is startled. “You know, he kind of smells... like, stormy?”

“That wasn't there before?” asks Marvin.

“No.” Henrik tilts towards Chase a little bit, surprised when the other wolf draws away from him, this time. He scents the odd smell nonetheless. “Yeah, it's like lightning, kind of.”

“You can smell that?” rasps Chase.

“I don't know why that scares you,” says Henrik, puzzled. “It really is kind of familiar. Actually reminds me of – ”

That night.

Henrik's up from the table in a flash, knocking his coffee over, backing away.

“That Alpha, that Alpha,” he snarls. “You've seen him, you scented with him, you traitor, you – ”

“No!” cries Chase, leaping up after him. “No, I swear, it's not like that.”

“You have his smell on you,” says Henrik, with an actual growl in his voice, sending the wolves around him backing away. Marvin's calling his name, trying to come after him, but Henrik strikes his hands away, snarling. His shoulder throbs from his bitemark. “You'll lead him to me, you'll – ”

“No!”

Henrik's already turning away, shoving out the door, scattering the pack of wolves just about to enter.

“Hey, newbie,” somebody calls. “What's the problem? You need some help, pup?”

Henrik snarls and takes off down the pavement, wishing he had his white coat to pull around him. He just wants to go home. Not – no, not home, he can't start thinking of it like that. He wants to go back to Sean. He wants to lie down on the couch and pull all of his blankets around him and never let anybody else share his smell again.

“Schneep!”

“Doc, come back here! You can't run off on your own in this part of town.”

Whatever. It's not like anyone can do anything to him worse than this hell he's already living through.

“Henrik!” Marvin's there, grabbing his shoulder, yanking him back.

“Get off me!” Henrik shouts. “I'll fight you again if I have to!”

“Oh, cause that turned out so well for you last time. Be calm! Tell me why you're scared.”

“He smells like that Alpha who bit us!” Henrik howls, whirling on Chase, standing dejected a few meters away. “He's been with him! You know who he is, right? You've decided, what, that you don't care that he bit you? May as well be your Alpha anyway?”

Chase is crying, tears dripping down his face. He shakes his head hard. “I swear, Henrik, I haven't seen him since I escaped from him.”

“Why do you smell like him, then?”

Chase makes one truly pathetic image in that moment, burying his red face in his hands. “I – I can't help it, I don't mean to! I don't want him to be my Alpha! I'm trying so, so hard!”

Marvin swears, and Henrik sees him ending an attempted call to Sean on his cell. “Guys, breathe. You're okay. Fuck's sake.”

“I have something that still smells like him,” sobs Chase. “I – I can't help it. I scent with it sometimes.”

“He hurt us!” screams Henrik. “How can you – ”

“He had me for days!” Chase screams right back. “How can you not understand? You stood up and tried to go after that first Alpha who talked to you, just because he smelled safe and your instincts told you to. You can't even shift when you're safe. What do you think it was like for me? I had no idea what was happening. I was terrified, I had been assaulted, I was dripping blood everywhere. He forced me to shift, stripped my shirt off me and egged me on, biting at me, til my body figured it out. It hurt like I was being killed. I was a fucking dog, Henrik, with no idea what was going on. And then he came back and talked so nicely to me, and scented with me, and told me he would protect me, then, and my instincts – ”

Chase hugs himself, bending over suddenly like he's going to throw up. Marvin goes back to him, pulling him under his arm, and nuzzles his face against Chase's, walking him back towards Henrik.

“You're both okay. You're both fine,” he chants, rubbing his nose against his cheek. “You just triggered each other, and that's fine. Come back to me.”

The moment he's close enough, Chase throws his arms around Henrik and cries in earnest into his shoulder. Henrik stares numbly forward, hands drifting up uncertainly to hold his shoulders in reply.

Chase cries. Henrik lets him.

“It's just so awful,” he hears him saying. “The guilt I feel every time I do it. But I didn't have anything else to cling to.”

Henrik's hands tighten around his shoulders. He doesn't choose the words that come out of his mouth. For once, his own awkwardness and self-consciousness doesn't stop him from saying what he needs to.

“You do now,” he tells Chase. “You have us.”

Chase presses his nose into his throat. Henrik feels him breathing his smell in, rubbing his face against his throat, and even though it's his neck inches from Chase's teeth, it doesn't feel threatening. It doesn't feel unsafe. His instincts allow it.

Marvin is a few steps away, watching them both with fatigue in his face, deflated.

.

The walk home is quiet.

Marvin goes in front of them, guiding the way, warning any wolves away with a dark glare and a smell that says “I've had enough of this shit for one day, absolutely do not fuck with us.”

It seems to work. Chase and Henrik walk together behind him.

“Why didn't he kidnap me too?” he whispers.

Chase sniffles, wiping his nose as he glances over at him.

“I don't know, man,” he says, voice exhausted. “I wonder that too.”

“There's something, um. Something I thought you guys should know,” Marvin calls back, pausing to let them catch up. “I don't know, maybe you already saw it. It was on my feed this morning. But... here.”

He hands his phone back to them. It's his newsfeed, recommending articles to him. And there, sandwiched between 'beach cleanup efforts taking place this summer,' and 'missing uni student last seen in Brighton, police report,' there's an article titled 'Fringe Attack: the unidentified werewolf assaulting and turning foreigners in Brighton.'

“Holy shit,” Chase breathes. Henrik grips the phone too tight, letting Chase crowd his space as he clicks on the article and pulls it up.

'Platte Valley Medical Center was as busy on the night of June 29th as any urban hospital still managing under-staffing and the continued effects of the COVID-19 pandemic, but the hospital did not expect for its staff to be under attack from an unidentified werewolf who has now turned two humans living in the Brighton area. Police report that the second attack was only two blocks away from Platte Valley, targeting a hospital employee working in Brighton on a research grant...'

“How can they publish this without any contact with us?” asks Chase. “I guess I should just be glad they don't identify us! Although, hell, I'm sure there's only so many people at that medical center this could refer to. Won't lots of people know it's Henrik? That's not private.”

Henrik scrolls through the article, eyes flashing.

'... reminds the public that werewolf attacks with include a Turning Bite are extremely rare from strangers. Non-consensual Turning Bites are rare in and of themselves, but they are far more likely to come from someone known than unknown, such as an intimate partner who insists on turning their human partner...

'… details on the victims or the ongoing investigation into finding the werewolf perpetrator have not been released, although werewolf experts report that this is not a behavior commonly seen in feral wolves, and in fact appears to be very consciously thought-out...'

'...did state that, concerningly, both victims are from out-of-country, raising questions as to whether these victims were intentionally targeted for their vulnerability and isolation...'

Henrik's stomach turns over. No, no. He hadn't thought about that. They are both foreigners, both isolated. Did the wolf know that when he turned them? If he did... it means it wasn't a random attack. It means it was pre-meditated.

And... that he picked Henrik before hand. That he stalked Henrik beforehand.

'Despite the rarity of such events, the two incidents suspected to be from the same perpetrator leave the public wondering if and when the next attack will take place.'

He closes his eyes. Gently, Chase takes the phone from him and gives it back to Marvin.

“Did he say anything?” he asks, voice tiny. “About... picking us? Or about what he wanted?”

Chase sighs, looking down at his feet. “He wanted to be my pack, like I said. I don't know why. He talked about going away together.”

“But that's not how werewolves do these things,” Marvin adds in, shaking his head. “Like the article says, it's rare, incredibly rare. If you want more pack, you don't get hapless, untrained humans – no offense. Even at their most desperate, Alphas will fight with other packs or pick on unpacked wolves without ever considering turning a human.”

“Could he just have been that lonely?” asks Chase.

“I don't know why he wouldn't just join an already existing pack instead of trying to make himself an Alpha if it was just loneliness,” Marvin replies.

His phone rings. “Sean's calling me back,” he says, putting it to his ear. “Hey, yeah, sorry, we just had a bit of a problem...”

Marvin walks away, filling Sean in as he goes. Chase and Henrik follow after him a moment later, scents matched in a sort of hopelessness.

“Sorry I yelled at you about the scent thing,” Henrik says.

Chase shakes his head. “Don't worry about it. I'm sorry I didn't realize you might smell him on me. It's so dumb. I just... it's not that I miss him. He's almost like an addiction. I miss him like a drink, sometimes. He made me feel okay when I was terrified, even though he was the one terrifying me. Henrik?”

They stop on the pavement as Henrik looks up at him. Chase's gaze is earnest and intense, fixed on him.

“I would never do anything to lead him to you,” he promises, reaching out to touch his hand, and Henrik is reminded of the first time they met, when Chase comforted him. Told him they were in the same situation, and that they had each other. “He did some shit that messed with my brain, but I know I never want him to come near me again. And I definitely don't want him to come around you.”

Henrik shifts in place. “Can I ask... what he was like?”

Chase huffs out a tired breath. “Did he talk to you at all?”

“No. He was a wolf the whole time. Attacked me and ran away.”

“He was sometimes a man with me. He's a white guy, about my height, with a beard, blue eyes, and his hair dyed green. His nails, I remember... they were really overgrown. They hurt when he would grab me. He was Irish, I think, like Sean and Marv and Jackie. I've heard there's a lot of Irish wolves, but I don't know for sure. He knew my name without asking it. He was a creep. I don't know why he didn't abduct you too, but I'm glad he didn't. I'm glad you're here, and alive, and moving towards recovery with me.”

Chase reaches a hand out, and Henrik stares at it for a second before realizing this is that thing American guys do on TV where they grab each other's hands like they're about to arm-wrestle. He grabs Chase's hand and Chase squeezes it, clapping his shoulder one more time before turning to continue down the pavement, pulling Henrik with him.

“Let's get home,” he sighs. “I'm so worn. Lately the house seems so quiet.”

They reach the door of Sean's office. He went for a run after the court stuff, according to Marvin, so he won't be home til later. Henrik's glad he's taking some time for himself, but suddenly, standing in that doorway, he gets what Chase means by the house being quiet.

“You going to be okay for the night, doc?” asks Marvin, looking just as fatigued as the pair of them.

“Yeah,” says Henrik, only half-convinced himself.

“Rest. Don't beat yourself up over anything. We'll be back tomorrow for class.”

“Okay.”

Marvin waves and turns to go. Chase pauses, looking up at Henrik. Henrik looks back.

Chase walks up the two steps leading to the office door and extends his arms in the offer of a hug. Henrik blinks, pausing before he extends his own in reply, and then Chase is pressing against him.

For the third time that night, Chase sets his head down on Henrik's shoulder and defers to him. Sean talked about how you can defer to someone sometimes and be deferred to by them at other times, if you want, but Chase always puts his head down on Henrik's shoulder, like there's something about them that's already set in stone. Henrik hugs his back tighter than before, and when Chase rubs his nose a little against his neck, Henrik leans down and presses his head against the top of Chase's, holding him.

“Night, doc,” says Chase, pulling away a moment later.

“Good night, Chase,” Henrik answers, watching him step down the stairs. Chase waves to him too, and then he and Marvin are both gone.

Henrik goes upstairs and sits down on his couch. Fifteen minutes later, between his smell and Sean's, he realizes that Chase's scent is still here too, pressed against his neck like it belongs there.

[bookwormscififan]

Silence and Chest Pains

Buy me a coffee?

Read on AO3!

A/N: Finally finished this! Yay! Here’s how Jackie became a hero.

Warnings: there is a near rape, but nothing really bad happens, so I won’t tag it.

He had always been deaf. He was born deaf, and had learned some sign from a young age.

He was also an inventor. He was always adapting things to make his silent life more practical. From text-to-speech beepers to Morse code wristbands that drummed translated code into his skin, Jackie had tried everything.

His inventions weren’t just for the benefit of himself, however. He made things to help other people, earning him the title ‘Technological Hero’ by the age of twelve. But he never saw himself as the hero. He just helped people to improve their lives.

He had gotten quite used to a life of silence, until he learned about the wonders of sound.

As he was making a delivery of an invention, Jackie found himself in the middle of a dark alleyway, relying on his eyes to know where he was. Marvin had been helping him, but when he stopped to get directions, Jackie had wandered off, getting lost.

The gloom settled in around him, shrouding him in darkness. A single lightbulb at the end of the street flickered, then burst, deepening the blackness surrounding him. A chill ran down his spine, and he silently sank into a crouch as he let his fear take over.

And then his wristband began to drum into his wrist.

.--. --- --- .-. / .-.. --- ... - / ... --- ..- .-.. Poor lost soul.

.-- .... --- / .-.. . ..-. - / -.-- --- ..- / .... . .-. . / .- .-.. .-.. / .- .-.. --- -. . ..--.. Who left you here all alone?

Jackie froze as the code tapped into his skin, and he slowly turned around in search of the source of the text. His eyes went wide as the moonlight illuminated the grinning face of a tall man towering over him. He took a shaky breath, then slowly stood up, waiting for the man to speak so he could read his lips.

“I wonder if you make any noise?” the man mused to himself, moving closer, causing Jackie to step backwards in fear. He kept moving until his back hit the wall, and he cowered under the predatory stare of the man as he moved to be as close to Jackie as possible. His breath stank, hitting Jackie’s face like a punch as he leaned forward.

Just as Jackie closed his eyes, something grabbed the man and pulled him away, leaving Jackie feeling cold and shaking in fear. The wristband on his arm tapped a command into his skin, which made him open his eyes.

.-.. . .- ...- . / -- -.-- / -... .-. --- - .... . .-. / .- .-.. --- -. . Leave my brother alone!

Standing across the alley from him, Marvin towered over the man, who was crumpled on the ground, holding his head. The magician turned to look at Jackie, running over and taking hold of his hands before beginning to sign to him.

Why did you walk off? Are you alright? Jackie read the signs, nodding slowly before raising shaking hands.

Marvin… you saved me… His brother nodded, wrapping an arm around his shoulder and leading him out of the alley. Jackie looked at his brother’s face, reading his lips as they walked away.

“That man is a creep. Next time, please don’t wander off.”

When the brothers returned home, Jackie and Marvin sat in front of the fire together, Jackie wrapped in blankets and leaning against his younger brother. Marvin was sitting deep in thought as he fiddled with a deck of magic cards. Suddenly he put the cards down, tapping Jackie’s shoulder to get his attention.

The code thing isn’t working. You need a better hearing substitute. Jackie read the signs, then raised his own to respond.

What would be better? I can’t hear anything. Hearing aids help those who can hear a little bit, and the code thing works… most of the time, he thought to himself, scratching his ear as he looked aside.

Marvin sighed, then stood up, adjusting his shirt as he looked at Jackie.

If you won’t try to adapt new substitutes, you’re going to get hurt. And I won’t always be there to save your life. Someone might get you from behind, and you won’t hear them coming. He turned to leave the room, stopping to sign one last thing.

You can’t save everyone else if you can’t hear anything. Trust me.

—

Jackie spent the following nights testing and modifying systems, creating new products to aid him in the quest for sound. He modified a digital watch to pick up police radios, pinpointing places for him to help out.

The issue he had was hearing. Nothing was helping him to hear at all, and until he found something, Marvin wouldn’t let him leave the house. Jackie sat in his room day and night, ordering and experimenting with technology, trying to develop a product to suit Marvin’s wishes.

Marvin came into his room with a pair of hearing aids, holding them out to his brother as Jackie looked up. He took a deep breath, closing his eyes, then began to speak.

“Apparently these hearing aids amplify sound in a different manner to the other ones.” He shrugged as Jackie looked up at him, then continued.

“Maybe you could adapt it to help you?” His brother took the aids and inspected them, then smiled at Marvin.

Thank you.

—

The design of the hearing aids was complex, but Jackie could figure them out. They amplified outside sounds and projected them into the inner ear, moving deeper than other aids. As Jackie inspected the device, he began to think about ways to adapt them differently to the other trials.

Pulling out a notebook, Jackie began to brainstorm ideas for his next experiment.

—

It took a few days of trial and error before Jackie was confident enough to test the device. Slipping the aids into his ears, he turned on his laptop and prepared to note his findings. Taking a deep breath, he turned on the device and stood up, leaning over his desk to open the window.

His arm knocked over his glass of water, liquid splashing onto his keyboard. As the water seeped into the computer, sparks began to fly out of the device, and Jackie felt a spark go through his body.

As the shock set in, he jumped, arms knocking things off the desk. Jackie froze as he heard his laptop fall, hitting the chair before snapping as it hit the floor. The tinkling of broken glass felt like thousands of needles scratching his head. He winced as the rustling of clothes assaulted his ears, and he clapped his hands over them as he curled into a ball, the sounds of the world beginning to give him a headache.

—

Marvin raced up the stairs the second he heard thumps from Jackie’s room. Outside his brother’s room, waited until the noises stopped before slamming open the door. As he dashed inside, he immediately crouched beside his cowering sibling.

“Jackie, are you alright? Jackie!” He tapped Jackie’s shoulder, leaning back as his brother stared at him with wide eyes. He took a deep breath, calming his hammering heart, then raised his hands slowly to his ears and cleared his throat.

“Loud…” his voice was croaky, evidence that he’d never used it before, however his pronunciation was clear, proof of his years of mimicking Marvin’s speech patterns. His brother gently placed his hands over Jackie’s ears, carefully removing the hearing aids and placing them on the floor.

When Jackie was looking at him again, he began to talk.

“Are you alright now? Is there anything I can do?” His brother paused, looking to the side as he thought, then he carefully put the hearing aids back in, rolling his finger along the back of the device to turn the volume down.

Clearing his throat, Jackie looked at his brother.

“Will you… take me to… test these?”

—

The brothers wandered around the park, Marvin holding Jackie’s hand and telling him the names of the sounds he heard. Despite it being a weekend, Jackie was grateful that the park was relatively empty, as he wasn’t as overwhelmed by the noises.

Marvin sat him down under a tree, well away from other people, and leaned against his older brother. Jackie closed his eyes, bathing in the new sounds, before Marvin tapped his arm. He looked down, seeing a question in his brother’s eyes.

“How are you able to talk so well? You haven’t spoken in all the years I’ve known you.” The older sibling smiled, motioning to his eyes as he began to speak.

“I watched you talk. When you would sleep, I’d imitate everything I saw you saying. I may have been deaf, but I know how to speak.” He ruffled his brother’s hair lovingly, smile widening as the sounds of Marvin’s laughter graced his ears.

The duo sat under the tree a while longer, listening to the world pass by, until Marvin suggested looking for somewhere to eat dinner. As they stood up, Jackie removed his hearing aids and put them in his pocket, shrugging to Marvin as the younger sibling gave him a questioning look. He pointed to his head, giving a short sign that he was getting a headache.

—

As Marvin and Jackie walked down an alley on their way home, a presence made itself known with an electrical charge to Marvin’s leg, causing him to grab Jackie’s arm on his way down. Jackie looked at Marvin, then behind them to find the man from so long ago, smiling at him.

“You’ve come back. I wondered if I’d get to see you again,” Jackie read, watching the nicotine-stained lips move. The man moved closer, taser flickering in his hand, before pressing the device into Jackie’s chest, causing him to shake as electricity coursed through him.

He fell, watching as Marvin feebly reached for something to help him up.

—

Marvin stood shakily, readying his hands as he turned toward the intruder.

“Don’t touch my brother. You can hurt me, harm me, but if you touch my brother again… I’ll kill you.” The man just laughed, stepping closer before dropping his weapon as Marvin delivered a blow to his inner elbow.

—

Jackie watched, occasionally twitching, as his brother fought the intruder. He closed his eyes as a surge of heat rolled through his body, then an immense pressure built behind his ears before bursting, and he jumped as he suddenly heard the sounds of the fight.

He crawled to a stand, hand against his chest as his other hand pressed against his ear. Something in that taser had made his hearing return, and he wanted to help.

—

Marvin stared as Jackie joined the battle, dodging the attacks with a speed only achieved by… a sense of hearing. His eyes widened as he looked at the taser on the ground, and began to connect the dots.

As the man stumbled away, Marvin hooked an arm under Jackie’s own and helped him back home.

—

“That taser gave you your hearing, didn’t it?” He asked as soon as the siblings returned home. Jackie paused, turning to Marvin with wide eyes. He glanced away, rubbing his arm uncomfortably as he began to speak.

“I think so. I don’t really understand how, but I could hear things suddenly.” Marvin nodded, thinking, before he looked decidedly at Jackie.

“We’re getting a hearing test tomorrow. Keep working on the hearing device; maybe it can help in a different way.”

—

The hearing test revealed that Jackie’s hearing was about 75% of the level that the average person had. When Marvin came to pick him up, the older sibling was standing outside the clinic with his hearing aids in.

“Hey, I didn’t think you’d need those,” he commented as he hugged his brother.

“I modified them last night,” Jackie replied, taking one side out and handing it to Marvin.

“Test it. I programmed it to work in higher frequency chirps and beeps, and developed my own code to interpret them. I can hear things from a distance, and figure out what’s going on if I really want to.”

Marvin smiled as the words Jackie said were translated to lines of beeps that he couldn’t understand, then moved to hand the device back.

“Keep that side. I’ve got this one, and both of them in give me a headache.”

—

Months after the hearing test, Jackie was sitting at his desk, fiddling with his digital watch. Marvin came into the room, holding a box of magic tricks, and sat on his bed.

“What are you doing, Jackie?” The elder sibling leaned back, holding the device as he rubbed his eyes.

“Developing something. I’m looking into helping people.” He held the device up toward Marvin, who watched as sever blinking lights flashed over a map of the town. He looked at his brother, whose eyes were shining.

“I’m going to be a hero.”

[juju-on-that-yeet]

Unravel, Chapter 14/20

Work Summary: Antisepticeye has a plan to destroy Darkiplier, steal his power, and take over everything - and he might just succeed. What starts with Yandereplier going missing evolves into a messy web of betrayal and grief, of blood and tears, of old wounds and new faces. However this ends, Ego Inc. will never be the same again. Chapter Summary: After Anti’s devastating attack, all the egos can do is lick their wounds and mourn the ones they’ve lost. Some of them are coping worse than others. Warnings: Implied death + discussions of death, some graphic descriptions

Read on AO3

Enjoy!

~

To most of the egos, the first few days after Anti’s attack are a blur, spent in a haze of grief and despondency that turns them all into zombies. Half the egos have the nightmares that Natemare gave them to keep them up at night, the other half have the memory of Anti ripping out the hearts of their friends. Time is meaningless in the wake of those horrors, and hours can pass by with the egos doing nothing but remembering.

The only ego who truly feels each creeping second of each creeping day is Google.

Granted, that’s not true of those hours immediately after the fight. With Dr. Iplier and Plus both dead, Google is the group’s best medic, and it becomes his job to triage and help everyone. He stitches up and gives ice packs to the main group, he gives oxygen to and monitors the breathing of the weaker egos, and does what he can for the three dead. None of it is easy work. Everyone is upset, some are angry. Just when everyone has mostly stopped crying, the news of exactly what ended the battle comes out to those who weren’t there, and half of those egos start crying again at the thought of Wilford snapping Jackie and Marvin’s necks. No one blames Wilford for doing it given the circumstances, but they still grieve Jackie and Marvin, they still consider them friends, or at least friendly. When Silver hears about Jackie’s death, he goes silent. Once he’s been treated by Google, he goes to his room and stays there for three days, not even coming out to eat.

Google can’t care. Even once everyone’s injuries are treated, he still has too much to worry about. There are still duties that are now his responsibility, some that he thinks he’s doing better than others.

He has to look after Celine now, for one thing. She’s returned to the clinic once the excitement of the fight is over, and Google has to make sure her condition doesn’t change. He fashions a chip to put in her heart monitor that will alert him to any significant change in her heart rate, so that at least makes the work easier. Also in the clinic is Dr. Iplier’s body, and that’s considerably less easy to address. Google patches up the hole in his chest to the best of his ability; partly because it’s customary to fix those fatal injuries when figments die in case they come back to life, and partly because it was unnerving to look at the hole through his chest and the blood all over his body. Whenever Google looks in on him, someone is always there. Sometimes Host, sometimes Yandere, sometimes even them both together, talking to Dr. Iplier or crying or just sitting numbly. Google never watches long. It reminds him of the emotions in his own mind that he’s trying to avoid.

Those emotions start to swarm him when he’s repairing Plus and Oliver, both of whom have been placed on stretchers in his workshop for him and Chrome to repair. Anti broke up both their cores, smashing a chunk of each into tiny pieces and breaking countless metal plates and snapping countless wires as his hands went through their bodies. The only thing keeping Google from giving into the tidal wave of despair that creeps up when he looks at his little brothers is the fact that, from the neck up, they don’t look dead at all. Androids don’t go pale or rigid with death like humans do. The absence of breathing isn’t strange, either, since androids hardly need to breathe at all. If Google just looks at their faces, they could pass for being asleep. If he’s not looking at their faces, he’s looking at the holes in their chest. Stitching up Dr. Iplier was comparatively easy; Plus and Oliver are mechanical marvels, with hundreds of parts to repair, to recreate, to reorder, to replace. He has Chrome to work alongside him, but Chrome isn’t much help.

Google has been keeping his emotions down, but Chrome has not, cannot.

It’s not a surprise to Google. Chrome’s never been able to control his emotions, even when he really tried, though he usually didn’t. Now, not only are his brothers dead, but it was his hands that dealt the killing blows. It was Anti’s fault, of course, and Google knows that Chrome knows that, but it doesn’t make the guilt go away. It doesn’t make Chrome feel any better. He can hardly stand to work on his brothers, can hardly bear being in the same room as them. He either destroys his room, breaking his prototypes in half and punching the wall in directionless rage, or he wallows in despair, screaming and crying more than Google even knew he was capable of. Maybe the worst part of it all is that Google has no idea what to do about it. He doesn’t know what to say to his brother. He tries telling Chrome that he doesn’t blame him for what happened, that it wasn’t his fault, that Plus and Oliver will (hopefully) be okay, but none of it sticks. It all feels trite, even if it’s true. Chrome’s never gone to Google for comfort, they’ve never had that kind of relationship.

But Chrome and Yandere do.

Google sees them together often. It’s not a new thing to see, but things are different between them now. They both carry a grief so suffocating, so unimaginable that it might swallow them both whole if they didn’t have each other to turn to. It’s good for them both; Google is certain that Chrome would drown in his guilt and sorrow without Yandere, and he can only imagine what Yandere might do to himself if he had to bear the loss of another loved one alone. They both feel guilt for what happened during the fight with Anti. Chrome’s reasons are obvious; Google hears him describe to Yandere how he can still feel the oil on his skin, still feel the weight of his brother’s cores in his hands, still feel the curl of his fingers into the delicate machinery. Yandere has his own guilt to wrestle with as well. From what Google can gather, Dr. Iplier sacrificed himself to keep Anti from hurting Yandere, and Yandere regrets how angry and hateful he was to Dr. Iplier before his death. As upset with Dr. Iplier as he was, he never wanted anything like this. Yandere and Chrome understand each other’s grief better than anyone.

Google will walk through the control room for a screw or a metal plate, and see Chrome and Yandere on the couch there, trying to comfort each other. Sometimes Yandere will be curled in Chrome’s lap, wailing into his chest, and Chrome will be holding him, stoically stroking his hair. Other times Chrome will be the one breaking down, sobbing hard enough to need coolant refills afterwards to replace the tears, and Yandere will hug him tight, whispering gentle words into his hair. Google can’t help but be envious at how Yandere can get that close to Chrome. He wonders why it’s so hard for him to connect with his little brother, why it’s so easy for Yandere. Somehow Yandere, between fits of grief, can become Chrome’s pillar of support, and Google, despite his database of information, can’t understand it.

That is, he can’t understand until one day, when Chrome is trashing his room again and Google can’t get him to calm down. Chrome shouts over everything Google tries to say, won’t listen to the words that he can hear. Google’s so focused on trying to get through to Chrome that he doesn’t know Yandere has come into the room, attracted by the noise, until he speaks.

“Aka-kun?” he asks, “What’s going on?”

Google is a little impressed. Yandere has red, irritated eyes from crying earlier in the day, but he’s utterly fearless in the face of Chrome’s destructive rage. Upon seeing him, Chrome’s nostrils flare and he turns away, eyes still blazing red.

“Go away,” he growls, so low the air rumbles.

“I won’t,” Yandere replies, undeterred. He steps into the room alongside Google.

“Leave me alone!!” Chrome yells, punching the wall, putting the dozenth hole in it since he started this fit.

“I’m not going to,” Yandere says, a note of stubbornness entering his voice, “And I don’t think you actually want me to. Come on, look over here.”

Chrome stomps further into his room. He still hasn’t turned to look at Yandere. He says nothing.

“If you really wanted me to leave, you’d say it to my face. Come on, otouto, look at me.”

Many moments pass. Google waits for Yandere to speak again, but he doesn’t. He stays where he is, stays silent, and simply stares at Chrome, expression so gentle Google can hardly look at it. Chrome continues throwing things for a long minute, but eventually goes still again, body shaking with rage. It takes nearly another full minute for him to look back over his shoulder at Yandere. His eyes are narrowed and blinding bright red, but tears are flowing down his cheeks.

“Come here, otouto,” Yandere murmurs. If his voice were any softer, Google thinks, it would break in two.

After a few more agonizing moments, Chrome finally turns around and shuffles to Yandere. He’s no less angry, Google can tell, but he seems tired, exhausted from his own hot-blooded rage. When he reaches Yandere, he hugs him, lifting him off the ground to hold him close. It reminds Google of a child hugging a teddy bear nearly as big as they are. Unlike a teddy bear, Yandere hugs back, arms wrapping around Chrome’s neck as he lets his legs dangle. He starts talking to Chrome, whispering gently, and Chrome walks out of the room and to the couch that he and Yandere always go to, carrying Yandere with him.

Google tries to return to work on Plus and Oliver, though the whole interaction stays in his mind. It doesn’t help that his advanced hearing can pick up hints of Chrome’s muffled tears and Yandere’s whispers from the other room. That evening, when Google hears Chrome go back to his room to start cleaning up and charge for the night, he listens for Yandere to start walking out of the control room. Instead, he hears Yandere’s footsteps come closer, until he looks up to see Yandere standing in the doorway of the workshop.

“What?” Google asks. He feels a little protective, suddenly, over his two little brothers’ bodies, both laid out in full view. But Yandere doesn’t look at them, only at Google. His eyes are no longer red-rimmed, and he seems calm yet curious.

“You’ve been staring at me and Aka-kun a lot,” Yandere asks, “What’s up with that?”

Google is surprised, not just at Yandere’s boldness, but at his observation.

“Blunt, aren’t we,” is all he says in reply.

“No more than you on the average day,” Yandere scoffs, though he manages a quick grin. “Seriously, though. You’re always looking, but I can’t tell what you’re thinking when you do.”

“Must you know?”

“Well…I have a hunch.”

“Do you.”

“Yeah. So…why do you always stare?”

Google must be going nuts. All those moments of holding in his feelings must be making him loopy. He decides he might as well tell Yandere what he’s been thinking. The world has already gone so sideways, a little more crazy couldn’t hurt.

“I can’t get through to him,” Google says, not bothering to clarify who he means. “Not just today, not just when he throws fits, but not at all, ever. Not since the fight.” He looks down at Plus, who he’s currently working on. “He’s so locked in, and I can’t get through. I’ve never had to worry about him like this before, he’s never needed me like that. But he does now, and nothing I say seems to make a difference. Yet you do. He listens to you. The things you say work. How?”

There’s a pause as Yandere considers this.

“Was that your hunch?” Google asks, only a little derisive.

“Sorta,” Yandere admits. “I know from Aka-kun that you guys don’t get all, like, touchy-feely about stuff. I don’t think he minds that, that’s just how it is. But I think I know why that is, and why he goes to me for emotional stuff instead.”

“Why?” Google can’t help but ask.

“You aren’t vulnerable,” Yandere replies. “You said Aka-kun’s locked in, but so are you. Aka-kun’s told me that he hasn’t seen you cry or grieve or anything. Not that he thinks you don’t care, and I don’t think that, either. But I think he sees how you don’t, like, emote about it, and he’s internalized it. He can’t relate to you. He can’t be vulnerable to you unless he’s losing control, and I think it’s because a part of him doesn’t know if you’ll understand. Because you’ve been the cool big brother this whole time.”

“One of us has to be collected,” Google mutters, though Yandere’s words spear him deep. For someone normally so dramatic, Yandere is much more emotionally intelligent than Google would’ve guessed. “It has to be me.”

“You don’t have to fall apart or anything,” Yandere says, “Just…unlock. Open the door. Let him know you have feelings in there, and maybe then he’ll feel like he can talk to you.”

Even after Yandere leaves and night falls, his words stick. The more Google turns them over in his mind, the more he thinks Yandere’s right. From the outside, he realizes, he must look close to invincible. How could Chrome know that Google’s single-minded drive to fix his brothers and keep Ego Inc. standing is a way to chase away his own despair? But Google fears that if he tries to unlock, tries to open the door a crack to give Chrome vulnerability, that the door will swing wide open out of his hands and he’ll be just as despondent as Chrome, and then nothing will get better.

It takes another few days before Google gets an opportunity to be vulnerable, and it starts with Bing of all people.

Bing took the news of Oliver’s death hard, and the time it took Google to repair Bing’s injuries was difficult for them both. Bing steers clear of the control room for a while, and Google doesn’t care to know what he does with his time. He has enough to deal with without worrying about someone he doesn’t even like. But then Bing walks into the control room, managing to choose a moment when Google and Chrome are both there, taking a break from fixing the others.

“What are you doing here?” Chrome is first to ask, voice venomous. Google’s reaction isn’t so severe, but he isn’t happy to see Bing, either.

“I’m not here to start anything,” Bing starts, defensive. He sighs. “I just…you guys are still repairing Ollie and Plus, right?”

“Why do you ask?” Google counters, approaching Bing. Chrome follows, eyes starting to glow red.

Bing almost steps back, intimidated, but it only takes a moment for the anxiety to wash out of his eyes and replace itself with numb sadness. Google suddenly wants to look away. Bing has the same look in his eyes that Google sees every time he looks in a mirror.

“Ollie’s my best friend,” Bing says, “And I know you have him and Plus to fix, and a lot of other shit to deal with since Doc’s gone, so…” Bing steels himself, meets Google’s eyes with determination. “I wanna help you repair the others.”

Google only has a split-second to be shocked before Chrome interjects.

“No fucking way,” he snaps, “Why the hell would you offer to help us!? You hate us!”

“I want to help!” Bing insists, “Maybe I don’t like you guys, but I care about Ollie, and Ollie cares about Plus, and I’m the only other person who can fix them aside from you and Googs.”

“I’m not letting you touch my brothers in a million years!!” Chrome shouts, “How the fuck do I know you aren’t gonna do something to them, if not to Ollie then to Green!?”

“Jesus, I’m not a fucking monster!!” Bing exclaims, reeling back as though struck, “If you’re really that worried about it I can just help with Ollie and leave Plus alone!” He scoffs and shakes his head. “Just because you and Google were a dick to me when Mini Bing died doesn’t mean I’m gonna sink to your level. But I’m not gonna make you accept my help, so fine. Talk to me if you change your mind, or don’t, I tried.”

Just before he turns to leave, Google sees that numbness filter back into Bing’s eyes. Then he’s gone, walking out of the control room without looking back. Google is left stunned by the whole interaction, and turns to Chrome as soon as Bing is gone.

“What the hell was that?” he asks flatly.

“Don’t tell me you were gonna let Bing work on the others!” Chrome exclaims, eyes still burning red.

Honestly, Google was. He could tell just by looking at Bing that he wasn’t lying about his intentions and his reasoning. It may have hurt Google’s pride to accept help from his nemesis, but Oliver and Plus are more important than a petty grudge. And Bing was right; Google has too much on his plate to turn down an extra pair of hands.

“We need more help,” Google says, trying to be diplomatic, “There’s still so much we have to fix, and I’m busy being everyone’s doctor on top of it.”

“We’re not getting help from Bing!!” Chrome spits, getting in Google’s face. “We don’t need that moron screwing things up even worse!!”

“He knows our mechanics better than anyone else in this building,” Google retorts, frowning deeply, “And you know as well as I do that Bing was telling the truth about his feelings. Are you really too proud to accept help??”

Chrome glares at Google petulantly, but says nothing. After days of running on empty and pushing down grief, something in Google breaks.

“You’ve got some nerve to turn Bing away when you’ve done almost nothing since your brothers died,” Google snarls, voice dripping with poison, “All you’ve done is throw tantrums and break things while I try to make things better. I’m getting Bing to help us and you’re getting your head out of your ass before I come back.”

Chrome draws back, and his expression barely changes, but not even his relentless rage can hide the spark of pain that flits through his eyes. He turns away from Google, stomping to his room and slamming the door. Google regrets what he said before the sound stops reverberating through the air.

“You don’t have to fall apart or anything,” Yandere had said.

“A bit late for that now,” Google thinks bitterly.

He knows he has to apologize, but he also knows he has to give Chrome time to cool off before he tries. As an android whose internal clock is always attuned to the exact millisecond of every moment, time is straightforward and linear and unsurprising. Yet the twenty minutes Google waits to talk to Chrome is the longest twenty minutes he’s ever experienced.

When he knocks on Chrome’s door, he already expects him not to respond. The silence still aches, stretching long between them. Google knows better than to try pleasantries, so he takes a deep breath and begins.

“I’m sorry,” he says, “I’m sorry I said those things. I know what happened really hurt you, I know you’re reacting to that. I…I can’t imagine how you feel. I don’t want to imagine it. I don’t even want to think about how I feel.” Google sighs, Yandere’s advice ringing in his head. “The truth is, I’m terrified. I’m terrified that I’ll be working on Ollie and Green and they’ll both just disappear in front of me. I feel guilty, like if I’d just been faster or been a few steps closer when they were killed, I could’ve stopped Anti from killing them. And I’m sad, I’m so sad all the time, I miss them both so much, I almost hate looking at their bodies.” Google leans forward, letting his forehead gently thunk Chrome’s door. Now that the words are coming, he can’t stop them. “I’ve been keeping all that down because I didn’t want to make things worse for you and I didn’t want any distractions from repairing the others. I feel like I have to be the strong one. But it means we’ve been drifting apart. The one thing I haven’t been able to do is be there for you, and I’m sorry for that. I want that to change, I just…” Google’s throat tightens, tears collect in his eyes, and he can’t decide if he hates or craves the sensation. “I didn’t want to stop being strong. I don’t want to fall apart. But…” A sob escapes him. “Maybe I have to.”

The door opens. Chrome is standing there, eyes still red but no longer glaring. They’re wide, tear-filled, leaking coolant down his cheeks. He opens his mouth, but nothing comes out but a whimper. He stops trying to talk and throws his arms around Google instead, squeezing tight enough to crack a human’s ribs.

But it’s not too tight for Google, and Google hugs back just as hard, and finally lets himself feel.

Some time later, when they’re both done crying, Chrome speaks up first.

“I’m sorry, too,” he says quietly. “You were right about Bing, I was being an ass.”

“Wait, admitting you were wrong and that you were a jerk?” Google asks, feigning shock, “Who are you and what have you done with my brother?”

Chrome snorts, letting Google go and stepping out of the hug to look him in the eyes.

“Seriously,” he continues, “I mean, I know I haven’t done much, and Bing was telling the truth about everything, I just…” He looks away. “I hate the thought that the guy I hate could do more for my own brothers than me.”

“I hate it, too,” Google admits, “I’m definitely not looking forward to asking him for help. But the others need it, and they’d need it no matter how much you were helping me.”

Chrome nods, considering. He looks back at Google.

“I hate looking at them,” he says, brows drawing together in sadness. “I hate seeing them like that, and remembering what I did…”

“That was Anti, not you,” Google tells him, “I’ll say it until you believe it.”

Chrome smiles, crooked and tear-stained but unmistakable, and that’s when Google thinks they might be okay.

Going to Bing and asking him to help out is as awkward as Google feared it would be, but once he’s assured that Chrome is okay with it, he accepts and starts working on Oliver like he offered. Now that the dam’s broken between Google and Chrome, Chrome is able to contribute more, though he still has to take frequent breaks. He and Yandere continue to help each other, but from what snippets of conversation he overhears, Google can tell that Chrome needs less from Yandere than he did before. Yandere catches Google’s eye at one point and gives him a huge smile, and Google can only shake his head and grin in return.

Despite that ray of light, Ego Inc. remains shrouded in darkness. Oliver and Plus are still dead, and so is Dr. Iplier, and so is Dark. Everyone is still upset, still sad, still in mourning. Google is still the one in charge of healing everyone. He still has to monitor the other egos, still has to change Host’s bandages every other day while he weeps over Dr. Iplier, still has to see if the dead have risen or if Celine has awoken, still has to attend strategy meetings with an increasingly-despondent Wilford, still has to fear every crackle of static electricity or glitch in a monitor in case it means that Anti is back. It’s likely that he’s waiting for Jackie and Marvin to wake up again, but given how popular they are, it won’t take long, and the egos aren’t ready to face him again. Despite the meetings, there’s no new ideas, no plans, nothing. Ego Inc. is still suffering with no end in sight.

The drudgery is interrupted when, a week and a half after Anti’s attack, the chip Google put in Celine’s heart monitor goes off.

It pings until Google turns off the notification, telling him that her heart rate has gone up. Google has no idea what it means; even Dr. Iplier barely knew what to make of Celine’s condition, what to make of the fluctuations in her vitals. Still, Google leaves the control room and walks down the hall to the clinic to make sure nothing’s wrong with her. He doesn’t know what he expects to see as he opens the door to her room.

It sure as hell isn’t Celine sitting up in bed, looking wildly around herself, hands clenched around the rails of her hospital bed. Her gaze lands on Google, dark eyes wide and piercing. Google is sure that even a human would hear her rapid heartbeat from the doorway. Yet when she speaks, her voice is strong, sharp, as harsh and angry as Google remembers from the videos she’s in, yet breathless and strained with nerves.

“What is going on,” she gasps, “And where on earth is my brother?”

[iamvegorott]

A New Life Ch. 8

Too Many Names

Illinois woke up with a painfully dry mouth. He kept his eyes closed as he blindly reached around for one of the several water bottles sitting on the end table. He managed to open it up and then drank the whole thing in one go, gasping for air when he finished. Illinois rubbed his face with both hands and then started patting around the bed, trying to find Yancy. 

“Yanc?” Illinois’ voice came out hoarse, making him clear his throat. “Yanc?” He tried again, a little clearer this time. Illinois noticed the mess that was the blankets and decided to look over the edge of the bed, holding back a laugh when he finally found Yancy. 

Yancy was on the ground, stomach down, head to the side with his mouth wide open as he slept, little hums coming from him as he breathed, showing that he was still asleep. Illinois smiled and crawled off of the bed and laid on the ground next to Yancy, noticing that his movement had started waking Yancy up. 

“Wha-” Yancy scrunched his face up. 

“Morning~” Illinois sang.

“No.” Yancy turned his head to the other side. 

“If you’re going to sleep in, at least be on the bed.” Illinois sat up and crossed his legs, poking at Yancy’s side. 

“D-Don’t.” Yancy tried to hold back a giggle. 

“What was that?” Illinois kept poking at Yancy. 

“Stop!” Yancy rolled over to his back. 

“Gotta make sure you’re up.” Illinois crawled over and sat on top of Yancy, going full force into tickling him. 

“Ah! I’m awake! I’m awake!” Yancy slapped at Illinois’ arms, laughing loudly. 

“Morning.” Illinois stopped his hands, leaned down, and grinned.

“Yous a shit,” Yancy said.

“You’re right.” Illinois winked. 

“I…” Yancy found himself losing what he was going to say. He placed a hand on Illinois’ chest and felt his face get warm when Illinois took that hint and moved in closer. “Hey.” 

“Hey.” Illinois waited a second before going down all the way and pressing his and Yancy’s lips together. 

Yancy had his other hand go to Illinois’ chest as well, telling Illinois he wanted more and was comfortable. Illinois had his own hands go to Yancy’s waist and give it a little squeeze, tilting his head and silently telling Yancy to part his lips with his tongue. Yancy’s hands curled up and a little whimper came from him when he did what he was told. 

“You’re adorable,” Illinois said when he parted to let them catch their breath. 

“N-No I’m not.” Yancy’s face was bright red and he couldn’t keep his mouth closed as he panted.

“Sure you’re not.” Illinois went down for another kiss but paused when the door was knocked on. 

“Wilford?” Yancy asked.

“He wouldn’t knock.” Illinois got up and helped Yancy to his feet. Both of them went over to the door and opened it, not expecting to have to look down.

“More kids?” Yancy said, seeing two young boys in front of him. One stood in front of the other, bright purple hair and glazed over gray eyes, and the one behind him, who was much shyer had a tint of blue to his own hair with black eyes and strangle lines on his face. 

“You see dads?” The boy in front asked. 

“Dads?” Illinois asked. 

“My dads Chay and Mar and Blank dad is Mare.” The boy in front gestured as he spoke. 

“The parents,” Yancy said. “Chase and Marvin, right?” Yancy saw the boy nod his head. “And Mare is his, Blank’s, dad?”

“Yep!” The boy perked up. 

“And you are?” 

“Oh! I Robbie.” The boy pointed a thumb at himself. “I zombie.” 

“You’re...a zombie?” Yancy wasn’t sure if Robbie meant it literally or not, either would not shock him. 

“I Virus, like Ant.” Blank finally spoke, but stayed behind Robbie and was holding his arm. 

“Anti?” Yancy got another head nod. Illinois stayed back and watched Yancy interact with the kids, figuring that he was doing really good on his own and didn’t want to throw off the vibe. 

“You know where at?” Robbie asked. 

“Sorry fellas, but we hasn’t seen them yet. We just woke up.” 

“Okay! Let go ask Wilf.” Robbie took Blank’s hand and lead him down the hall. 

“I need coffee,” Illinois said. 

“Same.” Yancy slipped out of the room. 

“Hopefully we’re not missing anyone else. I don’t think I can keep track of any more names.” Illinois chuckled as they made their way to the kitchen. 

“Yous just jinxed us.” Yancy bumped Illinois with his hip. 

“Morning guys.” Illinois greeted Mad and Mare when he saw them. Mad was drinking from a fairly large glass with what looked like iced coffee in it and Mare had a mug himself. 

“Morning.” Mare greeted back while Mad just tilted his head, staring at them. 

“I’m guessing you crashed here last night?” Illinois asked. 

“Everyone did, there’s plenty of room here and it’s safer to keep everyone in one place when alcohol is involved,” Mare answered. 

“Is that why yous kid here?” Yancy asked, seeing Mare’s face change to worry. 

“He’s up? He shouldn’t be up.” Mare placed his mug down. 

“He’s in the hallways with Chase and Marvin’s kid.” 

“I was hoping they’d sleep in.” Mare sighed and headed out of the room. 

“Blank is-”

“I know,” Mare said to Phantom as he passed him. Yancy quickly looked away from Phantom when he realized he was only wearing an oversized shirt. 

“You know it’s proper to at least have some pants on when you’re at someone else’s home,” Mad said, finally snapped out of his staring. 

“It’s also not proper to get fucked in someone else’s house.” Phantom giggled while Mad clamped his lips together. “And boy, did I get fucked last night.” Phantom took the mug Mare was drinking from and took a sip himself. “Let me tell you about how Jackie-”

“We don’t want to hear it.” Mad cut Phantom off. 

“Then plug your ears because I am excited to talk about getting the life railed from me.” Phantom laughed loudly as Dark came into the kitchen. Phantom smirked and bounced up to sit on the counter, eyes on Dark as he went to the kettle he was next to. 

“Yes?” Dark said, not looking at Phantom. 

“Looks like I’m not the only one who had fun last night.” Phantom poked Dark’s neck, pointing out the several bruises that were there. 

“Don’t touch me.” Dark slapped Phantom’s hand away. 

“I forgot, only Anti can touch you~” Phantom tucked a leg up. 

“Shut up.” Dark pushed Phantom’s leg back down. “Don’t expose yourself more than you already are. 

“You mean like-” Phantom started to lift up the shirt but in a blink, Jackie was suddenly in front of him, hands on the shirt and keeping it down. 

“What the fuck?” Yancy fixed his hair that had been blown messy by a strange gust of wind. 

“Aw, you’re already possessive?” Phantom teased, wrapping his arms around Jackie’s neck. “Someone’s been wanting me longer than he’s let on~” 

“I-uh-we-we’re gonna-” Jackie grabbed Phantom and the two were gone, the same wind from before brushing by Yancy and Illinois. 

“Speed,” Dark answered before they could even ask. 

“I need bleach in my eyes.” Mad groaned and downed half of his coffee. 

“Do I need to tell Mare how fast you’re drinking that?” Dark said.

“Do I need to tell Edward how much sugar you’re using?” Mad said back.

“I feel like I’m watching one of those family shows on TV, but like, the more mature ones,” Yancy whispered to Illinois. 

“Hey, Darky~” Anti was now on the counter when Phantom had been before but at least he had pants on with his not-fitting shirt. “Oh, thought you’d be alone.” Anti popped his lips. 

“When are we ever alone?” Dark sighed. 

“I mean, last night-” Anti was cut off by Dark placing a hand over his mouth. “Darky, you’re supposed to have it here.” Anti lowered Dark’s hand to his throat. 

“I don’t want coffee anymore.” Yancy moved to leave and went face-first into a chest. 

“Sorry, didn’t think you’d be turning so fast.” Wilford chuckled. “How-” Wilford went to wrap an arm around Yancy’s shoulder but paused. “-may I?” 

“I-uh-yeah?” Yancy was not expecting him to ask permission. 

“How are we doing this morning?” Wilford grabbed Yancy’s shoulder and had him face the others. 

“Learning more about the others than expected or wanted,” Illinois said. 

“You’re just seeing the aftermath of a family gathering.” Wilford laughed. 

“I hope they don’t happen often,” Yancy muttered. 

“Well, now that Anti’s more in Dark’s favor, they might.” Wilford let Yancy go and went over to Dark and Anti. “We still on for our jobs today or do I need to make some calls?” Wilford asked Dark. 

“We’re still going as planned. Tell the others to meet in the room by noon and we’ll sort out from there.” Dark stated. “Have them be ready for the day as well, they are not to go on a job, they are just to observe the setup.” 

“Got it.” Wilford fired a finger gun and went right back over to Yancy and Illinois. “You heard the boss-man, get yourselves ready by noon and I’ll take you over to the meeting room. It’s time for you two to finally see what we do around here.” 

“Finally,” Illinois said and Yancy looked at Mad, who was once again watching them. Yancy turned away and joined Illinois at the coffee pot, he’ll ask about that later. 

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

Tag List: (let me know if you want added or if your name has changed) 

@rainymae523 @m0th-goo @windymischeif @voonespelle @ashywasteland93@its-miinty

[yeet-me-dad-dy]

The Witch in the Woods

Note: Placeholder Title

Summary: You have one last hope for saving your sister, and it lies with the reclusive witch that lives deep in the forest.

Warnings: Mentions of blood

Characters: Marvin, Gender Neutral Reader

Words: 2,788

You trudged through the thick green underbrush of the overgrown forest outside of town, muttering to yourself in frustration as you fought with the branches that snagged your clothes and the pickers that got stuck in the bottoms of your shoes. You had been searching for two weeks now, spending whatever free time you had wandering the woods with your satellite GPS and a crude camping site map, intent on finding help.

Help…

You hoped he would be able to help; the barista who told you about him insisted he would. You weren’t sure what you would do if he couldn’t. You were out of options.

Out of options, out of time, and out of patience.

As the watch on your wrist ticked over to show 3 o’clock in the afternoon, you leaned against a gnarled old tree with a heavy sigh, panting and sweating from the exertion of trying to find your way through a forest with no footpaths. You were starting to think that this miracle worker you had heard rumors of was just that… rumors. Rumors, squashed hopes, and disappointment. You shrugged your backpack off of your shoulders and took a moment to sit against the tree to have a drink. It was as you tipped your head back to take a swig from your water bottle that you saw something you definitely hadn’t expected to see.

There, above the trees in the distance, was smoke. Not the kind of smoke from a forest fire, but the kind of smoke from a chimney. A chimney meant a house, and a house meant people, but… a house? Out here? Who on earth would build a house in the middle of this wild place?

Regardless, you put your water away and pulled your backpack back on, then set off in the direction of the smoke. If nothing else, maybe the residents would have a bathroom you could use.

Roughly half an hour later, you stepped out of the densely packed trees and into a small clearing. Across from you, on the edge of the clearing with its back against the trees, only fifty meters or so from you, was a little square stone cottage. It was the very picture of serenity, there in the sunlight, with a little wind chime hanging from the porch roof above a rickety looking old garden swing, a hammock set up on a wooden frame to the right of the house with a small table beside it, a variety of odd looking decorations hanging from the trees on the edge on the clearing. The cottage itself was small, made mostly of stone, with vines crawling up the sides, wooden shutters, and yellowing old glass in the windows. A chimney stuck up from the right, reaching into the clear blue sky and puffing out gray smoke like an old boat captain with a pipe.

Despite its fairy tale appearance, you approached cautiously. You had come into this forest to find a powerful witch, and this was the home of a witch if ever there was one.

The three wooden steps that lead up to the porch creaked and groaned beneath your weight, and for a moment, you thought you might collapse beneath you and trap your legs, leaving you at the mercy of the witch in the woods, stuck and helpless. The steps didn’t collapse, however, and your heart pounded in your chest as you stopped before the front door. It was painted a very deep shade of royal purple and there was a strange symbol painted roughly head height in black pigment. You swallowed your apprehension and knocked.

You couldn’t stop the flood of images that rushed through your brain as you waited for someone to answer. You were scared of who or what exactly was going to answer the door. You expected some gnarled old man, clad in dirty brown robes, with a twisted jewel-topped staff and one blind eye, with a crow perched on his shoulder. Or perhaps a withered old hag with a wart on her long, crooked nose, and a feathered shawl, with a mean black cat at her feet.

Minutes passed, and you had knocked three times with no answer. You had no intention of leaving, not after you had come this far. You were considering going and relaxing in the hammock while you waited for the cottage’s owner to arrive, but the door swung open before you had a chance to turn around.

The person who answered the door was absolutely not what you were expecting.

He was young and fit, with long brown hair that you were sure would fall well past his shoulders if he didn’t have it up in a very messy bun. He wore a puffy white Shakespearean shirt and high-waisted black trousers, all very vintage, but also very comfortable-looking. His outfit, however, was not what caused you to take a step back in surprise.

No, that would be the skeletal cat mask he wore, with piercing green eyes gazing out at you through the eye sockets.

“What?” he asked sharply, and you jumped.

It was as you struggled to remember who you were and why you were here that you noticed how tired and quickly put together he looked.

“If you woke me just to stare at me, I will absolutely turn you into a toad for it.”

“No!” you answered quickly. You definitely want to be toaded. “No, sorry, I was just…” You cleared your throat. “I came to ask for your help.”

“Yeah, that’s usually why people end up here,” he responded, more softly now.

He pulled the door open and stepped back, gesturing you to come in with a flourish of his hand.

“Come in then.”

You took a deep breath and stepped over the threshold into the cottage.

Before you was a very quaint little home, with one large main room and a much smaller one in the back left corner, the perfect size for a lone witch living in the depths of the forest to exist comfortably in. Directly in front of you was a table and chairs, just big enough for two people, and to the right of that, the fireplace sat smoldering against the wall. It was a comfortable temperature, despite the heat outside and the burning coals. The witch made his way into the kitchen to the left, which was nothing more than a long counter with a sink and oven, and a fridge at the end. It was as you watched him open the fridge and pull out a pitcher of what you assumed was strawberry lemonade that it dawned on you that this place had electricity… somehow.

“Make yourself comfortable,” the stranger said as he made his way back to you with the lemonade in one hand and a tray with cakes and honey in the other. He set both down, and you took a seat. He took the one across from you, poured himself a drink, and stuffed nearly an entire cake in his mouth at once.

You shifted nervously in your chair and eyed the food. Your stomach rumbled, but you would be damned if you were going to eat anything a strange forest witch offered you.

“It’s not gonna poison you,” he said, as if reading your mind.

Your face heated up in embarrassment and you chuckled dryly.

“I didn’t think it would…” you replied, only half lying.

“So have some.” He pushed the tray toward you.

“Thanks. Um, I’m not hungry.”

“Yes you are, I can hear your stomach. Eat.”

You swallowed hard.

“I’m… I’m not really…”

It was rude to refuse food, especially from a witch, right? What would he do if you said no again? What would happen if you ate the food? There didn’t seem to be a good answer to this.

He leaned back in his chair and studied you with those bright green eyes of his. And then his lips twisted into a grin and he began to laugh. You stared at him, utterly confused at this sudden outburst.

“What-?”

“You think it’s like faeries, don’t you? You think if you eat the food you’re never gonna be able to leave, right?”

“I-” You didn’t finish your sentence. You weren’t even sure what that sentence would be. He was right, you couldn’t argue that.

“I’m not fae, I’m a witch. And why would I want to keep you here anyway? I want you to LEAVE so that I can go back to bed. I’m not offering you food to try and steal you away to some fantastical realm, I’m offering you food because it’s here, I’m eating it, and it would be rude not to.”

He grinned as he nudged the tray even closer to you.

You hesitated only a moment before you gave in and enjoyed one of his cakes. You’re glad you did. Not only did it taste wonderful, but you had run out of snacks a few hours ago and you were starving. He poured you some lemonade and you washed the crumbs down before you finally got to the reason you were here.

“My sister is sick,” you started.

He nodded and devoured another cake, seemingly uninterested.

“The doctors can’t seem to tell us what’s wrong with her, but she’s in so much pain she can barely sit up in her bed, let alone do anything else. It’s gotten so much worse lately, and she’s fallen into a deep depression. She won’t eat, she can’t sleep because of the pain, and she’s starting to go septic because she can’t get out of the bed and she’s in too much pain to roll over.

“Mmhmm.” He took a sip of his lemonade.

“I don’t want her to be in pain anymore.”

“So put her out of her misery.”

“What?” You were taken aback that he would even suggest something so barbaric. “I’m not gonna kill her! I want her to be better! I don’t want her to be in pain anymore! I want her to be able to do the things she used to do, like riding horses, and hiking. I want her to be able to go back to school or hang out at the mall with her friends!”

The witch sighed and leaned back in his chair.

“Alright, alright, calm down. I have something.”

“Good,” you snapped angrily.

“I assume you brought some form of payment?”

“Of course I did.”

You reached over and unzipped your backpack, then dipped an arm in to rummage around. Your hand brushed against the soft fabric bag you put the “payment” in, and you pulled it out.

“Here.” You handed it to him.

He took it from you without hesitation, loosened the drawstring to open the bag, and dumped its contents out in the palm of his hand. It was a knife in a well-worn leather sheath.

He tossed the bag aside, nearly into the honey cakes, undid the button to pull back the sheath’s safety strap, and pulled the knife free. He froze when he saw the blade in its entirety.

“It was my great grandfather’s. When he died, my grandmother put it away with some of his other things. It hadn’t been touched until I fished it out of the old trunk. The blade is silver and the handle is made of elk bone. It’s a full tang hunting knife.”

“A silver hunting knife…” the witch mused. “What exactly was your grandfather hunting, I wonder… There didn’t happen to be wooden stakes in that trunk of his, did there?” he joked with a smirk.

You didn’t return the gesture.

“Yes,” you answered plainly. “There were.”

The man’s smile dropped and he looked again at the blade, still as sharp as the day that your grandfather had last sharpened it.

“That knife has killed quite a few monsters, I suspect,” you said.

“Yes, I suppose it has…”

He ran the edge of the blade down his thumb. He didn’t even wince when it cut into the flesh, just sucked his finger into his mouth to lick it clean. He slipped the blade back into its sheath and then tucked it respectfully into the bag.

“This is sufficient payment. Stay here.”

He rose from the table and made his way to the back of the cottage, toward what looked like a little library area. You watched as he stopped in front of a bookshelf, crowded with old, dusty tomes and all manner of oddities, from carved figurines of animals to something that you didn’t want to know the identity of floating in a jar of murky liquid.

As the witch rummaged around in his belongings, your eye was drawn to the rickety little staircase - if it can be even called a staircase - near the kitchen that led up into a loft. You thought you could see the end of his bed, with a handmade quilt bunched up, hastily thrown back by whoever had been lying there. It seemed you had indeed woken him, and you felt a pang of guilt. He looked disheveled and tired when he answered the door.

“Here,” his voice came from the back, drawing your attention back to him.

He was kneeling on the ground on an ornate looking rug, surrounded by pillows, with his hand in a large black wooden box. He clutched something in his right hand, something you couldn’t quite see, and used his left to close and latch the box. He pushed himself to his feet, set the box back on its dusty shelf, and then returned to you.

He didn’t sit back in his spot, just stopped beside you and held out his hand. In his palm was a small glass vial with a liquid inside that looked suspiciously like blood. Hesitantly, you took it from him and turned it over and over, inspecting it uncertainly.

“What is it?” you asked, that same uncertainty evident in your voice.

“It’s your cure,” he stated plainly as he tucked his hands into his pockets.

“Looks like blood.”

“It’s got blood in it, but that’s not all it is.”

“Whose blood?”

He sighed heavily and rolled his eyes behind his cat mask.

“Look, if you don’t want it, then give it back.”

Quickly, you held it close. “No!”

“Then quit asking questions. It’s what you wanted.”

You rose to your feet to stand before him.

“Look, I’m in the middle of the woods in a creepy witch’s cottage. Excuse me for being a little bit uncertain!”

He huffed.

“YOU came to find ME. I’m just giving you what you asked in return for the payment you gave me. Alright?”

You squinted at him, not entirely sure you wanted to argue.

“How do I know it’ll work.”

“Oh my gods,” he mumbled, and wiggled his fingers up under his mask to rub his eyes. He dropped his arms back to his side and took in a deep breath. “You gave me the knife, I give you the potion,” he said more calmly, though there was still an edge of frustration in his voice. “Give it to your sister or don’t. I don’t care. Just get out of here so I can go back to bed.”

You hesitated.

“It’s not gonna kill her?”

“It’s not gonna kill her.”

“How long will it last?”

“Forever.”

You hesitated again, then nodded and reached down for your bag. You set it on the table, pushing the honey cakes aside so that you could unzip it and tuck the vial safely inside.

“Don’t break it,” the witch warned. “Unless you want to pay for another one.”

You didn’t respond. There were other things you could give, sure, but you really didn’t want to make the trek back through the forest again. You weren’t even sure you would be able to find this place a second time.

You shrugged your backpack on and held out your hand.

“Thank you for your help and the food. I hope you get some sort of use out of the knife.”

He looked down at your hand, but didn’t move to shake it.

“Sure, uh… You’re welcome. I hope I never see you again.”

You scoffed, but weren’t able to contain the playful smile that pulled at the corners of your lips.

“Ditto,” you chuckled. “Here’s to never meeting again.”

You returned your hand to your side and then turned to go. He followed you to the door, and you could feel his eyes on the back of your neck as you stepped out of the clearing and back into the shadows of the trees.

It was a few minutes later, as you were struggling once more through the underbrush that you had forgotten to ask the witch if you could use his bathroom.