#this ficlet got its own doc because i decided it needs one instead of just being in the prompt collection doc

[clenastia]

Chapters: 4/? Fandom: Original Work Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Additional Tags: Trans Character, main character is trans, main character's og family was transphobic, they dont appear in the fic tho just mentioned, d&d style worldbuilding, game mechanics, gods are real and they acknowledge trans people as real, i have no idea what im doing with the game mechanics yet, Im just having fun, Not Serious, Not Beta Read, inspired by writing prompt, Background Angst, semi-comedy? Series: Part 1 of So Adventurer, You Come Here Often? Summary:

Black Mages were just one class of dozens, before the war. Before Dreadfall. Now they're just the latest in an already-long list of banned classes. Too bad there's no such thing as a class reset, because this whole 'being hunted' thing is getting exhausting. Rav's always considered himself the adaptable sort though. (tell that to his anxiety, please and thank you)

[thelastspeecher]

I got in a Spy AU mood randomly the other day and we actually talked a bit about it on the Discord and came up with some new things (that I think I will try to write a ficlet to introduce at some point).  And as I went through my Spy AU word doc, I realized that I had a decently fluffy scene written that I never posted.  It’s basically a follow-up to this.  Enjoy.

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              With some difficulty, Angie shuffled the bags of groceries around until she could open the door.  She stepped inside the house.  Immediately, she heard footsteps run towards her.

              “Mama!” Daisy shrieked, colliding with Angie’s legs in her excitement.  Danny followed her twin at a slightly more sedate pace.  “Mama! Uncle Fidds brought us a kitty!”

              “I heard,” Angie said calmly.  “I brought some things fer the kitty while he stays with us.”

              “Do we get to keep him?” Danny asked.

              “No, we’re just takin’ care of him until his home is ready,” Angie answered. Danny and Daisy pouted.  “He’s not ours, sweetlings, he’s someone else’s. We can’t keep him.”  Stan poked his head out of the nearby kitchen.

              “Hey, Ang.”

              “Hey, yourself.  If you want to put away the groceries, I’ll get food ready fer the kitten.”

              “On it.”  Stan walked over and took the groceries from Angie.  “By the way, he’s hiding somewhere.  I think he got sick of getting his whiskers pulled.”

              “He’ll show up,” Angie said confidently.  “Girls, go ahead and get back to colorin’ or whatever it was you were doin’.  Yer dad and I will call ya when dinner’s ready.”

              “Okay,” Danny said dutifully.  She and Daisy wandered off.

              “I think Ford already regrets deciding to stay here,” Stan said in a low tone.  “We can’t leave him alone in a room with the girls.  They’re too excited to realize he doesn’t like getting tugged on.”

              “I figured as such,” Angie replied.  She followed Stan into the kitchen.  “But other than bein’ subjected to our daughters’ enthusiasm, how’s he doin’?”

              “He hacked up a hairball on the living room rug, got tangled up in a ball of yarn, and fell asleep in my lap for fifteen minutes.  So I think he’s adjusting to being a cat pretty well,” Stan said.  Angie chuckled.  She dug out the canned wet food from one of the grocery bags, along with a small food dish.

              “Makes ya wonder if he was meant to be a cat all along.”

              “Well, Fiddlesticks said that whatever Ford got splashed with is supposed to reveal your inner self.  Or somethin’ like that.”

              “Ah.”  Angie opened the cat food.  Much like when she walked through the door, the response was immediate.  Claws sounded on the hardwood floor.  “Someone must smell their dinner.”  Angie felt something tug at her pants leg.  She looked down, expecting to see one of her daughters.  Instead, it was a kitten resembling a lion cub, with feathery wings on its back.  It clung to Angie’s clothes, staring up at her with wide eyes.  “Howdy.”  The kitten meowed.  “How are you, Stanford?”

              “If you must ask, I suppose that I’m fine,” Ford said, “but I need to ask, is that food mine?”  Ford looked at the can of food.

              “Yes, it is yours,” Angie said.  Ford meowed again and began to climb further up her leg.  “Wh- hey!  Don’t do that!”  Ford ignored her, continuing to climb.  “Stan? Some help?”

              “On it.”  Stan grabbed Ford.  “Ford, what the hel- heck?”

              “I’m hungry, of course!  I could eat a horse!” Ford moaned.

              “Using Angie as your own personal jungle gym won’t make your food get ready faster,” Stan said.  Ford hissed quietly.

              “Here, eat up,” Angie said, setting the food dish on the floor.  Stan carefully put Ford down.  Ford rushed over and began to eat voraciously.  “Slow down.  The food’s not goin’ anywhere.”

              “Feathers is eating!” a voice squealed.  Stan and Angie looked over.  Danny and Daisy were standing in the entryway to the kitchen, watching Ford with wide eyes.

              “Uh, what did you just call him?” Stan asked.

              “Feathers,” Daisy chirped.  “‘Cause he’s got feathers!”

              “Oh.”  Stan looked at Angie.  “I guess it makes sense for them to come up with something other than ‘the kitty’.”

              “I wanna play with Feathers,” Daisy announced, marching over to Ford. Ford stopped eating and watched her approach, his back arched, fur standing on end.

              “No, leave him alone,” Angie said.  She picked Daisy up.  “Would you like it if a giant kept pokin’ ya while ya tried to eat yer dinner?”

              “…No,” Daisy mumbled.

              “Exactly.  Let Feathers have a few moments of peace while yer father and I make dinner, okay?”

              “Okay.”  Angie set Daisy down.  She exited the kitchen with her twin, glancing back at Ford on her way out.

              “Sorry ‘bout that,” Angie said to Ford.  Ford didn’t respond.  He had resumed eating with gusto.  “Geez, if ya keep eatin’ so fast, you’ll-”  Angie blinked.  Before she could finish her sentence, Ford had successfully emptied his bowl.  “You were hungry, huh.”  Ford sat back on his haunches and nodded, his tail swishing idly.

              “Are you still hungry?” Stan asked.  Ford nodded again.  Stan looked at Angie.  “Should we give him more food?”

              “We have to be careful with cats.  They’ll eat themselves into obesity if ya don’t regulate their intake.” Angie frowned.  “But then again, Ford had a massive change today, which would definitely be drainin’, and kittens need enough food to grow.”  She chewed her lip, thinking.  After a minute, Stan prompted her.

              “So?”

              “Dry food,” Angie said decisively.  Ford’s tail drooped.  “We’ll give him dry food.”

              “Just because I’m a cat, you’ll feed me that?” Ford said.

              “Uh, yeah.  It’s what cats eat,” Stan said.  Ford glared at him.  Angie picked up the food dish.  While she poured dry food into it, Ford began to wash his face.

              “Okay, that’s adorable,” Angie said.  Ford huffed quietly, but continued to clean himself.  He paused, a strange expression on his face.

              “Shit,” Stan muttered.  “He made that face earlier.”  Ford wheezed loudly.  “Did you really lick yourself enough that you have to do this again?”  Ford wheezed twice more.  “Come on, Ford, don’t-”  With a loud hack, Ford coughed a hairball onto the flecked linoleum.  “Dammit, Ford.”  Ford mewed quietly.  Stan grunted in displeasure.  “Now I gotta clean it up.”

              “Use a paper towel, dear,” Angie said.  Stan nodded.  He grabbed a few sheets of paper towel from the roll on the counter.  When he knelt next to Ford to clean up the hairball, Ford let out another soft meow.  Stan looked at him.

              “You all right?” Stan asked.  Ford looked down.  “I’m not angry at you.  Cats can’t help coughing up hairballs.”  Ford meowed again.  Stan frowned. “You know you can speak English still, right?”

              “Today, it’s the most embarrassing thing I’ve done,” Ford muttered. “Coughing up two hairballs, not merely one.”

              “Oh.”  Stan paused. “You gotta do it, you gotta do it, right?  Same reason Angie got you a scratching post and a litterbox.  You’re a cat.  Cats do this stuff.”  Ford’s eyes widened.  “…You didn’t know Angie got you a litterbox.”  Ford shook his head.  “If you tried to use the pot, you’d fall in.”  Ford looked away.  “We’re gonna put the litterbox in the guest room, okay?  The girls don’t go in there ‘cause they think it’s haunted.  You’ll get some privacy.”  Ford looked pointedly at the hairball.  “Yeah, I can’t do anything about you hacking up hairballs in front of people.  You’ll have to figure it out on your own.”  Stan shrugged.  “Just hide when you feel like you’re gonna do it.”

              “I suppose I can try to run off next time.”

              “Exactly.”  

              “Here,” Angie said, setting down Ford’s food dish again.  It had a mixture of dry and wet food.

              “I thought it was just gonna be dry food,” Stan said.

              “It was, but then Ford was cute and sad,” Angie said.  Stan scratched the top of Ford’s head.  Ford started to purr.  

              “See?  Things are already looking up for the world’s nerdiest kitten.”

[fleetofshippyships-archive]

WIP tag meme

aaah, I was tagged over 2 months ago by @parkkate O.O sorry for not doing this sooner @parkkate​ XD I’ve been offline for a few months! Just now catching up on everything I missed! but I’m ignoring asks for now because my inbox is a mess

The Rules: Post the names of all the files in your WIP folder, regardless of how non-descriptive or ridiculous.

I’m gonna cheat and only do this for my drarry wips, since I post everything else on another account now, and tbh I have so many drarrys it’s still gonna be a long ass post XD

Oh man *sweats nervously* I’m a bit of a hoarder in all aspects of my life...I don’t even know where to begin! 

I’m not tagging anyone cos I was tagged 2 months ago and I have no idea who has and hasn’t done this and don’t want to be a pain. But if you wanna do it, go a head, and please tag me so I can be nosy and hopefully find someone with a wip problem as bad as my own so I can be less embarrassed XD

Also I’m putting this under a cut for reasons

1. 4th year au idea 

Sooooo, right off the bat, I often open a new file to jot down an idea even though I have docs specifically to dump ideas...and then at some point during the process of jotting down basic details of the idea...I start writing it....? This is one such occurrence...but I had to open it to check...and now I want to keep writing it XD

But also yikes it’s super dark

2. ... 4th year au idea

I swear, this is an entirely different wip and I am going ‘wtf’ at myself because wtf that’s confusing! I had also totally forgotten the existence of this before opening it....probably because of the name of it and the only reason I apparently have 2 files the exact same name is that one is a word doc and one is a libre office doc XD

3. drarry character death idea

Soooo, I need to stop turning idea files into wips without changing the names because I actually forget they are wips apparently

Also, I really want to finish this RIGHT NOW IT HURTS SO GOOD GIMME GIMME GIMME

4. Veela fic followup

LOL LOL LOL I’m rewriting my veela fic so I don’t know what the fuck I’m going to end up doing with this XD I might have to try and merge it with the re-write if the story has a similar outcome when I’m done. or maybe I’ll just turn this into its own thing....

5. Veela fic present tense

I really need to get back to working on this, this is actually the full re-write that re-doing the tenses spawned...I was binge writing this before my life went to hell but then my life went to hell and I went offline for like three months and didn’t do any writing or anything XD

although, the last time I looked at it I got the itch to change it back to past tense so who fucking knows what I’ll do with it now

6. Veela fic Draco pov

Curse my obsession with alternate povs of the same story and Draco for being such a good angsty pov

7. Veritaserum idea start

At least this one has ‘start’ in it so I know it is in fact a wip and not just an idea outline XD

7. Veritaserum

So, turns out I started that fic over in a new file and just left the old one lying around XD I do that too often. I should delete that other one...

Also...this better not turn into another ‘Amortentia’ with me unable to think of a fucking title and going with the file name because lame

This is also my first time trying to do god’s eye 3rd person instead of 3rd person pov...also first time trying to do this weird structure thing...I dunno but I like it XD

8.  CTS followup

9. CTS sequel

Two separate followups set at different times in the same story verse... I hate myself. I love them both. I can’t pick which one to stop writing so I’m gonna keep them both around and try and make them merge at some point...

10. MMB saying sorry

11. another erase the shame

12. next erase the shame

I work on followups and lose interest so often (usually because people bug me for followups and I get very ‘fuck you’ about it and stop writing them...but I keep them around and tinker with them every now and then soooo they’re still technically wips

13. Tea and Coffee oneshot series (Tea and Coffee, Coffee and Dark Marks, The Cottage Kitchen, next untitled one)

There’s also a present tense version of the first one of those *sweats nervously* first 3 are finished, of course, but my original purpose is lost to them becoming a long fic soo....gonna merge them into one long fic soon...once I decide what tense I like better......kill me now

14. Communion of the Soul (folder name)

This is the sequel to One Touch and this is spread across 5 files because apparently I did that and even though each time I got to work on it I have to figure out which file holds which part of the sequel timeline and which I feel like working on...I have yet to merge them into one file to make my life easier...

15. Crumbling Facade

ugh working on this always makes me want to re-write restraint and actually put in the major plot line, or what was supposed to be Harry’s major plot line before the relationship crap got away from me and I had to cut out all the plot stuff because by the time I got around to addressing it, it started reading like a completely different fic and I had to cut a huge chunk and end it instead, because back then I sucked more than I do now and couldn’t juggle

sooo...I still work on this in starts and stops and then get frustrated for having to stick to Restraint’s chain of events when I have better ideas now for working in Harry’s plot about his damn magic problem and ARRGEHGEHGFVEDHDBVUIOFNBFKDB EFBVJ

I should just let Crumbling Facade take me where it wants to take me and fuck Restraint

16. Potter’s Insatiable Heart

This is my longest wip at 130k XD and I’m stalling now because if I keep going with it where I was intending to go it will end up my longest fic and I’m getting intimidated by the length and how much work it will be to edit that long of a fic so I just go in and write a few paragraphs now and again, get scared of the length and move on to another wip XD

I also periodically binge read this bitch because I love it to death even though it’s severely flawed XD

17. Corset Drarry

oh boy, when I started writing this this I was weirded out by writing a kink I didn’t understand and kind of tailed off and left it...then I did kinktober for voltron and now I’m laughing at myself because corsets and lingerie is so fucking tame after that kinktober list and all the the crap I wrote for it XD

18. Music in the Periphery

Emily bugs me about finishing this a lot...I bug me about finishing it, progress is non-existent because I have a clear plan for it and when I have a clear plan I can’t write for shit

19. Saying Sorry (Round 2) (MMB)

I gotta kick that habit of starting over with something but keeping the first attempt and still working on it parallel to the second attempt, because then I wind up with 2 fics too similar to each other to post both and I’m completely unable to pick which one I like more *facepalm*

Also, MMB is dead if I can’t stop turning the next fic attempts into angst, I just look at that big fluffy mess and want to angst it all up

20. scrapped MMB ficlets - theo’s letter

not technically drarry thought the greater series is drarry...torn between making it mmb or making it its own fic for a rare pair

21. Weather the Storm

*cries* my 6th year war au, I have such plans for this, but the plans get in the way of writing =(

22. Soulmate AU (folder name)

fucking hell, this is 10+ files and I’m not naming all of them, current count is 5 completed versions 60k+ each, 1 incomplete alternate version, all of which I’m seriously unsatisfied with, none of which I can bear to delete, all of which I periodically go and tinker with, thus leaving them all wips i’m such a fucking hoarder but also I have never gotten over all the awful comments that were on the original soulmate fic on ffnet before my purge and now I can’t ever be satisfied unless it is perfect and wont result in such horrible comments again

23. Turnabout (folder name)

Once again, multiple wips in here of the same 60k finished fic I’ve been unhappy with since the moment I finished it and keep trying to fix by starting over and changing things here and there to change the course of the story. Honestly ready to hit the delete button with this one unless my latest attempt pans out, liking it so far buuuut I’m a mess about my writing so who knows

In the Ways that Matter was based off this fic XD

24. Dependency 

Oh boy, I abandoned this cos it was so dark I got too uncomfortable writing it...I’ve since started revisiting it after being in the Voltron fandom gave me a new tolerance range for dark content XD

Plan on posting this on anon if I ever finish it, obviously changing the title XD it stopped being relevant after the first 30k anyway 

25. Dependency V2

LOL light version of the above that removes most of the dark aspects while maintaining the core plot, but I’m finding it a bit dull XD not sure how long I’ll keep trying to chug along with it

26. *censored title*

hahahaha omg why is this in a different subfolder, this is actually one of the soulmate au ones only it’s actually a spin off au of the original soulmate one I from ffnet and therefore it’s new ground and I’m less unhappy with it

.....I’m probably going to stop working on turnabout today and work on this instead now

(censoring the name because I might post this on anon because I’m too scared to post another drarry soulmate fic under my own name)

27. Retrospection

Sooo, I’m always on and off this fic cos it triggers my anxiety and depression, but fuck that I want to write it so I keep trying XD

I’m also thinking of splitting the two main plots and only going with 1 and using the other to write another story....see if that eases how difficult it is for me to write without self triggering

28. Sequel to mornings

29. Sunrise (loose prequel to mornings)

30. Surrender

I had no idea what this was, opened it and then holy shit THIS BITCH, THIS SLOW BURN FRIENDS TO LOVERS PIECE OF BULLSHIT. I DON’T WRITE SLOW BURN! I DON’T WRITE FRIENDS TO LOVERS. I REFUSE.

but also I really really really love what I wrote so far and now I’m itching to write more *cries* making this list is leaving me with so many open files to work on

31. day 2 ass worship

32. day 3 sensory deprivation

*laughs nervously* the kinktober oneshots that starting turning into a long fic hahahaha cos I really needed more wips

33. Perception of Angels

*wistful sigh* one day I will be able to finish a heavily plot driven story full of fantasy elements and creatures and magic I made up, and when that day somes, Perception of Angels....or that timetravel war au drarry fic idea I have sitting around.....which isn’t on this list only cos I’m not stupid enough to start writing it

So that’s all the drarry files in my wip folder.... I also have heaps more for other ships and fandoms, but I’m keeping that separate =)

And...now I have some writing to go do, cos after 2 months of being unable to write thanks to the bullshit in my life, I started binge writing again 2 days ago =) and opening a few of these to remind myself what they were has a lit a fire under my ass

[antiquecompass]

So I was HOPING to have 1 complete story and 2 complete ficlets done for @warriorgays birthday today. I don’t know why I plan on anything honestly bc whenever I do my family decides it’s time for massive Home Improvement Projects which take up my days off. I wanted to get SOMETHING up for Alex’s birthday though, so here’s a very long preview of the will-not-end superbowl fic:

A lot had changed in Babe Heffron’s life since 2004. His Philly family had lost a few members, but gained a ton between new babies, a hell of a bunch of in-laws, and groups of folks that just got adopted in along the way. In those years Bill had lost an entire leg, gained a desk job, finally convinced Fran to marry his foolish ass, and started raising three kids. Ralph was an actual <i>doctor</i> now, running one of the Thibodaux Medical Clinics just outside Baton Rouge. Maggie lived with Ralph and Sid in their own place in St. Boniface, working at the clinic there and forging her own path like usual.

 And Babe?

 Babe went from being a bartender to working an actual office job for Nixon Development. He had most weekends and holidays off and a 401k and an actual accountant to handle his taxes now. He was <i>married</i> for Christ’s sake. To a friggin’ <i>doctor</i>. In Louisiana of all places. If he could’ve gone back in time and told his teenage self he’d be settled down, far away from South Philly, with some Cajun doc he’d met during Mardi Gras, he probably would’ve punched himself. He definitely would’ve called Ron to take care of his delusional evil clone.

 And there was no way, in any of his wildest dreams, he could’ve predicted having Merl-Francis as his brother-in-law.

 He was pretty fucking proud of Shelton too. Boy had gone and become a Registered Nurse. They’d done so many study sessions in the middle of the night to past that certification test. They’d held a bake sale outside the clinic to raise the $500 fee just to take that fucking test.

 Merl-Francis got it done on the first try.

 So Babe definitely couldn’t complain about how his life had turned out since last February 2004. 2018, despite the hellscape that had become the world in general, hadn’t been too bad to him so far. He was cautiously optimistic about the year, after having gotten past the normal mourning days around Christmas. It was nearing his anniversary of meeting Gene and the Eagles were in the play-offs. So yeah, things were looking bright and shiny for Babe Heffron. Sure, he was waiting for Ralph to <i>finally<i> admit he was dating Maggie, but that was more fun to watch Spina struggle to come up with excuses for why he couldn’t hang out other than ‘I’m dating your little sister.’ It was amusing as hell.

 And then fucking New England has to fuck up the good year Babe had going for him. Honestly, he should’ve expected it from the Patriots.

 “You look like you’re fixing to punch the tv,” Eugene Sledge said as he looked up from his laptop. “Please don’t. It took Snafu three different trips to pick that one out.”

 “I had to compare the specs,” Merl-Francis said through a mouth of crab dip.

 Gene slapped him. “Close your mouth. Never could take you nowhere.”

 Merl-Francis glared at him. “We at home, Gene-Baptiste. Ain’t no one here not used to me.”

 “We still don’t want to see all that,” Gene said.

 None of the men present understood Babe’s pain. It was the fucking Patriots. Again. If only Ralph and Maggie were here, instead of being all responsible and working. They didn’t get it, this group of Saints fans. They didn’t <i>know</i>.

 “You don’t understand,” Babe said.

 Sledge shrugged and went back to working on his manuscript. “You don’t like the Patriots. A lot of people don’t. Andy’s probably the only one I know who does.”

 “No,” Babe said. “It’s a rematch of Thirty-Nine. I don’t know if I can take this shit again.” He stood up and went to the small kitchen medicine cabinet. “I need all the Tums.”

 Merl-Francis smirked at him. “You got such a weak constitution.”

 “Fuck you,” Babe said as he stepped over a sleeping Kipling.

 Babe’s phone started to ring on the coffee table. Gene reached for it and frowned as he looked at the screen.

 “What?” Babe asked as he shook a handful of Tums into his hand.

 “It’s your dad,” Gene said.

 “Well, answer it,” Babe said.

 “Good evening, Mr. Heffron,” Gene greeted as he put the phone on speaker.

 Joe Heffron sighed. “Gene, when will you just call me ‘dad’?”

 “Sorry, sir,” Gene said.

 His dad sighed again. “We’ll work on it. Where’s my boy? Eating a handful of antacids?”

 “Yes,” Gene said glancing over at Babe.

 Babe made a face at both of them. It wasn’t his fault his stomach didn’t like sports-event related stress.

 “Just like his mother,” Dad said. “Once he’s done choking down chalk, tell him to call me back. We need to know when he’s coming home.”

 “What now?” Babe asked.

 “There’s my boy. You’re coming home for the Super Bowl. You can’t celebrate it <i>there</i>.” Dad paused. “No offense, boys.”

 “None taken,” Gene said.

 “Bullshit,” Merl-Francis muttered.

 His father did have a point. There was just something about Philly fans being at home around other Philly fans. Look, he knew the reputation they had in the sports world. They were the most asshole of fans who did stupid shit like climb poles and flip over cars and throw batteries at opposing pitchers and fall into the penalty box to fight a professional hockey player and booed Santa Claus once almost fifty years ago. And sure things got so bad for a time there the Eagles Court had to be established to deal with all the shit happening at games, but that had been disbanded over fifteen years ago. Despite all that, there was nothing like being around that energy. Even with the actual game in Minneapolis, Babe had to admit that he couldn’t picture watching the game anywhere else but in his parents’ living room.

 “I don’t know if I can get the time off,” Babe admitted.

 Merl-Francis laughed. “You run that office. You can give yourself some days off. Take Gene with you, he needs a vacation.”

 “I have work,” Gene said.

 “Nope, you’ve got paperwork,” Merl-Francis said. “You don’t even practice much medicine anymore, running all the Thibodaux clinics. You got Anna, Renee, Sid, and Bryan to cover your shit. Take a vacation.”

 “You forgot Spina,” Babe said.

 “Ralph and Maggie conditionally asked for the time off if the Eagles made it to the Super Bowl,” Gene said. “I already approved their vacation.”

 Merl-Francis grinned from his sprawl on the couch. “They’ll be there, Mr. Heffron.”

 “I knew I could trust you, Merriell,” he said. “You and Eugene should come up as well. You’ve got to come see our city again.”

 Merl-Francis smiled like that had been his plan all along. “I wouldn’t miss it.”

 “Fuck,” Babe muttered as he threw another couple Tums into his mouth. He eyed the economy sized bottle of Excedrin as Merl-Francis started humming an off-tune version of <i>Fly Like An Eagle</i>. As he started on the second verse Babe reached for the bottle and reminded himself to pack it for the trip to Pennsport.

 <center>**********</center>

 There was a sold period of Babe’s life where he couldn’t go back to Philly. At first it was a question of safety. In the wake of Julian’s murder—and that’s what it was even if people still didn’t want to call it that—Babe was forbidden from setting foot in the city. He couldn’t explain that to his parents, didn’t want them to know everything about Ron Speirs’ more classified business dealings or the shit Babe sometimes got mired in to make an extra buck. And the more people who knew the truth, the more lives were at risk.

 After that issue got permanently resolved, Babe couldn’t return because of his own grief. It was funny, really. Babe’s grief was they excuse they used for so long while Julian’s killers were being hunted down, that even Babe forgot there was a world of truth to it. He didn’t know how deep the roots of his grief had grown, even after years, until he was asked to return to Pennsport and had an actual fucking panic attack.

 He couldn’t make himself get on a plane back then, so they drove, and honestly? Babe didn’t know what he did in his past lives to get Gene, but he was full of immense gratitude to whatever good deeds he accomplished back then.

 After overcoming that emotional hurdle, Babe made sure to visit at least twice a year. He’d just been there back in October to welcome the latest Guarnere into the world and hadn’t planned on returning again until May.

 Babe looked through the storage bins and the closet and realized he’d probably have to buy a winter coat while he was up there. The two he’d owned had already been claimed by Gene and Merl-Francis. Sledge, ever the Boy Scout, already had his own.

 “Well that’s a nice view,” Gene said.

 Babe laughed and wiggled his ass as he leaned over the bin. “At least there’s something you still like about me.”

 “I’m just with you for the life insurance and the tax break,” Gene said.

 “Figure out how you’re going to kill me yet?” Babe asked.

 “I figured with the amount of almond milk you drink I’ll just let the cyanide do its thing. Claim you must’ve got hold of some bitter almonds and made your own homemade glass of milky poison.”

 Babe looked up and had to laugh at the evil smirk on Gene’s face. “That’s horrifically brilliant.”

 Gene shrugged. “I needed something to do at the last board meeting.”

 Gene didn’t like having to play the businessman. He liked being a doctor, it was his calling, but they both knew how important it was to him to make sure lower-income and rural areas had access to decent health care clinics. It was a never-ending battle with local governments and the more religious members of the board who didn’t want to provide free contraceptives, pregnancy tests, or rides to the few Planned Parenthood clinics still in the state, but Gene always won. It was hard to argue with him when he got <i>that</i> look on his face and <i>that</i> tone in his voice.

 “Maybe you need this vacation,” Babe said.

 Gene nodded as he walked into their bedroom. “I was thinking about going down to five days a week too. Apparently there’s benefit in taking more than one day off a week.”

 Babe almost fell on his ass. “Did I just hear you speaking actual common sense?”

 “Fuck you,” Gene said with love.

 Babe grabbed an armful of sweaters and walked over to his open suitcase. “I know what this is about. It’s because you’re turning forty next year.”

 “Fuck you,” Gene repeated. He slipped his arms around Babe’s waist and rested his chin on his shoulder. “You got enough clothes there?”

 “Half of these are for you,” Babe said. He leaned back into Gene’s embrace and softly laughed. “And Merl-Francis. He’s going to have ten layers on. We’ll be able to roll his ass down the street.”

 Gene laughed in agreement. “Never could fatten that boy up.” His lips were warm when the pressed against Babe’s temple. “You happy?”

 It had been on those little traditions of theirs, to ask this, in the quiet times. The answers differed at times, but it was an honest question for an honest answer.

 “So much,” Babe said. He turned his head to meet Gene’s warm gaze. “So much,” he repeated.

 <center>**********</center>

 After the job that had cost both Bill and Joe Toye a leg a piece, they’d come back to Philly to stay. There had been some bullshit with the Department of Defense, even more with Veteran’s Affairs, and finally they’d just taken jobs with the Nixon Development Philadelphia office. Joe had been officially adopted by the Guarnere-Heffron-Julian-Spina clans. Fran and Bill had insisted Joe live with them, since their place had newly constructed ramps and handrails, and while it’d been a fight, Joe had finally given in.

 The Guarnere home was their first stop. Babe pulled their rental car up to the small strip of concrete that masqueraded as a driveway on the backend of the house. He had insisted on driving, knowing damn well his car full of backwoods country boys wouldn’t survive the trip from the airport without getting in at least three accidents. Babe smiled to himself as he got out of the car. St. Boniface was home, had been for a long time, but there was nothing like the old buildings and decorated front stoops of where he grew up. Green and white flags and Eagles logos decorated damn near everything as far as the eye could see.

 “Uncle Babe!”

 Babe braced himself as Juliana Guarnere came running down the steps at full speed.

 “You gonna dent the car,” Merl-Francis said from where he sat in the backseat, huddled up like he was about to trek the Antarctic. It wasn’t even that cold outside.

 Babe caught Juliana up in his arms and marveled at how tall she’d grown. Seven years old and already half her mother’s size. She had green and white hearts painted on her cheeks which clashed horribly with the faded orange and back Flyers t-shirt she wore.

 “Missed you, Julie,” he said, hugging her tight.

 She gave Babe another hug and then moved on to Gene before waving at Sledge. She frowned at Merl-Francis in the backseat.

 “Is he okay?”

 “He’s cold-blooded like his gator relatives. He’s just conserving his body heat,” Babe said.

 “I can hear you,” Merl-Francis said. He finally slid out of the car. “I assume there’s heat inside your house.”

 “Duh,” Juliana said. She grabbed Babe’s hand and tugged him towards the back door. “Come on! Uncle Joe’s making lunch. Uncle Ralph is supposed to be coming by too. Why didn’t he fly with you?”

 “He had his tickets long before we got ours,” Babe said.

 “’Cause he’s got more faith in the Eagles than you,” Juliana said.

 Babe laughed. “You sound like your grandmother.”

 Juliana laughed as they walked into the kitchen that smelled like ricotta and marinara. Joe Toye was balanced on a stool over the stove, slathering loaves of bread with butter.

 “Look at you all domestic and shit,” Babe said.

 Joe smirked at him and cleaned his hands on the bar towel resting on his shoulder. “I can’t cook much, but this? I’ve got it down.”

 “Smells good,” Gene said. He was looking at Joe with his doctor’s gaze, but probably only Babe and Merl-Francis knew it enough to tell. “Anything we can do to help?”

 “Yeah,” Joe said. “Get out of my kitchen. Go play with the kids. Henry’s teething, just so you know.”

 Juliana nodded. “It’s the worst.”

 “You weren’t exactly a ball of fun,” Joe said. He tugged on Juliana’s ponytail. “You going to stay here? Be my proper sous chef?”

 “Do I get first dibs on the sauce?” Juliana asked, a wicked grin on her face reminiscent of her father.

 “Of course,” Joe promised.

 “Okay,” Juliana said. She waved at Babe and Gene. “You know the way.”

 Gene led the other two out, but Babe lingered by the doorway.

 “Hey, Joe?” he said.

 “You about to start singing some Hendrix at me, Heffron?” Joe asked. “The baby wailing is enough noise.”

 Babe shook his head. Some things would never change. “Just saying, you look good.” He paused and added, “Asshole,” as a parting shot.

 “Watch your mouth,” Juliana yelled after him.

 Babe followed the sound of childish laughter to the living room. Bill Guarnere held court on the couch, little Henry is his lap sucking down a bottle and four-year-old Sofia laughing as Bill made funny faces at her, apparently more entertaining than the Bubble Guppies on the screen.

 Sledge was looking over all the family photographs on the wall, while Merl-Francis had claimed the chair closest to the heating vent. Gene was conspicuously absent.

 “Fran stole him,” Bill said.

 “Already?” Babe said. He held out his hands and took the baby and the bottle. “That’s got to be a record.”

 “We got a new big girl bed for Sofia and a canopy to go with it. The canopy is driving Fran up the wall.”

 “It’s has Elsa and Anna on it,” Sofia helpfully supplied.

 “And it lights up,” Bill said.

 “Jealous you don’t get one?” Babe asked. He shifted Henry in his arms, surprised how much he’d grown since the last time Babe had seen him, and tried not to make a face when he got spit up on.

 “Why do all your children do this to me?”

 Bill smiled, eyes tinged with memories from a lifetime together. “Maybe it’s just a Guarnere thing.”