#which. sounds like a lot but considering I’ve gotten all the completion points for: poker blackjack baccarat roulette mahjong chohan darts

[designernishiki]

im basically a god at this point

[aggressive-positivity-network]

do any of the mercs play board games?

Mercopoly (Board Game

Headcanons)

Scout:

You think he has enough of an attention span to play something that doesn’t involve sweating out his energy drinks?

Hell no!

He gets very bored very quickly, especially with something complex like chess.

He’ll play cards sometimes, but only Crazy Eights and Go Fish - that’s all he knows how to play.

However, there is one true board game he plays occasionally: Candy Land.

It’s one of the few board games that you don’t really have to read the rules for, and there isn’t any writing on the cards.

However, he only asks to play it when he’s not feeling very well.

Medic even has a page in his medical journal for the mercs that says, and I quote:

“The Scout has an extremely short attention span, and if an activity isn’t active or immersive, he will not stay long. If at any point he chooses a sedentary activity, a check-up is in order.”

As sad as it is, a request to play Candyland is a good way to know if Scout needs a little extra reassurance or support.

By the end of the game, Scout usually feels more himself, whether he wins or not.

Engie is especially good with Scout when he’s this way, being the one of the most emotionally sensitive of the group. But he also knows Scout would never admit straight-away how he was feeling, so he usually has a more fun way of getting answers.

“You feelin’ more like a King Candy or a Lord Licorice?”

“...Fudge Monster.”

“That bad, huh?”

“Yeah...”

Spy:

If you ask him, he will most likely go off on a tangent about chess, and how it’s a game of strategy, deception, and crushing your enemy with your wit.

He scoffs at any other game, and constantly makes fun of several of his more intelligent peers for finding interest in them.

“You are mercenaries. Blood-thirsty killers of men. And you are playing ‘Hungry, Hungry Hippos’ like a hoarde of kindergartners?”

But one thing he cannot resist is Sorry.

He considers it above normal board games because it has strategy - or at least that what he says.

He actually just likes it because it’s a game of revenge, which is like a drug to him.

He’s gotten so good at it that if he asks you to play Sorry with him, it’s almost guaranteed that he’s mad at you and just wants to let off some steam by giving you a horrendous loss. However, occasionally, he’s the one who loses.

Spy isn’t a poor sport, exactly - he’s too cultured for that - but sometimes his pride outweighs his manners and he convinces himself that the other player cheated through made up signs of deception.

He simply “allows” them to win because he “doesn’t want to make a fuss.”

But god help the unfortunate soul who decides to rub their win in his face.

Sniper had won five games in a row, and it was clear Spy was getting hot under the collar.

Sniper ended their games with a mischievous, “You’ll get ‘em next time, tiger.” and a small pat on his shoulder.

Spy immediately saw red, grabbed Sniper’s hand, and before the aussie knew it, he was against a concrete wall with a butterfly knife to his throat.

“I could kill you right now. Your final cry for Medic will be drowned in blood, and I would leave you here to die a painful, dramatic death. You’ll be replaced with a rusted trash can of a bot until they could grow another clone of you. Every memory will be gone. The team will be shrouded in grief, not because of losing you, but losing what the clone can never have. And I shall bide my time, ask the clone to play the same game, and kill them when they win. Another clone, another kill. And again. And again. And again. You think the Manns give a damn as long as their work is getting done? You will never be able to form a single thought before I spill your blood - caught in an eternal prisoner’s dilemma where you always lose.”

After gathering his bearings, Sniper finally spoke.

“Is this about your takeout?”

Spy scoffed.

“Do you really think - !”

“Tonight, my treat if you don’t kill me.”

Spy squinted.

“Egg rolls?”

“And an extra order of crab rangoon.”

“Your treat?”

“Yep.”

“How do I know you won’t poison me?”

“Chemical test before and after the food arrives.”

“How do I know Medic isn’t in on it?”

“Miss Pauling as a witness and Scout as an overseer. Pauling’s main objective is to keep us alive, and Scout can’t do bloody anything subtle, even if he wanted to. You can also play back the cameras in the lab, if the mood really struck ya.”

Spy held Sniper against the wall for a minute or two while he thought it all over, then let Sniper fall to the ground.

“I don’t need your sympathy, bushman. But you had better keep your end of the deal. I am the only backstabber around here.”

Demo:

Can’t even stay awake long enough to play most board games.

On the rare chance that he’s sober, he, Engie, and Medic like to play Monopoly.

Here’s the thing: you should never ask a drunkard, an engineer, and a sadist genius to play Monopoly together. It will not end well.

They have been playing the same game for years, with new rules in place and physical extensions to the board in order to try and end the game. Every other Friday, they take the weekend to try and finish it.

However, it all ends up fruitless.

Demo is usually the one keeping the peace, since he is the least competitive out of the three. That isn’t to say he isn’t clawing for the win as much as the other two, but he is definitely the least invested. He’s mostly staying out of principle.

“If there’s one thing I’ve learned, ‘s ta ne’er give up, e’en when the goin’s gettin’ tough. Roll the dice, doc.”

Despite his confidence, he’s not even sure what he would do if he or anyone else won. It would seem more like a relief than a celebration.

Medic:

He’s the one who started the Eternal Monopoly game, which has led to some theories that the game itself came straight from hell, and is one of the many punishments used on sinners. The box does smell a bit of brimstone…

He seems to enjoy the chaos that each round brings and the challenge of coming up with new rules to the game. To any outsider, his commentary and directions are complete nonsense.

“According to zhe ‘Calvinball Rule,’ as stated by Engineer, and the ‘Double Kill,’ as stated by myself, since the current time ends vis a three and ve all received at least two kills zhis veek, ve need to double every other roll and whomever loses zhe resulting game of ‘Bim Bum’ vill have to go to zhe Purple Jail.”

The rules and mechanics are like an unholy amalgamation of Monpoly, Sorry, chess, D&D, Bluff, and poker.

However, when Medic isn’t stapling pages of rules together, he likes to play a nice, relaxing game of checkers with Heavy.

Both of them are excellent checker players, but neither of them care who wins.

In fact, they usually talk over the game, taking the other player’s pieces as one of them shares a story from that day’s battle.

They’ve even played while Heavy was in surgery - leading to many unfortunate times when Medic had to fish a piece out of Heavy’s intestines.

One would think that a genius doctor would also have a passion for chess, but he expresses his disdain for it almost every time the checker board is brought out.

“Ach, people think chess is such an intelligent sport. Let me tell you, liebling, it is terribly overrated. If zhe devil can play chess, anyvun can. He might as vell just give souls avay, vis those shaky claws of his.”

Engineer:

Being the engineer, he is usually the one to add to the Eternal Monopoly.

Pieces, board extensions, cards, trivia - it gives him a nice break from all the weaponry.

He’s usually the one who remembers all the mechanics and rules, and serves as the judge if rules contradict each other.

“Alright, now let’s see here…we’ve got the Infinity Loop over here, but now you’ve got the Time Travel card…how many years? Infinite? Ho boy…looks like I’m gonna have to add a Hilbert’s Hotel square somewhere. Hold on…”

Despite his affinity for Eternal Monopoly, Engineer will play almost any board game. He learns new rules and figures quickly, and enjoys the challenges that brings.

However, if he’s particularly burnt out, he likes to take a break by playing Jenga. He and Spy have a friendly rivalry, since Engie can tell which blocks are supporting and Spy has quick fingers.

Spy, oddly, is a lot more amiable losing in Jenga - he knows Engie won’t think less of him - but Engineer hates when the bricks fall over. Not because it means he lost, but because, to him, it’s a failure on his part…even if it was someone else that knocked it over.

He’s made several blueprints for the perfect Jenga game, but has concluded that no human hand could put it into practice.

During one particularly bad day, Engie bumped the table, causing the whole column to come crashing down. Spy had already recovered from the noise, but Engie was still standing there, stone-faced.

His eyes were covered by his goggles, but it was clear he was crying.

Several of his machines had broken on the job, and to him, this was just another egregious mistake.

Spy carefully put the blocks back in the container, and Engie came to his senses.

“I’m real sorry, Spy. Maybe another time…?”

Spy only nodded. He was thinking.

The next time they played, Spy brought out a different container.

Instead of wood, the bricks seemed to be made of a sturdy foam.

“They fall a bit more…quietly,” Spy explained. He dropped one, and it only made a small bouncing sound. “Pyro uses these, but they allowed me to borrow it.”

Engie was a bit skeptical at first, since it was a new material, but he got the hang of it rather quickly. He was almost ecstatic the first time it fell - the blocks barely made any sound at all!

After a few games, Spy had to leave for an assignment. Engie put a hand on their arm.

“Thank ya, Spy. Maybe you ain’t the cold-blooded backstabber I thought you were.”

Spy chuckled, but said little else. He didn’t want to admit that noise sensitivity plagued him as well.

Pyro:

Pyro loves board games, and has quite the collection in their room.

Each plastic piece is at least a little melted, and all the boxes have two or three scorch marks.

Hungry Hungry Hippos, Candyland, and Uno are among her favorites.

He is an absolute beast at Uno, though.

They take each game very seriously, especially when they can convince the whole team to play.

As you can imagine, it’s pure chaos - it even led to a rule in the Merc Guidebook: “When playing Uno with three or more players with the inclusion of a Pyro, at least one Mann Co. representative and/or a mediating Medic must be present.”

Pyro has been known the hide cards, bribe players, or even try to set flame to competition. Playing Uno is almost like a mission, with weapon preparation and Spy posing as other players.

The mercs even have a betting stand that Sniper runs. All parties have lost a lot of money that way.

It’s pretty much the only time outside of battle that the team remembers how cruel and malicious Pyro can be.

Sniper:

Conventional board games aren’t exactly his forté, but he does enjoy a bit of cards every once in a while - Solitaire being his favorite.

He even has a pack of cards in his Sniper Square for that exact purpose. It allows him the pass the time without having to look away from his targets too often.

On occasion, he could be pressed to play poker, but only if the stakes weren’t monetary (i.e candy pieces, crackers, duties, etc.).

His favorite part of every match is shuffling the cards. Pretty much every merc could shuffle cards, but Sniper could make them almost float with how quick his fingers and wrists moved. He always began the game with a new trick he learned, which delighted his fellow players (usually Spy, Engineer, Medic, and Demo).

You could always tell if he had a busy day because he would avoid tricks with too much movement, which would be murder on his sore fingers and hands.

Pyro is currently learning card tricks from Sniper, and show off what they learn at the beginning of every Uno game.

Heavy:

He isn’t a huge fan of the bright, plastic-y board games that Pyro has, although he will play them if asked.

It’s mostly because of how complicated the rules are and the fact there are almost never a Russian translation for the directions.

He always prefers checkers, cards, or mancala, which he almost exclusively plays with Medic because he’s the only one who speaks fluent Russian.

Heavy can play a mean game of mancala, though, and it’s the only game he can beat Medic at.

Soldier:

The only games he will play are Battleship and Uno - but only after Miss Pauling convinced him it was “American enough” because the game had red, white, and blue cards.

He prefers the electronic Battleship because of the sound effects and voices. However, if it’s out of batteries, he’ll make his own sound effects.

Miss Pauling is the best at pretending to be a commander, so she’s usually the one playing with him - but, sometimes, Demo gets in on the action, too.

[sleepless-in-starbucks]

Logan’s Gay and Remy’s in a Suit

Summary: Just read the title Content: Gays, so much gays, nb!remy, nb!logan (he uses he/him pronouns but he’s still an enby suckers), mentions of dying of gay, logan thinking that flirting = bullying because he’s a useless gay Pairing: Romo losleep Notes: I’m so sleep-deprived I should be sleeping but i HAD to write this so. have it. inspired by this art by @strawberryjellystuff

~~

    Logan was a smart person. He knew a good deal of things. He knew the distance from the earth to the sun, to the moon, and to Mars. He knew the average amount of bones in the human body at any given interval of life. He knew the names of every capital of every city in north and south america.

    He also knew that he was very, very gay. This fact alone wasn’t too shocking or even that impressive. Logan had known he was gay since he was fifteen. It hadn’t been hard to figure out.

    It was the ‘very, very’ that was important. As a rule, Logan rarely felt the need to enhance his words with ‘very.’ He made his points, he made them clearly, and he made them exactly as he wanted them. There was no reason for him to use ‘very.’

    Then he met Remy.

    And Remy… woo boy. Remy.

    Remy made Logan feel it extremely necessary to add ‘very, very’ to his normally adequate descriptor of ‘gay.’ That was because Remy was very, very, very, very, very, very, very, very, very, very, very pretty. And there was only a little bit of the author’s bias showing through in that statement. It was mostly cold, hard fact. You know because LOGAN’S thinking it and he thinks in pretty much only fact.

    So Logan was gay, Remy was (objectively) the prettiest person to exist, and Logan was trying his hardest to stop his writer from taking away his braincells and turning him into a proper gay disaster.

    Except he and Remy worked at the same university. In the same department. During most of the same hours.

    Logan was having a hell of a time holding onto those braincells.

    However, while it had taken time, Logan had adjusted. Survival of the fittest, and all- if Logan wasn’t able to adapt to constantly being around someone so pretty it was outlawed in several made-up countries and a few real ones, then Logan wasn’t fit enough to survive. So he had adapted and he had done so flawlessly.

    Better put, he had suffered several weeks learning how to adjust to the fact that Remy’s naturally perfect looks were only increased by xyr leather jacket and sunglasses, the fact that xy knew how to smirk like xy owned the world (impossible, Logan had considered before, considering Remy was clearly the world, and one could not own oneself), and the fact that Remy was a bully.

    That was the only word Logan had for Remy’s actions towards him, anyways- after all, there was no way Remy had missed the way Logan’s cheeks seemed to literally light on fire every time xy smiled at him, or the little giggle Logan had never properly learned to fight down every time Remy called him a petname (a wholly ridiculous response considering Remy called lots of people petnames- sure, xy only ever seemed to call Logan ‘darling’ or ‘sweetheart’ or ‘light of my world and stars of my universe’ but that didn’t mean anything), or the way Logan stumbled over his every word when attempting to return an offhanded compliment that Remy likely had paid him by accident while thinking of… coffee. Remy did like xyr coffee, after all.

    But Remy’s bullying aside, Logan HAD adapted. He was able to look at Remy with minimal flushing, he had become the master of avoiding conversation topics designed to trap him (though Remy was becoming creative with xyr compliment-trap setups… Logan would have to start adapting faster than Remy if he hoped to survive the semester), and he knew the fastest exits out of every room and building in the entire university, ensuring that- if ever needed- he could literally flee Remy. He was surviving in his new, Remy-included environment.

    And then the author Jelly Remy decided to adapt as well.

    It had been a normal day of work up until then- Logan was working on checking over papers and going through his lesson plan a few more times, making sure he had everything ready for the school day. Upon realizing his coffee had run low, he got up, stretching as he began to move towards the staff lounge, seeking a refill.

    There was only one other teacher there at the moment, which Logan figured made sense- most of the astronomy professors had early morning classes, Logan being one of only two who didn’t. He had gotten out of it by luck- the other had insomnia and wasn’t normally at school in the mornings.

    Logan barely glanced at xyr, however, wanting to get his coffee before he had to deal with being flustered at seven in the morning. He was fairly certain it wouldn’t be that bad of a fluster, anyways- he was at least partially prepared this time, and he was about to have coffee on his side, and it looked like Remy had traded xyr normal leather-jacket look for a suit of some kind, and Remy had probably had a rough night if xy were in early so xyr flusters wouldn’t be top of xyr game, and-

    Logan stopped. Blinked. Processed. Processed again.

    A… suit?

    Logan turned to look at Remy and immediately regretted the decision. Because those braincells he had mentioned earlier? Gone. Stolen. Removed from existence. In theory, the author’s got them stored up somewhere but… eh, their location’s not important. Not like Logan could use them even if he found them.

    Because Remy was in a suit- a blue suit with delicate, lovely white flower designs traced over the chest and around xyr wrists, complimented by a lovely purple tie Logan had never seen Remy wear before- mostly because Remy didn’t normally wear ties. Or suits. Why was Remy wearing a suit?

    To kill me Logan decided barely a second later when Remy caught him staring and smirked at him in a way that was most decidedly an act of bullying.

    “Good morning, sunlight and starshine.” Remy said, further proving that xy was a bully and that xy was bullying Logan right then and there, a conclusion Logan came too as he clamped a hand over his mouth and focused on not making any sound even slightly akin to a giggle. “How are you on this morning that’s nowhere near as fine as you?”

    Logan, smartly, didn’t respond. Speaking would ultimately result in him stuttering, mumbling, and tripping over his words, which would make Remy smirk more, which would make Logan blush more, which would create a horrible cycle that would only end when either Remy left or Logan died. So, by not responding, the cycle never started and therefore could not end in Logan’s death.

    In choosing to do nothing else but stare at Remy without saying a word, however, Logan apparently had responded, in a way- Remy’s smirk still grew and Logan still ended up blushed harder.

    “Oh, darling, don’t tell me I’ve made you speechless.” Remy teased, moving from xyr spot against the wall to stand in front of Logan, tilting xyr head to the side. “No, wait, do tell me. I do love to hear your voice.”

    Logan remained silent. Remy couldn’t go on forever with no new material… right?

    “Or, hey, maybe it’s not me.” Remy went on, unconcerned with Logan’s silence. “Maybe you’re just tired. That’s why you were acting perfectly fine until you saw me, after all. Just tired. Is that right? Or should I keep guessing?”

    Realizing that silence was getting him nowhere and nothing (besides more flustered), Logan decided to simply attempt to move on with his day. Maybe ignoring Remy would make xyr go away.

    Logan had just barely turned to once more resume his walk to the coffee pot when he was forced to stop once more, this time not by Remy’s looks but by the fact that Remy had a hand and the ability to grab Logan’s wrist with it.

    A very annoying ability for sure, given it not only prevented Logan from continuing with his brilliant plan of ‘if you just ignore xyr eventually xy’ll go away’, but also increased his blush and got him looking at Remy again which was increasing his blush even more. By now, Logan was fairly sure his entire face was red, which was completely unfair given that blue was much more his colour.

    “Come on, sweetheart, don’t be like that.” Remy said, voice now both confident and sweet, which wasn’t helping Logan’s goal to Just Stop Blushing Already at all. “If you really have had a long night, I don’t mean to tease.”

    “N-no, I’m fine.” Logan said, which was a lie, because he wasn’t fine at all, he was doing terribly, but he was also doing a million times better than usual, which also wasn’t fine but it was in a completely different direction than terribly. So, either way, his statement was a lie. “Just uh… a long morning.”

    Logan realized that was the wrong answer the moment Remy’s softer smile once more became a smirk. “I take it back, then. I very much mean to tease.”

    “Ah-” Logan cleared his throat, trying to find a way to backtrack, “I do have, uh, a couple of papers to take care of, so-”

    “And you don’t have class for at least another hour.” Remy pointed out for him, still holding onto his wrist and giving no indication that xy’d be letting go of it anytime soon. “You’ve got the time to spare for a bit of conversation with your favorite colleague.”

    “You presume to be my favorite?” Logan managed to say without tripping over any of his words.

    Remy’s smirk just turned knowing. “I don’t have to be a poker player to spot your tells, babe. Unless, of course, you have another reason for constantly blushing around me.”

    “You possibly have a higher-than-average body temperature that causes all the objects and people within your near vicinity to heat up as well, therefore prompting a blush in those organisms that have the ability to blush.” Logan offered, well aware everything he was saying was bullshit meant only as a poor attempt to save himself.

    Unsurprisingly, Remy saw right through him. “Nah, hun, I don’t think it’s that. You can try again, if you want, but if you’d let me take a crack at it-”

    “Please do not.” Logan interrupted rather hurriedly, which only fueled Remy’s amusement. “I am simply… tired. And busy. So, ah, if you’ll excuse me, I really should be getting back to my work-”

    “Alright, beautiful, I know when I’m wanted.” Remy said, politely half-ignoring as Logan looked away and pretended to cough into his arm as he let out a small giggle. “One question before you go?”

    “I really should be-”

    “Are you free tonight?”

    That shut Logan up. “I- what?”

    “Are you free tonight?” Remy repeated, only smiling at Logan’s confusion. “I know this really lovely place downtown, I promise you you’ll love it, though not nearly as much as I love you-”

    “I- what?!” Logan said, more panickedly this time. Tonight? Restaurant? Love you?

    Remy titled xyr head to the side, looking puzzled. “I don’t know how to make this any clearer for you, love.”

    “I- ah- you- are you- are you asking me out on- on a date?” Logan demanded, not caring much for how many times he had to restart his sentence but having no solution for that particular problem.

    “...I would’ve hoped that was fairly obvious, yes.” Remy answered, shaking xyr head a bit as they continued to watch Logan with amused confusion. “This isn’t a surprise to you, is it?”

    “Well- I- uh- it’s just-”

    Remy laughed. “Oh, darling, I hate to laugh at you, but- Lo, hun, I’ve been flirting with you for weeks now. This can’t be that shocking.”

    “You’ve been flirting with me?!” Logan responded. “When?!”

    “I- Logan, I’ve been calling you the most ridiculous of petnames, complimenting you every time you so much as blink, repeatedly breaking into your classroom to force you to eat lunch with me, interrupting your classes to tease you- what do you think I’ve been doing?”

    “Bullying me!”

    “I was- I’m sorry, say that again?”

    “Bullying me!” Logan repeated as asked, moving his coffee cup into the hand that Remy was holding hostage so that he could run his fingers through his hair, feeling frazzled. “You kept- you kept doing things to make me blush and- and lose focus- and- and giggle, for gods’ sakes- what else could you have been doing?!”

    To Logan’s surprise, instead of defending xyrself, Remy just laughed as xyr face broke out in the widest grin Logan had seen xyr wearing all morning. “You absolute dork.” Xy said, though xyr tone was only endearing. “You really are a disaster gay, huh?”

    “...Just a little.” Logan said weakly, before forcing himself to amend, “Maybe a lot.”

    “A lot sounds more accurate, yeah.” Remy agreed, still laughing a bit. “Bullying you- oh, you really are too cute, sugar.”

    Logan resisted the urge to run to exit number fifty-nine and escape the blush that, at this point, was likely hot enough to permanently burn his skin. “You’re still being a bully.”

    “Oh, probably.” Remy admitted before xyr grin was once again replaced by a smirk Logan had both memorized and yet also knew he would never get used to. “But am I being too much of a bully that you won’t go out on a date with me?”

    “I- uh- I-” Logan ducked his head. He couldn’t accept Remy’s offer, he really couldn’t, it would almost guarantee his death, and he had worked so hard to become immune to Remy’s killer charm (pun not intended and not appreciated).

    But at the same time… Logan wasn’t sure he had the willpower to refuse.

    So, predictably, he settled for a quick little nod that said everything Remy needed to hear without Logan having to stutter his way through a single word.

    Remy’s grin turned dazzling. “Perfect!” Xy exclaimed, quickly pressing a kiss to Logan’s cheek before he could even begin to react. “I’ll pick you up after all our classes are out, okay?”

    “O-okay.” Logan said numbly, free hand raising to rest over the spot where Remy had kissed him, feeling half-trapped in a dream.

    “Perfect!” Remy repeated, still grinning as xy let go of Logan’s hand, heading towards the door, bursting with energy and clearly on xyr way to continue planning the exacts of Logan’s demise.

Before xy could fully get out of the room, however, Logan managed to get his voice back about him and call out, “Wait!”

Remy immediately stopped, turning back to look at Logan. “Yes, sweetheart?”

“I- uh-” Logan gestured vaguely at Remy, “Your suit. You- You never wear suits. Why today…?”

At that, Remy’s grin just widened to a degree Logan wasn’t entirely sure should be humanly possible. “For our date, of course!” Xy answered, raising xyr sunglasses just so that xy could wink at Logan. “I had a feeling you’d say yes.”

And with that, Remy left, leaving Logan to stand in the middle of the staff lounge, empty coffee mug still in one hand, the other still resting on his cheek and over the spot where Remy had kissed him, feeling dazed in the best sort of way possible.

He was still standing there when another one of the teachers wandered in, shooting him a strange look. “Are you alright, Logan?”

“Not at all.” Logan answered truthfully.

He was much, much better than alright.

[in-tua-deep]

🔥 Responsible Luther

(Other responsible Luther au posts: one, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten, eleven)

After everything happens, after the Commission is destroyed and the apocalypse is permanently stopped, and they give their dad what for... they have to figure out how to live without the apocalypse hanging over their head.

And also, they figure out how to deal with the friends they made along the way.

Which means that Agnes comes over with a casserole and a smile and a dozen new pictures of birds, and Allison brings Claire and Patrick down since there’s now no chance of being caught in the kidnapping crossfire, and Luther thinks he’s going to need to invest in a bigger table heck

Which means that Claire is loudly making bird noises while pointing at the pictures Agnes brought over, while Agnes attempts to teach her the proper ones while Patrick balances little Claire on his lap with all the longsuffering patience of a father of a toddler. 

Klaus is loudly debating the merits of Clue vs. Monopoly with Diego while Vanya shuffles a deck of cards absently because she already knows that they’re going to end up playing poker or something

Luther and Allison are in the kitchen attempting to cook. Allison’s food skills tend to be geared towards the food tastes of a toddler, so she’s got mac ‘n cheese and dinosaur shaped chicken nuggets down pat but other things uhhhhh not so much. Luther has gotten progressively better, but he’s no Jamie Oliver

Which leaves Hazel to sit awkwardly at the table across from an unimpressed Five.

“I’m not calling you Uncle Hazel.” Five says dismissively, “No matter what Klaus calls you.”

“That seems fair.” Hazel is awkward as he shuffles uncomfortably on the second-hand chair that Luther picked up after Diego threw Klaus and broke one of them after a particularly lively debate. 

(Klaus seems to have decided that being adopted into the family is punishment enough for Hazel, for some reason. Then again, Five has seen the glint in Klaus’s eye when he gives Hazel a big hug. Klaus is less forgiving than people might think. He’s just very petty about it.)

“You tried to kidnap me.” Five crosses his arms, “Multiple times.”

Hazel clears his throat, “Uh. Yes. That is true. I... did that.”

Five tilts his head, calculatingly. “What do you think that’s worth?”

“W - Worth?” Hazel looks lost. It’s almost sweet, how he even now underestimates Five’s vicious streak. Even after seeing Five with explosives and covered in dust after crawling through the ceilings of the Commission like an unholy gremlin. 

Five shrugs, “If you’re going to be... part of the family or whatever, and I am fully prepared to call Agnes my aunt because let’s be real, I witnessed her slap Dad and that makes her family for life. She seems to like you a lot.”

That makes Hazel smile.

“Ew.” Five can only offer in response to that, “But back to my point. Agnes rules, and I think she’s decided that Mom is her new best friend, Claire is her new grandchild, and that Klaus needs fattening up. Which I guess makes you family, too.”

Hazel just nods, a tad hesitantly.

“We’ve had enough of shit family.” Five says firmly, “So if you’re going to be part of it then you have to commit. You have to be here.”

“Okay.” Hazel says, “I can do that.” He isn’t actually sure he can, but he’s determined to try since he’s head over heels for Agnes and Agnes seems like she’s decided to take the Hargreeves under her wing. 

“Right.” Five nods decisively. “I’m thinking Disney World.”

“Of course - wait.” Hazel pauses, clearly making a moment to process what just came out of Five’s mouth. “What?”

“You kidnapped me.” Five declares, loud enough that Hazel makes shushing noises, even though literally everyone in the house knows about his past. “And I get you helped everyone come get me of whatever, even though I totally had that handled, but you totally kidnapped me. And that’s definitely worth Disney World.”

“You. Want me to take you to Disney World.” Hazel sounds out slowly, as if tasting the words in his mouth before speaking them. As if that will make this conversation make some amount of sense. 

“Me and Claire. And Klaus.” Five clarifies, tapping on the table. “Maybe the others, too.”

“Why.” Hazel asks, just completely flabbergasted. 

Five shrugs. “Klaus wants to go, and I’ve never been. Klaus says that it’s an apology thing if a family member needs forgiving, they do some big nice gesture and then bygones are bygones.”

Hazel processes that. “I don’t think. I don’t think that’s exactly the uh, the healthiest perspective. On that.”

“So.” Five says pointedly.

“I can. Try?” Hazel offers helpfully, “I mean, I’d have to talk it over with uh, with Agnes.”

“Five Hargreeves.” A voice interrupts them, as Luther sweeps in, “Are you blackmailing Hazel?”

Five shrugs unapologetically, “More like blatantly guilting him.”

“That’s my boy!” Klaus hollers from the other room, and then yelps and if they concentrate everyone can hear Vanya scolding their brother. Something about ‘encouraging behavior’ and ‘their ridiculous family already has enough criminal tendencies’.

“In my defense,” Five points out, “He did kidnaps me. And Klaus. More than once.”

“In his defense, you kind of suck as a hostage.” Luther points accusingly at Five with a spatula, “You broke his arm in three places.”

“He was kidnapping me!” Five sputters.

“I did do that.” Hazel offers, looking very contrite. “I deserved that, really.”

“And he fed Mr. Pennycrumb half his vegetables last time he was here.” Five accuses, not appreciating Hazel’s assistance.

That makes Luther put his hands on his hips and stare at a red faced Hazel.

“It was green beans.” Hazel mutters, not quite willing to meet anyone’s eyes and so he addresses the table rather than anyone in the room.

“Is that why he smelled so bad?” Luther demands, looking between Hazel and Five absolutely aghast. 

“Worth a trip to Disney World?” Five grins cheekily. 

Luther just gives a long suffering sigh, “I’m going back to help Allison in the kitchen. This officially no longer involves me.”

Hazel gives Luther’s retreating back the most betrayed look for leaving him alone with Five, which is honestly fair. 

“So.” Five turns his full attention on Hazel, tapping his fingers together and looking like a tiny supervillain. Considering that Five’s literal job used to be fighting villains as part of a child superhero teams, this was likely on purpose. “About that literal guilt trip.”

Hazel just buries his face into his palms and groans.

[managedmischiefs]

north//chapter fourteen

genre: angst

pairing: season twelve spencer reid x female oc

warnings: description of physical assault, prison, just all of the bad prison arc stuff

word count: 4.7k

summary: spencer and amelia feel the effects of being forcibly separated and it impacts them in similar ways.

honestly, spencer’s pov in this chapter is one of my favorite things i’ve ever written so i hope everyone enjoys it <3

AMELIA

"Come on! You don't even have to do anything! Just go and clean up. We'll go with you and help!" Yaz pokes my shoulder incessantly, trying to get a reaction out of me. But I just keep my eyes on the tv in front of me, bundled up under a blanket.

"Lia," Michael sighs and slings his arm over my shoulder. I want nothing more than to shove it off. “It's been like, three months since-"

I'm quick to speak up to correct him. "Two and a half."

Michael and Quinn exchange a tense look. "Okay," Quinn nods, "two and a half months. It's been two and a half months since you've drawn, or painted, or sketched, or done anything even related to art. We know you're upset about Spencer but you can't let yourself be so upset. You need to find something that's gonna bring you happiness, and art has always done that."

"I don't wanna," I answer like a stubborn child, an answer that any of my siblings would have given me about things like going to bed early or eating vegetables. I pull the blanket up to my chin and stroke my thumb across my newest tattoo, tucked away and out of the sights of my nosy, annoying friends.

Frankie turns and shushes Quinn. "Like I said, Lia, why don't we go and just clean up your studio? We can drive over and just clean up? That's it. You don't have to do a photoshoot or create anything new. Just clean. Sound good? An hour tops."

I look around the faces of my expecting friends and tighten my jaw. I try to steal Spencer's skills and profile what their ulterior motives could be. They all hated Spencer before meeting him, and even after they met him, they weren't completely fond of him. So why are they trying so hard to get me to feel better? Why does it feel like they’re trying to get me to forget about my boyfriend in prison? I should be worrying about him every second of my day instead of prancing around town, cleaning up my studio, and going about my life as if Spencer isn’t suffering. But I’m sure they mean well. And I’m absolutely positive that my legs are sore from sleeping on the couch and from being in that same position all day.

"Fine," I concede, and they all silently cheer. "But I'm driving myself."

The drive to my studio is nearly insufferable. It’s silent and overwhelmed with a tension that I created but can’t seem to let go. The sights around me are familiar but blurry, like I can’t even tell which stores are which without someone in my passenger seat spitting out fact after fact after fact as I drive. I can’t drive down the street and try to recall all the good times and all the dates and all the drunken stumbles back home with the love of my life on my arm. It’s far too painful to constantly remember that I can’t go home and see Spencer and I can’t spend hours on the phone with him like I do when he is away on a case. I can’t see him. 

When I arrive at my studio, I realize why they were so insistent that I come out to clean up. I can't remember the last time I was actually in here to work but it's an absolute mess. There are canvases everywhere, bottles and tubes of paint on the floor, splashes and splatters of paint on the walls, brushes everywhere, crumbled up sketches in the trash, and way more. The studio needs much love and I guess now is the time to give it.

Michael immediately turns on music and everyone gets to work, but I don't. I pick up an empty tube of yellow paint and squeeze it in my palm. My head is starting to pound and I can't even stop it as tears start to fall down my cheeks. Who knew that one person could produce so many tears? 

Spencer loved when I wore yellow. I have this one short, backless dress that he loved. He especially loved that he had easy access to my skin, always tracing shapes on my back and murmuring about how soft my skin is. He always said that he loved the way the yellow complimented my blonde hair and how it contrasted against my colorful tattoos. He even went as far as to buy me another yellow dress for my birthday last year. 

And he loved when I used yellow in my paintings too. One time, I sent him a picture of a piece I was working on and he emailed back a book about how the use of yellow paint expressed the happiness of the piece or something like that. He raved about a painting I did of the sun and how my use of yellow wasn’t scientifically accurate, but it was beautiful nonetheless. 

"Amelia?" Quinn speaks but I don't look at her. My cheeks are wet with tears that I barely noticed and my hands are clutching the tube of paint so tightly that it would burst if it were full. "I'm sorry. We didn't mean to upset you. If we-"

"I'm gonna go," I say hastily, clutching the empty tube in my hand as I breeze out of the studio, leaving my bewildered friends to either clean or leave. They know the way out and they know where the keys are. They don’t need me.

I'm wandering into the bullpen like it's second nature because, at this point, it basically is. Nobody on the team bothers to say anything to me. They never do. They're too worried I'll blow up at them or start crying. I don't blame them.

I rap my knuckles against Dave's door and wait for him to shout for me to come in, and when he does, I enter slowly. He gives me a small, pitiful smile as I move in front of his desk. I set the empty yellow paint tube in front of him and then sit down, bringing my knees to my chest.

Dave looks down at the tube, his eyebrows furrowing. "Paint? What's this?"

I blink and it forces tears out of my eyes. "I don't know how to live without Spencer."

Dave leans back in his chair, crossing his arms over my chest. He studies me, profiles me. I hate when Spencer did that. He always got this look on his face when he profiled me, but Dave has a better poker face. "And paint has something to do with that?"

"I just went to my studio with my friends and I finished off all this paint and there were brushes all over the floor and-" tears start pouring down my cheeks again, wetting my neck and the neckline of my sweater. "I came home the other day and I'd left the balcony door open. How stupid. I'm forgetting to lock my doors just because my boyfriend is in p-" I gulp, having to force out the disgusting word, "prison. How fucking stupid. How stupid am I that I can't function without him?"

"You're not stupid," Dave shakes his head. Nothing about his tone or his body language is helpful in the slightest. Nothing and nobody will help. "You two are reliant on each other and that's not a bad thing. I'm sure Boy Genius is always on you about locking your doors and I'm sure he's always giving you statistics on break ins and-"

"He doesn't," I cut him off sharply. "If Spencer's telling me statistics then it's about stars in the sky and how to properly care for my plants so they stay alive longer or just- it's never about things you guys talk about here. It always about things that I'd like. He does it to protect me. He doesn't tell me about serial killers unless I ask, and I only ask when I can see that he had a really hard day at work. It's just me, Dave," I put my forehead to my knees, shoulder shaking as sobs take over my whole body. "I just don't know how to live without him. I don't know how to function without him holding my hand and him calling me to promise he's okay and-- I just can't. I can't do it."

"You did it before you met him," Dave stands from his desk and moves in front of me. He puts his cold hand on my shoulder and it sends a chill down my spine. "You lived a long life before you met him, and you're living now while he's temporarily gone. It's hard, I know, but it's only for a short time."

"I just want him to be okay. That's all I really care about."

///

SPENCER

///

My whole job is about helping people and I've spent my whole life caring for others, mostly my mother. In my professional life, I'm always keeping an eye on my teammates to make sure they aren't in danger. I consider it to be part of my responsibility to look after every single one of my teammates. They're my family and I rely on them to help me too.

I never thought my helpful nature would come back to hurt me. I never thought that trying to help out a friend would come back to hurt me so badly. All I wanted to do was help Delgado. That's it. Calvin is protecting me and the other men in here wouldn't dare to cross him. They know how miserable he could make their experience here and they'd rather beat up someone else than get on Calvin's bad side.

All I did was speak to a correctional officer at chow. That's literally all I did. Yes, I did rat out the gang to the officer for beating up Delgado, but they don't know that. They aren't going to be disciplined for it. I ask the guard for water first as a cover, but clearly, it wasn't enough.

And I've been through a lot in the field. I've been tackled, and punched, and shot, but getting beaten up in a prison is completely different. The guards couldn't care less about the inmates. No matter how much I screamed and pleaded for help, no one came. And even still, there was another inmate outside my cell keeping watch so my attackers could run and not get caught.

I’ve gotten beaten up a lot in my line of work and I can confidently say that this one, in a dirty prison cell, is the worst I’ve received. They held me down against my bed and used a rag to muffle me, but it covered my mouth and nose and it almost suffocated me. They beat me to a pulp, drawing blood on my forehead and almost cracking a rib or two.

It was an unrelenting beating and I eventually succumbed to the pain because I convinced myself that they were going to kill me. I snitched and death would be the consequence. I stopped fighting and just let them take their turns at swiping my face and my chest and my stomach because what could I do? Nothing. As Calvin loves to remind me, the rules are different in here. I don't have a badge and a gun to make the torture stop. I have to endure it or find my own ways to make it stop, and this is a moment to endure it. I'm rendered useless.

The beating only ended when the inmate outside whistled, probably a preplanned signal, because the two others immediately jumped off of me and ran out of my cell. As soon as the towel was pulled away from my face, I gasped in a breath and clutched my aching chest, wincing in pain.

Wilkins came strolling over, peering into my cell. I knew he knew exactly what had just happened by the smirk on his face, but he chose to do nothing. He chose to stroll over instead of running and he didn't yell at the other inmates. He just stared at me and smirked, shaking his head.

"That'll teach you to keep your mouth shut, Snitch."

And those are the words that echoed in my nightmare that night.

I'd rolled over and coughed up a generous amount of blood, grimacing at the taste in my mouth. My body trembled and shook when Wilkins left, even more than when he was silently mocking and watching me. Wilkins doesn’t care to do his job but at least with him standing at my cell door, I had the tiniest bit of protection. But with him gone, the other inmates could come back and finish the job. I shook and stayed rolled over on my side for twenty minutes, staring at the floor and waiting for my cell to close.

When it finally did close, I didn't even let myself sigh of relief. I just fell onto my back again with a groan. I could barely move. It hurt too bad. Everything always hurts nowadays. Things didn't hurt on the outside. Living didn't hurt before I got arrested.

Getting visitors the next morning is not what the ideal situation is. Rising from bed is more of a challenge than it normally is. My body is sore and aching and all I want to do is curl up in my obnoxiously uncomfortable bed, if this slab of metal and a blanket could be considered a bed, and go back to sleep. But I know I'll get in trouble if I don't get up for role call, so I ignore the pain.

I don't dare to look around at anyone on my block as the officer shouts our names, checking to see that we're all here. I just keep my head held high and my hands at my sides and try to show that I couldn't care less about the beating that is causing me so much unrelenting pain.

But then they call our names for a visitor’s session and, of course, my name gets called. I'm usually grateful to get to see anyone from my team, but now? Today? After last night? I'd prefer if they didn't come back until after these bruises were gone. But there's nothing I can do so I allow the guards to put cuffs on me and lead me to the visitor’s room.

As soon as Penelope sees me, she gasps and drops her jaw. She starts to rise to her feet, but I sharpen my glare at her and when she sees my expression, she stays in her seat. When I sit down at the little table and put my cuffed hands in view, like I'm required to, I watch her eyes fill with tears.

"You-" she whispers, "you're hurt. What happened?"

"It's not a big deal," I answer nonchalantly. "It could've been worse." She's not convinced, her jaw dropped as a few tears drip down her cheeks. I keep my jaw tight and as much as I want to comfort her and hug her and promise that as badly as this hurts and as horrible as I'm sure I look, I'll be fine. But there are a million eyes on me right now, including my assailants, and if I show any kind of weakness, a beating like last nights will surely be in store for me again.

Penelope not-so-subtly glances around at the other prisoners around us. "Reid," she leans towards me and tries to lower her voice, "I am going to march right down to the warden’s office and I'm going to-"

"No, you're not," I snap, and my sharp tone of voice makes her jump back, her eyes widening. But for some reason, the look on her face doesn't even make me regret the way I've spoken to her. The look on her face just bothers me more. Why doesn't she get it? Clearly, I have to spell it out for her. "It'll just make worse things. I've got it handled, Garcia."

"Are you sure?" She practically whimpers. "I could-"

"How's everyone else? How's the team? How's my mom?" I deflect from the obvious issue at hand and instead turn the focus to my loved ones. All but the one I wanna hear about.

Penelope starts to nod slowly and she moves her glasses to wipe her cheeks free of tears. "We really miss you. And in our free time, we're working really hard on your-"

"Shh," I try to hold my hands out but the handcuffs rattle, and my eyes dart over to a guard who is alerted by my movement. He gives me a pointed look as if telling me not to do anything stupid. I put my hands back down and look over at a stunned Penelope, leaning in closer. "Don't talk about my case, Garcia. People don’t do that in here. It’s not right and it’s not safe. Just don't talk about it."

She gulps harshly, another single tear dripping down her cheek. "Okay," she nods again, and it's obvious that she's confused. But I don't have the time or the energy to explain why I'm acting like this and I don't even have it in me to care. I didn't even want to be at this visitor’s meeting. I'm only here because I have to be. "Um," she taps her fingers against the table, "we just really miss you, Spencer. Your mom is doing really well with Cassie."

"Good, I'm glad everyone is okay," I nod and I sit back, glancing around for a clock. When is this thing over? I'd rather be in my cell than here. I never thought I'd think that.

Penelope raises her eyebrows and her eyes soften. "A-Amelia? Do you wanna hear about her?"

As soon as I hear her name, my heart starts beating faster. My mind flashes with all the most beautiful images of Amelia that I can recall. I can practically see her in front of me. I can almost feel her under my fingertips. I swear I can taste her chapstick on my lips as she kisses me. I rub my fingers together as if I can feel the fabric of her denim skirt. As if I could unbuckle her belt and take her right on my bed right now. I shake the thought from my head. Don't go there, Spencer. Nothing good ever comes of when your mind goes there.

But I can't get her out of my head. I can stop seeing her lying on my lap, peering up at me as she mulls over which record to put on. Etta James or Taylor Swift? That's always the question of the day, isn't it? It always seems to take her hours to decide on an answer, and she usually doesn't. She'll usually work up an appetite with her thoughts, and when she's gone to get a snack or a glass of wine, I decide for her. Always the same. Always Taylor Swift.

But her smile is always so beautiful when she comes back into the room. When the music finally flows through her ears, the smile that comes to her face is one that could end wars, cure cancer, solve world hunger. I didn't think I could ever understand how bubblegum pop music could make a person so happy. I didn’t think I could ever understand how bubblegum pop music could make Amelia want to drag me off the couch or out of bed and force me to dance with her, whether it be in the middle of the night or just as the sun is peeking through the always-open blinds of her apartment.

I squeeze my eyes shut and try to bring myself back to reality. I try to forget about the girl that's waiting for me in the free world. I try to ignore that she's probably shed tear after tear and I haven't been there to wipe them away. My brain produces images of her gasping for air with her head between her knees and I ball my hands into fists.

I'm angry. I'm fucking furious. I want to be there to hold her and whisper in her ear and tell her that her panic attacks are short-lived, that I'm right there. I need to be there to hold her and kiss her and love her. I need her because I can't do this without her. I don't know what to do if I'm not spending my time protecting her. Everything I do is to protect her. I don't know how to function if I'm not holding her hand, or if I'm not pushing myself through every day just so I can call her at midnight to promise that I'm okay. I've become so reliant on Amelia, and maybe that's wrong, but I don't care. I don't care about anything anymore. I just want my life back. I want my life, I want my job, and I want my girlfriend.

I want my girlfriend. I want to move in with her like we planned to and I want to propose to her and I want to marry her. I want to have a whole house full of kids who are loud and messy and loving and adorable and a crusty dog who slobbers all over the couch and chews my shoes. It's not fair. None of this is fair. Amelia doesn't deserve this. She deserves someone better than me.

But I can still see her. I can still see her fucking smile, and I can still hear her goddamn laugh, and I can still feel the fabric of her dumb hair scarves. She's engulfing me in her. She's not even here and yet I feel like I could reach out and she would be in my arms, kissing my neck and telling me that I'm safe and that we can just sit on the balcony and talk. We don't have to go to bed if you don't want to, we can just talk.

What I would give to hear her voice again. I'd give everything I have, and right now, it's not much. I'd give everything plus the clothes on my back to just hear her tell me I'm safe, or to tell me about a new painting she's thinking about starting, or to ask me to tell her a random fact about a food item she is about to buy at the store.

The last thing I want right now is to hear about Amelia. I want it all, or I want nothing. I don't want to hear that Amelia misses me, or that she's crying and having panic attacks in the middle of the BAU, or that she's sleeping in my clothes (or worse, not sleeping at all), or that she's lashing out at everyone. No, if I'm not having her in front of me, kissing me, hugging me, I don't want to hear about her.

"No."

For what seems like the millionth time, Penelope's eyes widen. "No? You don't wanna hear about-"

"No, I don't," there's a pit in my stomach that I try to hold down. I try to not let it take control of me. "I don't wanna hear about how horrible she's doing, okay? So just tell her that I lo-"

I can feel a million eyes burning into every bone in my body and so I stop myself. My lips freeze mid-sentence and I release the steel grip my hands hold around my cuffs. Penelope's are just another pair of eyes that bore into my frame, and I usually love her concerned and mothering nature, but now, it irks me to no end.

"Whatever," it pains me to cut off the sentence I crave so intensely to say, but I can't let my guard down. I can't be vulnerable and I can't show weakness.

"Whatever," Penelope repeats, almost mockingly, her voice cracking. "So you-"

"Could you not say anything to, um," I gulp, "her about this?" I gesture to my face where I can feel the pulsing and throbbing bruises tormenting me. I drop my shoulders and start to fiddle with the way-too-tight handcuffs around my wrists, but then I decide that that's a horrible idea, and probably a good way to get harassed by the correctional officers. "I just don't want her to worry about this. I'm sure she's worried enough. I don't want to give her another reason to, you know, panic."

"Times up! Inmates, get back to your cells."

Without so much as another glance at Penelope, I stand and turn my back to her. I lift my chin as I'm pushed and shoved into the lineup and then pushed and shoved back to my lonely, isolated cell. I'd rather have it this way, behind bars where the other inmates can't get me.

I drop down to the floor, pressing my forehead against the rusty bars, staring out at the drab, bland, boring beige walls. The paint is peeling and the bars, honestly, look like they could be broken with a hard enough kick. And, of course, the colors of the walls do nothing to brighten up the dead environment. The colors aren't anything like those that adorn Amelia's body on the regular.

A frustrated groan escapes my lips as I bang my hand against the bars. Why did I have to think about her again? Why did I have to let her infiltrate my thoughts?

But the colors of her. The colors swirl around in my head but as hard as I try, I can't get her colors to fill this horrible cell I'm confined to. I try to imagine her denim skirts, knit sweaters, and pea coats strewn out on the bed as she chooses what to wear in the morning. I try to remember the feeling of accidentally stepping on one of Amelia's millions of piercings when they fall on the floor after she takes them out before bed. I try to see her laying down on my bed, her sketchbook in her lap, and her colored pencils beside her as she rambles on and on and on, talking more than me, about what she's drawing and how she's planning on achieving her vision.

But no matter how hard I try, I can't get her into the cell with me. She doesn't belong here. Her art doesn't belong on these chipped walls, and her clothes don't belong on this poor excuse for a bed, and her absurdly positive attitude doesn't deserve to be squashed in here.

I rub my eyes and try to forget. I try to forget all about her and I try to erase her from my mind completely. I push myself away from the bars and stand, but standing does the opposite of what I want to do. Standing gives me a perfect view of the tiny window across from my cell, but more specifically, the sky.

I stare up at the clouds, my hands gripping the bars as tight as I possibly can. My eyes well up with tears and my knees start to buckle under my weight, and as my tears start to drip, they sting the cuts that I didn't even realize I had on my face. It’s not like I have a mirror to examine my injuries. 

They are just blobs. There are no dragons, or hands, or tables, or staircases, or cars, or Christmas trees. They're just clouds. There's nothing fancy about them. I'll never be able to see it. I couldn't see shapes when I was with Amelia. What makes me think I would be able to see shapes without her?

I push myself away from the bars and throw myself onto the bed, covering my face with my hands. This is useless. I'm useless. There are echoes of chatter from men on my cell block and it makes my head hurt. If Amelia were here, she would cradle my head in her lap and brush her fingers through my hair, and she would trail her fingertips over my forehead and over the bridge of my nose, all while whispering sweet nothings to me. I groan with frustration, rolling onto my stomach and burying my face under my flat pillow.

"Hey, Reid," Calvin's voice joins the echoes from the cells around mine. "How's it going over there?"

 TAGLIST

@babybloodstonebones @bxnnywriting​ @blameitonthenight21​ @feralreid​ @anepiphany​ @reidscardigan​ @itsmyblogandillreblogifiwantto​ @stxrrywildflower​ @penemily​ @whollytaciturn​ @thegingerfairchild​ @yasminwashere​ @shrimpyblog​ @anamelessfacelessnerd​ @wonderlandhatter​ @whxt-to-write​ @inkandexchange​ @just-call-me-non​

[dcbbw]

How would a one on one game of truth or dare would be for Liam & Riley B. With alcohol involved?

Thanks for the ask, @umccall71! This takes place maybe 2-3 weeks before Penelope dumps SGL. Drake and Riley are still together.

Song lyrics are from Shirley Horn’s Summer (Estate) and You’re My Thrill; they belong to their respective owners.

Huge THANK YOU to pre-readers @burnsoslow, @ao719, and @bebepac!

“I cannot believe you let me buy all this shit, Liam! All of it’s so unnecessary!” Riley huffed as she followed Liam into his apartment.

The best friends had spent the evening having a seafood dinner and catching a movie in Chinatown. The dinner was not grouponed; the movies were. Afterwards, they walked up to Walgreens because Liam needed toothpaste; Riley apparently needed the entire store.

She walked out of the store with bags filled with snacks and toiletries, including Liam’s toothpaste, and $100 poorer. They went to Vapiano’s for takeaway pasta, Liam’s treat. Once back outside, the H Street traffic sped by while Riley set her bags down to pull out her phone. Liam’s hand on her wrist caught her attention.

“Hey, it’s still early on a Friday night; I’m caught up on work until Monday morning. Wanna come back to my place for a nightcap?”

Riley pushed her lips out in a pucker as she considered. She would be going home to an empty apartment and two weeks’ worth of laundry. But, she now had a billion chocolate bars and a huge container of yummy pasta to keep her company while she caught up with Race for the White House and The Windsors.

“I understand if you have plans with Drake later tonight,” Liam’s voice carried over the roar of traffic and the sweet notes of street corner singers.

Riley’s eyes darted to Liam’s face. “What? No … no plans with Drake. It’s poker night with his work buddies.”

“So you’ll come?” Liam’s eyes, and voice, were hopeful.

Riley nodded; Liam ordered an Uber.

Liam took Riley’s bags from her and sat them on his kitchen island before returning to help her out of her jacket. It was autumn in DC, which meant cool mornings and nights, but warm days.

“Hey, you were ready to fight me! In public! Over some Symphony bars! I wasn’t going to stop you,” Liam said defensively.

“Chocolate is always a necessity! Now, the shaving cream … not so much.”

Liam’s index finger tickled Riley’s chin. “It kinda is. You got those hairs on your chin.”

Riley rolled her eyes as she moved her face away from Liam’s finger, mostly because she did have chin hair and had not shaved it in three days. She was willing to bet money Penelope didn’t have chin hair.

Riley removed her shoes and sat in a corner of the sofa while Liam placed their pastas in the refrigerator. He cut on his stereo system, and soon the rich alto of Shirley Horn’s voice filled the apartment. Liam went between the kitchen and living room, placing an ashtray, 2 cans of cold Sprite, and a bottle of spiced Barbados rum on the coffee table. He carried two glasses filled with ice and lime wedges with him when he finally joined Riley on the couch.

He looked at her sheepishly.

“Sorry, I haven’t been grocery shopping, so this is all I have to offer by way of a nightcap.”

Riley raised an eyebrow. “You don’t have groceries, but you have all the ingredients to make a cocktail?”

Liam was pouring rum into the glasses. “Don’t start, Riley B. I haven’t even been here to drink or eat. Hell, I barely sleep here anymore.”

Riley popped her soda open, carefully pouring lemon-lime fizziness into her glass. “Why are you working so hard?”

Liam had just raised his glass to his lips. He hadn’t told anyone except Penelope about the junior partner position. If Pen weren’t his girlfriend, she wouldn’t have known either. What if he didn’t get it? He was up against some pretty stiff competition. And the support and encouragement of his friends would just be added pressure to perform harder, faster, longer.

“Trying to get a raise,” he finally said before sipping his drink. His eyes widened with mischief as he met Riley’s gaze.

“What?” Riley asked as she dug in her purse for cigarettes.

“How about we make the evening more interesting? A game of truth or dare?”

Riley lit up, drawing thoughtfully on her cigarette as Shirley sang about her love being like the wind. Her head nodded towards the sound system. “That’s her live at the Village Vanguard.”

Liam nodded enthusiastically. “It IS!” He took another sip of rum. “So … truth or dare? We can pass on whatever we don’t want to answer.”

Riley shrugged, passing Liam the cigarette. “Why not? Who goes first?”

“Ladies first.”

Riley thought for a moment, undecided whether to ask the question that had been at the back of her mind for almost three years. She decided to go for it.

“Are you in love with Penelope?”

Liam’s eyes widened slightly, then narrowed as he looked at Riley.

Penelope’s thighs were clenched around Liam’s head as her breath gasped and her body bucked. Liam’s tongue finished its ministrations, and he raised his head once Penelope’s thighs fell open on the bed. Liam’s head rested against one of his girlfriend’s legs. He wanted to kiss her, but Penelope didn’t like to kiss after giving or receiving oral.

“You’re so good at that Liam. Too bad I don’t get it as often as I used to”, Penelope said as her fingers idly combed through Liam’s hair.

Liam’s jaw tensed ever so slightly. “I told you, Pen. I’m working on a promotion. A partner promotion. I know I don’t have a lot of time for you now, but soon I will. I promise.” He softly kissed the inside of her thigh.

“When?” she whined.

“I don’t know when, but I really need your support now, Pen. I need you to understand, and not nag or fuss when I’m working late or on the weekends. It’s hard now, but soon it won’t be.”

“Okay.”

Penelope attended one work related function with Liam after that conversation. She quickly reverted to nagging and whining and demanding Liam to focus on her, focus on their relationship. Liam did his best to accommodate her, but he was too caught up in the race for junior partner.

The client was ready to sign on the dotted line.

Phase One completed.

He needed to focus all his efforts and attentions on the upcoming case, but he promised to take Penelope out for a third-year anniversary lunch. Their anniversary had been two days ago, but Liam had been in meetings all day, and spent half the night catching up on paperwork.

“I love her,” he said carefully. “I’m not entirely unhappy.”

Riley looked at Liam in disbelief before chuckling. “Yeah, that’s a Hallmark sentiment right there.”

Liam allowed himself a small smile. “It’s not my ideal relationship, but I’m invested now: time, emotion, money. And it’s not completely one-sided.”

“That’s not love, Liam!”

Liam’s eyes darkened as he met Riley’s gaze. “It’s no fairytale to be sure, but hey … I bear my cross and hope for the best. I’ve gotten used to not getting what I want, and learning to embrace what wants me.”

Silence as Riley swirled the liquid in her glass. Liam raised his glass in salute. “We all can’t have a relationship like yours and Drake’s.”

More silence from Riley as she thought about Drake: he still ordered and bought her regular Coke, even when she specifically told him what she wanted; he still didn’t know she liked her meat well done, and not medium rare. He scoffed at her grouponing. She still had to tell him where her erogenous zones were.

But they had been together for so long. It was comfortable, it was familiar.

Maybe that’s how it was with Liam and Penelope.

“What’s your ideal relationship?” Riley asked curiously.

Liam shook his head. “My turn, Riley B. Who would you kick out of the gang? You don’t have to give a reason.”

Without hesitation, Riley answered, “Madeleine!”

Liam choked a little on his drink. “I was not expecting to hear that!”

Riley raised an eyebrow. “Who would you choose?”

Meeting her eyes, Liam said with a straight face, “Drake.”

Riley swallowed some of her drink. “You may want to think about that. Drake is really handy when it comes to DIY projects. And he knows his meats: how to pick ‘em, how to cook ‘em.”

“Who needs Drake Walker when there’s YouTube?” Liam looked at Riley before tapping a cigarette out of the pack. “Oh, I forgot. You do.”

Riley’s eyes narrowed slightly. “What are you saying, Liam?”

“I’m saying, YouTube can’t be your boyfriend.” He lit the cigarette, a plume of smoke dissipating into the air.

Riley leaned against the sofa cushions. “My turn. Your ideal relationship.”

“One that’s supportive and rooted in friendship. Where it doesn’t matter if we go to bed angry, as long as we go to bed together. One where we have the same group of friends, and don’t hate the outer circles we may run in. I want laughter, and jokes, and cooking together. I want loyalty and faithfulness. I wanna watch football and documentaries and maybe just lay around naked doing nothing but running my fingers through her hair while she does a crossword puzzle. And sex! I need the sex.”

Riley drank more rum. She reached her hand out for the cigarette; Liam moved closer and held it for her as she inhaled deeply.

“My turn,” he said as he dragged on the cigarette. “Show me a scar and tell me the story behind it.”

“What the hell, Liam?”

“You wanna tell me about your first time instead?” Liam took a healthy swallow of his drink.

Shaking her head, Riley pulled her skirt up to her bent knee. She pointed to a large dark patch of skin; it was slightly bumpy; Liam could still make out the long-ago remnants of what at one time had been a nasty scrape.

“I fell off the back of my dad’s motorcycle. I was supposed to hold on tightly, but my leg itched. I let one hand go to scratch it and lost my grip. I landed on this knee; the skin busted open, and then I kind of skidded along on it for a minute or two.”

Liam grimaced. “Sounds painful.”

Riley gave him a small smile. “It healed. Okay, my turn! It’s a dare!”

Liam cocked an eyebrow. “I’m ready!”

“Call Penelope and tell her I’m here with you alone!”

Liam snickered. “You just wasted your turn, Riley B. Pen is … out. With her friends again. It’s my …  punishment for having to work late on our anniversary.”

Riley’s hand touched Liam’s arm. “I’m sorry,” she said softly as Shirley’s voice continued to serenade them.

You bathe me in the glow of your caresses You've turned my eager no to tender yeses You sweep away my sorrow with your sigh

Liam’s eyes locked on Riley’s just a moment too long. They both dropped their heads to hide their blushes.

“You get a make-up turn,” Liam mumbled.

Riley raised her head. “Who’s the mystery woman you’ve been wanting?”

Liam picked up his glass and drained the rest of his drink. Shirley Horn sang on.

You're my thrill You do something to me You send chills right through me When I look at you 'Cause you're my thrill

His eyes searched Riley’s face, and he held himself back from cupping her cheek.

Riley was with Drake. Liam was with Penelope.

Riley B. was his best friend; some days, his only friend.

To tell her the truth now would be too messy, too complicated.

He set his glass on the table. “I pass.”

  Tagging: @sirbeepsalot @wannabemc2 @jared2612 @katedrakeohd @hopefulmoonobject @custaroonie @liam-rhys @jovialyouthmusic @thequeenofcronuts @amomentofsinclairity @bobasheebaby @ao719 @sashatrr @marietrinmimi @ladyangel70 @gardeningourmet @umccall71 @angi15h @romanticatheart-posts @drakeandcamilleofvaltoria @blznbaby @tabithacarlisle @emceesynonymroll @bbrandy2002 @ab1901 @janezillow @debramcg1106 @radlovedreamer @jessiembruno @lodberg @thecordoniandiaries @ramseyandrys @caroldxnvxrs @princess-geek @burnsoslow @annekebbphotography @merridithsmiscellany-blog @queenjilian @emichelle @indiacater @loveellamae @forthebrokenheartedthings-blog @kingliam2019 @texaskitten30 @glaimtruelovealways @zaffrenotes @bebepac @liyanin @dibberdipper @choiceslife @ac27dj

[7classyantiquestores]

Mass Effect Series TPK

One of my recent playthroughs of Mass Effect was dedicated to the goal of “kill as many teammates as possible while still making it to the end of ME3 and still technically winning the game”. I used the Genesis DLC to kill Wrex and the Virmire casualty Kaiden, as well as a combo of skipping every possible side quest and a surprisingly complex strategy to kill all but two teammates in ME2, allowing Shepard to live to ME3. In this case I left Thane and Miranda alive. In addition to the loss of those characters who can die in the last game (Thane, Miranda, and the Virmire survivor Ashley), I’ve found a lot of really interesting tidbits by having the majority of the major side characters gone. 

ME3 Results

Unsurprisingly, the overall story dynamic is a lot less for having over two-thirds of the cast removed. Side missions lack the additional motivations, and scenes normally filled by reminiscing or long-standing character interaction are replaced with cut and dry, down to business cut-scenes. 

Surprisingly, almost no dialogue references the staggering losses from the last game. The occasional comment is made by other squad mates who knew them, but not much from Shepard. 

This is a great way to really appreciate and love the cast. You never know what a good thing you have until they’re all dead. I cheered out loud when the normal team lineup came up on my other file. You’ll be surprised, you even miss the boring or annoying ones. 

Team composition is much more challenging, with only EDI, James, and Liara available as squad mates. These three can only be killed with low enough EMS on the final run, and EDI in the Destroy ending also.

In Priority: Palavan, no replacement is given for Garrus, and no squad mate is sent back to the Normandy when it experiences trouble. Some of Garrus’ dialogue in the first half of the mission is given to the Turian general. Additionally, Liara will comment wondering where Garrus would be if he were here...probably in the thick of it. 

In Grissom Academy: Emergency Evacuation, Jack is replaced as the students’ leader by Jason Prangley, who proves himself to be a surprisingly capable biotic and leader. Making it all the sadder when he is shot after saving Rodriguez at the end of the mission. You also are able to hear additional dialogue. Rodriguez, having just killed for the first time, will ask a hard question of Shepard when you first encounter the students in Orion Hall. 

In Priority: Sur’Kesh, Wreav remains as the Wrex stand-in, creating a slightly more hostile, slightly less controlled environment for the talks. On Sur’Kesh itself, STG agent Paddok Wiks takes Mordin’s place quite completely, having been the spy, helping Shepard evacuate Bakara, and coming aboard to work on the genophage cure. Interesting that Mordin wasn’t the only Salarian motivated enough to make a change in the Krogan situation. Wiks also has his own take on why helping the Krogan is the right choice and some altered dialogue due to his surprisingly different character. 

In Attican Traverse: Krogan Team, Grunt is replaced by Urdnot Dagg. Dagg is an older Krogan, chosen for his post as a feared and respected soldier, and shows himself an enthusiastic fighter, even jealous of Shepard for earning the Reapers’ attention as enemies. Actually a great one-off character. Unlike Grunt, however, he is impossible to save, overcome by Ravagers while buying Shepard time to escape. 

In Priority: Tuchanka, most of the story will proceed the same. Paddok Wiks successfully synthesizes a cure and discovers the sabotage if you don’t tell him. Apparently someone else wouldn’t have gotten it wrong. That said, without Maelon’s data, Eve dies. Lacking both Eve and Wrex, it makes more sense not to cure the genophage, since all fingers then point to a Krogan revenge streak. Paddok is relatively easy to persuade to that end, and the conversation about it provides an interesting point of view on the subject as well. 

In Priority: Citadel II, Thane still saved the Salarian councilor, since he was one of my two survivors of ME2 (as he dies here). However, after skipping most of the side quests and interactions, you can be forced into killing the Virmire survivor in the facedown at the end of the mission. This unlocks some new dialogue with both Liara and with Joker and EDI, reminiscing and questioning over the loss. 

In Gellix: Science Lab (the ex-Cerberus scientists), Dr. Webber drags the injured scientist out at the beginning, and it’s a little harder for you to convince Brynn you’re not Cerberus. A mix between Brynn and random scientists pick up Jacob’s important lines and actions. Same events besides. Pretty dry overall. 

In Lesuss: Monastery (Ardat-Yakshi), it proceeds mostly the same, just excluding Samara’s scenes. Difference being a line from Falere referencing her death, and different dialogue with the same at the mission end, though Falere still ends up staying at the Monastery and Rila still ends up dying. 

In Priority: Geth Dreadnought, Admiral Xen will accompany you in Tali’s place. This leads to some altered dialogue and points of view on the proceedings, and Xen is actually quite funny. Legion is replaced by “Geth VI”, who is a disappointingly exact copy of Legion in every way except lacking the experiences with Shepard and company. The Geth Fighter Squadron mission is also the same, just lacking the one clip with Legion meeting Shepard. 

In Priority: Rannoch, the first part goes as usual until the final scene. Having conveniently crash-landed on Rannoch, Admiral Raan replaces Tali in the Geth-Quarian showdown. Without Tali or Legion present, it is impossible to call off the Quarian forces after allowing the Geth upgrade, leading to the destruction of the Quarian fleet. Raan also shoots herself. It kinda sucks. 

Priority: Thessia is, surprisingly, no different. Guess they really know how to protect plot important characters. 

In Priority: Horizon, most proceeds the same until the end. A non-ME2-loyal, unwarned, unaided Miranda will be mortally injured by Kai Leng and ultimately die after the confrontation with her father. However, Oriana is still able to be freed, and shares a touching farewell with her sister prior to Miranda’s death. Miranda then entrusts her safety to Shepard. There’s also a sad conversation with Joker afterwards where he lists many of the friends you’ve had die so far, asking how long before it’s just “you and me against the whole Reaper fleet?” Not long, Joker, not long. 

The Citadel DLC felt the losses more than anything else so far, but the core crew (unkillable to this point) means the story is just the same. It’s still funny and charming, although it’s painfully obvious that it was written for a much larger crew. Sadly, although not unexpectedly considering it’s a DLC, no references are made to lost teammates through the entire run. 

In the first leg of Citadel missions, Liara comes in as the first companion, taking the “nice outfit” line, James shows up to grenade launcher the enemy shuttle instead of Wrex (and later is smugly proud at his chance to rescue Shep), and EDI is the only extra squadmate Joker brings in. In the casino follow-on, I brought James, triggering an amusing scene where he and Brooks flirt and walk in arm-in-arm, making Shepard third wheel.

In Citadel Archives, we see a sad attempt to keep all three teams, with my chosen two squadmates in Team Shepard, Brooks and the third squadmate in Team Mako, and in Team Hammerhead comes...Cortez (granted, decked in some sick battle armor) along with some random marine lady???, who only appears in the background from time to time to convince you Cortez isn’t alone, but doesn’t appear in cutscenes. They really stretched so they didn’t have to have new dialogue for less teams. 

In Citadel: Party, I did energetic/quiet/quiet. Luckily with James, Cortez, Joker, EDI, Traynor, and Liara, the even numbers mean there’s always someone for each person to talk to. First part is much the same conversations as with a full group, just thinner crowd and less dialogue. The second part you can see Joker and Traynor jokingly argue over EDI, after which they agree to never speak of it again, while Cortez unsuccessfully offers to make EDI a drink, and Liara and James have the obligatory SR-1 vs SR-2 talk downstairs. In the final part, Traynor tries to temper EDI and Glyph’s attempt to make curry, Cortez and Joker argue over who’s the better pilot, and James and Liara play poker. The photo is funny, since they could definitely have all fit on the couch, but game mechanics mean you get Cortez and James awkwardly standing in the back alone while the others sit down. At the end, since my Shep was unromanced, Joker delivers the farewell and “good ride” speech, which is sweet. 

In Priority: Cerberus Headquarters, a unit called Legion Assassin appears, since I handed Legion over to Cerberus in ME2, but he’s easy to fight, and everything is the same besides. 

And finally, we get to Priority: Earth. 

For the most part, the story proceeds as intended. Like all other major missions before, all the vital characters for this mission live until this point. But here’s the breakdown on how it went:

Corez dies, having not talked with him. Victus and Wreav make their appearances for their respective peoples, and a Geth Prime is present in the war room to brief on the Geth status, lacking Tali or Legion. No one sounds particularly optimistic. Without Eve, Wreav sounds like he’s already making preparations for war on the galaxy, but also drops hints that the Genophage cure isn’t working. The three remaining companions can be engaged as usual, with no additional lines. 

When the time comes for the final push, James and Liara are knocked out by the truck while dashing for the beam, and then Shepard can only watch horrified as a direct hit from Harbinger takes them out. Climbing up to the Citadel and using the Destroy ending removes EDI, the Geth, and the Reapers. The low EMS rating means that most all life is vaporized from the surface of Earth, the Normandy catches fire and is severely damaged when the Crucible wave hits it, and no one is seen exiting it after it crashes. 

Hackett’s speech at the end, while admitting the victory, also shows multiple scenes of the destruction, and expresses some concerns about the future of the galaxy.

“We knew this war would test us. We knew the chances of victory were slim at best. But we are victorious. The Reapers are defeated. We deployed every strategy, fought every battle, sent every soldier and hero to the brink. We held nothing back. Now, it's up to the survivors to rebuild, to start again. I only hope the lessons learned in this war don't die along with those of us who fought to win it.”

Our final death tally:

Wrex and Kaiden killed in Mass Effect. 

All companions except for Miranda and Thane, as well as Dr. Chakwas and Kelley killed in Mass Effect 2. 

In Mass Effect 3...

Lost Eve and faked the Genophage cure, ensuring the failure of the Krogan people.

Thane killed, Miranda killed, and kill Ashley.

Sided with the Geth, causing the obliteration of the Quarian people.

Lost Cortez, Liara, and James at the end. 

Destroy ending kicked the Geth and EDI.

Low EMS vaporized most of Earth and left the rest of the Normandy crew ostensibly dead.

And last but not least, Shepard down.

Complete TPK.

My review: 

All in all, fun and surprisingly challenging to achieve, and resulted in many interesting differences from the typical route. On the impressive side, the game can self-correct solidly enough to carry the same story after losing nearly the entire cast. On the disappointing side, with only one or two exceptions, the story self-corrects so well that it hardly acknowledges your many losses. But overall, worth a playthrough! And, most importantly, I succeeded at the world’s most depressing Citadel party. 

My work here is done. 

[windingdrabble]

“So what’s wrong this time?”

It isn’t exactly a jab, the way he says it. It sounds like it should be, on paper, when you consider it’s Sonic the Hedgehog saying it, but in practice it’s a lot more genuine. It all is, the way he tilts his head, lays it down on his hand and props his elbow on the table.

Ruby’s ears twitch from across the table, though his eyes linger on the dark liquid that’s bound to have gone cold by now. He’s been staring at it all morning, has probably sipped from it… three times? Maybe? Definitely more time than he’s bothered to make eye contact, or as good as eye contact can get when you’re blind.

“Why do you ask?”

Sonic rolls his eyes. “You haven’t as much as looked as me since I got here, for one, and for two--” he points at the lukewarm coffee, “--you haven’t touched that since you made it, probably.”

Ruby’s blind, sure, he knows that, but he at least sometimes tries to make it appear like he isn’t. Sonic has told him several times that it’s completely unnecessary to keep it up when they’re alone, but if it helps Ruby deal with it better, then who’s Sonic to take it away from him? He only prefers to interfere when it gets clearly in the way or Ruby’s physical or mental health, like, actually, right now.

He doesn’t get a reply for a few seconds, which doesn’t help Ruby’s case, until he fills the silence with a shrug of his shoulders.

“I am just tired. Not much sleep to speak of.”

“And I don’t get panic attacks when I’m in crowded places,” he deadpans back, earning a surprised look from the other hedgehog, probably because of the bluntness with which he says it. A bit dark, but it got Ruby’s attention. “Wow, look at that, y’ got red eyes. I forgot, since you haven’t stopped making googly eyes at the rim’a your mug.”

Ruby’s namesakes narrow somewhat, or more so they frown. Sonic can tell there’s some attempt at getting a little intimidation going, but it more so looks-- begrudging. He sighs, scooting his chaos closer to Ruby’s left and settling it back down when he’s close enough to him. He lays back down on the table, next to the coffee of such dire interest, crosses his arms, and blinks up at his boyfriend.

“Y’ can feel me here, right?”

“You know I can,” Ruby huffs, and Sonic doesn’t miss the glint of affection that flickers on his face. As short lived as it is, he takes it as a victory. He sighs, tilting his head.

“C’mon, I don’t bite. /You/ know that.”

He looks up, at the eyes that he knows can’t see his, the reflections of internal turmoil and dreadful exhaustion staring back at him. Sonic’s ears fold back, a frown pulling at his mouth/ Ruby can’t see him, so there’s no need to pull up a poker face for his sake, no need to hide the worry he can’t help but feel when Ruby’s so clearly caught up in something.

“Y’ kinda look like when I’m drifting or floating, s’ it something like that?”

Ruby blinks something slow and thoughtful, looking right through Sonic and into his own brainworks. His gaze falls, and the lack of an answer and constant thinking and reasoning makes Sonic think he’s right on the money-- he does all of that when dissociating because he forgets what he’s doing five seconds from deciding on doing said something, but Ruby shakes his head.

“I… really have not slept well,” he seemingly settles on, murmuring quietly. No need to speak too loud when your subject of conversation is right in front of you.

Sonic bites the inside of his cheek, humming at the fact he really isn’t trying to use that as an excuse. His hand wanders, just enough to grab a loose hold of Ruby’s fingers and tangle them together.

“You mean while I’ve been gone?”

Ruby nods, and the admission seems to make whatever was holding him sitting up null, because he droops closer to the table and closer to Sonic. More reflexively than anything, Sonic holds his hand tighter, leaning up let Ruby rest on his forehead.

“You were…” the dark hedgehog hesitates, frowning to himself, “...in them. And things happenned.”

Sonic hums in acknowledgement, propping himself up and holding Ruby’s shoulder to get him to sit up again. “Descriptive, aren’t you?”

Ruby huffs, but Sonic’s glad he kept his tone gentle to keep him from thinking it was a joke at his expense. It probably helps that they’re still holding hands.

“What sort’a things?” “You were angry,” Ruby mutters, rubbing a thumb over the side of Sonic’s hand. “Like when we fought.”

Sonic blinks, looking down at his feet in a quick ashamed blink, guilt that stings of old transgressions nibbling at his chest. He shakes his head, rolling his shoulders back. “Right..”

Blinks. Blinks, blnks again. He can still remember that, even if it sometimes feels like forever ago. So much has happenned since they had their falling out, since Ruby had almost died, since Sonic had almost lost something he didn’t know he’d ever want, since Sonic almost messed up royally, again. For the millionths time in his life, it sometimes felt like. He doens’t like thinking on what he did wrong and prefers to concentrate on what he can do right, the past is in the past, but sometimes things leave imprints. Sometimes things leave claw marks, sometimes things give Ruby nightmares after the fact, and sometimes Sonic is the reason he has those nightmares he really, really doesn’t need.

He likes to think, sometimes, a lot fo the time, that he made up for it in his mind, and most of the time he feels he’s right. They’ve been going steady for a long time now, they’ve gotten through Sonic’s own stuff. But just like the war had left its mark, maybe Sonic had, too, in his unjustified lashing out.

“I’m sorry,” he says before he can think about saying it, but too long after he feels he wants to say it. “That-- that you.. That you’re still, y’know.”

Ruby blinks, slow and sad and insecure, and Sonic all at once is back to wanting to punch himself in the face for ever saying everything he’d said that day, suddenly wants to take back his hand and excuse himself before he says something wrong again, before he almost loses all this in a pool of blood all over again. He did that, he’s the reason Ruby’s still scared, he’s the reason Ruby thinks he would just leave somebody who he’s also terrified will leave /him./ His shoulders stiffen, his fur bristles, a cold sheet grows over his fur.

They’ve talked about this before, about how Ruby’s terrified when Sonic leaves a room, about how Sonic’s scared to close his eyes and see a spear through Ruby’s chest, but that was in the hospital, and what does Sonic’s dumb dreams matter in any of this? That was his fault.

“You don’t deserve that,” he settles on after opening his mouth and not hearing a sound come out after a few tries. “To.. still think I’m going to turn on you ‘r something…”

All Ruby does is blinks again, still sad and still not getting Sonic’s message-- Sonic can see his words go in one ear and out the other, and he wants to make them stay, wants to make them have some sense of permanence. He tightens his hold on Ruby’s hand, despite the way his mind scolds him for still holding unto someone he hurt so bad. You made him want to die, the anxiety hisses, twists his heart and his stomach and makes him sick and makes him shiver. Thoughts like that aren’t going to help him, he already knows they’re unproductive and uselessly self-blaming, but for a second the flashes of you don’t deserve this flash a blinding reminded in his mind’s eye.

And Ruby still doesn’t say anything.

“You know I won’t do that again, right?” he asks, managing to keep back the need to know there’s some part of Ruby that has faith.

And there is, he can see it where the fondness was before, but it’s muddied, it’s swamped over an ocean of doubt and fear and longing. It’s all so clear on a usually stoic face. Sonic’s heart seizes, and shrivels up somewhere in the aching cavity of his chest. Anxiety rings like a bell in there still, bumping into the usual protective pull he feels more often than not. When someone is stuck in a burning building and his own chance of survival is small, when Tails was small and his plane took a nosedive for the ground and grief blinded him for a second, when Ruby was bleeding out on the ground and through the separation of Super Sonic and Normal Sonic, all he could hear from his thoughts was ‘you’re okay, you’re okay, you’ll be okay, I got you, I need you,’ when Ruby had a breakdown the first day he was in the hospital and Sonic held his hand, when his eyesight was fading and he spent an entire evening just staring at Sonic’s face, looking over Sonic’s freckles and commenting on the way his nose crinkles when he smiles, and Ruby didn’t know it that day, or any day, but all Sonic could hear form his thoughts that day as he saw him smile like it was only them alone in this world was a clear ‘I love you.’

“I love you,” he repeats, somehow unfiltered through the anxiety of saying as much, through the fear of making that official to himself. Somehow, it’s clear, it’s quiet, it’s genuine.

The eyes he knows so well widen, a cyclone of emotions in them too intertwined for Sonic to decode. He hears Ruby gasp quietly, and Sonic doesn’t know he’s holding his breath, also knows that he’s holding his breath, feels a cloud fog up his mind and clutches Ruby’s hand to stop himself from floating away and keep himself present despite the nerves coursing a racetrack through his body. He doesn’t usually say things like that, has never said as much out loud. Neither of them have, save for Ruby deliriously saying the same thing while he was taken to surgery.

“I love you too,” comes the grounding response, weighing him down and lifting him up with relief, both at the same time-- not in a spaced out disconnected kind of way. Ruby does something close to laughing, bringing his other hand to gingerly run his fingers down Sonic’s cheek, and Sonic finds himself laughing back at ‘I love you, so much.’

“Don’t cry,” he scoffs, now choked up with relief and expelled anxiety, some fo which still makes the tips of his fingers numb. “What is this, a soap opera?”

“It feels like it sometimes,” Ruby manages out, opting to hold Sonic’s face than to wipe his eyes, leaving Sonic to do it himself. Sonic laughs again, leaning his face into Ruby’s palm and grinning into it, stomach fluttering in his stomach where the anxiety has started to leave for now.

“Well, don’t get used to that. I don’t say stuff like that for free.”

Ruby smiles, eyes twinkling away the sadness he’d seen hold back their gleam earlier. “I know.”

[jadekitty777]

Troika - Chapter 3: To Speak Good

Troika - (Noun) Russian in origin, meaning “set of three” or “three of a kind”. It is a three-way dance between people.

Summary: Taiyang has a bad dream, Qrow has homesickness and James has a headache. Not necessarily in that order.Or, a series of snapshot events at different times of this trio’s relationship together.

Rating: T

Pairing: James/Qrow/Taiyang

AO3 Link: Chapter 3

Note: There’s one more after this, and then the story is done!

~

If someone told Qrow five years ago that he’d one day call Atlas his home, he would have laughed.

If that same someone added he’d do it entirely for James Ironwood, he would have told the guy he was more drunk than him.

Now, with the general dozing in the seat beside him and the tall white buildings that encompassed the upper streets of Atlas growing closer as the airship reached its port, he figured he probably owed that imaginary guy a round or two.

They’d both been gone a few months – he on a mission and James on security detail duty for this year’s Vytal Festival, as he often was. Both conveniently put them in Vacuo, so once he’d finished cleaning up an infestation of Grimm in the lower quadrant, he headed to the city, enjoying the rest of his time away with the other man. James was a bit too rigid to really appreciate the less reputable side of the kingdom which was rot with gambling and underground fight rings, so Qrow improvised, taking him to sand-sailing races and hiking trails instead. It was the walk through the hollowed-out mines, once filled with Dust and now left glittering with natural minerals and stalagmites that kaleidoscoped colors across the stone, that truly fascinated the elder man to the point he wanted to explore every inch of it. Rarely seeing him so boyishly eager, Qrow was happy to oblige even long after his feet were aching from standing too much.

It was all worth it if only for the moment he watched James place his hand against one of the crystals, awash in a gentle blue hue from the reflecting light, and Qrow couldn’t help but correlate the likeness of his lover to this place: that even if parts had been forever lost or broken, what remained was even more beautiful.

Of course, he never said it out loud. Spouting poetic nonsense like that was more Tai’s thing.

Qrow had gotten a chance to see his eldest niece too. She, along with Blake and some of the other kids from the old crew, were on a march across Vacuo with the restructured White Fang, hoping to spread awareness on Faunus civil rights using peaceful protest. They’d chosen to complete their pilgrimage at the crux of the festival, knowing the streets would be crowded from the event and the news reels would be more likely to headline their efforts.

So, mostly, Qrow stood in the thin shade of a light pole in a poor attempt to hide from the burning sun, holding up a sign and letting Yang talk his ear off. She had been so happy, animatedly recounting all the sights and cultures she had seen, all the strange foods she had tried, every new place bringing a new excitement. All of it wasn’t pleasant of course. They’d met a lot of opposition on their travels throughout Remnant that she mostly alluded to, but he couldn’t help but swell with pride as he realized his niece had found her way into following her dreams of being both an adventurer and a hero.

He stretched out his arms up above his head, hearing the slight crack of joints stiff from sitting too long, before he placed a hand on James’ metal shoulder, giving him a slight shake. As he started to rouse, Qrow said, “Time to wake up, Rin Tin Tin.”

Blue eyes blinked at him blearily, saying sleepily, “How do you even know that reference?”

“You have met Tai, right? If you think he didn’t own the deluxe boxset and spent every summer vacation watching it, you’d be very wrong.” He said in way of explanation, feeling the shift of gravity as the airship started to descend for a landing.

“I didn’t, because he doesn’t own it.”

“Not anymore.” Qrow said. “Someone accidentally put it in the fireplace.”

“You did not.” There wasn’t an ounce of belief in that retort.

He grinned cheekily, “You’ll never know.”

James eyed him critically. “Well, you’ll be disappointed to know I did find the send button on my scroll.”

“Jimmy, you’ve evolved! What’s next old man? Using the coffee maker?” He snickered as the other reached out and shoved him.

“Oh, shut up.”

He saluted him. But, after a few seconds of silence, said, “Permission to speak, sir?”

James had a better poker face than most, but even he was struggling not to smile. “Denied.”

“Rude, sir.” He considered it a personal victory when he heard the other laugh softly.

“Come on, cadet.” The man said as the plane jerked on its landing. “I’ve got to drop some stuff off at my office, but we can stop at the café first, alright?”

He responded with another little salute. “Sir, yes sir!”

~

Qrow sipped lukewarm coffee from the plastic cup as he watched the man who had bought it for him putter about his office, putting away some last-minute documents that he’d have to organize properly when he was next there. Back before they were dating, he used to ruthlessly tease James about how much of a workaholic he was, until the other eventually told him that he wasn’t the one who once spent literal years out on the field for his own profession. It had been one of the few times someone had managed to make him pause and actually think.

It wasn’t like he hadn’t heard a variation of it before – how the war was over. How he could take a break every now and again. But it was the way James said it, reminding him that years of his life were just gone, that struck a chord with him and suddenly he understood he’d missed so much. He would never get to be at Yang’s graduation ceremony from Signal as the fiery blond cheered. He would never be able to capture the moment Ruby came home, shouting with joy over her early acceptance to Beacon. Hell, he’d never get to see that stupid, goofy smile Tai probably had when he adopted Zwei. The more he thought, the more the key events piled up, the more seriously he considered removing his name out of the Huntsman rotation permanently.

He never did, but he did lessen his prominence in the roster significantly.

So there he was, in the middle of restoration efforts for Vale city, trying to redefine his life choices, when James walks up to him and says, “Why don’t we go get some coffee?”

He hadn’t really grasped the implications when he agreed until he actually had the cup in his hands and was sitting across from the other. “Jimmy-boy, did you just ask me out on a date?”

“That was my intention, yes.”

“Oh.” And maybe it was because, after having worked together in close quarters for months as the war came to an end, he’d found that he didn’t dislike James nearly as much as he used to or maybe it was because he just wanted to have something he hadn’t allowed himself in years, that he found himself tacking on, “Well good.”

And that was the start of their relationship.

Now, as he sipped on the bitter, overshot brew and realized years had passed since that moment, he found himself not regretting the choice.

“So, we’ll be home within the hour.” James said as he shoved a few more papers into his desk.

“Sounds great!” Was the chipper reply from Tai, voice a bit crackly from being on speaker. “Either of you two hungry? I can make dinner.”

When that blue-eyed gaze turned to him questionably, Qrow called, “Something light.”

“Yeah. It was a long flight.” The general agreed.

“No problem. I can’t wait to hear all about your trip.”

With it being so early in the semester at Apollo Academy, Tai wasn’t able to get the vacation needed to join them. Not that he really wanted to abandon his class for that long anyways. Apollo was a small, secondary school designed to support smaller classrooms for children with special needs, such as amputees. Having a daughter and a lover both living with permanent prosthetics, it had sparked the man’s interest in helping others learn how to cope with their new body parts and reach a sense of normalcy again. While looking for work after he’d lost his former job following the whole newscast fiasco, he’d barely paused to think when he applied at the institute.

Watching Tai whoop and holler as he danced around the house after he’d gotten accepted for the position, Qrow could have sworn his friend was twenty again.

James closed another cabinet. “We’ll see you soon.”

“Yeah.” There was a smile in Tai’s voice as he added warmly, “I missed you guys.”

Qrow ducked behind his coffee as he smiled. James, who had paused to stare down at the phone, didn’t bother hiding his own as he said, “Yeah, us too.”

~

As he walked into their home, the first thing Qrow noticed was the smell of something sweet in the air that told him there was some confectionary baking in the oven. “We’re home!” He announced as he held the door for James, who came into the house with their luggage and carefully shuffled around Zwei who, despite his age, still found the energy to joyfully dart around his peoples’ legs whenever they got back.

There was a whistle, Tai standing in the alcove leading to the kitchen, “Zwei, come on buddy. You’re gonna make him trip.”

“It’s fine.” He said, lifting his square suitcase higher when, without warning, the clasp broke and a few weeks’ worth of clothing spilled out over the floor. The lump of dog underneath the clothing shifted and then he was popping his head back up, a pair of plaid briefs on his head.

When James sent a disgruntled look his way, Qrow shrugged, “Hey don’t blame me! I told you to replace that old thing years ago.”

“I still blame you.”

Laughing, their blond lover walked over, unearthing the rest of his poor corgi first before he started to gather up the clothes. James knelt down, seemingly to help, until his hand caught the younger’s wrist and, when he looked up, lent forward to press their lips together. Tai gave a gentle hum, smiling as he wound an arm over the other’s shoulders. They might have stayed like that awhile, if not for the buzzer from the kitchen that pulled them apart.

“Oh, that’s the dessert.”

“I got it.” Qrow said, giving Tai a wink as he passed on by.

“Well,” The wisecrack followed him, “There was dessert at least.”

He could hear the softness of their voices continue on as he entered the kitchen where he was definitely not planning on stealing pieces of whatever confectionary Tai had decided to make. He found the mitts as he pulled open the oven door, and at first, he thought they were cupcakes, until he lifted them out and brought the tray into the light to discover they were actually muffins.

Huh. Today was just full of ironic food choices.

He set it down on the cooling rack and flicked off the oven, before giving the area a look over. Tai, whether it be on the team, in the family or in their relationship, had remained the cook – so his little haven was pristinely clean except for the vestiges of where dinner was being made. There was something shimmering on the stove and, when he lent forward to look through the glass top, saw it was soup – chicken noodle, he guessed. Lettuce, freshly cut and washed, sat in a strainer. On a cutting board, shredded carrots and radishes that were probably going to be mixed in to make a simple salad. The tea kettle puffed out steam where it sat on the counter; he’d bet every lien he had that it was Jasmine. Their table had already been set; wooden chopsticks by his and Tai’s plates and more durable, metal ones for James.

By the time he was peeling off the paper liner from one of the muffins, his best friend was back, rolling his eyes at him. “Really?”

“It’s what you get for baiting me.” He replied before taking a huge bite.

Tai chuckled, before he went back to making dinner, dicing the rest of the radishes. As he worked, Qrow destroyed the rest of his muffin in a few quick bites, then sidled up next to the other. The knife slowed, the blonde observing him from the corner of his eye. “Can I help you?”

“Well I was thinking,” He started, dancing his fingers along the other’s back, but trailed off when the other jolted away. “Uh, you alright?”

Tai flushed a bit. “Yeah, sorry. That surprised me.”

“Geez, you’re getting old too.”

“Make more jokes like that and I’m hiding the rest of the muffins.”

“Forgive me!” Qrow rested a hand over his heart overdramatically, falling against the other’s shoulder. “For I know not what I say!”

His friend tried his best not to snicker but his grin was untamable. He set down the knife in favor of winding his toned arms around him, bringing them flush together. Tai pecked fond, little kisses along his face, until finally he got to his lips, lingering there. Qrow’s eyes slid shut, leaning in to the caress as he raked his hands through blond hair.

It was the hissing of the overflowing pot that drew Tai away this time. “Ah damn it,” He cursed softly before hurrying over to lift the pot off the burner.

Qrow lent back against the counter, watching him as he pulled off the top, letting the steam out to cool the angrily bubbling liquid. His eyes wandered a bit, pausing curiously on the patch of reddened skin around the edges of the heart tattoo. “Your arm…”

“Huh?” Tai glanced at him, then followed his gaze down to his own still-healing skin. “Oh yeah; I got it touched up, remember?”

“Thought you said you were doing that a few weeks ago?”

He shrugged, turning away to stir the soup. “Well, yeah but Ruby wanted to come with me. So, I postponed.”

That took a minute to compute. “Wait. Did you convince my niece to get a tattoo?”

“No, no.” He was grinning almost manically as he pointed the spoon his way. “She convinced Weiss to get one.”

That revelation took longer, but when it did, Qrow’s eyes bulged. “What!? Ice princess got some ink?!”

“Please tell me Winter doesn’t know.” They both glanced over at James as he entered the room, looking weary already. “Otherwise I’ll never hear the end of it on Monday.”

“Well, it’s not exactly in a discreet place, unless she’s wearing a long dress or really tall boots.”

“Just perfect,” Was the sigh of defeat.

Qrow started to guffaw. “So it’s on her leg? What is it?”

“A red rose with the stem wrapping around her ankle. It’s quite pretty actually.” Tai said, sounding almost fond. Whether it simply be for the art of tattoos or over his unofficial daughter-in-law, it was a little hard to tell. “Anyways!” He reached up to pull down some bowls. “Dinner’s pretty much done. Qrow will you pour the tea?”

“You got it.”

As the day faded to evening and the three of them enjoyed dinner together for the first time in nearly five weeks, Qrow felt a familiar wash of calm overcome him. He had missed this: a dog dozing under the table at their feet and them talking about their day. James recounting somewhat irritably about how lack his security team was. Tai excitedly detailing how well the students from his class were doing. Qrow chiming in about the highlights from the festival.

And when James finally remembered to ask, “By the way, what happened to your copy of Rin Tin Tin?”

And Tai answered, “Oh. Qrow was drunk one night and thought the trees on the cover were firewood, so he put it in the fireplace.”

Qrow couldn’t stop laughing, feeling more at home than ever before.

~~~

A/N: So, if anyone is wondering about the chapter titles, I was looking for another “set of three” idea to name them after. While looking for ideas, I found out three is a really common number in a lot of religious practices – and I stumbled upon Zoroastrianism. One of the philosophies is just like the titles of the chapters – Thinking good, acting good and speaking good will lead to a good life. There’s a lot more to it of course, but that’s a basic principle on their lifestyle.

I realized the chapters aligned pretty well with these ideas, so I went with it.

Chapter 1 is all about good action. It certainly fits James and his disciplined nature the most but Qrow and Tai both have their moments on debating “what the right thing to do” is.

Chapter 2 is focused around good thinking, hence Tai’s many bracketed thoughts in which he’s trying to fight his poor psyche with better views (I actually added a few when I decided on the chapter title). Likewise, Qrow’s own thoughts are a bit see-sawed while James is the reassurance.

Chapter 3 has the weakest connection, because Qrow himself is not a “good” speaker seeing as I depicted him struggling with expressing himself and the plot definitely revolved around a “slice of life” style story. The entire decision basically comes down to the ending – where he finds the most peace and happiness in the simple act of talking around the dinner table with James and Tai.

Now, there’s only one chapter left, but don’t worry, I have a great title in mind! Stay tuned, it’ll be up within a week!

[roslinadama-sinequanon]

Major Crimes Re-Watch-D.O.A.

So, yes there was a case but you won’t read much about that in this synopsis. There was too much going on with the Sharon and Jack dynamic and the case totally paled by comparison. Looking back on these Jack episodes makes it even more apparent why Sharon needed to take things so slow with Andy and why it took her so long to trust in what they had. Another thing that I hadn’t thought of before is the financial aspect of things. In this episode Sharon talks about how Jack never helped her financially, never paid child support, didn’t help pay for their kids college and that he totally messed up their credit and it took her years to get untangled from his bad debt. That made me realize what a really huge step it was for her to agree to buy a house with Andy. It really attests to the depth of her feelings for him and her complete trust in him, that she was willing to combine her finances with his to buy the house even before they were married. Considering the writers of MC don’t focus at all on how Sharon and Andy really feel we have to kind of work that all out in our own heads.

“There's someone in the house"

The only time in FIVE YEARS that we got to see Sharon Raydor in bed and the scene was with...guess whom? Surprise, surprise...RUSTY. 'Nuff said. Right from the get go we see that although Sharon and Jack are technically still married, there is definitely no longer any type of physical relationship. Jack went directly to the spare room and upon finding it locked went to the kitchen. He did not go to Sharon's bedroom nor try to wake her. 

“Jack, what are you doing here?"

Sharon is so not pleased to see him. The minute she heard his voice answering the phone, she gets a look of disgust. Also, instead of just confronting him, she kicks the refrigerator in to scare him...hard…she's pissed...and holds her gun on him--even though she knew it was him. It gives the viewers immediate insight into their relationship and it‘s definitely a “Fasten your seatbelts it‘s gonna be a bumpy ride“ moment.

"Jack what are you doing here at 3:00am without calling me."

At first, I thought this was just typical Jack behavior and that Sharon allowed him to come and go at will, but that obviously is NOT the case. She is totally ticked off that he just showed up and presumed to make himself at home without having called her for permission.

Showing up in the middle of the night like this is incredibly rude. He hasn’t been in contact with Sharon in over five years and yet he obviously was not concerned that he might be walking in on anything with Sharon and another man, which is also telling of their relationship. However, if he'd waited another two years he might have walked in on Sharon in bed with Andy--now wouldn't that have been a great scene? Anyway, I think his decision to just show up wasn’t just an oblivious lack of consideration. It was deliberate. Jack is desperate and he knows if he called Sharon to ask if he could stay with her, she probably would have said no. Their kids are no longer living with her and she has no reason to put him up. By just showing up, he knows it will be harder for her to send him away and it will give him a better chance to charm and manipulate her into letting him stay. Squatter’s rights and all.

"Good old Jack Raydor, you know it was a shame when he moved to Vegas. What? I liked him."

Oh my, hard to believe now that there was ever a time that Andy liked Jack. But I can see it. I am NOT a fan of Jack Raydor's but I can see where he would be a fun guy to hang out with. It sounds like maybe way back when he and Andy might have hung out at the same bar a few times and shared a few drinks and a few "war stories" Andy is also a fun guy and he likes to tell stories too, though I never feel like Andy is trying to put on a show the way Jack always seems to be doing.  Of course, now that Andy is in love with Sharon, knows the real history of Jack and has also gotten to see the dark, selfish, nasty side of the man through his dealings with Major Crimes, he can't stand the guy. I love the Andy/Jack testosterone laced scenes. Provenza on the other hand has always seen right through Jack's bullshit and never liked him.

“Sharon, who the hell is this?”

“You took the words right out of my mouth young fella'“

I can’t help but wonder what Jack's first thought was upon seeing a young teenage boy in his pajamas at Sharon's at 3:00am LOL. Also, really Rusty? Sharon had a gun and you thought you needed a lamp. It was a sweet gesture though.

“What are you moving in or something?”

“No...NO.”

Nope, he's not welcome. Jack was definitely right to make the sneak attack.Still cannot figure out why Jack goes on about his soymilk, almond milk and going gluten free. Is he trying to show Sharon he’s trying to make healthier decisions? If so, that’s another Andy parallel.

“You can stay on the couch for the 2 days that I usually give you.” Sharon and her rules. She has very clear boundaries with Jack. It sounds like whenever he deigned to show up she allowed him 2 days at her home to visit with the kids and then he had to move on. So, obviously this is not the first time he’s shown up hoping to overstay his welcome.

“Jack looks much less stressed than the last time I saw him. Getting back on the court appointed list should help give him a fresh start.”

“For the 100th time.”

“Not a terrific husband I guess. But lots of natural charm.”

“None of which he wasted on raising his children and oddly enough charm doesn't pay for college.”

Jack being around is definitely throwing Sharon. The entire time she's in talking to Taylor she keeps looking out at Jack who is out putting on a show for her colleagues and Rusty. What makes this conversation interesting is that, first of all, she's having it with Taylor and she seems perfectly comfortable discussing her personal life and the details of her marriage with him so it‘s pretty apparent that they all (Taylor, Provenza, Andy, maybe Tao) know how Jack comes and goes from her life. It also shows us that Sharon has given Jack dozens of chances to change his life and he has screwed them up every time and that he did not help raise his children nor offer any financial help to her. You can also tell that while she'd enabled him before, as of right now she is just simply done with him Also, Taylor says "getting back on the court appointed list" so this is not the first time Jack has had to resort to this to try to reclaim his law career and make a fresh start. Lastly, this is the scene where they screwed up and showed Mary wearing her own glasses rather than Sharon's as she tries to get Rusty's attention. I gotta say, I like Sharon's glasses, but I like Mary’s better. In that moment, her tapping on the window to get Rusty’s attention we can see that Sharon is worried about Rusty being sucked in by Jack’s charm. She knows what Jack is all about and knows that whatever kind of friendship might form between them, Jack will have no qualms walking away and she does not want to see Rusty get hurt, hence, why she keeps watching Jack and why she tries to get Rusty's attention to get him away from Jack.

“I don't mind sleeping on the couch if Jack wants my bed. It's closer to the TV.”

“It's closer to the front door which is why Jack is going to stay exactly where he is. I don’t want him getting too comfortable.”

“What’s the deal between you two, why are you still married?”“Well there are financial issues, there are religious issues and there are some things I can't explain and none of it is any of y

The first time I watched this episode my assumption was that the “something I can’t explain” applied to Sharon’s feelings for Jack. And I’m sure there was some of that. But a year later when Sharon asks Jack for the divorce and he tells her that if she’d really wanted a divorce she would have done it years ago, she tells him that the time that she needed a ring on her finger for her career is over. So, that brings a whole new light to the “things I can’t explain.” I’m sure in the early years Sharon went through a lot of sexual harassment--another reason to check off in her decision to join the PSB and clean the department up.

“Rusty do not get attached to Jack. He only stays as long as it takes to get what he wants.”

Sharon is very world-weary at this point. She's been through it herself, has been through her with her two children and she doesn't want Rusty to have to go through it too. By offering to give Jack the couch Sharon can see that Rusty is already being seduced by Jack.

“Take a good long look in the mirror Susan because the only person you're fooling is you.”

I always love watching Andy with the addicts. He is no nonsense with them and doesn’t cut them any slack but is also always trying to get them to see the light and face their problems. I would love to see him with some of the guys he's sponsored

. “A few years ago I had this big case, huge payday, 200 grand. You know what I did with it? I played three months in poker tournaments.”

“Three months of poker tournaments? How much did you win?”

“Ohhhhhh....I didn't. But I was so close.”

The story of Jack's life. The bastard won 200,000 in a legitimate court case and instead of paying Sharon back child support or giving his kids money for college, he pissed it all away playing poker. The sad thing is that Rusty is impressed by this. It's no wonder Sharon does not want Rusty falling under Jack's influence and it's probably a good thing that Jack was an absentee parent to Emily and Ricky. They were much better off with just Sharon to guide them.

“In 30 years I've never seen you put a toothpick in your mouth.” At first, I thought that line was thrown in just to show how long Jack has known Sharon, however, as @milquetoast-on-acid pointed out; it was probably more like foreshadowing for Andy becoming a part of Sharon’s life. Andy often had a toothpick in his mouth on TC so evidently she’s had toothpicks in her cupboard all these years just waiting for Andy to come along and use them :-)

“Are you gambling?”

and

“Rusty are you finished studying?

Sharon as the killjoy--- I think this is often how Jack really sees Sharon--a few seasons later he makes the comment “who would show up here sober”. Sharon is Jack’s conscience and she is becoming Rusty’s conscience. She is the responsible one and she is also desperately trying to keep Rusty from getting too involved with Jack. But Rusty is starved for affection and here is Jack with all kinds of time on his hands who is able to focus all his attention on getting into Rusty’s good graces. Jack isn’t stupid; he’s a master manipulator who has been manipulating Sharon for years. He knows her Achilles heel is her children (The only reason Sharon allows him to stay past his allotted time is because he caves in to her blackmail and calls Ricky and Emily) and right away he can see that she views Rusty as one of her children. Since he does not have a relationship with his own children, Rusty is the best bet. And for Rusty, living under Mom’s rules, Jack is a breath of fresh air. Jack is the one who plays upon Rusty’s worst instincts and makes them okay, whereas Sharon is always steering him do the right thing and making him feel bad when he does not. The same can be said for Rusty’s two  father figures. Andy and Provenza are more parental figures while Jack is like the misfit black sheep uncle who returns to wreak havoc. He is fun and doesn’t play by the rules and he seems to enjoy spending time with Rusty, of course Rusty is seduced. “That's easy; Jack can see your cards reflected in those ridiculous sunglasses he probably talked you into wearing.”

“Oh my god you had me fooled the entire time.”

“That's his specialty.”

Again, Sharon is trying to keep Rusty from falling under Jack's spell, but instead of heeding her warning or being pissed at Jack for cheating he’s just impressed with Jack’s cunning and thinks he’s cool.

 “Rusty it's after 10.  I don't want to hear any complaining.”

Again, we have the Sharon and Jack as polar opposites, Sharon wanting Rusty to do what's good for him, to follow the rules she's laid out etc whereas Jack is all about fun and not caring about the fact that Rusty has school the next day. Sometimes opposites work--in the case of Sharon and Andy who balance each other out--and other times the behavior is so opposite that it grates and creates a division as between Sharon and Jack. However, at this point Jack is still treading very lightly and does back Sharon up.

“I guess it's your place.”

Sharon definitely bought the condo on her own. My head canon says they originally  had a house which she sold after Ricky went off to college, which is when she bought her condo, hence, why Jack has no leverage with her when it comes to staying there. “We agreed on two nights, this is the second night.”“I could go pick up the kid tomorrow at school.I"m free.”

The first time I watched the Jack episodes I thought he seemed like an okay guy--it seemed like he was being kind to Rusty and was trying to help out. It was only later that I realized he was totally using Rusty to butter Sharon up so he could eventually get her to co-sign for his apartment--though I’m sure he did enjoy spending time with Rusty. Having never been burned by him like the rest of the family, Rusty looks at Jack with admiration and Jack feeds off that

. "What’s the matter?"

Jack groans pretending to be hurt and even in this moment, you can hear the suspicion in Sharon's voice when she asks him that question. This is a woman who has really been burned by this guy. There is not one iota of trust left her when it comes to him. Love the steely glare Sharon gives Jack when he gets too close. She might be an enabler, but she does have very definite boundaries with him and hanky panky is certainly out of the question. She’s moved on even though it’s pretty apparent that Jack hasn’t.

“My apologies for interfering. I just feel kind of sorry for the kid.”

Oops, wrong thing to say. The minute he says this you see Sharon's face just freeze.  He feels sorry for Rusty but never felt sorry for his own biological children?

“Can I get ya a blanket you look cold.

”“Maybe that's because you've spent more time with Rusty in the past 2 days than you have with our own kids in the last five years.”

“Don't start Sharon. I can't change the past; I can only try to do better.”

This is a conversation they’ve evidently had hundreds of times. Sadly, this is all lip service with Jack. He doesn’t really care about doing better.

“A man can change his face, he can change his name, but changing his nature is very hard.”

Speaking from experience, she's talking  as much about Jack as she is about Jim, the suspect. She’s realized that no matter how many times Jack says he’s going to change, how many times he thinks he’s going to change he simply cannot change who he is who he is.

“If you completely changed, why are you back in another police station? Being arrested for first degree murder.”

Again, the parallel between Jim the suspect and Jack. Jack is right back where he started, trying yet again to get his life back on track, mooching off Sharon and avoiding his children.

Andy is still eating French fries at this point.

“So this is what this drive through is really all about? You want me to co -sign for an apartment.”

“Would you?”

“Absolutely not. I spent years getting untangled from your finances, Jack; I'm not going back there.

This is what Sharon has been waiting for. From the moment Jack arrived, she knew he wanted something from her and now she knows what it is. We also now find out that not only did Jack not give her child support or help her financially he actually  screwed her over messing up her credit and putting her in debt. For someone who did something like that, it's hard to believe that he has the nerve to come back and ask her for help like this. When these episodes first aired, I thought Jack was a rather charming irresponsible lout. Now watching it again, he really comes off as rather embarrassingly weak and pathetic.  How can he not feel any shame at having to beg his wife and play the "poor me card" for help? I was embarrassed for him.

“I guess I'll have to call my brother.”

“Oh my god why do I always end up feeling sorry for you.”

Probably because contrary to her former image, she has such a compassionate heart and likes to help people. And maybe because she can still remember the Jack she originally fell in love with, and there are still a few sparks of him in the pathetic man he has become.

“I've had to negotiate with her my entire adult life.”

The first indication we have that he and Sharon married very young.

“Calling your kids, why is that a problem?

”“Sometimes Rusty you let down the people you love and you don’t know how to start over again, isn't that true Jack?”

“The kids don't want to talk to me.”

“You’re right, they don't want to talk you, but they NEED to talk to you and they will. NOW. Otherwise the Best Western is right down the street.”

This is something very important to Sharon; you can hear her voice start to break with emotion when she says they need to talk to him. Sharon may have been an enabler but she is no pushover. Rusty gets the first inkling into who Jack really is and that maybe there is a reason that Sharon is so wary of him. And for the first time we see real genuine emotion in Jack. When he says the kids don't want to talk to him, there are real tears in his eyes. He knows how badly he has messed up, so badly his kids don't want anything to do with him and if it wasn't for Sharon that's the way it would probably still be today. S As for Sharon she's frustrated with having Jack around; worried about how he's affecting Rusty, yet, if she can blackmail him into calling their kids she'll deal with all that fallout. She is not doing it for Jack; she is doing it for her kids. She wants them to have some kind of a relationship with their father, even if it comes from him being forced into it. And this is such a HUGE difference between Jack and Andy. Andy is willing to do whatever it takes to work on his relationship with his kids, and it is genuine and comes from the heart--not from being blackmailed. I’m thinking that some of the emotions left over from the Jack visit are what spurs Sharon on to help Andy in his quest to be more involved in his daughter’s life and to accompany him to Nicole’s wedding. She can see how much Andy is hurting and how badly he wants to repair things and I’m sure she wishes that Jack felt for Emily just a touch of what Andy feels for Nicole. I think seeing how emotionally invested Andy is truly touches Sharon and it is the start of her opening her heart to him. 

“You know she's going to call them back to see what you said.”“Of course will, but that's partly because she's still crazy about me.”

Oh the look Rusty gives him, like "are you nuts" LOL. I really think that it is the other way around. I think that despite everything Jack is still crazy about Sharon. I don't think that Sharon is still crazy about Jack. I think she still cares about Jack  and that she still loves him, but is no longer “in love” with him and that for her, being in a relationship with him again is out of the question whereas I think Jack would love to slip right back into her bed and start playing hubby again. But it wouldn‘t last. He can‘t live the way Sharon lives. I saw a comment somewhere about Jack still wearing his wedding ring, while Sharon doesn’t. To be honest, I don’t think Jack wears that ring out of any attachment to his marriage. I think it all comes down to manipulation with him. I doubt he had that wedding ring on when he lived in Vegas, however, he puts it on when he comes home to Sharon because he wants her to help him, wants her to still see him as her husband, wants her to think he still sees them as a married couple.  It’s funny but people often talk about Sharon having not been able to move on, but I don’t agree. Sharon has moved on. She’s made a great life for herself without him, he’s the one who keeps running back to her–and she’s not particularly pleased about that. She has very clear boundaries with him and is really more focused on his relationship or lack thereof with their children. 

“Richard William Raydor.

Right away, the genuine Jack is gone and "show Jack" is back on. He's putting on an act for Ricky and for Sharon and that is very sad. Throughout this episode it feels like Jack is always putting on a show. I get the feeling that for all his confidence and bravado, Jack is not very happy with who he is inside so he's always putting on a show,presenting a face far different from who he is on the inside. When I think of Jack Raydor, I think of an old-fashioned snake oil salesman or con artist.

[mangon3cta]

After Forever

SIMON DOMINIC

GENRE: IDEK

WORD COUNT: 2,239

for this anon

i always go too deep into these requests. there was actually more i wanted to add but it would’ve gotten too long

a/n: i should’ve used his real name but i liked typing simon better srry

I turned left through the hallways, reciting the directions Jay had told me in my head like a mantra. He had asked me to deliver a message to the second CEO of AOMG; Simon Dominic. Jay lost his phone and now I was his texting app.

I finally found the studio Simon worked at and knocked on the door before slowly opening it. Simon, who was seated in front of the computer, turned around to look at me and I smiled. “Jay told me to tell you that he wanted to see you,” I informed him.

“Is it urgent?” Simon asked.

“It must be since he sent me all the way down here.”

Simon nodded and stood up. “Alright then.” He brushed past me out the door and I watched disappear down the hallway. I looked back at the room which was wide open. Without another thought, I walked inside, shutting the door behind me.

The room was wide but slightly cramped and there was soft music occupying the still air. I moved over to the computer and clicked the chrome icon. YouTube popped up. The song that was playing was “Hyung” by Dumbfoundead featuring Dok2, Tiger JK and of course, Simon Dominic himself.

I smiled. Ever since Simon filmed Show Me The Money 5, he had started becoming more busy. Usually, he’d keep to himself. But nowadays, he was doing features, working more on his music and basically trying to get out there again. It was cool.

“I really shouldn’t be doing this,” I whispered to myself as I started snooping around in his things to maybe find a teaser to what he was working on at the moment. I wasn’t going to look too deeply or I might find something I’d regret seeing.

I clicked here and there trying to find something. “Having fun?” A voice said behind me. That voice only belonged to one person. I froze in the seat, cursing myself for my stupidity. I slowly rolled back and stood up, facing Simon who had a quite irritated expression on his face.

“I…I was just…you see,” I tried forming words in my mouth but everything just sounded lame.

“Yeah, get out,” Simon replied and I quickly ran out the door, heated with embarrassment. I’m sensitive so I almost teared up as I walked back to Jay’s office.

“Hey, where were you? I thought you’d come back,” said Jay as I entered the room.

“Nowhere,” I mumbled, sighing deeply.

“Well anyway, I’m taking work off early and I don’t really need anything else so you can go home.”

I bit my lip in frustration and picked up my bag. “Thank you sir, if you need something else you can call me,” I said sarcastically.

Jay laughed. “There’s no need to call me sir, we’re friends.” I could’ve cursed at him but I held my tongue because I would’ve cried at the same time.

“You know, I really, really hate you.” I slammed the door and stormed out of the building towards my car. Those hateful feelings I sometimes felt towards my older brother were coming back. He was only a year older but he acted like he was the boss of me.

Technically, Jay was my boss. Ever since AOMG became popular, I was dying to work with him. I used to do a normal job at an office, but Jay Park being the CEO of AOMG and my brother came with some advantages (and disadvantages but that’s not for now).

I also loved music. But when I asked to work with him, Jay had gotten the wrong idea. I wanted to produce, make music, but Jay thought I wanted to work for him, not with him. Now I was his office assistant. I couldn’t speak up to him about him because 1) he didn’t know I’m good at music and 2) he’d probably just say no. My insecurity towards myself and my admiration towards my brother really gets in the way.

Now I didn’t want to lose this job because this is the closest I’ve ever been to real life musicians. I was friends with everyone, but I’d seen them work and it really inspired me to do my own things; not in the company, but at home.

When I returned to work the next day I contemplated apologizing to Simon. I was in the wrong and Simon’s scary when he’s mad but I knew it was the right thing to do. I knocked on the door to his studio.

“Come in.” I pushed the door open and walked inside with a forced smile on my face. Simon didn’t look angry but rather annoyed that I was here again.

“Listen,” I started, licking my lips. “I just wanted to apologize for yesterday.”

“Go ahead.”

I sighed. “I’m sorry I was looking in your things…I really didn’t mean to.” I looked around for a chair and sat down. Simon watched me with a look on his face that seemed to say “are you for real right now?”.

I continued. “I’m really sorry. The thing is, ever since this company grew big, Jay’s been acting like he’s better than me. I wanna do music too…but he just doesn’t understand. I try to be around here – around you guys, that is because you’re so cool and it really inspires me and I want to be like you…to do what you guys do because I love it so much.” Before I knew it I was just spilling my heart out to him.

“Why are you telling me this?” Simon asked. He was leaning back on his chair. I flushed and stood up.

“Sorry, I got carried away. The point is, I hope you forgive me.” I walked over to the door and opened it.

“Wait,” said Simon and I turned to face him. “Close the door and sit back down.” I hesitantly closed the door and took my seat again.

“You do music?”

I smiled excitedly. “Yeah I do. It’s a hobby but I’ve been trying to turn into a job.” I shrugged.

“How come no one knows – I mean, how come Jay doesn’t know?”

“I just never told him….I’m too scared I guess.”

Simon looked up in thought. “So have you worked on anything?” I enthusiasm returned as I reached for my phone.

“Lots actually. I made something that was inspired by you and GRAY on Show Me The Money,” I began to play the track. “It’s like an epilogue to Forever.” I handed Simon the phone so he could listen clearly. The entire song was about 3 minutes, while the part I had produced was a mere 1 minute, but I was so proud of it.

Simon sported a poker face for those entire 3 minutes and I suddenly felt sick. Maybe he didn’t like it. When the song had ended, he returned my phone and nodded.

“First of all, where did you get the beat?”

I lowered my head in shame. “I found it on Jay’s computer. I know its stealing but I wasn’t going to show it to anyone.” I chuckled guiltily. “You probably think I’m the saddest person on earth, but I’m just really desperate.”

Simon laughed and I relaxed a little. “It’s actually much better than I had expected.”

“Really?!”

“You should really get someone to rap on it – like an epilogue,” he suggested. I flushed and shook my head.

“Nah, I don’t really know anyone anyway.”

“Well, you know me.” I looked up in disbelief. Whenever I listened to the track I always imagined Giriboy or San E’s voice. I’d never imagined Simon Dominic to be on it. “If you want, that is.”

I nodded eagerly. “That would be a dream come true.”

“Okay, I’ll talk to Jay and I’m sure GRAY will let us use the original song since this is just the demo. I think this will be good.”

+

In the afternoon, Jay called me to his office and I went there reluctantly. He looked disappointed and I knew what this talk was going to be about. “Simon talked to me yesterday –“

“I know,” I said, plopping down on one of the chairs. “I know what he talked to you about and I already apologized to him. He’s okay.”

“Why would you do that? Mom and dad raised you better than this, I’m embarrassed.”

I groaned. “Well you don’t have to be. Oh, and I don’t want to be your assistant anymore.” Jay looked taken back by my serious tone.

“What? You said you wanted to work with me.”

“With you, Jay, I wanted to work with you, not for you. I don’t wanna be your dumb office assistant. All I do is sit around in your office and get you coffee whenever you want. And send your stupid messages. I’m sick of it.”

Jay blinked and sat down, confused. “Well…I didn’t know you felt that way.”

“I like music too. Stop acting as if you’re better than me just because you have this huge popular company and lots of cool rappers. I wanted to do music with you, Jay.” I sniffed.

“Oh.” Jay nodded. “Why did you tell me before?”

I shrugged. “I don’t know…I thought you wouldn’t like it. I mean, you’re Jay Park and I’m just me.” Jay chuckled.

“You’re my sister,” he walked over to me and sighed. “Are you mad at me?”

“Yes, I am.” Jay put his arms around my shoulders in an awkward attempt to hug me. “Well, I guess I’m not that mad. I just wanted to get that off my chest.”

“Then I hope you feel better. Tell you what, how about you show me your stuff and we can work on it together?”

“Actually, Jay, Simon was helping me. We were discussing it before you called me here. He said he was gonna talk to you about it too.”

“You went to him first?” asked Jay.

“He asked me,” I told him. “Or else no one would’ve known.”

+

So we worked on the track for days after that. GRAY GROUND was where all the magic happened so I occupied myself in there; me, Simon, Jay and Gray. But some days it was just me and Simon. There wasn’t much to write considering the remix was just a minute longer but, according to Simon, lyrics were hard to write. You needed inspiration and a clear mind.

“You give me inspiration,” he told me. I was sitting on the floor with my laptop on my lap. I looked up, laughing.

“That’s going a little too far, don’t you think?”

Simon chuckled and shook his head. “Really? I was being completely serious.” He left what he was doing to face me. “Someone like you, diligent, young and fresh, that gives me inspiration. You’re like a burst of cold air on a hot day. Seeing you work hard makes me want to work hard too, to write witty lyrics as fast as I can.”

I smiled and looked down at the keyboard. The thought that someone like him could get inspiration from someone like me was a little overwhelming. It triggered me to work even harder so that he could take from me and we could help each other.

With everything going on, I was finally formally introduced to the rest of the AOMG family as a “rookie producer”. They liked me and Gray told them he was proud that I had chosen his beat for this track.

Jay really liked the finished product and said he would release it as soon as he had contacted some people. I told him the title of the remix was called After Forever and he complemented my sense.

When the song was released it achieved an all-kill on the charts. I knew it was because BeWhy was so popular and the fact that Simon Dominic made a somewhat comeback. I was proud of my work and Simon said I should work with more people.

And sure enough after that I was getting phone calls from media outlets and other companies asking me to produce for them too. I needed a little break because the sudden attention was making me emotional.  

“Here’s to Y/N!” Jay announced. There were cheers for me and Simon patted me on the back. I smiled and bumped champagne glasses with everyone near me. I was at an AOMG party – strictly for AOMG label mates only. This was my first time being invited despite having worked at the company for a year now.

“Also,” Jay continued. “I got a call this morning from guess who?” I looked at Jay, listening intently. “From Lee Byung-Yoon. He said we wants a collaborative album with you, Y/N.” More cheering and I flushed, goosebumps rising on my skin. “I just couldn’t deny such a heavenly offer. What do you say, Y/N?”

“DO IT, DO IT, DO IT!”

“A whole album is a little –“

“Wouldn’t that mean we’d get to spend more time with each other?” Simon whispered in my ear as I considered the suggestion.

“I’ll do it.” I would be lying if I said there wasn’t an ulterior motif in my answer. Although working with the one and only BeWhy would be a glorious experience; the fact that Simon probably would be helping me the entire time was something else to look forward to.

[iggytheperson]

Another Excerpt of “Daisuke’s Save Scumming Adventures”

Or misadventures I guess. Apparently the last one wasn’t extremely terrible and some people actually liked it so I wrote another one. Chimeramon has no brain and thus has no line of action for Daisuke to avoid so frustration ensues.

The first time one sees one of their friends get eaten by a frankenstein of giant deadly monsters, they are taken aback. And so the first time that this happens to Daisuke, he stares almost blankly as his brain struggles to fully process the horror before him. Thankfully, a hunk of debris crushes him a few seconds later, and Daisuke spends three days in the next timeline recuperating before going back and trying again.

By loop 74, he’d gotten a bit more used to both that and the others gruesome methods of carnage this thing enlists. But he’d also never ever hated anything as much as he hated this stupid ugly lump of freak. It was easily the worst thing that had ever happened to him in his entire life.  And the worst thing about it? It never did the same thing twice! Even goldfish have some sort of pattern, but not this thing. Oh no, it just had to something completely random every single time and throw Daisuke’s entire plan out the window. How was he supposed to find a safe route to beating this piece of crap if he couldn’t predict it!? Oh, you made sure Miyako wasn’t standing on that one platform where she got crushed by debris last time? Well too bad! It’s going to throw a storage bin at the ceiling this time for no apparent reason at all!

He decided to voice all of this to the collapsed base before he resets, and throws in a few more words towards the monstrosity that were of a more colourful vocabulary than most would expect an 11 year old to have, but it’s not like there’s anyone left alive to hear him anyway. And that brain-dead abomination couldn’t understand him even if hadn’t already flown off to god knows where. He hears something drop to the ground, something that doesn’t sound very ruble like. As ruble was the only thing around besides dead bodies, the prospect of a not-so-dead body was more than enough to send him spinning around.

The fallen item that had made the noise happened to be a whip, which had been dropped by its stupefied owner. It seemed there was someone left to hear him after all. And heard him he had, judging by the look on his face. This was probably going to be bad. That eye twitch was kinda funny though. Ken thought so too apparently, because he suddenly started cackling like a hyena. Um, was this guy ok? Tears were starting to stream down his face. Also his visor was broken and glass shards were cutting into his face. Daisuke decided to do something about that. He walked over and started pulling them out.

“Are you doing alright man? You sound like a mad scientist out of some B movie. Which I guess you kind of are, since you went and made that freaky thing, but still.” It looked like he’d gotten it all out. The psycho laughing had stopped too, which was a plus since the blood probably would’ve made that look even worse.

“It’s just…all this time I’ve been going “How on earth does and imbecile like this guy keep ruining all my plans!?”” Ken said, with an oddly huge grin on his face.

“But this whole time there’s just been a reset option, so you’ve probably been falling into trap after trap and just resetting every time!” If there’s one thing he liked about Ken, it was the dramatic hand gestures. He made them all over the place as he talked and it was like watching a theatre performance. Or Dana actually, and now that he thinks about it he realizes Dana totally would’ve wanted this guy as a pupil if he’d been an immortal. Ken would’ve probably been totally into that too. Countless images started to pop into his head and he struggled to fight down his laughter.

“So how do you unlock it, the reset option? What does it look like? Show me.” Hold up. Wait a second. Daisuke had been too busy laughing about the whole Dana thing and hadn’t noticed that Ken seemed to be thinking something super weird.

“I mean obviously this run is done for so you might as well.” Oh you’re kidding, he thinks this whole thing is a video game? No screw that, Daisuke isn’t taking this crap right now.

“Well first thing, stop whatever runaway caboose started that train of thought. Second thing, you think this is a game?” Daisuke stared Ken down, waiting for whatever answer this guy was going to come up with. But Ken had some weird poker face going on so he decided to keep going.

“I dunno about you but I’m pretty sure Earth isn’t exactly capable of making a game like this. So could you please explain to me what the heck makes you think that this is a game?”

“It’s….it’s digital! Nothing here is real, it’s all just a bunch of data!” Ken backed up as he said this, not even his own voice seeming to believe the words being said.

“And besides, you were just talking about resetting over and over again yourself!” It wasn’t the answer Daisuke had expected but he wasn’t sure why not. He also wasn’t sure why Ken was scratching his neck so much, but he was pretty sure that it would start bleeding if he kept doing it.

“Well one, I wasn’t talking about anything to do with the digital world.” He started, trying to get Ken to stop scratching so he could look at his neck.

“It’s just me who can do it, and to be honest ‘reset’ is a terrible name for going back in time every time you die” Ken’s scratching abruptly stopped and suddenly looked a whole lot paler, which Daisuke wouldn’t have thought to be possible. But it got him a look at Ken’s neck, so he considered it as a good thing. Why was there a blackish glowy thing in Ken’s neck?

Daisuke didn’t get any more time to think about it, because that weird wirey tower that somehow survived the destruction completely unharmed was suddenly doing the weird glowing darkness thing too. And then exploded. Oh well, he thought, sitting at that morning’s save point. I’ll figure it out later.