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miss-choco-chips · 3 years

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Bird Watchers

It was something like an open secret in Gotham, that even though all it’s heroes were open to help no matter the situation, each one of them had a special affinity to certain matters.

For example, children from all districts knew to yell for Nightwing if they found themselves lost and scared. Small business owners often painted little Oracle symbols on their doorsteps, to warn away possible thieves with the knowledge that Gotham’s cryptic hacker had their eye on them. Working girls would send a quick prayer to the Red Hood before seeing their seediest clients; and as such, knew who to call for if things took a turn for the worst.

And Red Robin… well. His was a very specific bunch.

---.---

Warnings: depression, suicide attempts, overdose comic-typical violence (discussed, not explicit). Hurt-comfort all the way, baby. There’s also one scene, with the redhead, that I copied from the comics.

(it’s almost 2 am, I wrote half of this in one go, don’t @ me for mistakes. I’ll edit tomorrow. Maybe.)

---.---

The first time he stopped a suicide, he had just turned thirteen. The suit still felt wrong, too loose in all the places where Jason’s bigger presence would have been a better fit. Too small, too brainy, not brash enough, not good enough.

He would never think himself worthy, but he was all Batman had. There were no other candidates, not ones he could have thrown the job at without risking Bruce’s identity, so he’d have to make do.

But even so, he had been gaining a little confidence over the past few months. His training with Shiva, and Dick’s and Bruce’s focus on making him as ready for the streets as humanly possible, had ensured he never encountered a situation where he couldn’t handle himself, or get back up in time to avoid any casualties.

Except for right now.

“Hey! Don’t do it, please!”

Yeah, maybe yelling at the man precariously balanced on the edge of a how many feet tall building wasn’t his wisest moment. He’d berate himself later. Now was freak out time.

Said man stumbled for a second before regaining his footing and turning to look at Tim. He couldn’t be more than forty, with a bit of an overgrown beard and tired eyes. He had something clutched in one hand, tanned and calloused from work, the other over his chest, probably due to the scare of having a bat suddenly appearing behind him.

“R-Robin…”, he gasped, shook out of whatever reverie he was going through for a second. “W-what… I mean, why are you…?”

‘Okay, Tim, breath. Can’t call B, he’ll notice, get startled and jump. Can I catch him if he does? My grappling hook is made to withstand more than my weight, but if I can’t handle the strain of swinging us both to safety…’

He couldn't risk it.

“Good evening, Mr…?”

Surprise and good manners made the man automatically answer, “Ed. Ed Harrinson.”

Encouraged, Tim took a tiny teeny step forward. Ed’s entire body shock and he leaned backwards. Tim froze, fear keeping his breathing and heartbeat hostages for the time being, stopping the first and kick starting the second.

“Mr Harrinson, I’d like to ask you to step away from the edge? I’ll call an ambulance for you, and…”

“No!”, the man screamed, suddenly over his surprise, a look of determination trying to masquerade his obvious exhaustion. “If you call an’one, I’ll jump.”

Tim wisely kept the ‘you were gonna do it anyway’ to himself. He nodded slowly, hands emerging from the confines of his cape to show Mr Harrinson the lack of a communication device.

“I won’t, then, but may I come closer? Please?”

It was on the last word, high pitched and wavering, that the man cracked. With wary demeanor, he waved him over, pointing to a patch of rooftop a little far but close enough for Tim to feel comfortable- or as comfortable as he’d get, in these circumstances.

As he approached, he could feel the man analyzing him. The little gasp when he stood by his side didn’t go unnoticed.

“You are… smaller than I imag’ned. Too small for a bat. My boy’s taller than you” he mused, likely to himself, but Tim grasped onto that bit of information and clutched at it with both hands, desperately.

“I’m short compared to my peers, so maybe I’m the same age as your son. How old is he?”, he asked, in his most conversational tone. Fear still had a grasp over both his lungs and heart.

Something in the man’s face shifted.

“He… he just turned fifteen.” Older than Tim, then. Ed continued, “He’s… ”, in a second, the sadness was replaced by pride, “he’s grown up p’tty well, if I say so m’self. A fine young man, that kid. He’ll go places.”

For a beat, Tim tried to imagine his own dad here. As much as he’d hate to see Jack in Mr Harrinson’s place, he couldn't help but wonder if he’d be talking about him the same way Ed spoke about his son.

He… didn’t think so. If on the verge of death, thoughts about his son would probably be the farthest from his dad’s mind.

“You sound like you love him very much. He’s a lucky guy” he said sincerely, a tendril of hopefulness still twisted around his stomach. His hands weren’t shaking any longer, finding solace in the fact that the man in front of him didn’t look like he was about to jump right that second.

Mr Harrinson’s face fell.

“Got served an’ unlucky hand, with an old man like me”, his eyes went back to the abyss, to the empty, poor litten streets below them. “Go ‘way, kid. Leave m’ be. Notta business what I do. Gotta do this f’r my kid.”

Fear came back, full force.

“I- Sorry, but I can’t help but think about your son”, he blurted out, the only bit of information he had about the man was his only tendril of hope. “Someone who loves his child as much as you seem to must be a good father. A father that… would be missed dearly, if lost so young.”

Mr Harrinson looked even more devastated. Tim was doing this all wrong, wasn’t he?

“There’s no other way t’ keep’im safe!'' he yelled, and for a minute Tim thought he had decided to jump then and there. Instead, he dropped to his knees, hands to his head, paper still clutched in one fist. “They’ll get to him if I don’t! Once I’m dead, they’ll just leave’im alone!”

Tim crouched next to him, tentative.

“Who is ‘they’, sir? Maybe I could help…”

Ed was already shaking his head.

“Nay, they said not to go to the bats. Kill my boy, they will, if I do. Seen them offing others for less, so I believe them.”

“Ah, but I’m too short to be a bat, am I not?” he smiled, wobbly at best but sincere. “Besides, who’s gonna tell them you spoke to me? I”, he gestured to his mask, “know how to keep a secret.”

He considered for a beat, before tired shoulders fell, defeated. He offered the slip of paper towards him, unseeing eyes on the street below.

Robin read the note carefully, noting the sloppy penmanship and cheap paper as well as the message itself.

“Mr Harrinson…”

“I know”, he whispered, “I know working for the Black Mask wasn’t my best idea. But m’boy needed to eat, and the landlord was gettin’ impatient. And now, for whatever reason, boss wants me dead. And if I make ‘im dirty his own hands, he’ll dirty ‘em twice and send me with my son for company to the other side. Felix is too young, and he’s good. Can’t let ‘im pay f’ his old man m’stakes, ya hear me?”

Tim thought his words over carefully.

“Mr Harrinson… I don’t think this comes from Black Mask himself”, for one, Blackie wasn’t one to avoid blood on his gloves, nor to send such a shitty note. The man lived for the drama, like most A-listers did, and he’d never forgo the aesthetic of an expensive peachment and beautifully worded threat. Also, if he wanted this man gone, he would have put a bullet in his head the second he clocked in; and if it were revenge he was after, he wouldn't have gotten a warning note but his son’s head sent to him instead.

He folded the paper and put it into one of his multiple pockets, free hand going to the man’s shoulder.

“I know Black Mask’s M.O, mister, and this is not it”, no need to spook him further by describing what it was, though. “Probably just a colleague who wanted your position, or has a grudge for whatever reason. And that, I can help you with. If you work with me on this one, we can both make sure Felix has his Dad making breakfast for him tomorrow morning, and all the days after that. After all”, he smiled, no longer uncertain now that he had firm ground to work with, “your son is going places, and he’ll have to be well fed to reach them, right?”

Mr Harrinson’s smile must have had magical properties, Tim thought. There was no other explanation for the way it returned his breath back to his body.

---.----

The next time he saw a jumper, a few months later, he was slightly more ready for it. Bruce had congratulated him on his work with Mr Harrinson, and the subsequent raid they could make on one of Black Mask’s warehouses thanks to the man’s information, but Tim hadn’t been satisfied until he had read every single mission report on the batcomputer about attempted suicides. And succeed ones, too. Need to know what went well and what didn’t, after all.

So when he saw the fifty-something woman crying on top of a tower in City Hall District, he didn’t almost-crash in his attempt to get there in time. He landed softly, making just enough noise to let her know she wasn’t alone, but careful to not startle her.

“It’s a little cold up here, Lady. If you’d like, I can walk you home?”, he tries for cheeky, despite the cold fear nesting in his stomach like a grumpy, spiteful bird.

The woman, sitting by the edge, turned her head to look at him. The movement called attention to her long, strawberry blonde hair, neatly braided, and her pretty diamond earrings. The face under her perfect make up was gaunt and pale, tear tracks cleaning paths of skin to his trained eye.

Despite him interrupting what probably were very private thoughts, she smiled at his approach, kind and polite. It didn’t reach her eyes, but the intent to put him at ease was generous enough.

“I may be a lady, but any adult worth their salt would insist on walking the young child home, instead of the opposite. Besides”, she patted the rooftop under her,” I live here, so it’s not a long walk at all.”

Tim stepped closer, carefully.

“May I sit?”

“I could use the company for a bit”, she accepted, head turning back to the city below.

They sat there for a few minutes in silence, before Tim’s soft voice broke it again.

“Is there anything I can do to help convince you not to do it? Please?”

The lady smiled. “You are a very sweet boy.”

“That’s… not an answer. Can I at least know why?”

“Won’t it torment you, in the future, if we speak now?”, she asked a question of her own, turning to face him again. Despite her words, there was nothing but kindness in those deep green eyes. “If you don’t know me, I’m just another one who jumped. If we talk, I’m afraid I might stay with you long after I’m gone. You are too young for that kind of weight.”

Tim swallowed.

“That’s easily solved, Miss;”, Dick’s rule of thumb; if unsure, always call a lady Miss before Mrs “don’t do it.”

She spared him a long, meaningful look, and he slumped over.

“Not my best, I know, but I’m kinda freaking out now?” She wasn’t like Mr Harrinson, no motive he could see, no strand to pull and unravel her pain. “Please, just… why?”

She patted one of the hands gripping his own knee. His other hand rushed over hers, sandwiching her cold, slim fingers between his gloved palms.

“There’s nothing left for me. I have a nice job, live in a pretty side of town, have friends, and still… it feels so empty. So… Meaningless. Why even bother?”

Tim chewed on her words silently. He was way out of his depth. A tangible, physical problem? He could solve those, no biggie.

Depression, though… that was a different giant to tackle. Was he even prepared enough to?

A strong gust of wind made the lady with braided hair shiver. Without thought, Tim unclasped his cape and draped it over her slim shoulders.

“Aren’t you cold?” she asked, head tilted like a curious woodland animal. Tim felt strongly protective of her, of this kind, sweet lady, who said she had it all, except the one thing that mattered to her.

“I’m used to it”, he shrugged. “This suit is very warm, but cold air often trickles down from the neckline and… well. Gigs of the job and all that.”

The lady tutted, frowning for the first time since Tim arrived.

“That won’t do, young man. You need a scarf. The nights will only get colder from now on.”

He shrugged again.

“I just… don’t have the time to buy one. And I had one, but… There’s these kids who often hang out by the park, and they were so cold, I just couldn't swing by and ignore them. So I gave them my scarf to share between them. I’m just kinda bummed that I don’t have more to make sure they all stay warm.”

The braided haired lady hummed for a second.

“Well… I knit”, she started, carefully. “I don’t have children or grandchildren to give my final products to, so they’ll go to waste after I’m gone. If you’d take them out of my hands, you’ll do me a favor.”

Tim wanted to say no, unwilling to make this any easier for her, but the chance of getting her away from the edge was enough to quell his voice.

She went and came back within minutes, a big cardboard box balanced over her shaky arms. He rose to help her, meeting the woman halfway through the roof, a good distance away from the abyss.

“This red one would look good with your suit… oh, and the green one, to keep with the theme! Or maybe the yellow one… Shame pink would be such a bad fit for your colors, because that wool is the best I worked with…”

Tim’s hand carefully took said carf out and looked it over. There were about six others in the box.

“I could take this to those kids I mentioned before… It’d still not be enough for all, but more to share between them means less cold.”

She hummed again, looking at the unfinished projects on the bottom of the box.

“If… If you give me a few days…” she muttered. “I mean, I’m in no rush”, a hand vaguely gestured towards the rooftop’s edge. “I could spare a few days finishing those, and you could take them to these kids you spoke about… and maybe, I can help make a few children less cold with this silly hobby of mine.”

Elated beyond words, Tim nodded vigorously, waxing poetry about her work and about just how excited little Ellie would be with this soft, pretty pink scarf.

His patrol route could use a few detours, after all, if that meant keeping Braided Hair Lady away from her roof.

---.----

He was just returning from a late supply run when he bumped into The Cats.

It was in an alleyway, a block off from Mrs Eloise Denvarow (formerly known as Braided Hair Lady). The older woman had caved after three months knowing each other, of Tim passing by her apartment once every other night to pick up her baked goods or knitted masterpieces, to distribute between street kids and working girls, and told him her name. It was said in passing (“Stop with that ‘Lady’ thing, honey. It’s Eloise”), as if lacking importance, when in reality it meant the world to him. Sure, he’d already known, having run a background check on her the minute he came back to the cave after stopping her from jumping, but there was that implicit vow between them, that she wouldn't tell him her name and jump, wouldn’t make him carry its weight on his shoulders forever, so it was… it was a promise, on her end, a reassurance, and Tim wasn’t even embarrassed that he cried in her arms like a baby for ten minutes.

So here he was, a month after that, still riding that high, when the desperate call from below caught his attention.

There were two teens on the dirty ground, nested among cracked bottles and old newspapers. The girl was lying in the boy’s arms, with him screaming for help.

“Robin! Thank fuck!”, he almost sobs, arms visibly tightening around the girl. Tim wants to ask how he knew to call for him, and if the proximity to Mrs Denvarow’s place was luck or not.

But it wasn’t the time to ask.

The girl was pale, which only highlighted the bruises on her face. Someone with a big fist punched her. It doesn't seem likely, considering just how distraught the other kid is, but he checks his hands just in case; fortunately, too small for that kind of damage.

She’s also breathing erratically and, when he puts a gloved hand to her neck, he realizes just how crazy her pulse is.

Fear Toxin? Except Scarecrow is still in Arkham as far as he knows, and even if he had gotten away recently, he needs time to develop his precious chemicals. Joker’s Venom and Mad’s Hatter drugs don’t have quite this results, and Ivy doesn’t usually attack street girls just for kicks; they are also too far from her usual turf for her to be a viable suspect.

So, that leaves very few choices.

“Overdose?”, he ventures a guess, hand already fumbling through the pockets on his belt.

The other boy sobs harder, nodding while looking down at the girl in his arms. Tim gently takes the girl from him to position her straighter, to help her down the vial he finally found in his belt. It was supposed to help flush out any chemical in a few minutes, tops; they usually used it when a new type of Crazy Criminal Drug made its way to the streets and they didn’t have the time to properly prepare an antidote. It was strong, and vicious in its path to devoid the body of any and all external agents, which was why it wasn’t a preferred method; who’s to say the civilian in need of a flush isn’t in some important medicine? The Big Flush, as Dick calls it, lacked any kind of finesse or discrimination.

But it was their best shot right now, so there goes nothing.

There’s silence while they watch the girl’s progress. He doesn’t bother asking if he called for an ambulance; they are obviously minors, probably homeless, and even if the Wayne Foundation takes care of children’s hospital fees, they’d avoid it to keep themselves out of the foster system.

But then, the kid kept talking.

“I… I found her near Grant Park. I… I didn’t know what to do, so I dragged her here. She/” and then he breaks again, hands grasping one of hers, as if letting go meant he was giving up on her and he couldn't bear it.

“Grant Park is only five blocks away,” Tim thinks out loud, mind already a mile away “and Moench’s Row illicit night clinic is about the same distance from there as this place. Why did you bring her here?”

“She… Alley… Oh, her name’s Allison, by the way. And I’m Thomas. Tom.” Introductions, miraculously, seem to do the trick here and calm him down. “Nice to meetcha.”

Tim’s not deterred by his toothy grin, but he has to admit he’s kinda cute. Like, stray cat cute.

Huh. Alley, Tom, cat… Yeah, that checks.

“What happened with Allison?” he presses softly, one arm still keeping Alley up and against his chest, the other hand on her pulse point, taking note of the way the heartbeat seems to be stabilizing. The puking fest was gonna start soon.

“She… It was on purpose.” Tom confesses, eyes going clouded for a while. “She tries to not be home, yknow? I met her in kindergarten, and even then she’d try to hide behind the teacher’s desk in hopes they’d forget about her and close the building with her inside. Anyway, we pretty much live on the streets these days, and Alley… she’s very depressed. I convinced her to see someone a while ago, even stol/ I mean, earned the money for it myself”, he’s quick to correct, eyes glancing up to see if he was smooth enough to cover it; which he wasn’t, but Tim was in favor of letting that small one go, “and they gave her a prescription for antidepressants. She’s been kicking it down the road, but she’s gotten a lot worse and I wouldn't lay off her case about it, so she sneaked back home to get some money from her folks to pay for it.”

By the way the kid looks at her bruised face with unmeasurable guilt, Tim knows she didn’t go unnoticed.

“And… I don’t know. We were supposed to meet up by the Commerce Street Highway, but she was late, so I walked around for a bit and… I saw her there, on a bench. She was/ she was still conscious then, and she told me… she said ‘these aren’t what the doc gave me, but they took the pain away all the same’.” Again, Tom chokes on his own emotions. If he had any free hands, he’d try to put one on his shoulder for comfort. “I don’t even know what she took, or where did she get it from!”

Tim has heard whispers of loan sharks and drug dealres camping toghter by the Fashion Distric, just north of Grant Park, so he can make an informed guess as to how that happened. Also, he now knows what he’ll do the rest of the night, once these kids are safe.

When Tom has gotten a grasp of himself, he pushes again.

“So, why did you bring her here?”

He shrugs, a bit abashed.

“Well… I mean, everyone knows about how Mrs Denvarow is the one giving clothes and food away, and that you help her distribute it. Well, not everyone, but… you know, the street kids. We flagged her building with a yellow skull and everything.”

A yellow skull grafitti, Tim’s mind translates, is the street equivalent of a ‘don’t fuck with this place’ sing. A sort of protective sigil. He wonders how he missed it.

“And… This is kind of your thing, right? So I figured you’d be better prepared to deal with it than some overworked clinic that might even not have enough free equipment to help us. Good think I did, too” he gestures at his friend, whose face is now looking flushed; a sign both of growing health, and of the upcoming puke. Tim’s quick to turn her so her back is to his chest, head tilted down just in case.

As if rehearsed, Alley chose that exact second to empty the contents of her now flushed stomach. Tim would need a sample of that, to catch the responsible dealer.

Tom held her hair away from her face while Tim kept her steady, and she blinked bearily at them after it was done, still not completely lucid but a world away from the girl she was ten minutes ago.

“She’ll still need a hospital.'' Tim informs Tom sternly. The boy had taken his friend in his arms again, softly rubbing her back to help with the uncomfortable ache leftover after puking your guts out. “The Moench’s Row clinic should be able to help with any side effect, but she’s safe for now.”

He nods, thanks Tim again and again and politely refuses his help to take her to the clinic. They part ways, both parties probably thinking this would be the last time they saw each other.

Still, their situation sticks with Tim during the rest of his patrol, and he decides to stop by the clinic, just to check on them. His knuckles still ache from the absolute beating he delivered to the ones who gave Alley the money and sold her the drugs, so he’s in better spirits and hopes to spread it to the kids.

Alley is awake when he visits, and her shy, little smile is enough for the rage inside of Tim to die down. The bad guys dealt with, the civilians safe, everything in its proper place.

He sleeps a bit better that night.

---.----

He almost doesn’t see him.

Actually, he probably wouldn't have, deeply lost into his own head, had the guy been anything other than a redhead. That exact shade of orangy-brown auburn, that he would have to pick up from his workbench at Titan’s tower after Bart had decided to ‘keep him company’ during his all-nighters.

It was ironic, how now he would give anything in the world to have those same strands of hair fucking up his experiments, if only for the impish, ‘please-don’t-kill-me-I’m-an-angel’ smile he would receive in exchange.

“Hey”, he greets, landing softly at the man’s right, sitting a few feet away from him, too tired to even stand up on common ground. “What’s happening?”

He shouldn’t be doing this. He really, really shouldn’t. His own mental health was less than stellar, and even thinking about it made him feel worse. He didn’t deserve to feel bad, not when civilians were in the hospital after his latest fuck up, Cass was missing, Cassie barely hanging in there, the family a mess with Damian’s lovely introduction, and… well. Every other person he knew…

Point being, there must be someone else, in a better inner place, that could speak to this guy. But since no one seemed to be patrolling this route, Tim could only hope to stall him long enough for a more capable vigilante to show up.

The guy looks startled, then angry. He has green eyes, he notices, under the glasses. Not sure why that sticks to him.

“What are you doing here? You’re not going to try to stop me, are you? You’re not going to swing down and catch me in mid air or something, are you?”

He seems defensive, but Tim notices a bit of hesitancy. He has worked with less.

(He wishes he had more energy to do more with what little he has)

“No. If I did, what’s to stop you from doing it again later, or tomorrow? I can’t be with you every second. If you want to do this, you are going to, no matter how much I don’t want you to. And I don’t want you to, just so we are clear.”

The guy still looks suspicious, but he hasn’t taken that last step forward, so… a win?

“I just needed to sit down for a minute. ‘been thinking about all the ways I’ve screwed up lately, and…”

Auburn-hair deflates a little, turning away from Tim to examine the night sky. “Well, that makes two of us.”

The bat signal lights up the night. His newfound companion looks at it, then him. “Do you need to get that?”

“Nah. Batman will, and if he needs help he’ll call me.” Tim shrugs. He needs a coffee-power-up. He needs to sleep. He needs for his loved ones to not be dead.

He needs to see if there’s anything he can do for this guy.

“So, do you want to tell me why you’re doing this? So someone can go to your family and friends to let them know?”

After all, if it was him who did it (and… wasn’t that food for thought?), he’d like Bruce and Dick to know why. To not… to not blame themselves.

Redhead looks annoyed again. Uh. A short fuse, this one.

“Don’t try any psychology, or try to make me feel guilty about hurting anyone… this isn't about anyone but me.”

He shouldn’t say it, but… “That’s pretty naive, but whatever. Tell me anyway.” He smirks a bit, then “Unless you’re in a hurry or something.”

He hears the guy (he really should ask his name) as he tells his story. A cold, clinical part of his mind recognizes the symptoms described almost unconsciously by the guy as depression. He would know, after all. The other part of him, the part that made him Robin, that made him human, discarded the label; there was much more to this guy than his illness, and he would treat him like it.

“So here I am,” he finishes, now sitting side by side with Tim, both their legs hanging above the bustling city. “Now’s when you tell me how stupid this is. That other people have much bigger problems, there’s hunger and war, and I’m weak because my problems are nothing next to stuff like that.”

Tim thinks of a father, desperately thinking his death would save his son’s life, when in fact it would have only made it worse. He thinks of a woman, so full of love and warmth, looking into the abyss and feeling empty inside. He thinks of a couple of kids, one hanging to life with nails and teeth, the other hanging to her just as fiercely.

He thinks about himself. About looking at a future version of himself, hating what he sees, and deciding to drown the bud before it can even flower. He thinks of sickly green water, of cloning equipment in a laboratory, of a phone falling to the ground after delivering him with more bad news.

He’s still in a bad place, still probably not the most capable person to be doing this, but a part of him is sure this is the right answer. The only answer.

“No. Your problems are worse than anyone else’s, because they are yours. I’ve... felt bad like you have, and some pretty bad things have happened to me.”

Red hair looks as tired as Tim feels, so it’s a surprise that he has enough energy to glance at him worriedly, hand stretching a bit in his direction in a half-formed attempt to comfort.

“You guys make it look so easy, swinging around, having fun… Things get bad for you, too?”

Tim looks down, and smiles. It’s a sad, bitter thing. He thinks about parents lost before ever connecting to them, about a girlfriend going away, a sister lost to the madness of their lives, about two best friends gone, one even dying in his arms.

He gives no details. Doesn’t talk about it all, just shares a little bit of himself. It’s only fair, after hearing about this guy’s demons. Misery loves company, doesn’t it?

“So what do you do? How do you deal with it?” the guy asks when he’s done, looking at Tim by the corner of his not-very-dry eyes.

Tim forces himself to remember. “One of the things I’ve learned is that it gets bad for everyone sometimes, Superman, Batman… everyone. I remember that I’m not alone, that things do get better. Sometimes on their own, most times when you work at them. And when I have trouble remembering those things, I find people to talk to.”

Most of those were dead, but Tim is hit with the epiphany that not all of them are. He still has people. He still…

“And you’ve got people like that? That you can talk to?” asks the guy, tone both worried and hopeful. Tim stands up, does his best to look calm.

“Yeah. Your folks, and old friend, even a trained counselor you’ve never met before… someone who has a totally different perspective because they’re not as close to your problems as you are. Maybe they give you advice, and that’s great… or maybe they just listen. Sometimes, that’s all you need. Anyway, that’s how I deal with it when things suck. And it works. Want to come down from there and give it a try?”

The guy gets back to his feet, as Tim watches from behind. Having been in this situation before, the fear grabbing a hold of him isn’t new, but it's different. He thinks he's too worn down. It takes the edge off of any emotion.

Except hope. Hope still hurts like a sharp knife when it’s snatched away. He prays it won’t be, right now.

Green eyes (Jason- that’s who they reminded him of) look down, deep in thought. Then he turns, smiles at Tim. There’s hope in him too.

“Yeah, why not?”

They get down together. He gives him a few numbers and they have breakfast together. The guy promises to call his English teacher, at least. Tim promises himself to call his brother.

At least, he still has Dick.

---.----

He’s been putting off doing his rounds since he came back, he knows. But…

It changed him, a bit. Going around the world, dealing with his grief while staying on his toes, ready to break down one second and having to field off attacks from all sides the next, with the Demon’s honeyed whispers echoing in his ear and mind.

He’ll never tell anyone, just how tempting it had been. How much he had wanted to reach for that offered hand. To lay his head on someone’s shoulder and let the responsibility bleed from his.

Tim will never tell anyone, but he’ll always know. And it’ll always make him hate himself a little bit more.

So, he’s different now. And he’s scared- that the people he gave hope to, that he talked with, that he could never stop thinking about, even halfway across the world- that they won’t like this new, worn down him.

That Mr Harrinson the Good Father, Braided Hair Lady and her sweaters, the inseparable Stray Cats, the girl with the bright yellow cardigan, the kid with the scarred wrists, the woman with beautiful star-like freckles that she’ll hopefully pass on to her baby, the gentle giant man with calloused hands, the petite but fierce young teen with defiant eyes and dead name, the soft spoken girl with the loudest laugh, auburn-haired boy and his hopeful and sympathetic green eyes… and so, so many more. They all knew him, maybe not at his best, but certainly better than now. The boy that kept them from jumping had been a bright, magical Robin. The teen that came back to their city was dark, weary Red Robin. It felt kinda like he had cheated them, returning this broken version of himself to their doorsteps.

But he had to go check on all of them. Even if Cass (and it was such a relief, that even after he lost everything else, the return of his sister could at least be a speck of light in the mist of misery surrounding him) had promised to do so, there were so many of them… and she couldn't possibly remember everyone, all the time. And if anyone had fallen through the gaps… if anyone had stood on a rooftop, waiting for their Robin to save them, only to think ‘nobody cares’ as he didn’t show up…

Tim gets sick only thinking about it. If it did happen, then he needs to know. He has to carry their names with him, that’s the least he can do for failing them.

So he’ll go check on them… anytime now. Soon. The moment he gathers enough energy to climb back to his feet and get his grapple hook out.

...The city looks full of life, beneath him. Like it feels the return of its Knight. The end of the internal quarrel among it’s vigilantes, that almost tore it all apart. The relief in Nightwing, the hesitant peace in Red Hood, the mellowing of Robin.

(He was feeling poetic tonight, in the worst ways)

Maybe it also feels Red Robin’s emptiness. Maybe that’s why it's so lively down there, like the ground is calling to him, just as it did when Ra’s broke the window with his body.

He thinks... he won’t have to check on anyone, if he jumps. And that way, there will be no name to carry with him to his grave.

“Robin!”

“Stop!”

“Don’t do it, please!”

He startles. Hadn’t even noticed when he got to his feet, nor that one of them was hanging over the abyss. The fact that he wasn’t alone on that rooftop any longer hadn’t even breached his usually perfect spatial awareness.

They didn’t call for him, but the voices sounded distraught, they were close, and he was a former Robin, so he turned around, tired, but with obedience and service too ingrained in him to consider denying help to whoever it was.

It turned out, he wouldn't need to go make his rounds any longer. His rounds had come to him.

There were… too many people on this roof. It was way too crowded.

“Robin!”

It was one voice now, not a mixture of them, so he could identify the one yelling his former alias. Allison broke from the mob of people (and there were more still, filling in from the open rooftop door, like a never-ending stream…) to run to him, looking like she might have just jumped into his arms, if not for Tom clutching her hoodie to stop her a few feet from him. Good move, considering he was still balancing precariously on the edge.

“Alleycat?” he whispered, a little blown. She looked so different (magenta looked amazing on the tips of her hair, and she totally pulled off that lip piercing), but he’d recognize those eyes anywhere. He’d been so relieved, when she first opened them after that dangerous overdose.

“We were so fucking worried, dude”, came from Tomcat just behind her, still gripping her hoodie (still keeping her safe; some things never change).

“I…”

“Where were you?” Maddie, not longer yellow but still wearing a cute cardigan, stepped up too.

“I’m… I’m not Robin”, he blurts out. They… knew it was him? It… like, obviously there was a new Robin, Damian was (still, but probably not for much longer) smaller than him, but to immediately know that he was…

“Yeah, no shit. I’d know that long hair and noodle limbs of yours anywhere, kid. Known you too long to be fooled. And the new kid’s really trigger happy with that lon’nife of his... You’re still the Robin I prefer, and fuck if I understand the name passing you heroes do” Mr Harrinson spoke from the back of the crowd, one hand clutching his kid’s shoulder, the other arm around…

“Braided Hair Lady?”

Eloise smiles at him, soft and warm as ever, a little shy when his eyes go to the arm hugging her close and back to her. He recognizes some of her handmade scarfs around the necks of plenty of people on the roof.

“I… wasn’t aware you all knew each other.”

A petite young teen steps forward, walking until they were shoulder-to-shoulder with the Strays.

“Most of us met through the app, and then introduced the others. There’s more, of course, but not everyone could meet here. Samantha’s baby was born just two months ago, so she chose to stay home, but we promised her pictures, so you’ll have to say cheese soon birdboy. Also, I found my name. I’m Cal.”

Allison’s smile broadened and she sneaked an arm around Cal’s waist.

“They are the new Straycat. Calico cat’s are the cutest shit ever, aren’t they?”

Well… Having someone as badass as Cal watching Tom and Alley’s back would sure make Tim feel a lot better about both kids being out in the streets.

Were they still on the streets? He’d need to find out and fix that, soon.

Then it hit him. “What app?”

Auburn-hair smiled from his place, at the front of the crowd just behind the Cats.

“Felix over there,” he pointed over his shoulder at Mr Harrinson’s son, who smiled shyly at Tim, eyes shining in gratitude and admiration like they always did when Tim did his rounds and checked on his dad, “defended you in a GothamHeroes forum once. Some bratty douchebag was complaining about you landing over his car or something and this kid went for his fucking troath.”

“I was in that chat too,” spoke Tom, smiling a little too savagely for a kid that sweet. “He tore the idiot to shreds, speaking about how you saved his dad’s life and took it upon yourself to make sure he was still okay even weeks after you met. I mentioned how you saved Alley and Mrs Denvarow, we exchanged numbers… then we met Cal during one of our rounds handing out Mrs D’s scarfs and food. They were weary of everyone else, but trusted us because they heard you talk about the clothes and baked goods... And Cal’s friend Gina worked with Samantha on the streets and told them about her story...”

“Soon, it seemed like people personally saved by you were just… popping out of the snow like daisies” Blair laughed, and it was still the loudest, brightest noise. The night seemed a little clearer, the air a little fresher for it. “Felix made his own private chat and added us, and we added everyone else we knew… The word went around about it, and more and more people joined in…”

“It’s really a wonder how you had any time to fight crime, seeing how often you were apparently comforting jumpers on the roofs” Ailbert, still as gigantic and gentle as always, raised a hand from the middle of the group. He had a little girl on his shoulders, probably the baby niece he had taken in after his sister’s death.

“Then the new kid appeared and Gotham went to hell on a basket, and no one saw you around any longer”, Elijah, wrists no more scarred than the last time he saw him, his arm tangled with Maddie’s, went on. “We were… well, we were a bit confused.”

“Speak for yourself, Cal jumped Red Hood one night, held him at knife point and demanded to know what the fuck happened to our Robin. We were like, zero chill.”

“Sorry, they did what?” Tim was definitely in the twilight zone now.

“No thoughts, head empty, only murder”

...Tim needed to give Jason a quick call. Also sign Cal up for anger management. And probably, judging by the way both Alley and Tom were looking at them, get one of the adults to give them the talk.

Mrs Eloise smiled at him, and like always it served to calm his nerves. That woman was a different kind of magic than Alfred, but magic indeed. “Anyway, dear, what matters is that we were worried about you. And then this incredible young man, Aaron,” she waved at him, and he winked one of his green eyes in response, “suggested we kept in closer contact with one another, so anyone who spotted you could inform the others.”

Aaron shrugged, his auburn mane of hair bobbing with the movement. “It just seemed like it’d be easier to have an alarm set up, since messaging everyone would take so long… and then someone suggested making a map of Gotham so we could have clearer routes for the kids handing out Mrs Denvarow’s stuff… and someone wanted a shared blackboard to write theories on where the fuck you were with others… and a few demanded a space to share photos, possible sightings or old selfies with you… It kinda spiralled and I thought it’d be less of a chaotic mess if I made an app that could do all of that, instead of all of us using multiple apps for the different fixtures everyone asked for… Since this is Gotham, we also added some Rouge Alarm for whenever a criminal was set loose. It helped keep us safe, and if we knew when crime was happening, we could pay attention to which heroes answered the call…”

“And then, you fought that firefly guy the other day”, Felix said, still by his dad’s side, still looking as awed as ever when looking at tim. “I was in the crowd, and I recognized you within a minute.”

“I don’t really understand technology that well, and the group chat was such a mess that day” Ailbert lamented, but he was still smiling. They all were.

That hit Tim then, hard.

They all looked so happy to see him. To have him back. They had been waiting for him to be back, banded together to make sure they’d all know when he did.

“You looked so sad the last time we saw you” Blair added softly, sadly. “And… when you saved Aaron, you told him about such sad things…”

Elijah winced “And I heard the Midnighter fell from Wayne Tower a few weeks ago, but then he was never seen around again, and your suit looks kinda similar, so that was probably really you… and, that fall…”

“We were very worried” repeated Eloise, but her eyes didn’t lose their warmth. “But you’re back now, and we can keep track of you and each other now, so it’s all good. It’s wonderful to have you back, love.”

This was an out of body experience.

Something must have shown on his face, because Cal snorted.

“We adore you, you dumbass. You are our hero.”

Alley smiled. “You are our Robin.”

Tim fell into her arms, and away from the roof’s edge. The rest of the crowd was upon them in seconds, all eager to pat his back or joke about the cowl hiding his hair from their hands.

He met eyes with Aaron, over Alley’s shoulder. He looked like the hope Tim had helped plant in his heart all those months ago had flowered, and the petals filled his heart.

(He was feeling poetic tonight, in the best ways)

“You should download the app too, so you always have someone to talk to. Look it up. It’s called BirdWatchers, because we’ll always look up and out for you. Because when we wanted to jump, you lended us your wings to fly instead.”

It was like this fucker wanted Tim to cry.

“Welcome home, Red Robin.”

#My writing #Tim drake #batman fanfic #red robin #trigger warning:#depression #suicide attempts #discussion of suicide #overdose #mental illness #hurt comfort #Tim doing the comfort and being the hurt #until he gets the comfort #happy ending #wholesome #I swear the tags are scary but it IS wholesome #Tim drake centric #my writting

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rizlowwritessortof · 3 years

Text

Meant To Be - Chapter 3

Dean and Jordan are each trying to escape their painful pasts. Their chance meeting and a dangerous encounter begins a relationship that may give them both a new start.

Pairing: Police Detective Dean Winchester/Jordan Taylor

Word Count: 2038

Warnings: None.

Aesthetic by @editsbymichele on Instagram; Dividers by @firefly-graphics

Jordan rolled over and shut off her alarm, yawning and stretching. The last few days had been a whirlwind, but she was starting to get used to waking up in her new surroundings. Donna’s apartment was bright and sunny, pretty much like the woman herself. She had welcomed Jordan with open arms, literally, and immediately installed her in the second bedroom, down the hall from Donna’s room.

After taking a week to settle in, at Sam’s insistence, she was ready to start her new job at Winchester Law. Sam was picking her up in a couple of hours to get her acquainted with the office and do all the annoying paperwork involved, so she climbed out of bed and headed for the shower. As she got ready to step in, she remembered that her tiny sample shampoo had run out the morning before, and she sighed, grabbing a towel to wrap around herself as she headed out to look for her new roomie.

She walked into the living room as she called out, “Hey, Donna, do you have any shampoo I could borr…” The front door swung open as she was in mid-sentence, and Dean walked in, stopping dead in his tracks as he saw her. “Oh…shit.” Jordan clutched the towel around herself a little tighter, blushing to the roots of her hair. “Dean. Hi. I’m so embarrassed right now.”

Dean, however, looked incredibly pleased with himself, a slow grin spreading across his face, his eyes full of mischief. “Don’t be embarrassed on my account. I’m good.”

“Dean Winchester!” Donna’s voice scolded as she rushed by Jordan and directly over to her partner, turning him around and shoving him to the door. “What are you doing in here?”

Dean turned his head, a confused scowl on his face as he was forced into the hall. “What?! I always come in when I pick you up… coffee...”

“Go back to the car and wait for me, I’ll bring your coffee. You can’t just walk in here now, I’m not the only one who lives here, Dean. For Pete’s sake!”

“Sorry! For fuck’s sake, stop shoving me!” He turned around to grin at Jordan again. “It was really nice to see you, Jordan,” he said with a wink as Donna slammed the door closed in his face. They could hear his laughter as he headed down the hall, and in spite of her embarrassment, Jordan couldn’t smother a little smile.

“That man! I’m so sorry,” Donna apologized. “He has always just let himself in and got his coffee here, but I’m always up, dressed and ready to go before he gets here and it’s just a habit. I didn’t even think about it.”

Jordan shook her head. “Not your fault, I shouldn’t be wandering around in a towel. I just forgot my little bottle of shampoo ran out yesterday. Can I borrow some until I can get to the store?”

“Oh, honey, help yourself to anything you need from my shower! When I get home tonight, we’ll make a run to the store, get you stocked up.” She put a hand on Jordan’s shoulder. “I’m really sorry – are you okay?”

Jordan smiled, her cheeks still flushed pink. “I’m fine. I’ll just probably never hear the end of this.”

Donna nodded, her dimples showing, a sparkle in her eyes. “Oh, yeah, count on it. He’ll never let this one go. Well, I’d better get going. I’ll see you tonight.”

Dean shoved his desk drawer closed a little harder than necessary, and his partner shot him a look, shaking her head. “What? I hate desk duty.”

“Oh, I know. Which is why you have such a pile of paperwork there. Why don’t you just settle in and do it, get caught up while we’re stuck in here.”

He glared at Donna, then at the pile of papers on the corner of his desk. “Hate paperwork,” he muttered under his breath as he grabbed a handful of unfinished reports and opened his laptop.

“Just think how good it’ll feel to get all of that work finished and out of your hair.” Donna smiled, unfazed by the baleful look Dean shot her way.

“Leave it to me to get Miss Mary Sunshine as my partner,” he grumbled, and Donna’s smile grew wider.

“You’re welcome,” she grinned back at him, then went to work on her own stack.

Jordan jumped as a knock echoed through the apartment, rushing to the door and peering through the peephole. “Sam! Oh, Sam, you didn’t have to come up here and get me! I thought you’d just text me or something.”

Sam smiled, his dimples winking as he stepped inside. “I thought I could at least come up the first time I picked you up. Didn’t want to just sit outside and blow the horn.” Jordan laughed, grabbing her jacket from the couch.

“Ok, I guess I’m ready. I wasn’t sure how to dress...” She had debated for an hour, finally putting on a pair of dress slacks and a blouse, and she looked up at Sam for his approval.

“You could honestly wear whatever you want, I usually wear jeans. Whatever makes you comfortable, it doesn’t matter to me. In fact, a lot of the time you can probably just work from home if you want, after we get the office organized again. It’s kind of a disaster right now, sorry.”

“We’ll get it all sorted out, no worries. Once you fill me in on your filing system and how you want things done, I’ll get it taken care of.” She smiled up at him, ever amazed at how tall the man was. “Well, boss, we’re losing daylight.”

“Great. I hired a slave driver,” he teased, and they made their way out of the apartment together.

Jordan flopped onto the sofa with a satisfied smile, letting her head drop back as she let her mind wander over her day. There really was a lot of organizing to do in Sam’s office, due to his lack of help for the last few weeks, but she had made a pretty good dent. After this week, she could probably work out of the apartment most days, maybe go in one day a week to do filing and such. Sam was such an easy-going guy, he was going to be a dream to work for. And his fiance, Sarah, was so nice – she had stopped in during the day, and they hit it off right away.

Her phone rang and she grabbed it, smiling as she saw Dean’s name. “Hope that new boss of yours isn’t too much of an asshole,” he teased.

“Oh, he’s terrible! Even meaner than his brother.”

Dean laughed. “Yeah, I hear he’s a real jerk.”

“Well, nobody’s perfect,” she giggled in reply. “So what’s up, Detective Winchester?”

“Donna and I wondered if you’d be interested in going out for a couple of beers, maybe some pub food? Then we can stop off at the store so you can pick up what you need.”

“That sounds great – what time?”

“We’ll be there in about – 45 or so? If you can be ready by then.”

“No problem, I’ll be waiting, just give me a yell and I’ll come down.”

“Awesome. See you later.”

She sighed happily as she laid her phone back down, letting her eyes close for a moment. Dean’s face was right there, his eyes shining as he smiled at her, and she silently scolded herself. He wasn’t interested in her like that, and she needed to get a grip on her feelings before they carried her away. He was just a friend, and daydreaming about him wasn’t going to get her anywhere. “Slow your roll, Jordan,” she told herself firmly, then got up and went to her room to change.

Dean drove to Dooley’s Pub, the normal watering hole he and Donna frequented. It was a cop-friendly bar, the owner was a retired police sergeant, and he called out a greeting to them as they walked in. The three of them grabbed a table, ordered a round of beers and started chatting about their day, munching pretzels from the bowl the waitress had dropped off. “So, how was it working for my brother?” Dean asked, and Jordan smiled.

“He’s going to be an awesome boss. I think we’re gonna get along great. How was desk duty today?”

Dean rolled his eyes, and Donna laughed. “You should have heard him whining all day, you’d think they made him clean the toilets or somethin’.”

“I wasn’t that bad,” he fired back, and his partner shook her head, then looked at Jordan.

“He was like an overgrown three-year-old, Jordan. Don’t let him fool ya. He can pout with the best of ‘em.”

Jordan grinned. “Awwww… it’s only for two weeks.”

Dean huffed out a frustrated sigh. “Two weeks is gonna drive me insane.”

“Short trip,” Donna quipped, and the girls laughed again, Dean failing to completely smother the smile teasing at the corners of his mouth.

“All right, all right – just for that, I’m gonna kick your ass at darts.”

“Oooh, I’ll play the winner – or the loser. Whatever,” Jordan offered, and they moved over near the dart board.

Dean easily beat Donna, and she punched him in the shoulder as she moved back to the table. “Go get ‘im, Jordan. Somebody needs to wipe that cocky smile off his face,” she teased.

“Yeah, that’s probably not gonna happen, but… I’ll do what I can,” Jordan answered, taking the darts from Dean’s hand.

“After you,” he offered with a sweep of his hand, and Jordan stepped up, taking aim. The first dart hit the floor, and he laughed as she swore under her breath. The second barely hung on to the board, finally falling out as her third buried itself in the wall beside the dart board.

“Epic fail.” She shook her head with disgust, and Dean went to retrieve her darts.

“Okay, let’s call that practice. Here…” He reached towards her, then stopped, looking into her eyes. “Is it okay if I...”

“Yes, please, help,” she laughed. He laid his darts on the table and turned towards her, and her breath caught in her chest as he gripped her hips in his hands, turning her slightly to adjust her stance.

“Now, when you throw, you should kind of snap your wrist to give it a little more speed.” He made adjustments to her arm and her grip on the dart, and she was beginning to wonder if she’d have the presence of mind to throw the damn thing when he was finished touching her. “Okay, give it a try.”

She glanced up at him and nodded, then focused her eyes on the board. The first two landed in halfway decent spots, and the third buried itself right next to the bullseye. She cheered and turned to throw her arms around his neck in an excited hug, then backed away, blushing. “Sorry, I just never thought I’d get it!”

Donna was grinning as she watched them. “You got it, girl! A little practice and you’ll be kicking his ass!”

They played their game, Dean winning, of course, and Jordan finished the last of her beer before heading to the bathroom. “I suppose, if we’re stopping at the store, we should take off. We all have to work tomorrow. But first – the little girls’ room.” She plopped her glass back on the table and took off, and Dean sat down, finishing the Coke he had switched to since he was driving.

“So…” Donna said, a knowing smirk on her face.

“So… what?” Dean’s confused frown made her giggle.

“I saw you. You’ve got a thing for her.”

“What?”

“You heard me.”

“Look, I was just helping her with...”

“Save it, partner. You are falling for her, and she’s definitely into you, so what the hell are you waiting for?”

Dean dropped his head and glared at her from under his frowning brow, the dimples above his mouth deepening. “Shut up.”

Donna laughed softly, complying with his request for the time being since Jordan was headed back their way. “All right, you two – let’s hit the road.”

Chapter 4

#meant to be #chapter 3 #dean fic #dean x oc #dean x jordan

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hargrove-mayfields · 3 years

Text

Day five of Horror on Cherry Lane Challenge! Today’s prompt was monsters!

Little brat’s been in the school ten minutes after the bell.

After they both broke curfew, Max staying out late trick-or-treating and going to one of her little friends’ house to trade candy, and Billy crashing at the lingering party until he was sober enough to come home and not get his ass kicked, they were supposed to be straight home today. Used up all their free time for the week apparently.

Max knew that this morning, he already told her to forget about the damn AV club. If he had to cancel on whatever chick he was going to take out (was it Carol? No, Carol is Tommy’s girl. Fuck he doesn’t know anybody yet) Max had to give her shit up to.

He gets bored of waiting for the little twerp and tosses his cigarette to the ground, marching in there his damn self.

Only time he’s ever been in this building was to pick Max up from AV. His dad made him come all the way inside and give his assessment on the teacher. Asked (slapped him and demanded it) that he do so to check on Max. Just to be sure. Like he cares.

But it works out anyways that he knows the way now that Max has decided to disappear and it’s up to him to track her down. Only problem is he gets there, and the room is empty. Not even just that Max isn’t in there, there’s no damn kids or teacher or nothing. Just a knocked over lamp and some shit on the floor.

He ain’t trying to hunt her down, but he has to get her back home in like, the next half-hour, and she’s somewhere she ain’t supposed to be. The school isn’t very big, half the damn building is closed off for the school board to use, so there isn’t much ground to cover.

He’s not trying to get himself arrested either, so he makes quick work of the school, checking all the places Max might be. Still, he comes up empty, and he’s about to just give up and let whoever she was with keep her when he sees something scurrying across the floor out of the corner of his eye.

It’s not really any of his business whether or not the middle school is infested, but it catches his eye for the wrong reasons.

It’s a gnarly little thing, a cross between a frog and rat or some shit, but Billy’d recognize that thing anywhere. It’s a fucking monster, crawling around the halls of his sisters school.

Purely on instinct, he tracks the thing to where it cornered itself, taking advantage of the fact that it’s still small and growing into its demon teeth to stomp on the gross monster. He stops once he’s positive it’s dead and not just faking him out like they do sometimes, he’s not gross or something, but he nearly jumps out of his skin when behind him, Max shouts, “Billy!”

He turns, ignoring the pile of goop that was one of those things to face his, apparently, from the flush on her cheeks and the bitterness in her tone, “Jesus, shitbird. What is wrong with you?”

He’s hardly even got the question out before Max snaps at him, “Why would you kill it!”

“Do you even know what that thing is?” Billy raises eyebrows, no patience for Max telling him what to do, but she counters with something that surprises him, “It was Dustins, he discovered it, you jerk!”

“Yeah, no. These things’ve been around longer’n any of us have been alive. And I don't care who found it first. They’re fucking monsters.”

“How do you even know what he was? You killed him.”

“It. Not him. Don’t humanize them.” Billy hisses, warning Max, “And anyways, I seen some shit kid. Don’t ask. And don’t play around with anymore of these little fuckers. Give ‘im a day or two ‘n he’ll be the size of a gray wolf. Another month or so and he’s seven feet tall.”

“But what is he?” Max demands stubbornly.

Billy answers simply, “Something you don’t want anything to do with.”

By now, the rest of Max’s friends have followed the sound of her yelling to their little showdown, and it’s Dustin, the owner of this thing, that chimes in, “But wait, does that mean you know?”

“Know what?” Max huffs, but she gets ignored, Billy firing back at Dustin, “Do you?”

All four of the kids nod at once. Billy sighs deeply, “Jesus, how the fuck did a bunch of little kids get caught up in this bullshit?”

“How did you?” These kids aren’t very original coming back at him with his own questions like this.

Again Max interjects, being left out of the questioning just making her more confused. “Excuse me, but what exactly are we talking about?”

But again nobody acknowledges her, Billy busy answering the boys’ questions.

“Had a friend came from that lab. You know about that part too?” He clarifies, getting three attentive nods, and this time one disapproving scowl, as he explains, “Well the monsters followed ‘im. Through their portals and his head and shit, they were out in California too. That’s how I know I was right to kill that thing.”

There’s a moment of stunned silence before Mike insists, “I don’t believe you.”

“I don’t know, man. How else would he know about everything?” Lucas shrugs, exciting Dustin and promoting him to ask, “Do you think he knows about Eleven too?”

“I’m still here too you guys. What is going on?” Max interrupts, serving only as a reminder, Lucas turning the conversation back to Billy as he asks, “Why haven’t you told Max?”

Billy smugly tries their little deflecting shtick on them, “Could ask you the same. Why are you showing her the monsters if you ain’t gonna tell her jack about ‘em either? I was keeping her safe. You assholes were keeping her stupid.”

Max interjects, “Hey!”

“No, that’s not fair. We had to sign an NDA.” Dustin corrects, very matter of fact for a kid who doesn’t know what he’s talking about.

“Yeah, me too kid. It wasn’t any secret that number six escaped. I’ve had those assholes watchin’ over my shoulder for years and I didn’t even do anythin’.” Billy feels like he’s having a trauma competition with a bunch of middle schoolers, and he hates it. His tone is harsh as he demands, “Which brings us into, what the hell did you do to get caught up in all this?”

“None of your business.” Mike spits, but for the first time in the conversation, Will chimes in, “I got taken. By the demogorgon.”

“Okay. What’s that got to do with this, kid?”

“The demogorgon is what we called the big one. Before El killed it.” Lucas explains.

“Look, I don’t know who El is, but believe me when I tell you, you brats don’t know nothing. There ain’t just one of those, you know. Every last one of those annoying little fuckers like the one I just squished’ll turned into a ‘big one’.” They all look collectively defeated by that, maybe because he knows more than they do, or maybe just because they didn’t want to admit it was that bad.

But none look more ghastly than Will, who barely manages to inform them, “That’s bad. Last night, I heard them while we were trick-or-treating. They were everywhere.”

“Then we’re gonna have to do something.” Dustin declares determinedly, but Billy shuts it down right away, “No. Seriously, what the hell? All you sorry little punks are going right the fuck back home and pretending none of this never happened. If you don’t provoke ‘em, they’ll stop.”

“But they weren’t provoked when they took Will.” One of then argues, but Billys ignoring them now, turning back to a no less calm Max, “I don’t care. I ain’t doing this shit all over again. Come on, Maxine. Gotta leave your little friends to their baby ‘demogorgon’ and their world saving bullshit.”

Max scrunches her face up and argues, “Um, did you forget that I still have no idea what the hell is going on?!”

“Honestly, yeah.” Billy admits, “But s’better if you don’t ask questions. Now if you please, we gotta go.”

“No. You’re being a jerk.” Max crosses her arms and glares at him, a clear sign shes refusing to leave with him.

Billy just shrugs, “M’always a jerk. Thought you’d know that by now.”

“I do. And that’s exactly why I’m not listening to you. If my friends are going to do something, I want in on it.”

“Look what you little fuckers did.” Billy grumbles at the boys before trying to reason with his sister again, “Max. We only got fifteen minutes out of an almost half hour drive to get home. Come on.”

“This is so much bigger than that! I don’t care what your stupid dad says, I want to do something!” Her attitude gets on Billy’s nerves. That’s definitely deliberate if the spite gleaming in her cold eyes is any indication.

“You don’t even know what it is!”

“Then I deserve to find out!”

Billy sighs deeply, done doing this with a bunch of little kids in over their heads, “You know what, fine, but we’re stoppin’ at a payphone and you’re gonna be the one to tell my old man I’m takin’ you out for.. I don’t know, fucking ice cream or some shit. And if we get in trouble, I’m blaming you. Deal?”

Max smiles to herself at having gotten one over on him, “Deal. Where are we going though?”

“I dunno. Ask your nerds. S’their big fucking idea.” Billy grumbles, matching Max’s bitterness.

“We’ll have to call a meeting.”

“Will my basement work?”

“No offense, but I don’t think he’s getting past your mom.” Dustin nods towards Billy, the older boy rolling his eyes even though he’s not wrong, then offers, “My mom doesn’t like visitors. Maybe Will’s?”

“Yeah, Mrs. Byers will let anybody come over.”

“And she already knows what’s going on.”

They all nod again, and Billy rolls his eyes at them again while Lucas relays their decision to Max, “Alright, meet us at Will’s in an hour.”

“Why that long though? We’re all here right now.”

“Gives us time to cover our tracks, shitbird.” Billy hums in response to Max, stepping forward and asking, “What’s the damn address?”

This ‘meeting’ the twerps called was pretty much everyone in this hick town that knows the same dirty little secret as he does getting together in a tiny house and panicking. Billy and Max get fully interrogated like, a dozen times, once by the damned chief of police himself, all the while everyone is coming up with theories and plots and arguing. So much fucking arguing among this lot.

It gets to be too much pretty quickly, day five in this place and he’s already having to jump back into some of the worst things that ever happened to him. None of these people realize how big this is. Especially not the kids who just think it’s badass to fight monsters.

He leaves without telling anyone, or without anyone noticing among the chaos, to the back porch to light one up. There’re ashtrays all over the house he could use, but looming smoke in that cramped little kitchen wasn’t going to be any better than watching it curl upwards to the stars. So outside it was.

He leans against the wall, gaze fixing straight to what’s above him. He doesn’t notice the presence of another person until he hears them speak, startling slightly at the sound of a voice breaking the calm silence of a humid November night.

It’s Steve, sitting on a rusty and banged up glider at the opposite end on the porch, lit up just like he is. “So, uh. I guess you’re a part of this now?”

“I guess I am.”

Steve just nods and responds simply, effectively ending the conversation, “Right.”

But that’s not satisfying to Billy. He might appreciate peace more than what’s going on in that house, but he doesn’t like empty silence either. “What’re we all awkward like this for, Harrington? Spit out what you’re thinkin’.”

“I dunno, man.”

Billy frowns, prompting, “Come on. I know them gears are turnin’ over there. You've been quiet since we all got here.”

Steve looks away from him, but he does answer, “I dunno it’s just.. We’ve lost so much. People died because of this. People I knew. And I don’t like that anyone else is involved I guess.”

Billy scoffs, “Even me? You don’t even know me other than the asshole you met at the party last night.”

“So? What do you mean even you? I don’t want anyone anywhere near those fucking monsters. Could be my worst enemy and I’d still save them. I’d protect anyone from those things.” The haunted look behind his eyes, which seem so tired the longer Billy looks, tells Billy everything he needs to know.

He doesn’t mean to sound so soft when he asks, “What makes you so confident you can? Save ‘em I mean.”

“I fought a demogorgon myself. Well, not really by myself. Nancy and Jonathan were there. But I took a nail bat to its fucking face. Like hell I’d just let one of those things get anyone. Even you.” Steve

Billy flicks away his burnt out cigarette, sitting next to Steve on the old glider. “That’s real touching H, but I ain’t letting nobody sacrifice themselves for me. Need I remind you I’ve fought these assholes too.”

“But you told the kids you didn’t. Said it was all your friend.” Steve looks at him, sort of doubtful, but Billy blows off the remark, “No shit Sherlock. I ain’t airing all my business to any nosy brats like them.”

“I get that, but.. “ Hesitantly, he clarifies, “Is.. your friend, you know, even real?”

Billy must look at him like he grew a second head, “Shit, man, you think I’m one of those freaky experiments? No way. ‘Course he was real.”

“Oh. You said ‘was.’ Does that mean...” Steve’s voice trails off, sparing him hearing the words out loud.

“Don’t know. He got caught about two years back. Haven’t heard from him since. They might’a brought ‘im back here, they might’a killed him. I dunno.” Billy shrugs, picking at his nails while he talks so he doesn’t have to acknowledge Steve, or the fact that he’s even admitting this shit to him, “That’s why we’re here in Hawkins though. Susan’s got family over in Hope and a little ways up by Indie, so I suggested Hawkins. Just to come see where he came from. Get some closure I guess.”

“Guess he was really important to you then?” Steve smiles softly, but Billy only sighs through his nose, “You got no idea, Harrington.”

“Well, for what it’s worth, I’m sorry. I’m sure you’ll meet someone like him again.” He offers.

Somehow that sentiment immediately sets Billy on edge though, something about his tone implying that he knows, knows him and six were more than just friends, and Billy really doesn’t want to face that kind of monster tonight. He snaps, suddenly defensive, “What the hell’s that s’posed to mean?”

Steve’s face falls a little, evidently surprised by how upset Billy is, and he tries to fix it, “Oh I just thought that, the way you talked about him- and you look so sad when you do- that he was, you know, special to you.”

“So what? You gonna leave me to the monsters or some shit for that?” Billy growls, quickly warranting more defense from Steve, “What? No way. No I.. I get it, Billy. I do. More than you probably think I do.”

Billy half nods, his shoulders untensing as he slowly recognizes Steve’s genuinity. He mumbles eventually, working through what he needs to in his head to be comfortable talking openly with him again, “Didn’t expect to be getting relationship counseling too. That your assignment on the team, mister romance expert?”

“Shut up. You’ve never seen me swing a bat before.”

“Oh believe me, I cannot wait to.”

Steve’s smile returns, something Billy is personally glad for, though he might not be ready for that realization yet. He bumps their shoulders together, to hold Billy's attention and let him know he’s genuine, “Still, in all seriousness man, I hope you can find someone else like that for you. I know it’s not really easy pickings around here.”

This time, Billy’s tone is light, his features soft and vulnerable for the boy next to him, for the way he makes him feel less weighed down, less alone in this, “You got no idea, Harrington.”

#CherryLangeChallenge #harringrove #billy hargrove #steve harrington #billy x steve #ej writer #story by ej!#this is probably a disaster but I don’t care #season two au where literally none of the bad shit that happens happens except that the monsters are back #has my dialogue been too southern lately?#I feel like I’ve been writing Bills with an accent oopsie

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dbseamz · 3 years

Text

The long awaited second half of my first fanfic!

This is the second half (Part 2 of 2) of “Truth and Love Revealed”, my fluffy Rocketshipping confession/first kiss fanfic. The first half worked as a standalone but I wanted to add more, and it turns out I’m a lot better at writing from Jessie’s POV. Or maybe I felt I could flesh it out more because I wasn’t trying to upload it on a Valentine’s Day deadline. Or both.

Side note, if anyone can walk me through how to use Ao3 (particularly the tagging system) I’d love to post both halves together there and reach more readers. I also want to add illustrations at some point.

Here it is:

The distant screech of a Dodrio woke Jessie shortly after sunrise. She kept her eyes closed--if that had been a dream, she didn’t want it to be over. And such a vivid dream, too--she thought she could still feel his arm around her shoulders, heavy and warm under the top of her sleeping bag...

Wait a minute.

Opening her eyes, at first all she could see was James’s sleeping face in front of her. His dark lashes brushed his cheeks, and the little wisp of hair he could never tame hung down, almost touching the pillowlike cushion of his sleeping bag. She could hear the faintest of snores; his mouth was slightly open, each breath making the hair that lay across his cheek flutter.

For once she let her guard down and allowed herself to fully appreciate just how beautiful he was. It ached, to think of him that way, when she knew her attempts at finding love always went wrong. And that he seemed reluctant, even scared of the idea of dating a girl.

A soft sound interrupted her conflicted state. James was mumbling indistinctly in his sleep, his lips moving slightly before settling as he went quiet again.

His lips...she could still remember what it had felt like to kiss him. No dream of hers had ever been that clear before, or focused on one sequence of events so long instead of dissolving from one scenario to the next. A tiny spark of hope lit in the back of Jessie’s mind in spite of herself.

And as she stared at his mouth, all soft and relaxed in sleep, she noticed the tiniest smudge of pink on his upper lip. It looked like lip gloss.

Her lip gloss.

It wasn’t a dream! She gasped and barely managed to keep from making some sudden sound that would have awakened James too abruptly, but he must have heard or felt something because the hand on her back moved a bit and his face twitched. The deep, rhythmic breathing faltered as his brilliant green eyes blinked sleepily, then he saw her and his face seemed to light up, those lips curving into a warm smile. “Good morning, Jess.”

She tried to speak and instead produced a sort of high pitched noise like a Pikachu might make if its mouth were covered. Instantly embarrassed, she yanked the corner of her sleeping bag over her head, hearing James trying not to laugh as he sat up.

“What was that for?” he asked, lifting the cloth away from her face. There was no teasing in his expression, just that wonderful soft smile she remembered from last night. When she had peeked through her eyelashes as he described everything he loved about her.

“It wasn’t a dream,” she replied. Half asking.

“Ohhhh...No, no it wasn’t.” He reached down and helped her into a sitting position on top of her sleeping bag, facing him.

“So…” her voice got fainter as she spoke. “Do you really…” Her mouth formed the words love me, silently.

Those gorgeous eyes looked straight into hers. “Yes.”

“I want to hear you say it.”

He met her eyes. Hesitating a bit, as if he too felt that all of this was almost too good to be true, he spoke. “I...I love you, Jessie.”

Tears trickled down her cheeks; she knew it would be clear from her expression that these were happy tears so she said nothing, only watched and listened as he repeated himself. Perhaps he was just as thrilled by the sound of the words as she was.

“Jessica, I love you. I’ve loved you for...so long. You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to say this.”

So her faint hopes and guesses had been true? Part of her wanted more proof.

Another part remembered that tiny pink smudge.

“Then kiss me.”

He blinked, looking surprised, then smiled. He didn’t say anything aloud, certainly nothing as bold or cliché as I thought you’d never ask, but his face said he really had been hoping, and not quite believing, that she would make such a request. She puckered her lips and leaned a little closer, waiting. At last, he reached for her, one hand gently cupping the back of her head and neck, the other over her shoulder, his palm warming her back. Slowly, carefully, tilting his head just enough not to bump noses, he fitted his lips against hers.

His kiss was no less passionate than hers had been last night, but he was so tender and gentle that it was an altogether different experience. This time, the feeling of warmth didn’t fizz--it flowed, slow and sweet like sugar syrup. She leaned a little closer to him, eyes closed, and felt his silky hair brush her face.

Too soon, he withdrew, the hand that had supported her head brushing lightly against her cheek as he sat up straight again. Jessie blinked, reeling from the overwhelming sensation.

“How was that?” he murmured, his beautiful green eyes shining softly.

She reached for him, clumsily. “More.”

He laughed, sounding delighted, and scooped her onto his lap instead. She was almost as tall as him, so she had to scrunch down to see more than the side of his head. They shifted until he sat cross-legged and she sat sideways in the space between his knees, leaning back against the arm he’d wrapped around her shoulders with her own arm around his.

Lowering her eyelashes but not fully closing her eyes, Jessie tilted her face up, lips slightly parted. James looked at her, grinned, then leaned in to kiss the tip of her nose, startling a giggle from her. He laughed along with her, then kissed her cheek. And her chin. And her other cheek. And her forehead just below the point of her hairline, so light and tickly that she almost forgot that wasn’t what she had asked him for...almost. The laughter in his eyes reminded her.

“Ja-ames,’ she complained with a playful pout.

“Oh, all right,” he said in the same exaggerated tone, trying not to smile and failing. This kiss was just as affectionate, and she returned it eagerly, wrapping her free hand around the back of his head like he’d done for her. Pressed close against him, she could feel the thump of his heart, quick and strong.

A familiar voice cut through the warm haze in her mind. “Were either of yous gonna tell me about this, or was I s’posed ta wake up to you smoochin’ right in front of me?”

James started and pulled away. He and Jessie twisted around to glare at Meowth--or at least Jessie glared. James just looked rather guilty.

“Is there something you want us to tell you?” Jessie asked, more than a little irritated at the interruption.

“Um. No. Wait, yes!” The little feline’s face brightened. “Who confessed first?”

“Uh—”

“Me.” James’s face flushed pink.

“Ha!” crowed Meowth. “Wobbuffet owes me!”

They had bets on us?! Jessie made to move, but James squeezed her shoulder, urging her with his eyes to relax. She sighed and stayed put, but couldn’t resist saying, “Just so you know, fuzz head, I kissed him first. In case that evens your wager.”

She could feel James laughing silently as Meowth sputtered angrily and stopped digging in their bags for Wobbuffet’s Pokeball. “Hmph. At least I can tell ‘im I found out your secret first.” That thought seemed to cheer him, and he chortled to himself as he began packing away their small camp.

James must have recognized that Jessie was still annoyed, and seemed to be trying to distract her. He stroked her cheek lightly, and in spite of herself she leaned into it, squinting her eyes shut, savoring the gentle touch. He chuckled.

“What?”

Inclining his head toward Meowth, James replied, “I’ve seen him make the same face when someone pets him.” The amusement in his voice faded into mild curiosity as she moved her head slightly to stay in contact with his hand. “You’re touch-starved, aren’t you?”

“Mnph.” It made her sound vulnerable, put that way. And yet there was a part of her that did crave the simple feeling of contact, from the firm, reassuring pressure of his hugs to the delicate brush of his fingertips on her bare skin. It was hard to tell whether or not that came from her feelings for James specifically, but maybe he was right.

He had withdrawn his hand, looking concerned. “I didn’t mean you should stop,” she muttered, half reaching for his hand before he rested it on her cheek again.

That got even more of a laugh. “Just like Meowth.”

“Tell her all my embarrassin’ feline habits, why don’t you?” came the complaint.

“Says the cat who wouldn’t shut up about discovering our secret, when we weren’t even trying to keep it a secret. And besides, I know about ‘em al...ready…” Jessie would have said more, but James had started tracing her hairline with the tip of one finger, then sliding the side of his hand along her jaw. It tickled but in a very good way.

Delicious shivers ran up and down her spine, multiplying as he traced the curve of her ear. Her eyelids fluttered, and she felt as if she were melting into his arms. Maybe it wasn’t just touch she had “starved” for, she realized. Maybe it was affection, or the feeling that someone else cared deeply about her and found genuine joy in knowing she was happy. When James switched from caressing her face to running his hands through her long hair, Jessie let out a contented sigh and buried her face in the side of his neck.

In stories, the love interests always smelled like some poetic and improbable combination of scents. All Jessie could smell with her nose just above his jacket collar and his hair tickling her closed eyelids was a slight hint of sweat, too faint to be unpleasant, and something else, something sweet and distinctly floral…

She inhaled slowly. Roses. Of course. Either he used some sort of scented shampoo or the aroma of the flowers themselves lingered in his hair. Maybe both.

“Jess?”

She lifted her head to smile up at him. “I love you, James.”

He cuddled her close. “I love you too.”

They sat like that a while longer, until James broke the silence again.

“So,” he said, sounding suddenly shy. “Will you...will you be my—”

“Your girlfriend?” she asked with the same hesitancy, hardly daring to believe what was happening.

He squeezed her shoulder gently. “I was going to say ‘my sweetheart’, but sure.”

“Oh—”

Her throat was too tight to answer him. She nodded vigorously, hair bouncing behind her, and leaned in to kiss him but found that she couldn’t stop herself from smiling. Instead she nuzzled his cheek with her nose and hugged him tighter and was finally able to whisper, right in his ear: “Yes.” She swallowed hard, not wanting to cry again. “Yes, I’ll be your sweetheart.”

If he had been standing up, she suspected, James probably would have lifted her off her feet and spun her around, so happy he looked—and then sounded, as he replied; “Then I’ll be yours.”

They had things to do, surely. Traps to set, plans to make. Meowth was already grumbling somewhere nearby about “love-boids wasting time”. But it could all wait, Jessie reasoned, if it meant she could stay in her sweetheart’s arms just a little longer.

#fanfic #fluff #Rocketshipping #Jessie x James #otp kiss #my fanfic

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phoneybeatlemania-bit-the-dust · 3 years

Note

9 “Do you believe in soul mates?” or 18 “ I don’t like the way they look at you” (cos I’m very indecisive) <33

Hell fuckin yeah we love protective John - and we also love tender and understanding Paul 🥺

18. “I don’t like the way they look at you.”

Paris, 1961.

It was getting late into the evening as they hung around in some bar they’d found, wandering the Paris streets. At least it was warmer here than they’re hotel room – though they loved the things they could get up to in the privacy of their room, a privacy they’d never in fact had before, it was still some cheap, grimy place, that when caught in the chill of an October air would not hasten to freeze up as swiftly as possible. Still, at least it gave them an excuse to get as close to one another as possible, holding each other so intimately through the night, and that was something they supposed.

It was liberating being in Paris; finally, they had found themselves a piece of freedom, to live and be their most natural selves - even if only for a week or so.

Perhaps they never would see this independence again, and so there was an unspoken agreement that they best make the most of it whilst they can.

They’d even allowed themselves – these two Liverpudlian boys – to get caught up in the undeniable romance of Paris; they found themselves kissing in alleyways, parks, even downtown bars if it seemed safe. And that was where the real liberty came from: it was safe, they were safe. It was legal, and nobody knew them. Alone-together in Paris of all places, they had stumbled upon gold.

Watching his lover from across the room however, something arose in him. John had been sat there alone with a drink at the bar, whilst Paul was off flirting with some fella he’d met as he left the toilets. The man had insisted on dragging Paul - his Paul, it should be noted - into some stupid, superficial conversation. And it was working, clearly. He’d always known he’d never be enough for Paul, because somewhere deep inside himself, he knew Paul simply had a higher intellect, and though John was by no means an “idiot”, he knew Paul was going to want more from a partner someday. I mean, they both understood that this affair was only fleeting, nothing serious; after all, they both had girls back home. But even still, this was Paris, their Paris, their getaway. And Paul had fucked off to go flirt with some other guy.

But rationality echoed through his mind, reminding him he had no right to be annoyed – Paul always was flirtatious, simply he loved to encapsulate others with his charm, it seldom ever meant anything. But even so, these were only echoes in his mind, and if John had had a few to drink, he never could help but get upset.

Meanwhile, over in Pauls corner, the bloke he was talking to questioned in a sultry French accent, “Is that your partner over there?”

Craning his head to see who the man was indicating towards Paul answered, “Um, yes. Actually, yeah - that’s just John. How’d you know?”

“He’s staring at me as though…” not being totally fluent in English made it difficult to find the right words, “as though he were about…to pounce at me.”

“You mean ye think he’s about ta beat you up.”

“Yes.”

“Well…he has done that before - but only to real arseholes. I wouldn’t let him beat you up; besides, he can tell were only jokin’ here.”

“If you insist.” The man responded acceptingly. “Where are you two from?”

“Well, we just came from Hamburg - but were from Liverpool originally!”

A few minutes later, Paul felt someones hand tugging at his wrist, though looking behind him he realised it was only John.

“I wanna go,” John said with some slight melancholy in his tone.

He dropped him a knowing smile, then saying, “Alright, love – we’ll leave in ten, yeah? I just wanna finish my drink.”

John shook his head, and with an added spite, insisted, “Take yer drink out with you. We’ve gotta go.”

Paul contemplated fighting him on this, but always the more democratic of the two, and not wanting to spoil their getaway, he finally said with a slight defeated sigh, “Alright then.” Turning to the Frenchman, he finalised their conversation with him, with a casual, “Nice talkin’ with ye.”

Gripping onto Pauls hand, John dragged him into the dim city streets. It was damp, it had been raining, and some dewy scent had been brought out from under the earth. There was some aggression in Johns movement as he dragged Paul along, and though Paul had no fear John would ever hurt him physically, he was concerned John may hurt himself emotionally; he always did find ways to push others away.

Stopping, Paul asked, “John, love, whats the matter?”

“Nuthin’s the matter - I just wanted to leave.”

He knew John would unfold at some point, and he’d rather it be here then in their hotel room where they’d wake the neighbours with a screaming row. “You know I’ve known you long enough to know that that just isn’t true.”

“Fucks sake Paul, nuthin’s the matter-“

Bluntly, Paul interjected with, “John, yer gonna get it out at some point, so why not save us some time and tell me now.”

Defeated and with all defences down, John admitted, “I don’t like the way they look at you.”

“Johnny…” Paul wasn’t surprised, this wasn’t the first time John had gotten protective in this way. At least this time if didnt result in him beating anyone up.

“All them guys - you didn’t see ‘em, but they were right fuckin’ perverts.”

Understanding that a drunken and jealous John was simply incapable of thinking clearly, Paul asked gently, “How’d you think they looked at me?”

“I dunno…just…just like they could’ve taken you. From me.”

Paul laughed softly, though not mockingly, “Why would I ever leave you for some random French bloke?”

“I dunno, just…im an arsehole – im just…” he never could articulate his own self-loathing to the extent he wished he could.

“Johnny,” Paul started, taking his lovers hands into his own and pulling him closer, he half-whispered, “‘m yours for the week.” Bringing the others knuckles close, he kissed them, then asserted, “I don’t need- I don’t want another guy.”

“Yeah?”

Instead of answering this, Paul chose to grasp the others neck, tenderly pulling him in for a kiss. It was so un-like them, so romantic, so grotesque; but they were a long way from home, and nobody knew them – so why not be somebody else, or even better, why not be your most natural self? “Besides, ‘m not a bird y’know; don’t need you protecting my honour and what not.”

“Yeah, well…I like protecting yer honour.”

#mclennon #fanfic #my work #asks

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silvyavan · 3 years

Note

if clover forces yuno to be some spade royal for stability or some shit i want yuno to be Spiteful about it. just clear out & fire any spade noble who smell like scum, maybe have asta there with his ki-sensing to help screen them. kick them out, take their shit, make their mansion an apt or orphanage bc fuck 'em, and tell them to go build themselves a log cabin. and yuno being down To Fight if they have a problem, like what's wrong? i thought You Wanted me here? who were YOU expecting?? (1/5)

like some old noble being interviewed & brings up they had good convos with his parents & yuno interrupting "good for you. what results did you produce for the people?", "wh-", "oh? nothing? you're fired, get out. next." the folks who 'wanted' yuno realizing from how he talks & acts this is no noble - this is riffraff. mr niaflem Where Did You Leave Him? "at a church i swear" yuno not even taking the king title, just staying a prince as an affront & bc he hates this enough already (2/5)

not like anyone outranks him right? promotes asta as a FU to clover + in genuine appreciation: he's Sir Asta of Hage now. they run around spade talking to commonfolk & overpaying stuff, making snowmen with kids, yuno even clears snow from streets & roofs, he's nice to them. tbh i also have trouble seeing asta leaving yuno out there on his own... maybe he & nero can stay for a bit while the stuff with their trial gets worked out? by the time clover gets back to them about things they find (3/5)

that yuno went on a noble eviction spree. did they think he'd become bougie? even nozel who was "oh hes a royal of course" is now going "holy shit they really gave the crown to A Fucking Peasant" thats right rich man its just like you always feared: a poor rat robin-hooding the shit outta everything. was it too much? who knows but idk what they expected from an uneducated spiteful 17y.o. who spent his life in the sticks & dirt, whos magic knight efforts & dream were suddenly undermined, (4/5)

denied going home, left unsupervised & handed a shitton of authority. yuno "can i go home? i think i threw out most of the trash :)", "what did you do to them?", "they work hard now :)" admittedly the dark triads disruption of govt made it easier to clear the weeds; meanwhile clovers are plentiful & deeply intertwined. it dawns on them he'd do that to clovers rich if he had the chance; its low-key threatening. "did i do something wrong? :)" (5/5 done) idk man its a what-if i keep having...

Op can i just say first and foremost, thank you for making my evening with Yuno “Drain The Swamp” of Hage concept

Right off the bat, Clover putting/forcing Yuno to accept the throne in either an attempt to monitor it/act as a puppet king for Clover or simply because they don’t want him there as a form of xenophobia is possible

The only problem is that Yuno would have a hidden talent for Malicious Compliance. There is, without a sliver of doubt, that Yuno will act as prince in the most passive aggressive way. “Oh, you want me to rule Spade but still be buddy buddy with you? Too bad, im gonna drain the fuvking swamp and rebuild the kingdom, focusing on the citizens needs. You know, like a good ruler.” That’s him, he’s out there ready to throw hands wit both Clover AND Spade for pulling this type of shit.

So obviously they’d put an inside man to monitor Yuno, but end up choosing William “Gay Peasant Raised, Ready to Start A Literal Coup” Vangeance under the assumption that since he was his captain, he’d listen to him. But really, most of his “reports” are just the same letter paraphrased as he has tea with Yuno to gossip and roast the Clover and Spade Nobility like

“The Kira’s are angry about Wednesday’s sacking.”

“Hoes mad.”

“Hoes Mad Indeed, Lol.”

Nozel suddenly being all “This is a literal Peasant saying Fuck The Bourgeusie” when he realises Yuno is firing assholes left and right but it does NOT help him that NOELLE, of all people, is supporting and endorsing the message (mostly because 90% of the nobles Yuno has been sacking are against Asta, hickest of the hicks who made Forever Friendship Bracelets with a demon, and are conspiring to frame him)

And the best part is that NOBODY, absolutely NO ONE has the balls to go against him because 1) they wanted this in the first place, 2) he’s the only ruler left of the royal bloodline and 3) if anyone so much as tries to speak against him, Asta, Sylph and Liebe (mostly for the thrill of harassing upper echelons) are ready to Shred These Assholes

And it absolutely drives the nobles wild that Yuno chose Asta ( the very same demon host that Smacked Dante and Lucifero Right Into Early Graves) as his right hand, as if he isn’t married to a demon and a threesome isn’t being theorised under the table

Clover Kingdom nobles realising that Yuno CAN and WILL come over to Clover to do the same unless they change is also something that makes a LOT of the houses sweat.

If Tabata decides to be a grade A coward and go with “Yuno ascends to the Spade Throne” as post Qlipoth arc, he better make Yuno be open about hating it and threatening damn near all of Clover with a Coup for the shit they’ve been pulling since forever (Diamond Kingdom is on Thin Fucking Ice, mostly because Mars has apparently weeded out most of the corruption and still isn’t done)

#Anonymous #black clover #black clover manga #black clover spoilers #yuno black clover #asta black clover #william vangeance #silv writes

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concentrated-mug-of-me · 3 years

Note

okay im gonna try ur welcome. one ask. all from memory. if i fuck up i fuck up.

good morning heartsville this is tank comin at ya the voice of reason the voice of the season here at WLUV the student run radio station here at heartsville high the heart of america its 7 am on the dot and a perfect 68 degrees out there to start the school year off right. just a reminder folks heartsvilles annual community picnic is this weekend so guys grab ur guy and girls grab ur girl and head on down to lookout lake. and if u dont have anyone to grab sounds like youve got some extra love on ur hands and i know one magical matchmaker who just aint gonna let you get away with that. so go get em zanna this ones for you!!!!

when the alarm clock rings u know ive got to start to sing thinkin bout the joy the days gonna bring love is all around it just has to be found my job is making sure ig gegs spread around. i knew the day of my birth that i was put on this eartj to make sure no one suffers extra love so you can leave it to me its my responsibility to pass it on to someone without enough. i seek out the truth im a love sleuth im goin undercover for a lover who might not find another and im lookin for clues and they might point to you so come on gimme ur extra love. hey cindy! who do we got on the schedule today? steve buckman a quarterback i dont know him he must be new well im sure he is feelin a bit lonely ill see what i can do.

two by two just like noah had to do the only trick to love is finding who belongs with who so come on lets start the arks about to depart we gotaa pick up some extra love. (mornin mornin hi hi whatever have a good day) whos got wxtra love? i spy (call call me see ya later whatever) mornin officer klotsky! mornin zanna was your date w dr green a success ohh you bet hes the perfect guy for meee yeah i thought he might be my gratitude to you i cant express all in a days work! we walkes thru the park holding hands hntil dark such a guy i jever thought id meet yeah life is so sweet when extra love is complete so now im keepin the beat down on love street.

zanna karla hi roberta zanna hi (ahatever) whos got extra loce? not i because we got some hreat news uh huh you wont believe this uh uh tell em karla yeah! i forget what it is we’ll be govethee forever oh yeah our loves here to stay uh huh i cant believe we met only yesterday ! e just wantes to thank you fof makinv us fall in love zanna! u know karla i cant actyally make two people fall in love. i can merely favikitate! good morning everyone good morning principal cooper. now zanna i trust you wont be meddling in anyones affairs this year now will you? now principal cooper would i ever meddle in anyone elses affairs? yes you would. ur darn right i would!

two by two just like noah had to do the only trick to love is finding who belongs with who oh well i better go my friend is waiting and so ill see uou later later later later shes so great i know. (hi hi hihi bye bye bye whatever) whos got extra love? mike does! i dont but theres this new guy in town perhaps youve seen him around. mike has a crush on him i dont you do he does okay i do but let me make this clear zanna dont interfere oh please no please no please no pleas no PLEASE heres what im gonna do. (please no!) friday ill walk by and say hi next week we’ll start to speak and boah blah blah blah just be a man forget this stupid plan and quit the delay i dont wanna scare him awayyy no ur just a chicken ow chicken ow HEY NEW GUY wuit it oww. come on! good luck on ur chess match today mike!

excuse me olease but ut seems ive lost my way how bout a map ill explain another day hi im zanna im steve new quarterback of the team howd u know a little birdy told me oh i see what brings u to the midwest a mikitary request my two dads r five star generals in the army ooo im impressed. so we move place to place base to base unpack the suitcase try to make a few friends and then pack up and leave again wherever ive been ive never seemed to fit in. well never fear uts clear you fit in here! so keep up that chin. thanks for the encouragemnet ill see u in class!

oh excuse me. no no its my fault. hey hi zanna kate how are you wait i cant im running late. breakfast sure wnat som yeah what a pptatt would be great. thanks! let me uh uh find you pleae dont a girl no thanks im doing fine. it it wont will change will not ur world ive got no time ive got sats acts aps and gpas and college applications w all those tribulations to get to university then a medical degree so i just cant b distracted by loves triviality. no! yiu just havent met the right girl yet u can philosophize and rationalize but theyre just alibis loves all u need just take it from me okay u can set me up great! when im 33! ill get u yet.

hey zanna!! hey mr dj! wont you play this song for meee from the way that ur beamjn i see that ur schemin to turn somebodys dream to realityy you know me so well well its not hard to tell ur always happy making dreams come trhe its what i do! well in spite of ur list theres always one guy u miss i do who? you i know u got dreams too. no time my friend.

hi zanna. hi candi hi buck hey zanna. whats on the clipboard for today well the school board .. well as im sure you know the schoolboard is meeting with the ciry council to discuss whether or not the linrary should be allowed to carry a copy of hearher has one mommy and one daddy. in my opinion .. oh and if you can think of anyone we could sure use another guy for this years musical. come along buck. yes candi.

the schoop musical, huh? i think i have just the right guy! i seek out the truth im a love sleuth im going undercover for a lover who might not find another and im lookin for coues and they might point to you so come on gimme ur extra love. [i almost fucked up here] well u can cocer your tracks thats a fact jack but you aint gonna shake me to fake or make me take a break from chasin you can duck off the trail but im hot on your trail so come on gimme ur extra love now baby dont try to run from the love gun ive got the place surrounded and bounded the hounds r all around it you may be on the lam from the love caravan but u aint getting away w your love!

cause this is heartsville high where i dream of a love that will stay heartsville high where nothings ever gonna get in my way heartsville high where ive a feeling loves about to begin i hope that this time im gonna fit in. HEY you over there dont be shy come iver here i bet you got extra love what you hoarding it for? lifes got so much in store for someone w extra love. dont try to hide you cant keep it inside you migt as well give up ur extra love cause if u want love to stay you gotta give it away you gotta give up give up give up hive uo your ectra looooooove give up your extra love!

this took me over half an hour to type.

dee,,,,,,,other than the typos (and the whatevers) this is accurate as far as i can tell and how did that all fit in one ask i swear there was a character limit

#long post #ask #davethecryptid #zanna dont

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leverage-ot3 · 4 years

Text

notable moments from The Maltese Falcon Job

leverage 2.15

Hardison (checking phone): Guys, they are ripping through Nate and Tara's cover stories. All their financials are blown. So look, until I know what they know, no credit cards, no debit cards, no ATMs, nothing that can be traced back to us. OK? Cash in hand only.

- - - - -

Nevins (on phone): No, not a safe house. Interpol wants Culpepper someplace off our system. We're taking him to the Governor Hotel.

Nate: OK, that's it. That's where we're gonna hole up.

Tara: The Governor Hotel?

Nate: Yeah.

Tara: The hotel crawling with FBI?

Eliot: FBI and Interpol.

Nate: Yeah, you know, it's the one place in Boston they won't be lookin' for us. Come on, we just gotta get there first

smart

- - - - -

Tara: Oh, thank God! I just stepped out to get the paper and then my door closed behind me and I tried to find a house phone, but you guys don't have those anymore. (drops towel) Oops.

Man: Uh...

(Eliot and Parker look down the hall, then at each other, then down the hall)

parker, g i r l, close your mouth

they were both slightly Into It™ and you can’t change my mind

- - - - -

Hardison: In-room checkout. (sits down on bed with keyboard) OK, look, this means that I have access to the hotel's billing computers. It's a big ol' backdoor in every hotel room in America. (hacks system) As of right now, we've been here for a week, and our reservations are good for another week, courtesy of this man's platinum card, Mr. Ogden Shields, who has spent a lot of time in the adult section of pay-per-view. I mean, did he even leave the room?

Parker: In-de-panties Day?

~ a few moments later ~

(Parker takes keyboard from Hardison’s hands)

Eliot: All right, I'm gonna go get some keys made. I'm goin' to the gym. Make sure I can charge stuff on the room.

Hardison: I gotcha.

(women moaning on TV)

Parker: Wow, she really wants that car clean.

Hardison: That’s-that's enough of that

parker is baby and hardison wants to protect her from that nastiness

- - - - -

Nate: Why do we care about him?

Hardison: 'Cause he's big on the surplus weapons market.

Eliot: (laughs) That's just a polite way of saying arms dealer.

Tara: His specialty's buying cheap guns from Third World countries and reselling 'em.

- - - - -

Nate: Don't worry about Sterling.

Eliot: Did you just say, "Don't worry about Sterling?"

Nate: Yeah, don't worry about Sterling. What you don't think I can beat Sterling?

Eliot: I think in the last six months, Nate, I've heard you talk about beating the Triads, beating the Russians. All right? Maggie's boyfriend. Huh? How'd that work out? We all said that meet was a bad idea, right? But you got a taste for taking down this Mayor and you can't resist.

Nate: You wanna walk away? Walk away.

Eliot: I'm not walkin' away. It's not my job. My job is to get your back. And, Nate, I'm gonna do it. All the way down. But I need you to do your job.

Nate: And what's that?

Parker: Be Nathan Ford. Be the person we came back for

PARKER BABY she showed emotion I’m so proud of her

- - - - -

(Eliot holds up the piece of paper taken from Bonanno’s house that reads ‘Maltese Falcon’)

Eliot: That's still bugging me, man.

we love to see eliot confiding/leveling with hardison

- - - - -

Parker: Ooh! But, uh, I have mini-bar.

her in the maid outfit with the french accent

+ HER WINK IM GAY

- - - - -

Nate: You help Tara and Parker. I'm gonna stall Sterling.

Hardison: How?

Nate: I'm thinking.

(Sterling gets into an elevator. Nate heads up the stairs, stopping at every floor to push the elevator button. Sterling begins to get irritated when the elevator stops at every floor but never sees Nate, who gets progressively more tired as they go upward)

[Hallway]

(Sterling gets off on the 14th floor. Behind him, Eliot pushes his cart into the elevator. Sterling glances at him but the door closes before he can get a good look. Sterling approaches the door the FBI agents are guarding)

petty and fucking ICONIC I wouldn’t have the stamina for that but neither would nate tbh and honestly he was probably running on pure spite to make that happen and I respect him for that

- - - - -

Parker: Housekeeping!

(she goes inside, pulling her cart in behind her. Once in the room, she finds Tara and Hardison in the window. Hardison is tangled in his line, and Tara is trying to help him)

Hardison: Ow. That's... Stop. Hey, I got this. Stop. I don't need help.

Tara: Clearly you do.

Hardison: I got this. I got this. Go.

LMFAO E V E R Y TIME

we love to see the running bit of hardison utterly FAILING at anything rappelling related

- - - - -

Culpepper: Where are the agents? Where are the agents? There should be two FBI agents standing at the door.

(Eliot walks in with Parker thrown over his shoulder)

Nate: Did you have to?

Eliot: She saw our faces.

Nate: OK. Yeah, put her in the tub with the others.

(Eliot takes her into the bathroom)

- - - - -

eliot can always knock a bitch out with one (1) punch

- - - - -

Sterling: So, I'm gonna make you a deal. You find Kadjic, tie him to the guns, I'll give you a free pass. Just this once, you get to walk away with your record wiped clean.

Nate: My team?

Sterling: They go down. Every last one of 'em. They deserve to go down. They're criminals, Nate. Thieves. So that's the deal. You bring me Kadjic and the guns, and I cut you and you alone loose. Because at the end of the day you're always right. You're not a thief. This is your second chance.

(Sterling picks up the flask and walks away)

this was actually really interesting to see. sterling leveled with nate. he knows nate, knows how he works, thinks he knows who nate really is on the inside. they have a Past™

- - - - -

Nate: Yeah. No. I... I, uh... Listen, I need you to come back. Um... I need you. Uh, I need you.

[Interior Helicopter]

Sophie: No, no, no. Speak up. I'm traveling and...

[Leverage Headquarters]

Nate: Not the team. Me. For me. Not for a con. I just... Listen, I... I don't know who I am anymore, Sophie. And, ah... When, when I was chasing you and everything and we were doing cons, I knew who I was, but not anymore. As crazy as this sounds, I need you to tell me, tell me when I'm goin' too far. I mean, it just... It gets out of control and I just don't know who I am and, and you've always been... .y compass. And, you know, I care about you more than yo-you'll ever know, because I lo... I lo...

lmfao when the signal is lost? tragic

- - - - -

eliot is wearing a flannel in the final scenes

- - - - -

the obama portrait very visible in the background of the government building? we love to see it

- - - - -

eliot DING DONG WE’RE HOME spencer owns my whole (whole) heart

- - - - -

Nate: What are you doing?

Eliot: Countin' all the guys with guns.

Nate: How many?

Eliot: A lot

smart and TOTALLY an eliot thing to do

- - - - -

Parker: Don't worry. No one's ever died going in through an air duct.

Tara: Oh, this is comforting.

Parker: I mean, worst case, you slip and fall. Break your legs. Lay there for days, scratching on the metal. It's like a long, metal coffin with wind. (excited) Let's go!

(Parker runs across the roof)

she’s baby and I love her. never, ever change parker

- - - - -

Computer: Match identified.

Hardison (bending over keyboard): Damn, you finally found something, half-pint?

HE CALLS HIS COMPUTER HALF PINT ??? ICONIC

- - - - -

Hardison: Parker, where are you?

Parker: Sorry, had a buzz from the alarm system, I couldn't hear a... thing. What?

(Parker’s face hardens and she heads for Tara, who is putting the rappelling gear back in the oxygen tank)

Tara: Parker, what's wrong?

(Parker grabs Tara by the throat and pushes her back until she is leaning over the edge of the building)

~~~

Tara: You're really strong.

Parker: Yeah. I hang from buildings with my fingertips.

Tara: It's not what you think. I was setting up a meeting!

Parker: Actually, that was exactly what I was thinking. Bye now.

Tara: Not for myself

- - - - -

ANNIE KROY IS BACK

- - - - -

(Eliot, his hands tied, is being led to some stairs by two goons.)

Man: I'll get the hatch.

(one man moves ahead of Eliot while the other stays behind him. When Eliot doesn’t follow the first man up the stairs, the second pushes him)

Man 2: Come on.

Eliot: Thirteen.

(Eliot and the second man struggle, sending gunfire rifling across the ceiling before the second man is knocked down. The first man comes back and kicks Eliot in the face. Eliot kicks him in return)

Eliot: Come here!

(Eliot swings his hands across the first man’s face, knocking him back)

Eliot: Twelve.

(Eliot knocks the first man out)

Eliot: Eleven.

(Eliot starts up the stairs, but hears someone else coming and waits around a corner. After a brief struggle, he knocks this man out as well and breaks the zip ties on his wrist)

Eliot: Ten. (heads up the stairs

HOOOOO BOY

MARK ME DOWN AS SCARED AND HORNY

also if parker and hardison know what he was doing? they’d be marked down as the same

- - - - -

Tara: All she asked was that I report back to her every now and then. Are we sure this is the fastest way?

Parker: Yeah, look. (looking at car GPS) There's no traffic this way. So, you were spying on us.

Tara: I was not spying. I was an early warning system. Sophie just, she was worried Nate might go off the rails. So, if it ever looked like he was spinning out of control, I was supposed to call and let Sophie lay in a backup plan just in case.

Parker: Yeah. Why not us?

Tara: Because you were too likely to forgive him.

Parker: I suppose gettin’ busted by the FBI and trying to bring down arms dealers while kidnapping a mayor does qualify as out of control.

Tara: So, anyway, I used my contacts to get Sophie set up as a buyer for the guns. You know... You actually had me worried for a second that you were gonna drop me.

Parker (laughs): That is silly

- - - - -

(Hardison is carrying a large monkey wrench and smiling. He hears noises and goes to investigate, seeing Eliot starting up a ladder)

Hardison: Hey. It took you long enough.

Eliot: What?

(Eliot starts toward Hardison, but a man points a gun to his head)

Man: Freeze.

(Eliot grabs the gun and knocks the man out)

Eliot: One.

Hardison: What

hardison if he knew what eliot was doing: hot damn

- - - - -

(the team gathers together. Parker hugs Sophie)

Sophie: Ooh. Parker touching.

Parker: Kinda, yeah.

- - - - -

Eliot: There's not that many ways out of here.

Sophie: Eliot, when I arrange a rescue, I do it properly.

(a helicopter lands on the docks near the ship. The team heads down the stairs, but Nate hesitates, looking down at the blood on his hand from his side. He goes down the ladder to join the team on the lower deck)

- - - - -

Nate: I've destroyed all the evidence the FBI has on Culpepper and Kadjic. You have no photos, no tapes, you don't have anything. You don't have a case on anybody, unless you arrest me. And only me.

Sophie: Nate?

Nate: I agree to turn state's evidence. I testify to what Kadjic told me, how he put the hit on Bonanno. Hell, I'll even give you Bonanno's evidence against the gunrunning.

Eliot: Nate, I can take these guys.

Hardison: It's just ten more yards to the chopper, man.

Nate: Listen, guys. I got you into this mess. This is the only way to get you out.

eliot is still ready to fight for his family no matter what and hardison just wants them to leave because they’re SO CLOSE

- - - - -

Nate: Come here.

(the team moves closer to him)

Nate: You guys are the most honorable people I have ever met in my life. You've become my family. My only family. I won't forget that. (looks at Eliot) Now get 'em on the chopper. Please. Now!

Eliot: Let's go.

(Eliot nudges Parker and she reluctantly heads for the gangplank. Eliot touches Hardison’s arm)

Eliot: Let's go, man.

(Hardison walks away. Eliot hesitates a moment, shaking his head, then follows the others, hesitating at the top of the gangplank near Sterling)

nate trusts eliot, and only eliot, to be the one to be able to get the rest of the team out of there and into the helicopter. he knows eliot and how much he cares for his family and will do anything to make sure they’re safe, and nate is betting on that to get them out of there

eliot has to be the one to make parker and hardison move because they’ll listen to him and also there would be a good chance that they’d try to stay with Nate otherwise

his gentle hands leading them away have my whole (whole) heart

- - - - -

(Sophie and Eliot get on the helicopter, Eliot hesitating one last time before getting in)

this hurts eliot so much because he’s the RETRIEVAL SPECIALIST and he’s supposed to get everyone safe and never leave anyone behind I’m-

- - - - -

Agent: Who the hell is this guy?

Sterling: I don't know.

Nate: My name's Nate Ford, and I am a thief.

(more sirens are heard. Nate begins laughing as the helicopter lifts off and more police cars and agents arrive, surrounding Nate and the dock. Nate watches the helicopter fly away)

MAJOR character development for nate this season (2.01 had him refusing that he was a thief and in multiple other episodes in this season)

oh and also, y’all, just like last season, if I had to watch this go down like that with my own two eyes and have that be the end of leverage (because they close every season like it’d be the last) I would have fucking R E V O L T E D

#leverage #leverage 2.15 #leverage 2x15 #the maltese falcon job #leverage season 2 #season 2 #notable moments #mine

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neverheardnothing · 4 years

Text

rewatching joe iconis and family lincoln center performance at 4 am instead of packing or sleeping just to feel something and i have so FEW and so MANY thoughts and yall are gonna hear em all. no i will not put this under a cut. im going to be an absolute bastard about this.

i love the story joe tells about why he's singing mitb as the first song so much. like. the spite of it all. the defiance of it all. the pride of it all. the dig it or fuck off and disappear of it all. the joe iconis of it all.

“i know exactly the song im going to sing as my first song at the american songbook series.” i love that he highlights the fact that this is the american songbook series.

then immediately jumping right into broadway here i come with molly hager, the other song he is most known for!!!

every time i think about this performance i think about how this was the first (?) time this song was performed by them since the closing of bmc.

and then lance rubin comes up to sing try again. which is the only time that i know of that anyone but joe has sung this song.

i remember a remark made during watching it live that having someone else sing the song made it seem so clearly more about joe and his career. but also having lance sing it immediately makes me think of bbh closing early which yeah is part of joe’s career but also lance’s.

and also the line “if you’re an actor and another actor gets the part you auditioned for” reminds me of how lance found the auditioning process of acting and the whole [not acting part] of an acting career to be terrible which is why he quit to then become an author and the juxtaposition of him singing try again is Something. but also he DID try again he is just applying his efforts to a different creative field and it’s working out great for him. good for lance rubin.

lol i haven’t even talked about the actual performance aspect of this song anyways it’s very different from the two versions ive seen of joe doing it. he plays it a lot more comical. i love it.

sidenote not specific about this performance, but i love love LOVE the line and the music at “use the stairs, walk to the street. see the people, feel the heat, and apply yourself again.”

and also the line “when they cast you out to sea, there’s a lifeboat manned by me called try and try again” will never not make me think of bsol/last on land and bonus lance was also in that show! it just keeps circling around.

everything about these past 3 songs performed at this venue in this set list order in this moment at joe’s career is honestly so wonderful. like you had a songs about an anxiety attack, a suicide/loss of self in success, and repeated failures before this song all sung by individuals. two of these songs were written at points where joe felt frustrated/sad with his career. one written in the aftermath of specific frustration about the first closing of be more chill. one an actual song from bmc. like what a SETLIST for your first three songs! fucking michael in the bathroom, broadway here i come, and try again. truly something.

THE WHISKEY SONG!! i love hearing joe sing so much. while i think we can all agree he’s not the most skilled singer there’s something special about hearing a composer perform their own work. he adds like 3 levels of charm to make up for lack of singing skills lol. just a very charismatic guy.

lance rubin back on tamborine for the next bit of the song and he’s like laughing through it. not completely sure what he’s laughing about honestly but this Is a comedic song (after 3 real downers of songs) and also joe was playing it up.

jared weiss down on the floor with his guitar playing along. that’s its own bullet point.

audience cheering as more family members start coming on stage! i love that the band is getting cheers. love that!!!

the camera isn’t on him but from the audio, nick blaemire is presumably running around giving high fives to people in the audience.

i can’t exactly tell with the camera angle and the lighting but i think that more family members get up from different seats in the audience or at least enter in the back and walk through the audience to get to the stage during this instrumental break. reminds me of how joe loves theater that physically touches you. giving you high fives in this case.

love liz lark brown. she plays it pretty like. frenetic and frazzled. love it.

amara, badia, danielle, will, and nick are just chillin sitting on the steps of the stage. 100% contributes to the vibe of this song. top fuckin notch.

SOMEONE screams AH during the drunk part of the song and i cannot figure out who but it gives me so much life.

jared pulling lance down to the floor with him.

jason going “man.... this place is a dump” like i LOVE the irreverence.

everyone actually getting back up and also converging On the stage during the (kind of) acapella break.

and now your whole gang is up on the stage at the fancy ass appel room singing your what sounds like a mostly upbeat fun song but is actually about self medication with alcohol and it’s a fucking jam. i love the 3 solo songs and then bringing in everyone for a big group number.

sidenote not about this specific performance: the lyrics “i’ll pour some more and then—AND THEN?—i’ll pass out and then—AND THEN!” the and thens were not on the things to ruin album and i wonder why not ALL the time. was it just deemed extraneous? or was this an innovation after the album was recorded?

i love that you can see the band singing along.

yesterdays / i can’t relate. i love this song i fucking love it. i love the synthy keyboard that was an active choice made. which means that joe is not the one accompanying jared in this song.

jared: i hate today. joe: *snorts in the background*

“i like music you can hold” -> old records black suits, susannah’s obsession with music which was of course in vinyl format back then

will once said hearing lgw was very exciting because he’s first and foremost a fan of joe’s so he was hearing a new joe song for the first time and the world got just a bit larger and i think about that quote a lot in relation to this song because i was like Oh i Get What He Means now because this is the first new joe song i heard since like getting into his work and i felt that world getting a bit bigger.

jared’s monotone chorus on top of the girls underneath is so good. it’s so fucking good i cannot.

liz lark brown velociraptor fuckin classic. specifically in this performance the weird ass electric guitar noise at “there’s a dinosaur” is SO good. i love it.

i know people say Trans Vibes from next song (jeff) but this song also gives me trans vibes. i think joe inadvertently writes stuff trans people relate to because of his propensity to write for People Who Are Different.

people cheering as will takes off his jacket hell yeah.

i am way more used to the jeremy morse version of this song and really consider it more his so it’s so fun to hear will sing it.

i love the canon of the “oh”s so much.

after will sings “i go to the window looking out and what do i see? myself just staring back at me.” and someone in the audience AUDIBLY goes “oh.” like what a MOMENT. way more subtle than when someone screamed “WHAT” at the “naked korean girl” reveal during the pipe night performance but on the same tier of Great Audience Reactions.

smooth fuckin gliss bro i love it. arms out by side. i love it.

Classic Jason Sweettooth Williams Singing Helen. but this time they added like some REAL like. oh god i have no idea how to describe it. electric crunchy electric guitar noises. and it’s so good.

i havent mentioned this yet but in the background of every song people who are not in it or are backup vocals are just sitting and jamming along and it’s so nice because me fuckin too.

honest to god just have to give a timestamp for this but bullet point for whatever the fuck eric is doing in the background here.

will and katrina circling each other singing directly into each other’s faces. so good.

the Unexpected dynamic change and following crescendo i am Living.

katrina rose dideriksen riffing up top. yes. YES.

joe starting to play helen sharp and then forgetting part of his introduction to the song is so good.

the inevitable laughter at any performance of this song at “it is not lost on me you’re all here at my show”

i know nothing about the movie death becomes her so i honestly always just think about joe when this song gets performed. also thinking about how in the youtube premiere of this song, joe was talking about how lauren was shouting out the names of all the musical theater composers joe is jealous of.

right place/wrong time. i read a bsol review a while ago about how katrina rose dideriksen was underutilized and gotta say i Agree holy Shit let her sing More.

i also remember how joe once said this song felt the most personal to him and that he cried when writing it

police siren piano.

the first time in this entire song they sing in sync is at the line “i wonder if his/her life is just like mine” and i just start screaming.

when eric and katrina turn to each other for the first time and start singing At each other!!!!!!!!!!!

honey! thinking about jen ash tep talking about how Each performance of this song gets Wilder and Wilder.

love it when nick just gets off the stage and starts singing to people in the audience. apparently one of the people was will’s mom lol.

ACAPELLA BREAK!!!!!! joe just fully gets up from piano and starts WILDLY clapping along!!!!

woman of a certain age! i remember when the live show happened the album had not come out yet and then when the yt premiere of it happened it Had been out for a week or so.

piano note elevator bell

the electric guitar is doing some fucking weird ass things in this song and i am living so fucking much for it.

the riffs badia does are so fucking incredible i immediately paused this video to go and watch her sing big fat ruby again just because i wanted more badia content.

the story behind old flame is so good and joe waiting until the last fuckin moment to give her the song is so fuckin funny.

i love love love these types of joe songs that are like 7 minute long story epics like right place/wrong time and the actress and ammonia and old flame.

“the best way to get past the past is to shoot it in the head” and then the audience cheers and i fucking love it. my commentary is getting shorter. it’s 6 am and i’m tired can you tell. i also just had a lot of thoughts about this early on and less thoughts about later on.

revolution song. the deep ass fucking electric bass is So good i Will go apeshit. like honestly that might be my favorite smaller detail of this song. like i imagine if i were in the room it might be loud and deep enough that i could feel it In my chest. like you can Feel the revolution coming.

i love the faster tempo revolution song has in the cabaret version.

i also love the cabaret specific lines of “evolution in the institution”

joey is a punk rocker was honestly not ever on the list of songs i thought would get performed here but im so glad that they did. like the obvious choice would have been veins for annie golden but they went this route. obsessed with this choice. obsessed with the fact that amphibian replaced this song as the act 2 opener. obsessed that annie is the one singing this.

i am never not screaming about wave and yall know this. just throwback to me losing it in the tags in a reblog of picture of the wave passage going on about how it really does mirror joe’s career and bmc specifically. and again this song being performed for the first (?) time since bmc closed makes the “so today on a hill in las vegas” and onward part SO fucking sad i literally just started crying. the entire song being in past tense up until that part. i will just go die now.

will in the yt premiere talking about texting the line “our energy would simply prevail” in the leadup to bmc coming back.

find the bastard. for some reason when this happened live i thought it was gonna be outlaw that was performed.

i swear to god it is literally physically impossible for me not to AT LEAST mouth along to “what’s your name, what’s your name” during this song

NAMES ARE FOR ACCOUNTANTS.

MY NAME IS AWFUL LONG AS IT’S THE LYRICS OF THIS SONG.

the goodbye song. it’s never not sad. i love love love that this song is the final song every concert. i also love the recent lore of finding out that penny dreadfuls was the encore song at concerts before they became too long and it had to get cut.

finally gonna mention the background car lights. what a beautiful backdrop.

also since im always on my wrol bullshit i love how fucking clearly you can hear him at the end

accelerando accelerando accelerando. insert [joe iconis peaked when he wrote the accelerando in the goodbye song post of mine].

katrina singing an octave up is always SO fucking impressive i am so impressed by her voice she is so fucking good i love her so much

the bows are so fucking sweet i love them.

goodnight it’s 7 am.

#teresa talks #also as my life gets Increasingly busier i decide to come back #social media truly a cesspit i can never escape #many no thots head empty full yes no <3 #im very tired #iaf #joe iconis

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faunusrights · 4 years

Text

OFFAL HUNT REMASTERED LIVEBLOG // CHAPTER 19

IN THIS EPISODE OF MURPHY IS SCREAMING, CONSTANTLY, TRAPPED IN THEIR PERFECT NIGHTMARE:

Glynda was saying: “I know we aren’t friends. I know we aren’t partners. I know you’re a criminal. But—I think I can trust you. I think I have to trust you, even if you’ve done awful things before.”

EVERYTHING GOES WRONG BUT LIKE SOMEHOW WORSE THAN EVER? LIKE A WHOLE NEW BRAND OF LOW. LIKE CINDER’S GOT A PICKAXE AND THE CENTRE OF THE PLANET CALLS FOR AID.

IT’S BEEN A WHILE HUH!!!!!!!!!!!!!! but dw offal hunt, like the rising of the sun, the arrival of winter, and the eventual downfall of capitalism, always returns. so lets go.

(i just quickly reread chapter 18 liveblog to remember what happened and Ah Yes I Remember Now. The Suppressed Memories)

The place was emptier without Glynda. Quieter.

/gunshot oh we’re in danger right out of the gate huh? we got some yearning right out here? right now? how quickly the turn do tables.

Cinder appraised her work, holding the beige coat up to the light and squinting.

man i forgot. i FORGET. how much i just love cinder in this fic. sometimes she kinda zones to the back of my mind where she sits waiting for me to start thinking about her again, but now i remember that this cinder is Peaque. look at her GO, minding her own BUSINESS. im proud of her. does she know i love her.

It didn’t take long to don her new, fire-proofed clothes.

in another world, in a more comical plot, she used asbestos. it didnt go well.

The subtle warmth of the Dust teased tension from Cinder’s stiff muscles, even as she marvelled at the strangeness of her own bedroom’s space. It seemed bigger now than it had the last two nights.

She chose not to dwell on it.

i choose to dwell on it! ME!!!! I CHOOSE TO DWELL ON IT. HEY CINDER WHAT THIS GAY SHIT. hello. ma’am. can we look deeper into this. i, for one, would like to, and i, for one, think its of value to think abt this. that said, small segue

Quietly, Cinder murmured, “I didn’t freak out.”

THE FACT SHE SAYS IT ALOUD LIKE EM AND MERC CAN HEEEEEEAR HEEEEEEEER i am. INFATUATED with this family. cant wait for the 100k spinoff thats basically an elongated beach episode where they go to like. alton towers. or butlins. six flags??? thats a thing in america right??? anyway. beach episode. call me. (wink wink nudge nudge push push shove shove)

We had to stop back in because Merc left his favorite binder, and it was 2 in the morning, so it was easier to crash here for the night than mess with the ship’s autopilot.

them,,, THEM!!!! mercury is just a son and childe. thast it. he canot change this. i love these kids so much i am SHAKING THE MONITOR RN!!!!!!! AAAAAAAAA

Stuck here in one of the homes they’d shared, Cinder missed them terribly. Missed the sound of their voices and the easy comfort of their presence. Finding the time to contact them had been difficult, between managing Glynda and Hati both, but Glynda was gone, and she’d sent Hati onwards to Atlas. She remembered her call with Emerald, before arriving in Umbraroot; she knew it had not soothed her or her fears.

im sorry was this chapter targeted at me, specifically, as a human being on planet earth? GOD!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I LOVE THIS FAMILY!!!!!!!!! THIS WONKY OLD BANDAGED UP FAMILY UNIT!!!!!!!!!!!!! i thrive every time they are mentioned on the page. it is a blessing. my succulents grow stronger each time they show up.

“No,” Cinder argued softly, “I had to. Mercury, you deserve to hear it from me as well. I am sorry. And I am promising you: I’ll come back.”

For a long, heart-wrenching moment, he was completely quiet. It was good that Cinder was alone in the apartment; laying herself bare like this would be unbearable with an audience.

GODDDDDDDDDDD AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

i am OBSESSED WITH THIS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! IM GOING TO BE THINKING ABOUT THIS UNTIL I D I E. of all thing the remaster does better than og, this is just. SPEEDING AHEAD. this whole CONFLICT this whole MESS just makes everything so much RICHER its like when u splash some wine in yr fancy food or stick some cinnamon on yr favourite desserts u dont NEED TO but it adds that lil SOMETHING,,, that little KICK that just ties the flavour profile together and in this case ofgughugguhu it just GIVES SO MUCH. im making SNOW ANGELS in the WORDS on the PAGE.

“Mercury. If I could prove it to you, I would. But you have to—trust me. For just a while longer.”

“It’s getting harder,” he said. He didn’t sound like he was lying just to hurt her. That wasn’t spite. That was honest anger. And it made her feel like dirt.

im less picking these for specific instances of like, things i want to say, but more just because bits of this r rly just so /chef kiss. cinder has these.... endearingly (take that whichever way u like) human qualities in OG to rly make u realise she had ties to add to her #Doubt but the remaster is just AMPING it up and u FEEL IT and ive never been more SYMPATHETIC to a round-faced sinnamon bun of assholery and fire id DIE for cinder fall and this is a fact PUT IT ON MY GRAVESTONE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

“Is there anything you need?” What was this? Cinder could barely focus on her words. It felt like... “Anything? At all?”

“We’re fine.”

“Mercury, wait please—” She was losing him. “I think—”

“Just hurry up.”

The line went dead.

this place is not a place of honor.................. no highly esteemed deed is commemorated here........................ nothing valued is here................ IM DYING

Cinder began to type out her response, and that was when the nausea really kicked in.

[...]

She recognized this now.

Glynda.

stress stress stress stress STRESSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS

There shouldn’t be anybody. Cinder had done everything in her power to cut Glynda from people who would interfere. To isolate her. Make it easier to bring her to Atlas, to the frozen north, to her mother and the machine…

Cinder’s esophagus quivered; furiously, she shut her eyes and thought of nothing.

god cinder don’t remind me that you’re an asshole and dipshit and also a moron im trying to be NICE and CARE ABT YOU!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! STOP REMINDING ME YOU’RE A PIECE OF SHIT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

FOR FIVE MINUTES!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

The front door clicked open.

Cinder couldn’t have said how much time had passed, only that it had passed slowly. What she did know was that it was Glynda returning, the sensation of boils bursting wafting off her soul. It crawled over Cinder’s flesh. She curled in on herself.

There were mites under every nailbed. Salt in her weeping mouth.

offal hunt’s brilliant use of this horror aspect is something i have tried previously to emulate and here’s a fact, take it from me: that shit is HARD. offal hunt consistently able to whack those real nasty, really Disgusting vibes on the head EVERY TIME is a work of art. i mean, kc and diesel do not fuck around, and therefore i am NOT surprised, but it’s only when u try this shit yourself that you realise: this is hard! this is difficult! it’s a huge testament to how GOOD this fic is in every way. also this whole fucking body horror aspect is something i didnt know this fic needed, but it did, and here we are.

Thickly: “Things were going okay. If you hadn’t gotten nasty, I might have smoothed things over. I could have fixed things with my son.”

with my son

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA I CANT TAKE IT EVERY TIME ITS TOO MUCH FOR TO BEAR I CANNOT HANDLE IT I CANNOT STAND IT ITS LIKE BEING SHOT JUST DIRECTLY IN MY DICK

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

im like sweating rn

Glynda said, “I’m scared.”

“Why?”

“I don’t want to tell you.”

I SAID IM SWEATING

Glynda asked, “Are you lying to me?”

And Cinder said, “What?”

“About me. About Witches. About Ozpin—” Cinder’s guts went sour. “—About anything. I need to know if I can trust you.”

I SAID I! AM! S W E A T I N G

“I know you’ve lied to people. Hurt people.”

Adrenaline and the image of her kids’ faces behind her eyes made a potent, sick cocktail. “—Not. Now.”

so lets like double back to when i said hey was this chapter written to target me specifically and as it turns out, yes. yes it was. yes it was and as MUCH AS I AM LIVING FOR THIS MOMENT THIS SWEET BUILDUP THE EXPLOSION AND THE CRATER IT ALL LEAVES BEHIND

so this next bit is like. i cant really quote one section but as i was saying in Vague DMs, this whole bit feels like wading through mud. usually if you say something consumes energy to Read it’s in a Bad Way when yr bored but this is more like. you Feel cinder all over everything feels so sluggish and it’s like dragging your own corpse around as you try and leave and you’re TIRED and your LEGS HURT and you’re kinda thinking god what if i just fell face down for just a moment of my LIFE.

The putrid weight of Glynda’s soul filled the room until there was no space left for her.

it’s like being trapped in a sauna, like getting stuck in a humid waiting room. where do you GO. what do you DO. god this whole section is fantastic and offal hunt NEVER fails to fucking nail the Vibes but reading it is HARD. i literally keep having to stop and breathe like ive been holding my breath. jesus h christ.

a small intermission for a mood:

“Get fucked.”

back to regularly scheduled hell

Out of the bedroom. Down the hall. The walls were sweating with heat. She tasted smoke.

i love that i just said how i feel like im trapped in a sauna and it turns out: thats because me and cinder both, baybee!!!! hahahaha help

Glynda’s soul chewed her to the marrow. “Move, Glynda.”

cinder being hunted at the start of this fic: teehee! im running away! now im gonna getcha! heehee! arent i clever :) cinder being hunted now: this uh. this blows, actually,

Cinder’s pulse roared in her ears. Her hands twitched. She smelled Ochre Brown’s round face melting off. His wide smile shattered with each of his teeth, going black and popping like corn.

this chapter is probably my favourite so far for this blending of so many elements. i cant even begin to like. THINK STRAIGHT about how all of this is tying together. the lore. the THEMATICS. like i said this character rly is just Rich with what og lacked and oh is it RICH. im gonna read this chapter in future and see so much that i know ive already missed. holy shit.

“Ms. Fall,” she said. “The White Fang requires your presence immediately.”

NOT NOW

Cinder stood there looking at it for a moment. Her thoughts were slow. Copper-tinged. Something small and indulgent whispered to her through the blood-fog.

It was obvious enough what would happen if she got into this car. The driver would take her to a secluded place, where she would be ambushed by a squadron of battle-hungry White Fang grunts.

They’d try to take her down. And she was a killer, wasn’t she? Ochre Brown wailed in her ears with every thump of her runaway heart. Her hands itched for action; her teeth, for blood.

She’d burn them black.

never mind! you are already dead,

She thought about Glynda. About her saying that if there was trouble with the Fang, she wanted to come. That she would fight for Cinder.

She thought of Glynda’s question: What aren’t you telling me about Ochre Brown?

Yeah, fuck that.

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA OH MY GOD!!!!!!!!!! WHAT A CLIFFHANGER!!!!!!!!!! WHAT A MOMENT!!!!!!!!!!!!! MORE MOMENTOUSLY: WHAT A CHAPTER!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

this is EASILY my favourite chapter so far. EASILY. everything about this was peak offal. the relationships. the dynamics. the dialogue. the vibes. the Grossness. the fighting. the EVERYTHING. this is some other level and its BITCHIN. PEAK. that said im now very tired. im going to have a cup of tea and Consider Things for a few hours. brb.

#liveblog #rwby #offal hunt

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supercasey · 5 years

Photo

“You know it would never go in our favor, right hun? That you ‘n Skout ain’t gonna stand a chance ‘gainst El Rey?”

“... I know.”

NoN Twins AU: Separation (Story Below Cut)

It’s late October; the trees outside are shedding their leaves, and despite the omnipotence of magic in their little briar, Annabeth can’t help but worry that the leaves might not grow back this time. Shaking the thought away, she looks to her two children, the three year old twins playing together in the wooden playpen their father built. Speaking of which... Anna looks up just in time to see Benjamin enter the room, the wizard immediately taking a seat at the table with her. Together, they watch the twins for a few minutes, enjoying the momentary calm while they can. After all, even with one twin being mute, the two toddlers are still quite rambunctious.

“Hunny, ‘ook!” As if demonstrating this, Skout picks up a stray Critter, shaking the tiny rock like a rattle. “Hee hee hee! ‘Ook at ‘em wiggle!”

“Skout, sweetie, please put him down. Critters don’t like to be shook.” Anna explains, though she refrains from raising her voice. After all, the kid is only three, so it’s not like she knows better.

Skout pouts but obliges, setting the rock Critter down. The poor thing sways and walks like a drunk man, much to Skout’s amusement. Even Hunter moves his shoulders in an obvious laugh, eyes crinkled at the corners to show his happiness. Smiling, Anna looks to Benjamin to see his reaction, only for her grin to dissipate at a moment’s notice. Instead of chuckling at the antics of his beloved children, Benjamin has the most concerned, fearful look on his face, tears trailing down his face. Once he notices Anna looking his way, he tries wiping the evidence away, but it’s no use.

“Ben? What’s wrong, hun?” Annabeth keeps her voice down when she speaks, as to not draw too much attention from her children. Not that it matters, as they’re too busy toying with their dolls to notice the mood shift.

“Nothin’, babe,” Benjamin assures, using his poncho to clean off his face. Upon earning an unimpressed look, the wizard gives a weak chuckle, shaking his head. “Aw, there ain’t gettin’ nothin’ past you, angel... suppose I’m just concerned for ‘em, that’s all.”

“Concerned? Concerned how?” Annabeth has a feeling she knows the answer already, but considering how secretive her husband can be, she figures asking for clarification is better than assuming the worst.

“Well... honey, Hunter’s already showin’ signs ‘a magic. Jus’ last week we caught ‘im bringin’ his bottle to life! But Skout... she ain’t showin’ the same signs, babe. I’m startin’ to think dat... she might not have The Gift. She’s still plenty smart- that much is obvious- but we can’t be certain dat she’s magic.” Benjamin is very careful with his wording, not wishing to make it sound like his daughter is weak or anything of that nature.

“Magic ain’t everythin’,” Anna points out. Her husband might have grown up reliant on his abilities, but Anna knows that such things are a rare gift, and can’t be guaranteed. Not even through blood. “‘Sides, maybe she’s a late bloomer?” Still, she wouldn’t exactly mind if Skout had powers... magic seems a hell of a lot more fun than Benjamin makes it out to be.

“She might be... but what if she ain’t? You know, I never wanted to talk ‘bout it much, but... magic attracts magic. Enough of it in one place, and El Rey... he might catch the scent, ‘spite my best efforts,” Benjamin looks deeply into Annabeth’s eyes, not even fighting it as tears trail down his face. “Normal weapons won’t work ‘gainst a man like him; only magic stands a chance. Dat means... dat means you ‘n Skout ‘re vulnerable to ‘im. If he managed ta find us ‘n tried to come after me ‘n Hunter, you two could get hurt.”

“Benny... what ‘re you sayin’?” Anna begins crying prematurely, more than capable of connecting the dots, but again, she can’t afford to assume anything when it comes to her husband.

Benjamin offers her the weakest of smiles, trying to comfort her, but it doesn’t work at all. “... Got the feelin’ you already know, baby.”

Annabeth breathes- in and out, in and out- before bowing her head, sobbing as reality hits her like a freight train. Thankfully the twins don’t hear it, as they’re fast asleep, tuckered out by their playing and curled up together on the play mat. Benjamin stands up, circling around the table. He stops in front of Anna, merely holding out his arms to the woman. Anna practically tackles him in a desperate hug, sobbing even harder at the thought that this might be their last embrace. Benjamin nods his head to nothing, rubbing his wife’s back as he mutters under his breath in a different language.

“I know, I know,” Benjamin says in common this time, ditching the use of his native tongue. “It’s gonna be alright, dear. I’ll pack ya ‘nough money ‘n gear ta last ya a lifetime... you’ll be alright.”

“Not without you I won’t,” Anna mutters in a matter-of-fact tone, eyes downcast and still streaming out tears. “I can’t lose you, Benny... you’re the best worst thing that’s ever happened to me. If it weren’t fer you, I’d still be livin’ with my folks, or worse, I coulda been married off... I don’t wanna be alone out there.”

“You won’t be alone; you’ll have Skout,” Benjamin offers, but it doesn’t do much to comfort her. There’s a long, pregnant pause, before the wizard tries again, this time going for a bit of questionable reasoning. He hates to scare her- scaring his loved ones is one of Benjamin’s worst fears- but he’ll resort to it if he has no other choice. “You know it would never go in our favor, right hun? That you ‘n Skout ain’t gonna stand a chance ‘gainst El Rey?”

“... I know.” Annabeth admits, forcing herself to wipe away her tears. “So... when should I leave with ‘er?”

“We’ve got some time. Could wait a whole ‘nother year, but not much longer than that,” Benjamin explains, the grief in his tone heartbroken, yet determined. “After all, we’re gonna want the twins separated ‘fore they’re old ‘nough to remember anything... can’t have one ‘a them gettin’ themselves killed lookin’ fer the other.”

“They’re gonna grow up feeling like a piece ‘a them’s missin’,” Annabeth points out, feeling her heart grow heavy at the sight of the twins still cuddled up together, their arms wrapped around each other’s torsos. “You really think we should be doin’ this? Could always jus’... stay on the run. Can’t track us if we ain’t keepin’ still.”

“That ain’t no life fer our kids, honey,” Benjamin shakes his head, not seeing any other options. “‘Sides, if we’re on the move, we’re bound to get noticed, and that’s a surefire way ta get killed... you ‘n Skout don’t look nothin’ like me, so yer able to have a life outside of this; me ‘n Hunter don’t got that luxury,” Again, he hugs Anna to his chest, petting her hair as he sways a little in place, as if he wants to dance with her one last time, but can’t bring himself to go through with it. “Like I said, you ain’t gotta go jus’ yet... still got a few months left, maybe even a year, but the sooner yer out, the safer yer gonna end up bein’.”

“And if Skout starts havin’ powers? What then? I don’t know nothin’ ‘bout teachin’ her magic, much less how ta suppress it!” Annabeth can’t help but worry; she’s still half convinced that her daughter might just be a late bloomer.

“If she starts showin’, come on back home. It’s gonna be hard as shit, but we’ll figure it out.” Benjamin assures, unable to hide a small smile at the thought. Deep down, he almost hopes that’s the case. After all, it’s not like he wants his daughter to be taken away.

“Shit.”

The couple look to the crib, finding that Skout’s woken up, the redheaded toddler standing up in the playpen, giving her parents an adoring grin. “Shit!” She repeats, amused by the word.

“Now, come on, baby girl,” Benjamin scolds lightly, walking over and scooping the little girl up. He playfully ruffles her hair, grinning at his young daughter. “We don’t say that word, alright? Can’t have you as foul mouthed as yer daddy!” The wizard pauses, sharing a glance with Annabeth. “So, um... we’ll talk ‘bout this some more later, alright? Don’t gotta worry ‘bout it too much right now.”

“Yeah, we can... do that,” Anna agrees, already dreading the conversation. She wishes Benjamin had never even brought this up with her, but she knows it couldn’t be helped. Catching sight of Hunter yawning awake, she quickly scoops the boy up, to which Hunter begins to wiggle and huff. “Aw, ‘nough ‘a that, squirt,” The mother teases, amused by her son’s behavior. “You fussy right now? You even fussier after yer nap?”

Hunter scowls- at least, he scowls as much as he can- patting his mouth with his palm. “Oh, yer hungry? That it, son?” Benjamin asks, recognizing the nonverbal request.

Hunter claps excitedly in a definite ‘yes’, which causes one of the dolls in the playpen to come alive. Before anyone can stop it, the doll climbs out of the playpen and leaps to the ground, running off to God knows where. Annabeth bursts out laughing at the sight, while Benjamin panics. “Oh, goddammit!” He mutters, handing Skout to Anna. “Hold on, I’ll git ‘em!” He assures, taking off after the toy. “Come back ‘ere, ya little varmint!” The wizard orders, although he goes ignored by the newly born Critter.

Anna shakes her head, giving her son a small smirk. “’Spite not sayin’ much, you sure do know how ta cause trouble,” She observes, before making for the kitchen. “You kids wanna help Mama make dinner? Got a feelin’ Daddy’s gonna be-” She’s interrupted by a loud ‘boom’, as if something exploded. “... busy.”

Benjamin comes back a few minutes later, holding up the doll Critter by one of it’s legs. “Um... got ‘em?” He offers his wife a sheepish grin, clearly having broken something. “Don’t go outside... at least fer a few hours.”

Annabeth sighs, again shaking her head at her husband’s antics. “Whatever’s broken better be fixed by sundown, or you ‘n me ‘re gonna have a problem, mister. I do not wanna have ta replant our garden... again.”

Skout and Hunter just giggle at this, amused that their father is in trouble for once. Secretly, both Benjamin and Anna are comforted by their children’s laughter, just glad that their kids aren’t aware of how dangerous their living situation really is, and this just proves it; magic is loud and sometimes dysfunctional, even for experienced users, and it’s for this reason that non-magic users are in so much danger around those with ‘The Gift’... it’s just not safe. Come a few weeks, and Annabeth will leave, taking Skout with her in order to keep at least one of her children safe. But for now, she and Benjamin can pretend that everything is fine, and that nothing will ever take their kids away... not even themselves.

A/N: Somewhat of a spontaneous fic (wrote it all today) but I’ve had this drawing done on my laptop for almost three months, and I only just now got around to writing a short fic for it. Kinda really liked doing this tbh, so I might do something like this again in the future (possibly a part 2 to this fic in particular, or the “Hunter meets El Rey” scenario I keep wanting to write)! Thanks for reading, and I hope you liked it enough to reblog/comment!

#non #nomad of nowhere #non twins au #non nomad #non skout #nomad #skout #supercasey draws shit #for girnyo #this is my thank you to you for doing fanart for this au so many times in the last few weeks i love you so much thank you #supercasey writes shit #btw yes i know this is completely different from my first twins au fic #but tbh i feel like i didn't do benjamin justice so........ this #consider it noncanon if you want i dunno #i'll do benjamin's backstory at some point #i promise #(after all gotta get that el rey/benny content lmao it's complicated)

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delilivm · 5 years

Photo

hey pals friends how yall doing, ‘im finally writing this hehe i’s gonna suck because my attention span equals to one of a little BIRD so. OEUGHOEIG alright alright so i’m vic ( y’all know who it is, she / her + gmt -3 ) but pls like this or even my plot call on discord or...... just yell at me and we’ll plot, don’t hold back gimme the VIOLENT things and dramaticz.

( MOON, JENNIE KIM, CISFEMALE, SHE/HER ) guess what, LILY CHUNG has just landed in cannes with their private jet. they are a TWENTY-ONE year old socialite, who spends much of their time & money INVESTING IN THE STOCK MARKET. i think their family is in the INTERNET INDUSTRY and their net worth is around 15,3 BILLION USD.

♡ 𝐁𝐀𝐂𝐊𝐒𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐘 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐍𝐎𝐖

alright first things first, heeeeyyyyy

lily chung, 22, libra.

bio / stats / sns / facts (honestly her bio is almost 3k so... i am sorry if you read that, and thank u if u do, there are a lot of typos probably)

first things first lilifer is a libra and she is a messy one, born in la, moved back to south korea when she was like eight i THIIIINK

comes from old money from he mother’s part, they own great part of the pharmaceutical business in south korea, and are part of a holding ( worth around 3B )

her father only hit it big, REAL BIG, in 2014, since he founded you know... the Kakao Corp, as in the biggest internet sevice in south korea and is expanding

despite all odds, absent parents, being ridiculously rich, and also being the only girl after two boys, she was not raised to be a spoiled little brat

she’s a little bratty alright but..........she is too stubborn for that, she’s legit a little shit

so okay, when she was uhhh eight right, she was in love love with ballet and she was a little sad because she had to move to sk and then this girl stole her spot in the dance and then...she pushed her out of the way and she broke her leg and she got the part :)

but then her mother....made her suffer the consequences and then this is how everything went downhill from there. her mother truly hates her and she gave up on her dream of becoming a ballerina just to spite her

everything was well until she found out her mother was cheating on her father with on of her brother’s friends, and she saw them and.... lily really savored that moment of power over her mother and still uses that to blackmail her into giving her things

moved to yale and graduated there in technology and computer science, and a minor in dance but that’s highkey a secret

only one of her brothers showed up for graduation OIUHROIEUFR

currently lives in san francisco because works at home for her father in coding and creating new interfaces and developing things ouihoieugh

♡ 𝐏𝐄𝐑𝐒𝐎𝐍𝐀 & 𝐕𝐈𝐁𝐄

honestly i tried to make lily very similar to the moon itself? as in someone who people feel drawn to, someone who’s always there, but also someone distant and mysterious -- who has a hidden part and who also has different... versions of herself?

she’s someone that is hard to grasp, hard to open up and she can be really caustic at times, buuuut she is quirky and funny and 🤪🤪🤪

okay so she is really possessive of what she has because. she loves that attention but then she doesn’t do the same because she really sucks

really smart, hacks things for fun tbh

lily is very needy, but she won’t show. she holds grudges easily, but for the Comfort of it all, won’t be confrontational about it.

actually probably the least confrontational person you’ll know but bet she’ll fuck up your life lowkey and u won’t ever see it coming

has them affairs here and there and everywhere but keep ‘em with discretion

even tho she’s an exhibitionist apparently

has them mommy issues, and a little daddy issues -- her brothers are the only family she truly considers hers

even tho she loves her dad

♡ 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐍𝐄𝐂𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐒

plsss i put out a request for her brother so if you’d like!!! chung siblings are the worst ever

also childhood friends

frenemies and enemies

someone who wants lily to hack on someone else’s things and lily is like gimme that cash to keep it shut

a lot of fwb

more things to make beau suffer and make her suffer by default

idk anything really

#intro.#opulentintro #HEYYYY this sucks

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antlorien · 5 years

Text

More Mangai Rantings

Coming off of a whopping 26 note high on my secondary toa teams post, I have more rantings about the whole storyline of the Mangai.

So for starters, WHAT THE FUCK.

Lhikan, my heart and soul, my golden sweet sweet trauma boy, has the most fucked up life out of anyone in the entire lore like his entire life is spent losing the things he cares about and watching troves of people die around him. Like, boy probably had PTSD before he even GOT to Metru Nui from the Frostelus incident, like he had one job and he failed and ran away and everyone died horribly. Thats gonna leave some psychological scars.

He then proceeds to fight A LITERAL GODDAMNED DRAGON and like, he was probably useless as fuck in that mission. Maybe running support at most, but homeboy is a specialist with fire, and this thing specifically went to a giant lava pit to gain more power. He aint gonna hurt it. They had to call in 4 ice toa, mess up the 6 toa different element comp and just cranked it up to 11. SO hes not having a great start.

Then, after he kills the dragon, someone starts MURDERING THE CIVILIAN POPULATION LIKE WHAT THE FUCK. No other villain seemed to be as careless about Matoran life. Makuta? Brainwashed and boxed em up. Piraka? Brainwashed and enslaved. Not great, but it wasn’t just straight up elaborate murders! Tuyet, I love her. She is so full of personality and spite and I want to do so much with her character. Like next to Naho, I feel like before this, Lhikan would have trusted her the most. She is smart, skilled, and good at what she does. Easily a very useful friend, and so he had to really trust her and to find out she was doing this? My boy would have been devastated. He then has to watch as the one he doesn’t trust as much has to pick sides, which has gotta be stressful. Also yes, he definitely doesn’t trust Nidihki. Dude comes from the hell peninsula of hell island where life is hell and he gets out of there, dude aint gonna be a socialite. Hes the dark side of what toa are meant to be before he even gets there and golden boy has to just trust him to do what is right in this moment, and obviously, it isnt an easy decision, because we only know he sided with likhan in one universe, all the others might have been more in line with the Toa Empire or something like that.

So Nidhiki makes the right choice, they throw tuyet in jail to IMMEDIATELY have her stolen away to NAUGHTY HELL JAIL, so like, that must have been a conversation, like none of them knew it, and last they saw her, Tuyet was about to become possibly the most powerful toa ever, with the ability to become even more powerful as time went on. So shes just... GONE... and nobody knows shit. Thats gonna be stressful.

AND THEN A WAR STARTS. Like all of this has gone down, things are going to shit, and shadow boy just decides fuck it im going downtown and invades the island. Thats gonna be a hard time on Lhikan, who now is essentially a war general. He has to run an island that does not seem particularly equipped for dealing with this kinda stuff. At this point also, we might just be getting the start of the Vakhi, so its not clone wars level, they cant just send out all these robocops to deal with the issue, at best they might still have kralhi??? but no idea. Nuparu might even still be working on the vahki when the hunters show up, just trying to crank em out. So Lhikan has now 10 toa vs dozens to hundreds of dark hunters, and thats gonna be a fight you lose. So in order to make this work, he has to arrange for Naho to sneak out, leaving them with even less defenders because also so.

Water toa right? Easily some of the most powerful, if not the most powerful toa, especially in a small island like this. Just use the water around them to suck people to the ocean floor, and I feel like while Tuyet was more of a tactical and combat specialist, naho was really focused on her elemental powers, kinda like lhikan, with his precise fire powers. So she, possibly the strongest member of the team, just leaves, and has to go find some other army in the meantime. After this goes down and she comes back, its gotta be rough i mean they were holed up in the colliseum, thats gonne be crowded and hard to deal with morale, because that place cant be that secure, its got no roof sometimes. So any hunter that can fly is gona be up there trying to make a move, and those that can dig or climb have their own ways in. So after defending this for who knows how long with 9 toa, she brings in the cavalry and messes them up, but lots of them die. like just straight up in canon on both sides they were dying. By this point, its been a hard war already, righting back from within the colliseum, and trying to get control back of the city.

Then we get the big slap in the face numero dos. Nidikhi, all ready for his glory, gets too overeager and betrays likhan and is so bad at doing so that he wins the war for the toa. He is so weak compared to what tuyet could have been like he had no sense of anything going on, no military knowledge, he was just edgy. Now he goes off and tries to sell them out and Lhikan already was able to suspect this right off the bat so he cant be too trusting at this point still, so he has probably had these doubts like what if he had been thinking about what might have happened if nidikhi had sided with tuyet this whole time. Like he probably set the bar so low that Nidihki just tripped over it not knowing it was there. So he gets that, and has a whole plan set up.

THIS IS WHERE IT COULD HAVE GOTTEN GOOD FOR HIM. SO he talks to Hakann, makes the deal to RETURN THE ONE THING HE WAS SUPPOSED TO SAVE FROM HIS FIRST BIG TRAUMA so like huge personal victory for him and hes gotta be doing pretty okay, but the issue is, hes now gotta kick nidikhi out. I dont think hed be okay doing so either, like he had totaally been trying to give the edgelord a chance, and he just throws it back in lhikans face. So he kicks him out, never to be seen again, and the war ends. Nice and easy.

AND THEN HIS BOSS GETS POSESSED. Like this boy cannot catch a break, he has fought a dragon, an impossible war, lost two teammates to betrayal, maybe more during the war, I have no idea, but they have gotta be on edge after the war at least, because they were likely split up. they were the toa with the most knowledge of the city, so they would likely all be generals, not to mention whoever was assigned to Dume’s guard, because that would also be so much stress and i feel like that was probably nahos thing after she saved the day the first time. so shes been stressed, lhikans been stressed, and then their boss starts sending all his teammates off on suicide missions. That’s just gotta destroy him. He also probably knows at this point that shit is going south, you are telling me a man who has seen this much betrayal would not instantly be on guard about this? I think if anything this might have been the hardest part for me to believe, that after being betrayed by two of his teammates who he was so willing to trust, to have dume start pulling weird shit and him not question it is hard to get. SO I think naho would have been last. Naho would have been his rock, ironically, because shes there to make sure hes still sane after the war, and shes been personally guarding dume this whole time so she trusts him more, and is persuading lhikan right up until its her turn. I have more personal head-canons about some of this but ill save that for later.

so he is alone again. team all disintegrated, boss possessed, when guess who comes a-knocking, but the horribly mutated spider version of the only person he knows is left from his team. He has this last reminder of what he had show up, and it is so warped and distorted that he has gotta be just messed up so completely by that. So he decides to do what he can, make the stones, and then take on his old teammate, and then the movie happens, he gets captured, has to teach new toa how to do their stuff, which he has no experience in and so he is getting this chance to get to be a influential part of this toa team

AND THEN HE JUST DIES. And this is real hard, because Vakama and the rest were so ready to believe he was the Heart of Metru Nui like, this is someone who you can tell all the matoran respect and know and he just dies right in front of Vakama. This hero of the city, such an integral part that he was considered its heart, is just straight up killed by getting thrown aside by a shadow hand. That is the end of his life, is he gets this chance to try to prove his worth to these toa, and then he gets killed protecting them, even as a turaga. Beyond this, he was already a legacy. The metru, when they became turaga, told all these stories about him, about the adventures he did, like they know what he did for them, and so he does live on, in Jaller, in the metru, and in the minds of all the matoran, who may know now that this legend from their stories was actually real and actually did all this stuff. No other toa team did as much as the Mangai except the mata, and they werent even normal toa, they were specifically designed to be toa like they had to be the best designs, and also got upgraded several times. Lhikan and the Mangai didn’t. they got beat down time and time again and eventually all died protecting their city or turning against it.

I will tell this story in detail, and I think that it is one that needs to be told, because it isn’t one of the main stories that ends all happy, it is a tragedy, but it is the most important and untold tragedy of the entire canon.

#bionicle #long post #bionicle ramblings #ramblings #yes this is my special interest #especially the mangai #so i can go on about this forever #and may tonight #mangai #metru nui #my post #lhikan

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bexlynne · 6 years

Text

Drivin’ Me Crazy Part Two

(A/N): This is the end of this story, but I have some more I’ll probably be posting soon! Thank you to everyone who’s given me feedback on this story, you’re so sweet and you made my day yesterday. :) Let me know if you want to be tagged in future stories!

Jack glanced at his watch for the twentieth time. Forty-five minutes. I can get through forty-five minutes. That's just fifteen minutes, three times. I can do this.

"...and an order of mashed potatoes on the side," the customer finished.

Jack snapped back to the present. "Uh, sorry, could ya repeat that?" he said sheepishly.

The man looked annoyed. "Again?"

"Sorry 'bout that," Jack said, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. "I'll get it this time, I promise."

Get it togetha', Kelly. Race ain't talkin' ta ya, so what? Quit worryin' about it and do your job.

"What's with you today, Kelly?" Jacobi asked as Jack brought the order back to the kitchen.

Jack kicked at the ground. "Problems with the boys," he admitted.

"Ah." The man nodded in understanding. "Well, try not ta let it affect your work, alright?"

"Yeah, I know," Jack said, scratching the back of his neck absently. "Mr. Jacobi, you'se got kids, right? Can I ask your advice on somethin'?"

"Sure," the man said. "As long as you ask it in the next..." He leaned back from the grill, checking the clock on the wall. "...thirty seconds, before table four's order is ready."

"So yesta'day I took Race's car keys--" Jack was cut off by his phone ringing. He froze when he saw the caller ID. Race. His boys knew better than to call him at work... unless it was an emergency. "Sorry boss, gotta take this," he said, his heart already beating out of his chest. He flipped open his phone. "Race? What's goin' on?"

"Jack?" a small voice said.

"Romeo?" the seventeen-year-old said, slightly confused. "Is everythin' okay? Where's Race?" The younger boy let out sob, and Jack felt his blood run cold. "Rome, what's goin' on?" he said, forcing himself to remain calm. "Are ya okay? Talk ta me, kid."

"Race crashed the car," Romeo choked out. "Jack, I'm scared! Race yelled, he said ta get outta the car quick--"

"Are ya okay?" Jack interrupted, dreading the answer.

"I... I think so," Romeo said hesitantly.

"Where's Race, is he hurt?" Jack asked next, starting to pace back and forth.

"I don't know," Romeo sniffled. "He's helpin' Crutchie."

Crutchie. No, no, no, he's got Crutchie. As soon as I know Race ain't hurt, I'se gonna strangle him. "I'm on my way," he told his brother, trying to sound reassuring. "Where are ya?"

"The roller coaster hills," Romeo answered. "Jack--" The line went dead.

Jack cursed under his breath. "I gotta go," he called to his boss, throwing his apron at a peg on the wall. He didn't wait to see where it landed. "Family emergency!"

Jack drummed his fingers against the steering wheel anxiously, glancing at the time. What's takin' so long? Just my luck I get stuck at the longest red light in 'Hattan... The light turned to green, and he sped off without a second thought. Romeo's panicked voice kept playing over in his head. What would it take ta make that kid scared like that? Did somethin' happen ta Race? No, he said Race was helpin' Crutchie... Wait, what happened ta Crutchie? Romeo said he ain't hurt, he didn't say nothin' 'bout the otha' two. The car crashed, anythin' coulda happened. They could be dead. Please, God, don't let them be dead.

Glancing at the speedometer, Jack pressed harder on the gas. Three minutes. It's been three minutes. So much can happen in three minutes. Images flashed through his head, one after the other. One or more of his brothers hurt, their bodies mangled in some horrible accident. Hospital bills he couldn't pay. The thought of losing one of them... How am I gonna tell the otha's? That one a' their brothers is dead? Jack shook his head, a sharp pain building in his chest as his breathing sped up. He couldn't get enough air. The car swerved dangerously as he choked back a sob, and then logic took over. Pulling over to the side of the road, Jack rested his forehead against the steering wheel. Breathe, Kelly. You got this. Nothin's happened yet. Get outta your head an' quit thinkin' the worst. Your boys need ya, and they'se gonna need ya ta be calm in case one of 'em's hurt. You got this.

Taking a deep breath, he started the car. He pushed it as fast as he dared, knowing at the back of his mind that he had just lectured Race for doing the same thing. Race could be hurt. Race was in an accident, and our last conversation was a fight. It can't end like this. He's gotta be okay, he's just gotta! Crutchie, he's already been through so much. I'se listened ta that kid cry ta me 'cause he can't run an' play with the otha' boys, if somethin' happens ta him on top a' that bad leg I ain't neva' gonna forgive myself. Can't he just have a shot at a normal life? And Romeo... the kid's only twelve! He can't be hurt. There's so much he's still got ahead a' him. Kid ain't even in high school yet! All of 'em, they're just too... too young.

Jack forced himself to use caution as he rounded the next corner. Every fiber in his being screamed at him to go faster, but the last thing he wanted was to wind up in the ditch. Why'd Race hafta go an' choose this road? How am I gonna search 'round every curve for five miles? Hang in there, boys. Please, just hang in there...

Some kind of luck must have been on side, because just around the next bend he saw them. The were huddled together at the edge of the road, the two younger boys crowded in close to Race. None of them looked badly injured. Jack breathed a sigh of relief, feeling his fear start to ebb away. As he unbuckled his seat belt and threw open the door, he made brief eye contact with Race. The younger boy's eyes widened, and he looked away hurriedly. Jack immediately felt a surge of annoyance, but he pushed it back. C'mon, Kelly. Your boys need ya.

He bridged the gap between them in two seconds. As soon as he was in arm's reach of his brothers, Crutchie clung to him, burying his face in Jack's shirt. "Are ya okay?" Jack asked anxiously. His arms went around the gimp boy automatically as he turned toward Romeo. "Romeo, are ya okay?" The little boy nodded shakily. Satisfied with the answer, Jack pried himself out of Crutchie's grip. "Ya okay, Crutch?"

The blonde boy nodded, his face still pale. "I'm fine, Jack," he said.

Jack let out a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding, hugging all three of his brothers tight. For a few moments, all he felt was a deep sense of peace. His brothers were okay. They were safe. But a nagging feeling at the back of his mind reminded him that this wasn't over yet.

"Racetrack, what the hell were you thinkin'?"

Race blanched. "Jack, I--"

Jack shook his head. "What'd I say, Race? I said not ta touch that wheel if I wasn't there!" One thing, Race, I told ya one thing! Why do ya hafta do this every-- single-- time?! "This is the worst thing ya coulda done, Race, and ya went ahead and did it!"

"Jack, I'm sorry!" Race squeaked.

"Sorry don't cut it anymore, Race!" Jack said, his voice shaking with frustration. "Crutchie and Romeo coulda died today! Didja even think of that, or were ya too busy showin' off?" Always. You'se always showin' off, and I'se the one stuck cleanin' up your mess! Ya went too far this time, Race. This time I could've lost you all. Jack took another deep breath, closing his eyes against the tears that threatened to fall. He wouldn't cry. Not in front of his boys. Someone had to be strong, someone had to be the leader, and that someone had to be him. That was just the way things were.

"Get in the car," he instructed. "All of ya, get in the car." Crutchie succeeded in prying Romeo off of his older brother, and the two of them headed obediently to Jack's pickup. Race stayed where he was, so Jack walked away, pretending to examine the car as he tried to get a hold of himself. With shaking hands, he slid his cell phone out of his pocket and dialed a number he knew by heart.

Spot answered on the first ring. "Hey there, Jackie-boy," he said, sounding out of breath. "Ya miss me or somethin'? What's with --hey! Get down! What'd I just tell ya?-- what's with the phone call?"

"Hey, Spot," Jack said, smothering a grin in spite of himself. The Brooklyn lodging house was chaos most of the time, and a phone call with Spot was always entertaining. "I need a favor."

"You'se askin' me for help?" the Brooklyn boy said, amusement evident in his voice. "What's the occasion?" There was a loud crash in the background, but Spot ignored it. "Betta' make it fast, Jackie. I'se got about five minutes 'fore someone breaks a bone or loses an eye."

"Race wrecked his car," Jack said, getting straight to the point. "Could ya tow this mess back ta the lodgin' house?"

"The car me an' him slaved over?" Spot swore under his breath. "Why can't you do it? You'se gotta truck."

Jack glanced up at his boys. "I need some time," he said. "An' some space."

"Yeah, I get it," Spot said. "I'll be there in half an hour-- kid, whaddaya want? Look, that ain't my problem. Soak 'im and take it back. Maybe more like an hour," he added to Jack.

"Sounds great," Jack said truthfully. Honestly, that was the best news he'd had all day. "I don't know what ta tell ya as far as where we are. It's the freakin' middle a' nowhere--"

"I'll swing by your place," Spot said. "Race can show me where it's at. Try not ta kill the kid, Jackie."

Jack grinned wearily. "I'll try."

"Good," Spot said, apparently satisfied with the weak promise. "Look, I'se gotta go. Tricks is about ta set fire ta somethin', I think it might be one a' his brothers."

"Uh... good luck, I guess?" Jack said. Most conversations with Spot left him confused. As he hung up and started back to his truck, he noticed Race still standing by the roadside. So it's one a' those days, he realized. Any little thing I say, he's gonna do the opposite. Just what I need. "Spot's comin' ta tow the car," he informed his brother curtly. He motioned toward the truck. "Get in. I'se gotta help Crutchie."

He gave Crutchie the boost he needed to hop into the car, storing his metal crutch down by his and Romeo's feet. Checking that the younger two were safe, he slid into the driver's seat and waited for Race. The Italian shuffled his feet, taking his own sweet time getting into the vehicle, and Jack tapped his fingers against the steering wheel in annoyance. 'Kay. Race in his his seat and buckled in, Crutchie's safe, the crutch is taken care of, Romeo's all good. Everyone's good. Everyone's safe. Let's go.

Just as he turned the key in the ignition, a police car whipped around the corner, lights flashing furiously. Please don't stop, please don't stop-- The car parked next to what was left of Race's car and Jack groaned, banging his head against the headrest. Can this get any worse?

"It ain't my fault!" Romeo said suddenly. "Race said ta call for help!"

"I didn't say ta call the bulls!" Race retorted, glaring at the younger boy.

"Ya didn't say anythin'!" Romeo protested, his voice rising in pitch. "Ya just--"

"Quiet!" Jack thundered. "Shut up, all of ya. I'll be right back. None of ya move, ya hear me?"

Race muttered a response, and Romeo folded his arms over his chest, pouting and kicking the back of the seat. He stilled at a glare from Jack and and toyed with the edge of his shirt instead, avoiding eye contact. Jack sighed, readying himself to go talk to the police officers. "Sorry," he mouthed, making eye contact with Crutchie in the rearview mirror. The crippled boy shrugged wordlessly, making Jack feel even worse. Time ta face the music, he thought bitterly, getting out of the car.

That ten-foot walk was the longest Jack had ever faced, he was sure of it. A million thoughts ran through his head on the way. If these bulls know what Race's been doin' he'll go straight ta the Refuge for good. I can't let that happen. I can spin a sob story, lie my way out, take his place, beg if I hafta. I'se just gotta keep these bastards from gettin' their hands on him. The police car was parked on the side of the road, both front windows rolled down. He had never seen the driver before, but he recognized the man in the passenger seat. Officer Bixby had showed up at the front door of the lodging house some half a dozen times, always with at least one of the boys who had been caught doing something they shouldn't. He was a good guy, always making sure he got both sides of the story, stopping to say hello to Kloppman, wishing Jack good luck with the troublemakers. Yeah, but he's still a bull, Jack thought warily. And this is a lot worse than one a' my boys stayin' out too late or skippin' school. I can't expect him ta go easy on us this time. He stuffed his hands in his pockets to hide their shaking. I know what I'se gotta do.

"Jack Kelly," Bixby greeted. "Fancy seeing you here."

Jack hitched one shoulder up in a kind of half-shrug. "Hey, Officer Bixby."

The man in the driver's seat raised an eyebrow. "You know this kid, Bixby?"

"Oh, Jack and his brothers are old friends of mine," Bixby said lightly. "How many ya got now, twenty?"

"Sixteen," Jack said, shifting uncomfortably under the other officer's gaze.

Bixby nodded to the wreck in the ditch. "One of them do that?"

"Nah." Jack rubbed the back of his neck, managing a rueful smile. "This one's on me."

The man didn't bother to hide his surprise. "You? I wouldn't know you to be so careless, Jack."

Jack dropped his gaze to his feet, kicking absently at the ground. "I took my eyes off the road for just a second, I swear, ta talk to Romeo in the back. He was kickin' my seat-- y'know how kids are."

"Kids?" the other officer snorted. "You're a kid yourself."

Jack merely shrugged, biting back the retort he wanted to throw at the man. Who's he callin' a kid?

Bixby took off his sunglasses and tossed them on the dashboard, reaching for the door handle. "Let's talk, Jack," he said, coming around the front of the car. Jack felt heat rise up in his face, and he crossed his arms over his torso, intent on studying his shoes. "Why were you driving Race's car?"

"He just got his permit, y'know," Jack said. "We was practicin' on this road for a bit, and when we decided ta head home I switched with him. He ain't that great at parkin' yet, and I didn't want him messin' up our driveway or plowin' through the house or nothin' like that. I had Race chatterin' away on one side a' me, and Romeo kickin' my seat in back, an' I slipped up."

"Uh huh," Bixby said, raising his eyebrows. "And how did your truck get here?"

"That's kinda a long story," Jack said, stalling for time.

The man in the driver's seat snorted, and Bixby shot him a glare. "Shut up, Bolger. Try me," he added to Jack.

"Well, ya see..." Jack said. "I landed Race's car in the ditch, right? Me and Race are helpin' Crutchie out, and I hand Romeo my phone and tell him to call help. I mean for him ta call Kloppman. I had no idea he called the bulls, not 'til you'se showed up. No offense," he added hastily. "We get back ta the lodgin' house, and I get my truck ta come tow Race's car home. The younga' ones were kinda shaken up, wouldn't let go a' me, so I brought 'em with. We'se had just pulled up when you guys joined us."

Bixby turned back to the car. "What do you think?" he asked his partner.

Bolger shook his head. "Kloppman, Crutchie, lodging house..." he said. "I don't know half of what this kid's saying."

Bixby rolled his eyes. "Kloppman is the boys' foster father," he said. "The lodging house is what they call their group home. And most of the boys there have nicknames they go by. But what do you think?"

"I dunno," Bolger said, scratching his chin. "I see the possibility of a ticket here, for reckless driving. And the fact that he's in foster care changes the whole situation. We really should bring Warden Snyder into this, as much as I hate the guy."

Jack felt his heart stop and the blood rush out of his face. C'mon Kelly, ya always knew that was a possibility, he reminded himself. Swallowing hard, he fought to control his expression. From the way Bixby was watching him, he didn't think he was fooling anyone.

Bixby turned his head, purposely directing the attention away from Jack. "Yeah, that guy's a bastard," he said, agreeing with his partner. "That's usually for second-time offenses though, right?"

Bolger shrugged. "For any foster kid who breaks the law, technically."

"That's cruel," Bixby complained. "If an adult got into a wreck like this they wouldn't go to jail. And anything relating to Snyder is a hell of a lot of paperwork."

"True," Bolger said, turning the information over in his head. "How 'bout this? We write the kid a ticket for reckless driving--"

"But then he'll have a record!" Bixby interrupted.

"If he didn't want a record then he shouldn't have done it!" Bolger snapped. "We write him a ticket and have him take a couple traffic courses."

Jack held his breath. He hated this --having them talk about him like he wasn't standing right there-- but he was too relieved with the direction the conversation was going to say anything. 'Sides, ain't this like any otha' day? Grown-ups pretendin' they know ya, standin' around decidin' your future like ya ain't pullin' the same workload as them.

"Alright," Bixby consented. "I'll swing by your place later, Jack, and help you fill out an accident report and sign up for the class. Off the clock, keep your shirt on," he added to his partner.

Bolger grumbled under his breath as he filled out the ticket. "You're too lenient on these kids," he muttered. "One more kid in the Refuge means one less brat in the system making our lives harder."

Jack tensed, and it took all his willpower to keep his mouth shut. "Thank ya, sir," he said, folding the ticket and slipping it in his pocket. He started back to his truck, when Bixby's voice stopped him.

"I trust you, Jack," the man said. "I know something like this won't happen again." He gestured to Jack's truck, and the three restless boys inside. "You're a good brother to these kids. Go on and take them home."

Jack nodded, his gaze flickering up to meet the other man's eyes. "Thank ya," he said again, hunching his shoulders as he walked back to the car. He tried to ignore the sick feeling in his stomach as he glanced at the ticket, mentally counting how many extra hours he'd have to work to pay it. And traffic school. How am I supposta find time for that, in between the extra hours I'se gotta work and all the homework I'se gotta catch up on? Maybe I can take it at night... He shook his head, wishing he could shake off the bad feeling as well. Come on, Kelly. It was worth it for Race. He glanced up, frowning when he saw Race lounging in the front seat, his feet propped up on the dashboard and his hat over his eyes. Oh, yeah, he thought bitterly. It was all worth it.

"Get your feet off the dash," he said brusquely, getting in and starting the car. The younger boy stared at him, his big blue eyes unreadable. Jack snatched the cap off his head and tossed it into his lap. "I ain't in the mood for this, Race. Buckle up. We don't want two accidents today." He didn't miss Race's scowl as he did so, but he chose to ignore it. The kid's in enough trouble already. If he wants ta throw a fit, I ain't gonna stop him.

"Jack," Crutchie said hesitantly, glancing back and forth between his brothers.

Jack shook his head, starting on the road towards home. "Like I said Crutchie. I ain't in the mood." Crutchie backed off at that, and they rode the rest of the way in silence. When they got to the lodging house, Jack paused to help Crutchie out of the car. "Can ya take the little guy upstairs?" he asked quietly. Crutchie nodded, shooting a glance toward Race in the front seat. "He'll be okay," Jack said, sensing his younger brother's doubt. He didn't get angry often, and he knew it was putting the gimp boy on edge. "I'se'd neva' hurt one a' you boys, ya know that, right?"

Crutchie grabbed onto Jack's arm, using his older brother to steady him as he positioned his crutch. "I know, Jack," he said. "I trust ya-- with my life and any a' theirs." He nodded to where Romeo was plastered against Race's side, his little arms around his brother's waist in a tight hug. "C'mon, Romeo," he said louder, holding out his hand.

It took some doing --and a little intervention from Jack-- to get the kid upstairs, but finally Jack was alone with his brother. "Jack, I can explain," Race said quickly once they were inside.

"You'd better explain!" Jack snapped. He had been angry before, but the run-in with the cops had sapped the strength out of him and left him touchy and irritable. He was terrified --of losing Race for good, of being taken to the Refuge himself-- and he hated that his boys had seen him like that. A leada' ain't supposta let anyone know he's scared. A leada' ain't supposta be scared! Spot was right, bein' in charge is exhaustin' as hell. "Race, what were ya thinkin'?" he asked, an edge of frustration creeping into his voice. "Why did ya think this was a good idea?"

"I don't know," Race muttered, not making eye contact.

Jack threw his hands up. "Ya don't know. Ya don't know." He fished in his pocket for Race's keys, waving them to make a point. "I'll tell ya what I do know, ya ain't gettin' these back any time soon!"

Race shook his head, still not meting Jack's gaze. "Jack, I..."

"No, Race!" Jack said, stronger than he meant to. "It's my turn ta talk now, and it's your turn to listen." His mind gave him no reprieve, reminding him instead of all the times he'd almost lost Race due to some stupid scheme. A half-baked plan to sneak into a bar or get the girl's attention or get a free lunch. Something that would undoubtedly land Race in the Refuge and lost to Jack forever. That stops now. He may not a' listened ta me before, but God help me he'll listen now. "For once in your life, Race, just listen ta what I hafta say!"

"I listen!" Race protested, and Jack shook his head. Does this kid hear himself?

"No, ya don't listen." he corrected. "If you'se'd listened ta me yesta'day we wouldn't be in this mess now!" Why, Race? Why do ya gotta push everythin' I say? I'se tryin' ta help, ya ain't ya figured that out by now? "I'm startin' ta think ya actually like causin' trouble."

"Just stop, Jack!" Race ordered. "Ya ain't my pa. Ya ain't in charge a' me! We ain't even real brothers!" Jack recoiled, fighting hard to make sure Race didn't see how much that hurt. "Ya don't get ta tell me what ta do, an' take my car, an' make me do whateva' ya want!" the Italian went on, growing more and more agitated with every word.

"Racetrack!" Jack said, his voice rising. Not real brotha's. He ain't serious. He can't be. "Who the hell took care a' ya all these years? Who convinced ya ta run away, leave your deadbeat dad behind?" His voice shook with anger and emotion, and he fought to keep it steady. "Who let ya in when you was knockin' on my winda at three in the mornin'? Who is it that does nothin' but protect ya, day an' night, from all the trouble your stupid self gets into--"

Race shoved him hard, startling Jack out of his rant. "I ain't stupid!"

His voice cracked, but Jack ignored it. He grabbed his brother's wrists, fully intending on pinning the kid to the wall until he stopped fighting. They'd done this a thousand times, both familiar enough with each other that no one ever got hurt. So when Race let out a cry of pain and wrenched himself away out of his brother's grasp, stumbling backwards and landing on the floor, Jack knew something was wrong. "Racer?" he asked, his face white and scared.

"I take it back!" Race yelped, sliding backwards out of Jack's reach. He shook his head, tears running down his pale face. "I shouldn't a' said ya ain't my brother! Let me up, I'm sorry!"

"Race, I ain't touchin' ya!" he protested. The boys upstairs have gotta think I'se murderin' him. I'se known Race ta act up ta get outta trouble, but he ain't neva' done this.

"Stop, please!" Race pleaded. "I'll be good, I promise!" His choice of words and wide, frantic eyes struck a chord, an Jack's eyes darkened as the realization hit. How many times had he heard the same thing, years ago through the thin apartment walls?

Stop, please! Daddy, what'd I do? Stop, I'll be good, I promise!

"Racer," Jack begged, hoping the nickname would snap his brother out of it. "What hurts, kid?" He dropped to his knees beside his brother, giving him a quick onceover. He noticed the younger boy's wrist, pressed tight against his heaving chest, and reached for it. "Can I see?" he asked.

Race didn't react, not until Jack's fingers brushed against his arm. "Get offa me!" he yelled, shying away from the touch. "Jack, help!"

Jack pulled away, tears in his eyes. Snap outta it, Race, he begged internally. He had heard those words too many times. Heard them years ago from the tiny kid knocking on his window or sleeping in his bed, and days ago from the room down the hall. Jack, help! Jack, he's comin' ta get me! I don't know what ta do Jack, help me please! "Racer, look up," he pleaded. he gently lifted his baby brother's chin and barely caught a glimpse of his teary blue eyes before the younger boy pulled away.

"Don't touch me!"

Jack's hands flew up in a gesture of peace. "I ain't touchin' ya," he said, trying to make his voice calm. "Look inta my eyes, kid." He stayed where he was, barely breathing, as Race's sobs slowed and the wild look faded from his eyes. "It's okay, kid." he breathed, pulling his brother into a tight hug. "I've gotcha." Race held tight to Jack's shirt, letting the fabric soak up the last of his tears. Jack seized his chance to rub his own eyes, clearing away the tears he hadn't let fall. "C'mon, kid," he said softly, lifting Race up off the floor. He brought his baby brother into the kitchen, setting him down on a chair as he searched for something to use to wrap his wrist.

"This might hurt," he warned, coming back with a first aid kit. Race nodded, biting his lip and saying nothing, as Jack ran his fingers down his forearm, probing for breaks with his steady artist's hands. Jack didn't miss his wince as he grazed over his wrist. "It ain't broken," he noted with relief. A break meant a trip to the hospital, and a hospital meant forms had to be signed, questions would be asked, and he wouldn't have the answers. "Just sprained, I think. I'll wrap it up tight ta be safe."

He stayed quiet as he tied the bandage around the gambler's wrist, allowing him a chance to talk if he wanted it. When the silence stretched from seconds into minutes, he couldn't take it anymore. "Racer, what's really goin' on?"

Race stared at the floor. "I... I don't know," he said. "Ya looked like my pa, Jack. Ya didn't look like you." His pa? I ain't nothin' like his pa... am I? What'd I say, what was it that made him see me like that? Shaking his head, Jack made a vow to find whatever it was and put an end to it fast. "I freaked out, didn't I?" Race muttered, ducking his head.

"Kinda," Jack said absently. His mid was still preoccupied with Race's father. "Racer, I'm so sorry." He held out his arms, half-fearing Race would flinch or pull away again. A surge of relief filled him when the Italian threw his arms around him and held him tight. He pressed a kiss to the top of Race's head, managing a shaky smile. "I love you boys, y'know that, right Race?"

"Yeah, I know," Race said, separating himself just enough to send Jack a grin. "I'se pretty great, ain't I?"

"Yeah, I'd say so," Jack laughed. Thank God, he's back. His phone buzzed in his pocket, and seconds later he heard loud pounding on the front door. Right on cue. "There's Spot," he said, letting go of Race completely.

Race stood up and stretched. "I'll let him in," he said. "L... love ya, Jack," he added shyly. "See ya in 'bout half an hour?"

Jack paused in wiping down the table, a smile spreading across his face. Love ya too, kid. He let out a deep breath, feeling some of the tension leave him. "Let Spot drive!" he called after Race. "We'll finish our talk when ya gets home. No yellin', just talkin'."

A beat of silence followed, and then he heard Race yell back. "I can't hear ya, Jack!"

The Manhattan leader shook his head with a grin, sliding his phone out of his pocket.

One new message from: SPOT

SPOT: knocking on ur door in 2 seconds. good job on not killing race. text me wen its safe 2 bring him home.

Rolling his eyes, Jack tapped out a reply.

Cowboy: im not gonna kill my brother

SPOT: good 4 u. ive thought of killing mine a few times

Cowboy: dont text and drive

SPOT: killjoy

Jack stood up and stretched, trying to get rid of some of the tension. It was times like this when he wished he had someone to talk to, to confide in. Yeah right. I'se'd neva' do that ta my boys, an' Kloppman's got better things ta do than listen ta some foster kid complain about his problems. You'se the oldest, and you'se the leada'. There are some things ya just don't get ta do, Kelly. Jack hooked a chair with his foot and dragged it towards him. With a sigh, he settled into it and rested his elbows on his knees, clasping his hands behind his head and wondering what to do. Well, there is one place ya can go...

"Crutchie?" he called, getting up and taking the stairs two at a time. When he didn't get an immediate answer, he started searching bedrooms. He found the gimp boy on the third try, in the room Albert, Specs, and Elmer shared. Crutchie was sitting on one of the beds with his back against the wall while Albert helped Romeo with homework. All three boys looked up when the door opened.

"Everythin' okay?" Crutchie asked carefully.

"Yeah, everythin's good," Jack said, stuffing his hands in his pockets. "Crutchie, can ya hold down the fort for a little bit? I'se thinkin' of takin' a walk."

"Sure," Crutchie said, still looking a little worried.

Jack managed a half-grin. "Thanks, Crutch." On his way out the door her ruffled Romeo's hair and flicked Albert's cap off his head. "Love ya, boys."

"Love ya, Jack!" they chorused.

Jack hunched his shoulders as he headed down the stairs and out the door. He paused for a second in the driveway, fingering the keys to his truck in his pocket. The very thought made him feel a little sick. With a shrug, he started off down the road. His mind was distracted, but his feet knew the way. Besides, he was pretty sure that he could find the theatre from anywhere in Manhattan.

His mind kept playing over the moment he got the call, the moment he found out his brothers might be in danger. Scared don't cut it. I was terrified. It felt like I was on my own again, worryin' about some skinny blue-eyed kid who can't get himself outta his own mess. Yeah, that ain't a time I wanna live through again. He couldn't stop himself from remembering, though. Remembering that night years ago, a night that changed his life forever.

The new place was okay. Not good, not bad. Just okay. The couple who had taken him in were new to the foster care system. They were out of their depth. They didn't know how to talk to a kid, let alone raise one, but Jack wasn't about to protest. Not when they had given him a room and a bed. Given time, he could come to like this place. Not that he thought he'd be here long.

There was a boy next door, about his age. The kid was smaller than him, maybe a little younger, with tangled blonde curls and the biggest, bluest eyes Jack had ever seen. He had seen him once or twice, in the hallway or on the way to school. But he heard more than he saw. Through the thin apartment walls, sound carried. Sounds that shouldn't be familiar to a nine year old kid, but they were. Raised voices, breaking glass. A man's rough voice, slurring his words and spewing insults. A smaller voice crying out, the slam of a door, a child's sobs. Jack just clenched his jaw, turning over in bed and using his pillow to block out the sounds.

But one night was different. One night, the man didn't stop. He yelled his words and profanities, he drank his whiskey, but when the kid ran away he followed. Jack could hear them, right on the other side of the wall, like the wall wasn't even there. "You're worthless. Like your mother. Godforsaken woman wasn't good for anythin'. And when she died all she left was you."

The child choked out a sob. "That ain't my fault, Dad!" he yelled back, with shocking bravery in spite of his tears. "None a' this is my fault! Quit blamin' me just 'cause your life sucks!"

Jack winced, silently begging the kid to stop. Sure kid, it feels good ta tell him off. But it ain't worth it, ya know it ain't!

"Don't talk back ta me, boy," the man growled. "Are ya stupid, or what? Ya know what backtalk'll getcha."

Jack clamped his hands over his ears, not wanting to hear the blows fall. Finally, after what felt like an eternity, he cautiously let his hands drop. Silence. No man yelling, no sobs. Tap tap tap. Just a quiet tapping at his window.

There were a thousand things he could have done. He could have ignored it, gone back to sleep. That was what his foster parents always did. He could have told himself it was just the wind, or told the kid to go away. But none of those even occurred to him as he swung his legs over the edge of the bed, padding quietly over to the window in his pajamas and bare feet.

"Lovely night for a walk, ain't it?" he said, examining the stars. The kid blinked in surprise, balanced precariously on the fire escape. "Kinda chilly, though," Jack continued, rubbing his arms. The blonde-haired boy looked down at himself, as if suddenly realizing he was only wearing a thin T-shirt and sweatpants. "Ya should prob'ly get inside, 'fore ya get pneumonia or somethin'," Jack finished off, holding out his hand to the kid. The new boy took it without a second thought.

That was the first of many nights. They became fast friends after that, Jack and Anthony. Except he never called him that. "I hate that name," the Italian complained. "Me mudda always called me Race. I like that better."

It was refreshing-- finally having a friend who understood. They didn't talk about Race's dad. They didn't talk about Jack's parents. They just had fun. They walked to school together, even though they didn't go to the same one. They did their homework in Jack's room, helping each other out with the hard parts. They ate dinner at Jack's place, ignoring the raised eyebrows and questioning looks the grownups exchanged over their heads. Some nights Race went home, but most of the time he stayed. He always fell asleep first, curled up against Jack's side as the older boy carded his fingers through his unruly curls. Jack liked it when that happened. It meant his friend felt safe. Safe was hard to come by these days.

Safe didn't mean perfect. Jack could hear his foster parents talking late at night behind closed doors. They didn't sign up for this, he knew. They signed up for one child, and they only received money for one child. There were still days when Race showed up with bruises, a black eye he can't explain. He always laughed it off and made excuses, but Jack never believed him. "I walked into a pole" only worked so many times.

But safe couldn't last forever. They were sitting around the table eating dinner when the bomb was dropped. Jack's foster father had been laid off from his job. They would be moving into a smaller apartment within a week. And they wouldn't be taking Jack with them.

Jack's eyes hardened, and he pushed his chair back from the table. His finger curled around Race's wrist, taking him with him as he stormed out of the room. Race sat on the bed, silent and unmoving, as Jack stomped around his room and threw clothes into his backpack. He muttered to himself angrily, and Race respectfully kept his distance, until suddenly Jack sat bolt upright, his eyes sparkling.

"Why don't ya come with me?" he said, dumping his school books on the floor to make room. "You an' me, the families we was born into ain't much. But we can be our own family. We could be brothers!" Race hesitated, but Jack plowed on, excited by his own idea. "Ya can't come official-like, 'cause then there'd be paperwork an' we'se'd end up halfway across New Yawk from each otha'. But if you run away and happen ta end up at the same place I do..."

"No one could stop us!" Race finished eagerly, a spark of hope catching in his chest. "Jack, let's do it!"

The older boy grinned, throwing an arm around Race's shoulders. "You an' me, kid," he said. "Things are lookin' up."

Things were looking up, for a while. But junior high was hard. There were more classes, more homework, and less time with Race. Honestly, that was the hardest part. For three years now, Jack and Race had shared everything. The same room, the same clothes, the same school. But Jack was twelve now, and in seventh grade. He got out half an hour after Race did, which meant he walked home alone, to where Race and their foster father were waiting.

Well, that wasn't entirely true. He was Jack's foster father. Race was still a ghost in the system. Anytime Jack was moved, he mysteriously disappeared, too. The Italian kid was street-smart. Given a few days, they'd find each other again.

Things were okay here. The two of them lived with a man, a man who didn't nitpick them for the things they did and didn't care that Race was an extra mouth to feed. Jack was too stressed out by his new school schedule to notice anything bad. In fact, if he didn't know his brother as well as he did, there was a chance he might have missed everything, even the signs that were practically screaming in his face.

Like the way Race buttoned his coat up to his chin and tugged his sleeves down to meet his wrists, carefully avoiding Jack's gaze. He stared at his shoes when their foster father talked, wrapping his arms around his body and examining the toes of Jack's hand-me-down sneakers that were a size too big. He was usually asleep already when Jack finally turned off the light and got into bed himself, so he never had a chance to ask him about it.

One day after dinner, Jack and Race were washing dishes. That was something their foster father insisted on. "I put food on the table and a roof over your heads," he said. "The least you two can do is help out now and then." Jack tried his best to make a game out of it, trying to coax a smile from his little brother. Race had been so withdrawn lately, the sparkle gone from his blue eyes and dark circles below.

Maybe he was just tired. Maybe he needed more sleep. Maybe that was why he didn't notice the plate Jack handed him to put away, watching as it fell through his fingers in slow motion, shattering into a thousand tiny pieces on the floor. The color rushed out of the Italian boy's face, leaving him pale and shaky as he backed against the wall. Jack frowned, trying to place where he'd seen that face before.

Their foster father stood up, his features distorted in anger, and Jack remembered. On the fire escape, outside his window. He'd seen that same terrified face then, begging for someone to notice him and help. "It- it's just a plate," he said, putting himself between his brother and the angry man before them. "Ain't a big deal. I'll... I'll find a way ta pay for it, I promise." He swallowed hard, feeling Race trembling behind him.

The man still scowled, but he just kicked at the shards on the floor. "Clean this mess up," he said gruffly. "And don't let it happen again."

The two boys worked in silence after that, Jack sweeping up the glass shards while Race finished the dishes in record time. As soon as they were done, Jack grabbed Race's wrist and dragged him into their room. "Show me," he ordered.

Race flopped down on the bed, snugging his arms around himself. "I... I don't know what you'se talkin' about."

"Race, don't lie ta me," Jack warned. "I know he's been hittin' ya. Show me."

Race's chin nearly touched his chest. Finally, he stood up and hiked his shirt over his head. Dark, hand-shaped bruises marked his arms, and a few purple marks stood out on his chest and back. "There, ya happy?" he asked bitterly.

Jack's eyes were fixed on his brother's skin. Gently, he laid his hand on a handprint a good three inches bigger than his, a lump forming in his throat. "Racer, why didn't ya tell me?"

Race averted his eyes, his own hand on top of Jack's on his upper arm. "Betta' me than you," he said in a low voice. "I can handle it, I'se had worse. Nothin' ya coulda done," he added, quieter.

"Just 'cause you'se had worse don't mean it's okay!" Jack burst out. "You'se ten years old, Race! This shouldn't be normal, I won't let it be normal. 'Cause there's still one thing I can do." Race glanced up as Jack withdrew his hand, crossing over to the closet and yanking clothes off of hangers. He dumped his backpack out on the floor, his stack of clothes beside it. "Put your shirt back on," he instructed. "And get your stuff togetha'. We'se leavin', tonight."

"Jack, we can't do that," Race protested, pulling his hoodie back over his head with a slight shiver. Sure this place was bad. But he'd had worse. He could take it, why didn't Jack get that? "We got nothin', no food, no money, not a nickel to our names."

"Yeah." Jack paused in his packing to sit back on his heels, staring intently at his brother. "But he hurt ya, Race. I ain't lettin' no one hurt my baby brother, not again." Race flushed, staring down at his feet as he scuffed his toe against the carpet. "Hey, is that a smile?" Jack asked with a grin.

Race smothered it immediately. "No."

Jack's grin widened. "I think it was," he said, bounding across the room.

"Jack-" Race broke off abruptly as Jack tickled his sides, falling back on the bed to shield himself from the attack. "Jack, stop!" he yelped, laughing too hard to get the words out. "Jack, you win! I smiled! J- Jack!"

"Hey!" a voice yelled from the living room, making both boys sit up. "Quiet down in there."

Race's smile faded as he pushed himself up off the bed and started to gather his things. "Hey," Jack said, earning the blonde-haired boy's attention. "We got this. 'Sides, we don't need nothin'. We'se got each otha'."

Race actually did smile at that, allowing his brother to pull him into a hug and ruffle his curls, feeling a quick kiss pressed to his temple. "Yeah," he said. "We'se got each otha'."

They had each other, yes. But Race's first year of junior high was also Jack's first year of high school, and then they were apart again. And adjusting to high school was hard enough without all the trouble Race called. Jack had put his own cell number down as Race's emergency contact-- Race still wasn't registered in the foster care system, and the last thing Jack wanted was for some nosy teacher to find out and call child services. It seemed like it was every day he got a call saying Race had gotten detention, or cheated on a test, or started a fight with some kids twice his size.

He wasn't any better at home, either. He snapped at Jack and their foster parents, and the smallest thing set him off. This family was nice. They treated both boys well, they accepted Race's presence from the start. They even took both boys back-to-school shopping, providing them with more clothes than they'd ever owned at one time in their lives. They didn't deserve to be shouted at by a moody twelve-year-old, or to have doors slammed in their faces when they tried to talk to him.

Jack assured them he'd take care of it. "I'll talk to him. He'll listen ta me, I know he will." Weak promises, he knew. Race would stay quiet and sullen for a few days after Jack had scolded him, but it never lasted long. "Race, you'se gotta stop this!" Jack pleaded with his brother. "Whateva's buggin' ya, kid, you'se gotta tell me! I can't help me if ya won't talk ta me, Racer!"

"I'm fine, Jack!" Race would insist. "Ya wouldn't get it, anyways!"

Jack was on edge at every moment. These people were nice, sure, but even nice people had their limits. He just knew that one day at breakfast they'd break the bad news, saying they couldn't take care of the boys anymore. They wouldn't give the real reason- no, of course not. They'd make something up.

"It just costs too much. You know how prices are rising these days."

"We just don't have the room. This house really is too small for four people."

"We're pregnant. We'll have kids of our own now, we don't need to pretend anymore."

Jack could only hope that was what would happen. Being sent away was far better than the alternative. Every time Race mouthed off, or brought home another detention slip that had to be signed, Jack was afraid it would happen. One day their foster father would snap, and he'd beat Race up good for all the trouble he'd caused.

The teachers had already labeled Race a delinquent. The kid seemed to be doing everything he could to get out of going to school. He faked sick, claiming that the thought of going made him nauseous. He seemed to close himself off once he walked through the doors, sitting by himself and barely saying a word to anyone. More than once at night, Jack glanced over at his brother's sleeping form and saw tear stains on his cheeks.

As the year went on, the teachers began to worry. Race rarely turned in his homework --even though Jack made sure he did it-- and hadn't passed a test all year. His label changed from "delinquent" to "troubled child." They asked if everything was okay at home, and they wanted to schedule a meeting with his parents, but Jack knew he couldn't let that happen. As soon as it got out that Race was not only a delinquent, but a foster kid? He'd be off to the Refuge before Jack could do anything to stop it. At the Refuge they'd check for a record, and he wouldn't have one. So on top of having to endure the horrors there, Race would either be returned to his father or placed in another foster home by the state-- one far away from Jack. At all costs, Jack couldn't let that happen. He couldn't let his brother go to that place.

But some things even Jack couldn't control. The day Race started the fire was the day it all went to hell. He was hanging out behind the gym, messing around with a box of cigars. He knew Jack wouldn't be happy if he found out-- he had gotten detention twice already for smoking on school grounds, the threat of suspension hanging over his head, and Jack had properly threatened him on what would happen if he was caught with a cigar again. So when Race heard someone coming, he hastily dropped the cigar on the ground, stamping at it a few times before ducking inside through a back door.

Fifteen minutes later the fire alarm went off. The dry grass behind the gym was up in flames, but luckily the fire department got there before it could spread to the building. The school let the kids go early- most of them were hysterical, anyways. As soon as Jack heard the news, as soon as he got the text from the school saying that all the kids were safe, he knew Race had to be involved somehow. He left early that day, skipping his last few classes, and managed to get the truth out of his brother.

There were so many things he could have done. He was happy here. These people were good people, and this seemed like the perfect place to age out of the system. Only four more years until he was eighteen-- why shouldn't he spend them here? In a place where he had food and clothes and a bed, caring foster parents who didn't nag or yell or hit, and a school that he could go to for all four years of high school. But as he looked at his brother, the messy-haired, blue-eyed kid standing in front of him and crying out of shame and fear, the truth hit him. Race was miserable here. All the stress of the lives they led --changing schools every year or two, the pressure of starting junior high, the loneliness of not having any friends, having to rely on a boy only two years his elder to keep him safe from everything the world had in store-- had finally caught up to him. He was upset, he was suffering from anxiety, he was confused and he was scared. And Jack knew what he had to do.

He stole answers to the final from a teacher's desk. He got himself expelled, labeled a troublemaker. And before he knew it, he and Race were off to a group home- the Manhattan Home for Troubled Youths, nicknamed the lodging house by the boys who lived there. It was embarrassing. It was new and it was scary. But Race thrived there, surrounded by kids his own age who loved his jokes and his stories and all his quirks. So Jack pasted on a smile and easily slipped into his role of big brother to all. He got a job, he helped old Mr. Kloppman pay the bills, he ignored the mistrustful looks he got when people found out he lived in a group home. First and foremost, he was a big brother. And he'd take any challenge that came with the job, no matter how big. He helped the younger boys tie their shoes, he gave Crutchie piggyback rides down the stairs, he lied through his teeth to the bulls to keep them out of trouble. As long as his brothers were happy, he would be, too. He'd find a way.

By the time Jack made it to the theatre, tears were running down his face-= tears he didn't bother to wipe away. His boys weren't around. He was under no obligation to be Jack Kelly, fearless leader. Medda was one of the few people he knew who didn't look to him for guidance-- it was often the other way around. Her theatre also doubled as an artist's studio, a place to talk, a hidden getaway... whatever he needed, this building was it. No matter how often he moved around, the theatre had always been home.

Jack slipped in through the back entrance. The building was empty, as he knew it would be. He knew the show and rehearsal schedules by heart, there was only one person who would be around this time of day. He heard singing from somewhere in the theatre and he suppressed a smile. Medda was singing to herself again. She always claimed that it helped her think. "Miss Medda?" he called, his voice wavering slightly.

The singing broke off abruptly, and Medda Larkin appeared in the doorway. "Jack Kelly, man of mystery!" she cried out, just like she always did. Her smile faded into a look of concern when she saw his face. "What's wrong, honey?" she asked.

Jack opened his mouth to answer, but his mind filled with images of Race --his baby brother, knocking at his window and hiding bruises and begging him with those big blue eyes to get him out of trouble just one more time-- and he just shook his head, closing his eyes against the tears that threatened to fall.

"Oh, Jack," Medda said, pulling him into a hug.

"I don't know what ta do, Medda!" he said in frustration, holding onto her as tight as he dared.. "I'se tryin'... I'se tryin' ta keep my boys togetha', unda' one roof, and Race seems so set on gettin' takin' away! I can't keep doin' this, Medda! I can't lose 'im!"

"I know, honey," the vaudeville singer said, gently extracting herself from Jack's hug. "Follow me, hon. And get ready to tell me all about it." Her pink skirt trailed behind her as she swept into the main room of the theatre, pausing in front of the stage and glancing back at Jack. "Don't just stand there," she said. "This dress is long and I ain't as young as I used to be. Gimme a hand!"

Jack hopped up onto the stage, holding out his hand with a trace of a smile. "You know where the paintbrushes are," Medda said, smoothing out her skirt and finding a seat. "You can paint while you talk, and I'll just listen."

So Jack poured out the whole story, the words spilling out of him as his brush moved with a mind of its own, painting what it always did-- a place with clay buildings as rusty red as Albert's hair, blue skies that matched Race's eyes, and wheaten fields like Crutchie's messy blonde hair. Santa Fe. For a place that was supposed to be his escape, an awful lot of it reminded him of his brothers.

And Medda sat through it all, watching him work and listening intently. She was a good at that-- letting him talk like he was a person with a problem, not some kid who didn't know what he was doing. She let him pour out all his doubts and worries and fears, everything from losing Race to struggling trust him to wondering how he'd pay for the ticket and still stay in school. He finally stepped back, his chest heaving and the story finished, Santa Fe stretched out before him. It almost looked like he could step right through... like he could pass through the canvas and wake up in his dream world.

"First things first," Medda spoke up, breaking the trance. Jack flinched, looking up from his painting and whirling around to face her. "You don't need to worry about that ticket, honey," the vaudeville singer told him. "You did a brave thing, taking the fall for your brother, and in a way I think you did right. But he needs to learn from his own actions. A few chores will settle him down a little, and there's no shortage of jobs around this place. He can work for me and pay off that ticket. And as for traffic school, you just painted me a beautiful backdrop to use in my next show. And I believe that all artists should be paid for their work." She said the words firmly, her dark eyes sparking with excitement.

"I ain't gonna take your money," Jack protested, but Medda held up a hand.

"Now hold up a minute," she said. "I ain't done talkin'. Don't you worry none 'bout Race's little episode today, okay hon? Raised voices remind him of his daddy just like cheap perfume reminds you of your mamma. Your boys mean the world to you and you'd never hurt them intentionally. And at the end of the day, Race knows that. He knows that better than anyone." She rummaged through her purse for a minute or two, coming up with a wad of dollar bills that she held out to Jack expectantly.

As soon as he gave in, Jack felt a weight slip off his shoulders. "You're a saint, Miss Medda," he said, slipping the cash into his pocket. "I don't know what I'd do without ya."

Medda touched Jack's cheek, wiping away the last of his tears with her thumb. "Sweetie, you'd do just fine," she said with a smile. "Now, you'd better get on back to the lodging house. Don't want your boys to worry."

"Yes, ma'am," Jack said, grinning slightly. He turned to go, and was halfway out the door when he heard Medda calling after him.

"Have Race come by on Saturday," she said. "I'll have a few odd jobs ready for him by then."

"Will do, Miss Medda!" Jack called back, starting his long walk home.

When he got back, he had a text waiting from Spot.

SPOT: ready or not, here we come. i need 2 get back 2 brooklyn, hot shot says the boys locked riddle in the attic.

Jack stared at his phone for a few seconds, wondering how anybody who went through Brooklyn ever made it out alive.

Cowboy: good luck with that. and go ahead and bring him back, everythings good here.

SPOT: just a warning, hes in a weird mood.

Jack didn't have long to wonder what that meant. He barely had time to check on the boys upstairs and get started on his homework before he heard the front door bang open.

"Jack?" Race yelled. Then, barely a second later, "Jack!"

Jack pushed up from the table, crossing into the living room to see what was wrong. "Geez, Racer, I'm here," he said. "What's all the yellin' about?" Race didn't answer with words. He threw himself at his brother, tackling him in a hug as his arms tightened around him in for dear life. Jack wrapped his arms around the younger boy automatically, his concern growing into a panic. "Hey, it's okay!" He squeezed his brother tighter, reassuringly, but Race didn't loosen his grip. "It's okay," Jack said again, softer. "Race, what's wrong?" Talk ta me, buddy. You'se gotta talk ta me.

"I don't wanna go ta the Refuge, Jack!" Race cried, his voice muffled by Jack's shirt.

The Refuge? No. He ain't supposta worry 'bout that, that's my job. "Kid, who told ya that?" he demanded, trying to get a good look at Race's face. His brother didn't budge, and in that he found his answer. "Conlon," he muttered. 'Weird mood,' he says. With the threat a' that place hangin' ova' his head, 'course he's in a weird mood. "I swear, if he's still here..." he threatened, glancing to the door, but Race shook his head. Jack sighed. "Racer..." he said, managing to pry himself loose. "Look at me, kid." Race barely glanced up, and Jack lifted his chin so he could look him in the eye. "I ain't lettin' ya go ta that place, kid," he said firmly. "Ya don't gotta worry 'bout that."

Race jerked backwards out of Jack's reach. "I'm such an idiot, Jack!" he said, tears running freely down his face. "This whole time I thought ya were just bein' a jerk, but ya was tryin' ta keep me outta the Refuge!" He shook his head, wrapping his arms around his torso and falling back another step.

He looked so small and lost, and Jack felt his heart twinge. "Kid," he said firmly. Race didn't look up, until Jack caught him by the shoulders and gave him a light shake. "Look at me, Race," he pleaded, gaining his brother's attention. He waited a second, making sure the Italian's eyes were fixed on him before continuing. "If bein' a jerk is what it takes ta keep one a' my boys from bein' dragged off ta that livin' hell..."

No way in hell am I gonna let any a' my brotha's go through that nightmare. They don't deserve that, no matter what stupid stunts they pull.

Jack cursed under his breath. Race's face right now was the exact reason he hadn't wanted him to know the risks. "I'm gonna kill Spot," he muttered, letting go of his brother and pacing back and forth. "The whole point was that ya weren't supposta find out. If he don't have the brains in his head ta figure that out..."

"No," Race said, surprising him. "I'se glad he told me." The gambler gave a watery smile, the kind he gave when he knew he was in trouble. "Now I can apologize for bein' stupid all week. I drove because ya told me I couldn't, Jack."

"I know," Jack said mildly, suppressing a grin as he moved into the kitchen. Am I supposta be surprised...? C'mon Race, ya know I'se smarter than that. "You'se an idiot sometimes, Race."

"And I took Crutchie with me so ya wouldn't get mad," Race continued, following him as he searched through drawers. "I thought that if I got caught I could say I was just givin' him a ride."

Jack raised an eyebrow. "Ya really thought Crutchie bein' there'd help your case," he stated, finally finding a clean washcloth. He shook his head, running it under cold water. "What goes on in that head a' yours, kid?"

Silence. "I don't know," Race said in a small voice. "Ya still mad?"

Jack beckoned his brother over to him. "Nah, not mad," he said truthfully. His talk with Medda and his little trip down memory lane had cleared his mind of anger, but that didn't change the facts. Race stole the keys, disobeyed him, and betrayed his trust, not to mention he put Crutchie and Romeo in danger. He could still feel the cold fear in his bones, and he had to grip the edge of the counter to steady himself. "Still disappointed, though."

Race's gaze flickered downward with a soft "oh," but Jack didn't take it back.

"Close your eyes," he said instead. Race's blue eyes snapped closed, and Jack gently scrubbed away any trace of tears from his little brother's face, pausing to place a kiss on his forehead.

Race pulled backwards again, pain etched across his face. "Jack, stop!" he begged. "I hate it when you'se mad at me, but this is worse. You'se all... disappointed at me... and you'se still helpin' me and stoppin' 'em from takin' me ta that place!"

"Racer!" Jack said, hoping the familiar nickname would make his brother understand. "Ya lied ta me, broke my trust, and put our brothers in danger. Ya screwed up, kid." The blonde-haired Italian flushed red and looked away, but Jack brought him back to reality. "Race, do ya really think anythin' ya do is gonna make a difference ta me? We'se brothers. Brothers look out for each other, no matter what."

The boy's blue eyes widened, and Jack leaned back against the counter. He gets it. He unda'stands. "I'm tired, Race," admitted. "Ya think I don't want ya ta be able ta drive? It would be so much easier if ya could. If it wasn't just me drivin' the boys around? But doin' stupid stuff is just gonna make it longa' 'fore ya can get your license. I know that when we'se was younga' we'se'd fight all the time, an' we really didn't mean it, but I just can't do it anymore. I'se got school, and work, and twenty-somethin' boys ta look out for, and half a dozen classes I'se afraid of failin'." He sighed wearily, feeling another headache coming on. "I thought it'd be quicker ta skip the whole fight and just take the keys right from the start."

"But it wasn't," Race said quietly, realizing. "Jack, I'm sorry I started a big thing. I just..." He hesitated, and Jack looked up. "I wanna be like you, an' drive the boys cool places, an' have Romeo tell me how great of a big brother I am," Race admitted earnestly. "Stuff that you gets ta do every day!"

"Racer, you'se their big brother, too!" Jack said incredulously. "What's more, you'se the fun one. I'se gotta make all the rules, be on ev'ryone's case all the time. You just get ta be... Race. And they love ya for it."

Race merely shrugged, not meeting Jack's gaze. "Hey," Jack said firmly, tipping Race's chin up with one finger. He knew that look. He wasn't about to let Race convince himself he wasn't wanted, wasn't needed.

"Get outta your head, Race, and stay with me," he instructed. Then he gave a lopsided grin. "Let's just stick with you bein' you an' me bein' me. 'Cause kid, it's you who Romeo looks up to. That kid looks at you like ya hung the moon, Racer. Ya should be proud a' that."

Race grinned slightly at the mention of Romeo. "Yeah," he said modestly. "Kid sees somethin' in me, who knows what. Speakin' a' Romeo... I should prob'ly go check on him," he added sheepishly. "I, uh, kinda scared him earlier."

"Yeah, prob'ly a good idea," Jack agreed, pulling the gambler into a headlock and ruffling his hair playfully. "He was upstairs with the boys last I saw 'im."

Race laughed, pushing against Jack's chest to free himself. He was halfway to the stairs when he hesitated, his back to Jack. Whirling around, he crossed the room at a run and threw his arms around the older boy, catching him by surprise. "Love ya, Jack," he said in a voice barely above a whisper.

A smile burst across Jack's face as he wrapped his arms around his brother. "Love ya too, kid," he said, dropping a kiss to the Italian's messy blonde curls. The familiar sharp scent of tobacco smoke hit him and he frowned, grabbing a fistful of Race's shirt and bringing it to his nose. Dang it, Race. "Have ya been smokin'?" he asked, already knowing the answer.

"Gotta go, Jack!" Race yelled, breaking away and dashing up the stairs. "I'll check in on Crutchie too, while I'm up here!" he called down.

"Hold it!" Jack ordered. "Back it up an' bring it here, Racetrack." He folded his arms over his chest, waiting for Race to obey. "Gimme the cigars," he said sternly once the younger boy stood in front of him.

"It ain't fair, Jack," Race protested as he fished the box of Coronas out of his pocket.

"It is too fair," Jack said, taking them off his hands. Can't leave this kid alone for a minute... "You'se comin' with me ta the diner tomorra afta' school, too."

"Noooo!" Race complained, stretching the word out comically. "Just tomorra, right?" he added hopefully.

Let's see how tomorra goes, first. "We'll see," Jack promised. Race let out an over-exaggerated sigh, and the leader couldn't help but grin. "Love ya, kid!" he reminded him.

"Yeah, yeah, whateva'!" Race waved him off. He quickened his steps, calling for Romeo as he took the stairs two at a time, but not quite quick enough to hide his smile from Jack.

Jack laughed a little, dropping the Coronas into his pocket. His fingers brushed against a piece of paper, and he sobered quickly as he brought out the ticket. He set it on the table next to him as he settled into his chair, staring blankly at his history textbook. He glanced back at the stairs, catching bits and pieces of Race's conversation with Romeo, and he made up his mind. Oh, yeah. It was all worth it.

Jack's head snapped up, catching himself just before he nodded off. C'mon, Kelly, focus! he scolded himself. Leaning back in his chair, he rubbed his eyes. He'd been staring at the page so long, the words and numbers had turned themselves into a jumbled, blurry mess. I can do this. Thirty-two problems left. I can do thirty-two problems. That's just... eight problems, four times. He sighed, taking another sip of his long-cold coffee. Screw this. I'se failin' anyways.

Today had been long. And to top it all off, his little meeting with Officer Bixby had taken forever-- which was why he was up doing chemistry homework at ten past midnight.

He was just about to turn out the light and call it quits when a small voice made him freeze. "Jack?"

The leader whirled around to find Romeo in the doorway, wearing pajama pants and one of Race's T-shirts. The shirt hung on his thin frame and made him look so small. Paired with his pale face and wide, dark eyes, Jack didn't stand a chance. "Hey, buddy," he said, holding out his arms. Romeo ran into them, throwing himself at his brother and burying his face in the crook of his neck, his unruly dark hair tickling Jack's chin. "Bad dream, kid?" Jack asked softly. He felt Romeo nod against him, and he hugged little boy tighter.

"Why didn't ya go ta Race?" he asked. He knew that Romeo woke Race up most nights. Nearly every morning when Jack went in to get them up for school, Romeo was snuggled up against his big brother's side. Race had yet to complain, so Jack figured he had it handled. "What's up, kid?" he asked.

Romeo just shook his head, tightening his grip. "Race was in this one," he mumbled, his voice muffled by Jack's shirt.

Jack felt a pang through his heart, at a loss for what to do. Don't tell Race. Whateva' ya do, just don't. "Tell ya what, kid," he said, prying Romeo off of him. "How's about ya sleep in here tonight? I'se..." He glanced at is desk. "I'se still got some homework ta do. I'll stay up and keep ya company." He tossed back the blanket and lifted Romeo up onto the bed before taking a seat at his desk.

Romeo hopped right back up and climbed on Jack's lap, leaning back against him with a sigh. Jack glanced down at him with a grin. "And just whaddaya think you'se doin'?" he asked, ruffling Romeo's hair.

The kid shrugged, making himself comfortable. "Just sittin'."

"Just sittin', huh?" Jack said, tossing his pencil onto the desk. "What's up, kid?"

Romeo messed with the hem of his shirt, humming quietly to himself. Jack wrapped his big hands around Romeo's, making the kid look up. "I don't know, Jack," he admitted. "I feel like... like my tummy hurts. But it ain't like when Race spins me around. It's like... I feel like I'se forgot ta do somethin', and like evr'rythin' ain't okay, but I don't know why! And I don't wanna eat and I don't wanna sleep. Can ya fix it, Jack?"

Jack sighed. "That's called anxiety, buddy," he said. "It ain't fun, is it?" Romeo shook his head silently. "Okay, kid," Jack decided. He scooped his baby brother up and carried him over to the bed, pulling the blanket up around him. "I was feelin' some anxiety today, and ya know what helped?"

"What?" Romeo asked, snuggling under the blanket. His wide dark eyes were fixed on Jack, waiting for his answer.

"I went down ta the theatre and talked with Medda," Jack said. "So how's about ya talk ta me?"

Romeo nodded. "I can do that," he said. Jack dragged his chair over to the bed, rested his elbows on his knees, and listened. He listened while Romeo told him everything from hating pre-algebra to feeling left out to being the youngest to being scared of driving with Race again.

Jack was quiet for several moments after Romeo had finished. "Today scared ya, huh?" he said.

"Yeah," Romeo whispered, picking at a thread in the blanket.

"It scared Race, too," Jack told him.

Romeo's head shot up. "Race don't get scared," he said.

"'Course he gets scared," Jack said. "Just like I get scared. We was both scared today. And I think Race might be scared that you'se mad at 'im."

"I ain't mad," Romeo said, his eyes wide.

"Didja tell Race that?" Jack questioned.

Romeo shook his head. "I told him I don't want his help," he said quietly, averting his gaze from Jack's.

"Hey, it's okay!" Jack said. "Tomorra, how 'bout ya tell him ya do want his help? I bet he'd like that."

Romeo smiled. "I can do that," he said. "Can I come ta the diner with you and Race?"

Jack grinned. "I bet he'd like that, too," he said. He glanced at his bedside clock, and his eyes widened. 12:57. "Time for you ta get ta bed," he said. "And time for me ta finish up this mess." He downed what was left of his coffee in one gulp, dropping into his chair to labor over chemistry equations.

"Love ya, Jack," Romeo said sleepily.

Jack smiled slightly. "Love ya too, Romeo."

Jack sighed wearily, dumping a load of dishes into the sink and glancing at the time. Just an hour left 'til my shift ends. That's just fifteen minutes, four times... aw, forget it. Afternoon shifts always seemed to drag on forever, and having Race there complaining about homework wasn't helping at all. Neither of them wanted to be there. All Jack wanted to do was go home and sleep, but he knew he couldn't. He had his boys to take care of, that online traffic course to work on, and of course, more homework. It neva' ends...

The bell over the door jingled, and Jack could hear a familiar voice yelling even from back in the kitchen. "Race!"

Romeo. Jack smiled, hearing his brothers excitedly chattering away. Last night's episode had had him a little worried, but it looked like everything was going to be okay.

"Hey, Mr. Jacobi?" he called to his boss. "Can I bring my brothers a couple sodas?"

The older man looked up, taking in the scene of the two boys working at the counter. His mustache twitched, concealing one of his rare smiles. "Go ahead," he said. "On me, just this once."

Jack's grin widened. "Thanks, Mr. Jacobi," he said sincerely, heading back out to the dining room.

"A-tro-cious," Race was saying, sounding the word out. "Jack's cooking is atrocious."

"You two," Jack told them, setting two sodas on the counter. "You'se gonna be the death a' me."

Race laughed it off. "Thanks, Jack," he said.

"Thank you!" Romeo echoed.

"Suspicious," Race said, reading from the list again. "Jack bein' this nice ta us is suspicious."

Jack shook his head, heading back to the kitchen with a smile. These kids, he thought fondly. They're drivin' me crazy.

Tag list: @newsieswearingheelies , @smart-alecc , @purplelittlepup , @killmebroadway

#drivin me crazy #newsies #fanfic #racetrack higgins #jack kelly #romeo #spot conlon #crutchie morris #medda larkin #albert dasilva #tw: abuse

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