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insert-neologism · 4 days

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Shauna's drunk. When she's drunk, she starts thinking (more than usual, that is).

Also, something's wrong.

Jackie dances in the middle of the floor. With Jeff.

Shauna is watching her from outside the mass of writhing bodies and feels horrible.

It's not that they're dancing now, as if nothing's ever happened, as if Jackie didn't cry just last night in Shauna's bed (only in the dark, silently, when she thought Shauna was sleeping. She wasn't.)

It's not even that Jackie is back together with him, even though he doesn't make her happy and Jackie knows that just as well as Shauna. Even though she keeps saying the opposite.

It's that Shauna cant stop thinking about it; that even if she forces her eyes to wander they still come back to Jackie every time, fixate on her like there's nothing else in the room.

It's that Shauna can't look anywhere but her, and that the music fades ever so slightly when she does (only for her. only ever for her.)

It's that she's dancing so closely with Jeff that they might as well be one, a single body. And it feels... wrong, just deeply, plainly wrong. It shouldn't be him.

It's that Shauna can't be happy for Jackie. It's that she's the worst best friend to ever exist.

She downs the rest of her drink, barely even tasting it.

Jackie, unaware, turns her face towards the ceiling, eyes closed. The light illuminating it turns blue.

It gives Jackie's skin an almost ethereal glow; she doesn't look real anymore, like her soul has left and all that's moving is just her body, a lifeless shell. She stills, for a second or forever - Shauna can't tell. But she's not moving anymore, and her skin turns lighter, white-ish.

Snow starts to fall. It's terribly cold.

Shauna flinches; the red solo cup crumbles beneath her grip. She feels bile rise in her throat.

It's not snow, of course it isnt; it's summer and they're inside. The spotlights are just throwing white flecks everywhere, like the ones behind Shauna's eyes when she closes them and tries to think of nothing (it never works). Jackie's moving again, blue again, with Jeff's hands all over her again.

It hits her, as sudden as a punch to the face: an overwhelming pain, something that can't be described as just 'sadness'. Something that runs so deep that not even death could expel her from feeling it.

It's still cold, impossibly so; goosebumps are covering her entire body and suddenly it's too light and too loud and too cramped and just too much and if she doesn't get out of here right the fuck now she's going to die.

The warm summer air outside and light breeze do make her feel better. There are less people out here, too; or at least Shauna can't see them. Doesn't care for them.

Everything is blurry. She's lost her cup somewhere on the way, but it doesn't matter; it was empty anyways.

Somebody - Nat? there's a shimmer of yellow, but to be honest Shauna would just like to close her eyes and lay on the ground until the earth consumes her, (out of protest against anyone who hinders her she refuses to open her eyes more than absolutely necessary) so she can't be sure - is tapping her shoulder and handing her a piece of bread, saying "for fuck sake, how much did you drink? Did you eat nothing all day or are that much of a lightweight?"

She did eat. Enough, even though she gave Jackie half of it. Well, 'gave' is relative; but she doesn't like to say she forced Jackie to eat. Doesn't think she could do that, force Jackie to do anything. Doesn't think anyone could. Not really.

But she really isn't feeling that great, and food does help more often than not, so she accepts it and watches the shimmer of blonde float away again.

She bites into the bread. It feels hard and cold and tastes salty and not at all like bread.

Shauna turns and throws up.

Somebody gathers her hair and holds it up, holds her up until she's slowly calming down. "Are you alright?" a voice asks.

Shauna looks up. It's Van, Van with her fiery red hair and a scar on her face. She blurs.

"Something's wrong." Shauna says.

"Yeah, obviously. You've had way too much, what the fuck is going on?"

"No, it's..." Shauna doesn't know how to explain. Can't explain, because how do you explain something you don't even know yourself? How do you say something you can't even think, that you don't know is true?

So she doesn't. Instead, she holds her hand out and traces Van's scar, red against white.

Blood on snow.

The skin is smooth.

Her fingertips are crawling. She feels like she did seconds (hours? How long did she lay here?) ago, when she was inside; too light and too loud and cramped. Only this time, it's not because of other people; this time, it's just herself, her own body who she wants (needs) to get rid of. There are feelings inside of her, feelings she can't contain nor express and they're building up (They've always been building up. They've always come close to being more than what she can handle. But today it feels inevitable.); there's an ocean inside of her, and it's gathering up into a wave so big it's impossible to perceive and it's gonna crash, it's gonna crash and crush her and she's gonna go down, go under and drown. She's tearing at the seams.

Van's looking at her, she realises, eyes wide and filled with an badly hidden emotion that Shauna knows intimately, can match to what's inside her, infesting her like a parasite. That sometimes overcomes her, makes her unable to move and makes her always keep Jackie halfway out (because she doesn't know what, but something's wrong with her. And if Jackie ever finds out it's going to be the end of them - the end of the only good thing Shauna has.

And she knows it's futile, knows she'll destroy it either way; by keeping Jackie out and by letting her in, but this way she can at least pretend.

She can pretend until it's too late, and then keep pretending; because deep down she knows Jackie won't ever leave her. She's imprinted in her skin, behind her eyelids, her brain; she's haunting her already, so why should that be different when she's dead?)

What she doesn't know is why Van is feeling that, why Van is even familiar with it, the bone-deep fear that infests everything she knows like a toxic gas - unable to keep out and killing everything around her.

But she's still looking at her, with the same wide eyes as minutes (seconds?) ago, her mouth slightly open.

She doesn't move, doesn't even blink - just like Shauna, who then becomes aware that she has a body too, that she is more than just a thousand thoughts and prayers and emotions, insecurity and rage, mixed up and dumped into a pocket of air. She becomes aware that her throat hurts, that there's a twig digging into her thigh, that her hand is still on Van's face, unmoving.

"Van?" a voice calls. Van flinches, and so does Shauna. She drops her hand (it lands on her lap, limp and unfeeling), and Van blinks rapidly as if to make up for all the time she didn't, and time starts moving again.

Being normal again.

Except that nothing is.

A hand lands on Van's shoulder, and this time only Shauna flinches. "Damn." Tai says. "Is she alright?"

YES, Shauna wants to say. She is alright. She is the alrightest she's ever been, so could everyone please just leave her alone? Thank you.

"I don't think so." Van says.

She's still looking at her, this time tinged with something like an understanding. A connection. Shauna doesn't want it.

"Do we have to get Jackie? I know where she is, I just saw her-"

"No."

Tai sighs. "Van, please, I'm not dealing with this tonight. First... "

She wishes she could throw up again, get out every thought and memory and watch it disappear into the ground. If it won't claim her body then maybe it'll be enough for it to claim everything that makes her her. Maybe she'll be the ground afterwards; after all, swallowing her thoughts is all she ever does. ("Just talk to someone. It'll be good for you.", her mother had said. Shauna had taken up journaling instead.)

Somebody's pulling her up to her feet.

"Shauna? Shauna, hey..."

Shauna sways, held up only by Van's arm around her waist. Her eyes land on an exceptionally blurry Tai, who's watching her with a concerned look (which is her own fault, Shauna thinks. If they just would've let the earth consume her in peace she'd be long gone already and everything would be alright.)

"Something's obviously going on." Van says. "I'm not leaving her alone, not in that state."

Both Tais glare at Van.

Shauna blinks.

Both of them are still there.

One of the Tais, the one with the longer hair, says something.

Her teeth are dark.

Maybe her bread fell into the dirt too, Shauna thinks miserably.

They're still arguing, still about her. She doesn't want them to, doesn't want them to care for her. Caring for her is not going to end well; she's a knife, a violent paper doll, hurting and destroying and incredibly fragile all the while. Waiting to be discarded.

She turns into Van and starts to cry.

"That's it." Tai (Shauna can't see which one) says. "I'm getting Lottie. Her party, her responsibility. "

Van just sighs and rubs Shauna's back.

Some time later (Shauna is confident that this is a correct estimate about how much time has passed) she's sitting on the steps to the balcony; at least, that's what she thinks based on the noises around her and the smell of weed in the air. The party is obstructed by the impossibly huge plants on the balcony, and it's too dark to make anything out except for a stream of light in front of her. She's grateful for it.

She still feels Van's touch on her back, a ghost handprint.

They're talking about her, Shauna knows, and about her. They (Van and Lottie; Tai pretended to leave but Shauna can feel her eyes from somewhere behind her) are standing a bit apart and the only thing she can hear are whispers. It's not hard though, to know what they're talking about; it's always the same thing. As if they’re entwined, as if Shauna doesn't even exist without her.

Don't get Jackie. At least theyre honoring that wish; they might pass her around like she's a particularly fucked up plant that everybody wants to get rid of as soon as possible, but god forbid anyone would want to pry Jackie from her second body.

Let's get Lottie instead.

She didn't want them to, and told them as much (which didn't do anything at all). Almost like she isn’t her own human with her own agenda; somehow, everybody keeps insisting that she can't possibly make her own decisions, that she doesn't know what she wants. Misplaced. A puppy hanging around outside, waiting to be let back in.

There's something to be said (thought) here, something that she can't grasp right now; it feels just out of reach, dancing behind closed glass doors, but it's interrupted by Lottie's shadow appearing right in front of her, cutting into the yellow light.

She isn't wearing a hat or anything, Shauna notes; which is weird considering it sort of looks that way on her shadow - as if there's a very weird tree growing from her head. Briefly, Shauna wonders if she's high - if she's simply inhaled enough smoke on her time on the balcony to make up for actually smoking.

Lottie, who's holding a joint, doesn't make that theory seem too absurd.

The smoke curls up and obstructs part of her face. Together with the dim light Lottie looks like she's hidden behind a veil.

It's cold again.

The smoke lifts, and Shauna can see Lottie's frown. She doesn't want to, doesn't want anything to make Lottie frown. Especially not to be the reason.

" -you alright? Van said you said something's wrong."

Shauna can't talk, can't get any words out. She feels too weak, suddenly, like she could just collapse right here in the steps and sleep forever. She wants to.

"Did you eat enough?" Shauna nods, hastily. She won't eat anything else tonight. Can't.

Lottie grouches. Her shadow convulses, almost following the movements of Lottie's body and forms into something else, something smaller. The branches have grown. They're almost at the border of the lightstream now. It feels like they're reaching for it. Shauna's hand finds hold on her arm, nails biting into skin.

"You know, " Lottie says, gently.

Shauna's eyes are ripped away from the... thing cowering in the light, to Lottie's eyes.

The smoke-veil has lifted completely now. There's a softness in Lottie's eyes Shauna almost never sees; and if, it's never directed at her. Only ever at Laura Lee. Nat, sometimes.

It feels like an ocean. Calm and harmless; but at the bottom, Shauna knows she'll be crushed. And she's sinking, faster than she ever did before. Her heart is a hand-grenade, beating with anger and fear, but there's something else there, too.

"There- Sometimes you don't know what's going on, and that's ok. Sometimes you're feeling things that don't make sense, or that you don't want to feel, or that make you want to rip your heart out every time you do feel them. Because you have to. And because they're so great you can't just feel them alone, because one person's just not enough but you cant talk to anyone about it because they'd kill you. Not literally. But metaphorically.

But I- I guess I just want you to know that you can talk to me about it, alright? About everything. About her. "

Lottie looks away briefly, her eyes releasing Shauna.

The joint dangles between her pointer- and ring finger, burning into her clothes or maybe not. It doesn't catch on fire.

If it would, Shauna asks herself, would her shadow be exterminated too, destroyed by the light? Or would it simply be freed?

"Shauna?" Lottie starts moving towards her.

"No." Shauna says. "Stay in the light. Please."

As long as Lottie stays right there, in the light of the half-open balcony door, the shadow will stay there too. Has to. If she lets it into the dark Shauna can't keep track of it anymore, will lose sight of it, and it's gonna envelop her, burrow itself inside her and never let her go.

"Do you still think you're a killer?" Lottie's shadow asks. "You could be. If you tried."

"I know. " Shauna's shadow says.

Lottie stills and looks at her. There's surprise in her eyes now, along with that overwhelming softness.

Shauna realises that she's sitting behind one of the plants, in the dark; there's no light. So there's no shadow. She lets her head drop to her knees.

Lottie sighs. There's a rush of air and rustling of clothes and Lottie's hand, gentle on her head.

" Oh, honey."

Shauna wishes that she could drown in her honey voice, could let herself fall and sink and go under and never come back up again. Live as her reflection. It'd be alright then; she's nothing more than fragments of a person who might've existed once anyways.

She doesn't dare look up now, now that she knows Lottie's shadow isnt contained anymore.

She doesn't dare feel anything else than her hand.

"Lottie? Uh, I think they need you inside. There's a. Well, I wouldn't call it a fight, but Tai and J-. Oh, I'm sorry, am I interrupting?"

Lottie breathes out.

"You could never, Laura Lee."

She stands up.

"Could you stay with Shauna till I'm back? She's not feeling well."

"Of course." Laura Lee says.

Shauna can only imagine the look they share, but she's seen them a thousand times so she can imagine it pretty well. It hollows her out, pulls something inside of her out piece by piece until there's nothing left. Until she's but a shell. In some way, she supposes, she's never been more.

Laura Lee sits down beside her. Shauna can feel her eyes; not concerned like Van's or inquiring like Tai's or whatever the hell Lottie was, but simply looking.

Waiting.

She always does this; sitting beside someone and simply being there until they start talking. Even if it takes forever. It always works.

She's the best of all of them. Of the team, of the world; she tries and tries and never gives up. She's never once thought about being a bad person; she's never once thought about anyone being a bad person, because she believes in the irrevocable good in anyone.

Shauna doesn't realise she's crying until she feels Laura Lee in front of her, gently trying to pry her hands from her head. They fail.

"Shauna. Shauna, please look at me."

Shauna shakes Laura Lee off.

"I can't." she says, muffled. "If I do, something bad's gonna happen."

"To me?"

Shauna doesn't know. Van's scars weren't ever there. Of the two Tai's that went to get Lottie only one came back, and none remained. And Jackie's still dancing.

"Something weird is happening, Laura Lee. Something bad, and I don't know what to do against it, how to stop it, what to-"

Laura Lee stops her struggles against Shauna's arms.

"You know. Some things you can't stop. Some things are just bound to happen, and you can't avoid them. They're going to find you anyway. But, once you're through, you're a stronger person."

"I don't think this is supposed to happen." Shauna says. And, then: "Wait, you mean like a test? from God?"

Shauna can't hear it, can't feel it, and yet she knows the expression Laura Lee makes. When she starts talking again, though, her voice is just as gentle as before.

"I don't like calling it a test."

"Why?"

"Because it implies that you can fail."

Shauna sniffles.

"What, you don't think you can fail?"

You don't think I'm set up for failing, for being the worst possible person with every step I take.

"I don't think he'd do that. He didn't create us to fail, he created us to be good."

"Is that in the bible?"

"I'm not bound to the bible, Shauna." She hears the smile in Laura Lee's voice. "Look at me? Please?"

It was stupid to believe she'd get through with this. Laura Lee listens, and talks, and keeps company until it works. And it always works.

Slowly, Shauna looks up.

The night sky is much darker here, with Lottie's house being out of town and less polluted by the street lights.

Shauna knows, though right now it's being largely obscured by Laura Lee's face, painted blue by the moonlight. There's a light breeze, and warmth, and the giggles of random boys who probably went outside with a stolen joint or something.

It doesn't matter, though. All that matters is Laura Lee.

There's so much love, so much certainty in her eyes that Shauna feels herself simultaneously recoil and wanting to come closer; to submerge herself in the belief Laura Lee holds, that spans her world, endless like the sky.

How one person can have so much faith, Shauna doesn't know. Can't imagine. Wishes she could.

If Lottie is the dark, all shadow and hidden half-smiles, then Laura Lee is light incarnate.

"It's going to be alright." she says, and for once, Shauna believes her (because it's said with such conviction, such immense knowledge that Shauna can't not believe her.)

The sky starts to burn. There are snakes of fire, a place of smoke, rising around Laura Lee's head like a halo.

A second later, there's a boom. It shatters the earth and Shauna's heart, vibrating deep in her bones.

"What the fuck?" Lottie shouts from somewhere behind Laura Lee, who's still towering over Shauna, hair still reflecting the light.

"Who the fuck brought fireworks? I swear to God and everything that's holy, I will get your asses, and you will never show your godforsaken face here again."

Fireworks. Of course.

Shauna exhales, shakily.

It rains blue and purple fire around Laura Lee's head.

In the moonlight, it looks like snow.

Is she right back where she started?

"Did you see? Nothing happened." Laura Lee smiles, tentatively. "I'm alright."

#LONG POST #Im serious guys #~3.5 k words #mine art tag #shauna shipman #yellowjackets #yj #lot of implied stuff here.#have i mention ed that i hate tumblr paragraph breaks why is there so much soaceee argh #uhhh #mitos incredible life #flower face posting #like. a bit #first time im posting writing omg #anyways. u can ask me quadtions abt everything rlly (dunno of i know the answer thiugh) if it sounds weird it's probably a lyric.#well Idk what else to write here. but I wont tag the whole team bc thazs so many ppl guys #hope u like it!! ig #if u hate it dont tell me alr #yellowjackets fic

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gfwooyo · 8 months

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finished rewatching kinnporsche going crazy over kimchay again NEED some fic recs please 🙏

#desperately need the characterization to be good tho. like fr #i like the idea of canonverse reconciliation fics but i wouldn't be opposed to aus if they're rlly good 👀#anyway i just rlly want fics but idk where to start in the tag i need mutual approved ones or at least fave writers #kinnporsche #kimchay #kim x porchay

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pesteringchum · 2 years

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crying and thinking abt davejade again.

they rlly said: youre my childhood friend and we went through unspeakable traumas together. youre my childhood crush and i watched you die. youre my childhood crush and i killed you. you are so fucking weird. we are so fucking weird together. you are the most normal thing about me. i love you (platonic). i love you (romantic). i love you (but i dont know if you can love me). i love you (dont die). i love you (please stop dying). i love you (i dont want to be alone again).

#the davejade tag being so dead is so sad to me #bc yes theyre super cute and sweet but they have so much going on #davesprite dumped her bc he thought she deserved the ‘real’ dave!!!#jade grew up on an island alone and once she was joined by dave she shot him to death!!#thinking abt that line from that fantastic fic ‘at rise’: ‘the first two humans i ever met i killed’#(<- might not be the exact quote but smth like that)#GOD. GOD.#‘you are the most normal thing about me’ is kinda inspired by at rise as well bc it reminded me of some things i forgot about #like when jade got mad at grimbark jade for being upset over ‘boy troubles’#its like. i never rlly saw it before but thats the most Normal teen thing jade could be upset about #i think dating davesprite was the closest thing to a normal teen jade ever got the opportunity to be #anyway #davejade #chum pesters #homestuck #q

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llettucestuff · 7 months

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This was supposed to be a short thing about a hc I have where Chase’s frame is a bit colder than normal, and Heatwave’s a bit warmer. Instead, this kind of derailed and became… whatever this is. It’s very self-indulgent and probably a little OOC lol. This particular fic has Chase and Heatwave as Amica Endura’s btw, but I won’t always write them like that.

ALSO I haven’t written for Transformers in like, a REALLY long time so please excuse any missed terminology :]

ALSO ALSO Chase is kinda inspired by @/delkios HCs here on tumblr from like 2016, and this series on AO3, which is also inspired by delkios. More on that in the tags. Enjoy!

———

Chase muses about the general nuances between him and his Amica, and their overall relationship in relation to Griffon Rock.

Or, Chase runs cold. Heatwave runs hot. They make it work.

—

Despite his core temperature being at an optimal point for functioning, Chase still ran decidedly cold, through no fault of his own. He’d been that way ever since he was a sparkling, sitting in front of heaters trying to warm up his endlessly cool servos and pedes, never really feeling truly warm, servos always either burning hot or in their natural state of permanent cold.

His Amica, the mech after Chase’s own spark, on the other hand, ran hot like an earth furnace. Chase recalls being told various stories of Heatwave trying to cool himself down, sneaking into freezers and other places mechlings like him shouldn’t be. It was almost funny, the way they were trying to achieve the opposite of what the other was. Maybe that’s why they work so well together.

Chase’s servos were always a touch too cold to be pleasant or fully “normal,” digits sometimes stiff with inclement weather coupled with a chilled frame, Heatwave’s palms always warm and grounding, frame hot like his temper.

They were equilibrium for each other, opposites in the regard of outward frame temperature, always ready to cool one down or warm the other up. It worked, and that’s why they were Amicas.

(Not just for that sole fact, Chase would input, musing that Heatwave’s companionship meant much more to him than his admitted handiness as a personal heater).

That fact, that is, their cool and heat swapping tendencies, hasn’t changed in the many, many vorns that they had known each other, even pre-Amica Endura status. So, given that, it isn’t expected by either of them for it to change once they meet the rest of the Sigma-17 rescue team, where they meet Blades and Boulder, or when they hit Griffon Rock and discover their new mission— and it doesn’t, as they predicted so.

(It’s a touch curious and a bit of a wonder how neither Boulder nor Blades discovered their Amica status before Griffon Rock. It’s not like either we’re being particularly subtle, but they supposed that their combined general professionalism probably skewed the other two bots’ perception of them, and any private time between themselves was usually during recharge time, or so subtly done that it was overlooked. Chase would find it funny if he wasn’t so concerned about his friends perceptiveness.)

Apparently, after scanning their new vehicle modes, Chase and Heatwave’s frame temperature translated, to a degree, to the inside of their cabins. This doesn’t necessarily cause a bad problem, but, minor complications do arise.

Sometimes, Kade would gripe about the heat during the summer months, complaining that the heat made him sticky. Sometimes, Chief Burns would be a touch chilled when first entering Chase’s cab, though he never really commented on such.

Both were easily fixed and placated with the flick of a dial that had the Chief murmuring gratefully, sinking in to the warmth with a subtle but firm pat to the dashboard. On the other hand, it had Kade and Heatwave grouching at each other loudly until Heatwave finally cranked the AC as high as it would go, and, in a most petulant manner, they would spat for a few minutes longer, then acquiesce; although both Chase and Cody were proud to announce the fact that these spats and arguments had become fewer in frequency over the course of time, a fact that they took immense satisfaction in: it meant they were getting along, working together, tolerating each other’s presence. They still fought, surely, because that’s just who they were as people (and cybertronian).

(Chase would not divulge Heatwave’s late-night ramblings about his parter, ranging from words not meant for the likes of little audials, to worries about his human friend. Heatwave was shudder-to-think that Kade would actually realize that Heatwave listens to him, much less cares about him, in the covertly roundabout way that Heatwave does when he meets new people that seem to grow on him. Yes, Chase was sure Heatwave’s quiet affections were born out of nothing but pure concern about the fragileness of his squishy human partner and the rest of the Burns family.)

At the end of the day, when they had the time to spare and a near-certain guarantee of no impending emergencies to disrupt them, Heatwave would sit on the bot-sized couch, Chase’s helm cradled delicately in his lap, and they could bask in each others’ presence and talk in their native vernacular, occasionally watching human TV or reading datapads and books alike. Of course, they would swap positions interchangeably— it all depended on how the two felt on that particular night.

Heatwave’s heat would leach into Chase’s cool, and the two mechs would sit there, basking in the steady, familiar equilibrium of their soothed sparks and evenly-temperatured frames.

Sometimes, one of them would instead lay down on the couch like it was a squishy berth, and the other could lay on top, trading coolness for warmth (and vise versa), and let the steadiness wash over them, EM fields melding lazily, and systems shutting down to fall into an easy, quiet recharge.

It was peaceful. Routine, when they could afford it. Nice, even, though they would argue on separate fronts that any one-on-one time with their Amica was beyond just “nice”.

It was the perfect way to recharge, Heatwave thought, never one to shy away from physical affection (in the many gruff forms he typically dished it out in) with someone he loved. If Chase could have it his way, they would do this every night, holding servos and muttering halting words and conversations half-thought out to each other into the gentle quiet of the bunker.

Chase’s normally rigid, borderline inexpressive field going almost wiggly and boneless, blanketing over them as he grumbled tiredly over his Amica, shifting as he knocked their helms together gently in a spur of the moment bout of (what sometimes felt like an overwhelming amount of) affection.

Heatwave gave his servo a gentle squeeze, making soothing little sounds to calm the policebot back into recharge and settling his own field over the two of them, engine purring quietly in contentment. Heatwave was quick to glare and snap at any of the other bots that might come near them that were in the “living room” part of the bunker with them, mostly for fear that they might make a nasty comment on their admittedly compromising condition, though that happening in and of itself was a rare occurrence due to the timing of their little quiet moments, and the sheer respect the other two held for them.

It was actually Boulder who found them the first time it happened on Earth, Heatwave recharging so deeply his engine was stuttering, with his helm cradled in Chase’s lap with one of Chase’s servos supporting his neck plating.

Boulder had stopped and looked, eyeridge quirking up in a decidedly learned human gesture, to which Chase merely brushed him off with a wave of his free servo and a flick of his field dismissively, returning to his datapad. Boulder, ever the calm, non-confrontational mech, had never mentioned it after the fact, drawing his own conclusions in the privacy of his mind (with maybe a few snapped photos for his memory files, just in case).

The second time, it was Blades who found them, Chase soundly recharging while leaning against Heatwave, their servos clasped between one another even in his recharge. Heatwave glanced up from the TV and glared at Blades with a viciousness that would earn him a scolding later, who skittered off without a word of question, a touch too skittish to try and ask the angry firemech until much, much later.

Heatwave was protective and touchy when it came to his Amica and their status, sue him.

Over the months, Boulder finally gathered some courage to ask Chase about their potential relationship, with all the grace of a thudding ballerina.

“We’re Amica Endura,” Chase had simply said after Boulder’s shy, stuttered question, almost smiling and most definitely pleased with himself, if the way tender emotion seeping onto his faceplate was any indication, “and have been for many vorns.”

“I see,” Boulder had replied, grinning and nodding, grateful that admittedly tactless way he asked the question hadn’t upset the policebot. “You two were partners back in the Academy.” It’s more of a statement than a question, prodding at the prospective double-meaning of the word.

“Heatwave was the only mech who wanted to be around me back in the Academy, given my… unique circumstances.”

“Unique—? Oh. Right. Sorry, Chase, I didn’t—“ realize, didn’t remember, didn’t know it affected your life like that— a frown, field tugging in, then Chase’s reassurance:

“It’s quite alright, Boulder. No bodily damage or any vulgar obscenities said, as the Chief says.”

“You mean ‘no harm, no foul’, Chase?” Heatwave entered the room with thudding pedesteps, looking between the two with half-formed suspicion lingering in his optics, arms crossed right against his chest. “What’s this about?” His field tugged at Chase’s with question and apprehension lingering between them, a silent what’s going on both said and not.

“Boulder was just inquiring about our Amica Endura status,” Chase informs, tone bordering on bright, his audial twitching in a different direction— most likely he heard something from upstairs, “And I find that we are the most probable source of reliable information about the subject, Heatwave, and our friend was merely curious.”

“Right.” Heatwave grunted, field tugging Chase’s briefly in something like relief and acceptance before patting his shoulder armor firmly and moving on, the brief contact exchanging both pleasant warmth and much-needed coolness.

“I think he’s a little…” Boulder trailed off, searching for a word that was less-rude than “prickly” or “overly worried”.

“Protective?” Chase hummed in question, helm tilting to the side, “I feel the same, but it is entirely warranted, given our past, and he is my Amica.” Chase says, like it explains everything, and, well, maybe it did, “I will stick by him, rites-willing.”

Boulder smiled in that soft, knowing way of his, optics warm. “Must be nice, having a sparkner all this time. I’m glad you have each other.”

“As am I. I’m grateful to have Heatwave for so long, and I’m want for nothing more in a partner.”

“That’s awfully sweet,” Bounder’s field went all soft, his affection tugging at Chase’s stiff field. “You balance each other out, now that I think about it.” Remembering all of the times Chase was able to calm Heatwave when he was on an irate, angry warpath with a servo to the shoulder plate and some hushed words exchanged in soft Cybertronian; all of the times Chase was stuck in a cyclical, logical thought-process and couldn’t see things from a different light had Heatwave telling him the facts point-blank, trying to drill his way through and urging Chase to attack the issue from a different, still somewhat logical connection.

Now that he thinks about it, Boulder recalls how Heatwave was always the mech that ran the warmest when they were on the Sigma, practically radiating heat in the endless, desolate cold of space that even they could feel. Chase was always the coldest, seemingly emanating a unique sort of cool that seemed permeated the space around him in some circumstances.

Opposites, indeed. But, Boulder thought, it was kind of fitting. Chase’s mouth tugged into that half-grin of his, “That we do. Now, if you’ll excuse me, Boulder, I have some studying to do.” And with that, Chase sauntered off, likely in search of his police manual.

“Huh. Wonder how we didn’t see it before.” Boulder mumbled to himself, shaking his helm fondly and turning around to go back to the bunker through the garage.

“See what?” Blades asked, turning the corner, “If there’s any gossip, I want to know!” Primus, he was sounding more and more like Dani every day.

“I, uh. Well, you see,” Boulder attempted, still unsure if the two Amicas wanted their relationship aired out.

Blades shot him a look, both teasing and intrigued. “Well?”

Scrap.

#OKAY SO quick lesson on the headcanons for Chase:#he’s something called a NET patient #which was a series of experiments on bots to make them behave a certain way #like certain bots of certain frames already had some similar personality traits #but NET took this to the extreme and shut of parts of mechs sparks in order to cut off certain emotions #Chase is one of these NET patients and struggles a little with things that aren’t totally logical #I don’t lean into it TOO too much BUT #spoilers for the fic past THIS tag so yk:#the part where Chase mentions ‘unique circumstances’ is reference to how he struggled to fit in during his Rescue Academy days #with mechs just in general being rlly mean to him EXCEPT for heatwave #then they became partners then amica’s (I called it sparkners at one point cuz like. spark-partner. sparkner. I thought it was clever LMAO)#but ANYWAY GO READ THE THINKER THE FEELER #I feel like it’s a bit of a fandom staple and I love it #I read it a few years ago when I was a little younger and as someone looking for rep in media #seeing chase portrayed like that will always be something near and dear to me #tf #transformers #tfrb #rescue bots #transformers rescue bots #tfprb #rescue bots heatwave #heatwave #rescue bots chase #chase #rescue bots Boulder #Boulder #rescue bots blades #blades #Cody burns

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axreliono · 1 year

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HELLO TUMBLR IT IS HERE!!!!! the silly summary ppt i made for my sakuatsu star wars au fic !!! read for an outline of the plot, characters tropes and more and get excited bc chapter 1 might b coming soon.... <3

#sakuatsu #star wars #star wars au #haikyuu fanfiction #hq fanfic #haikyuu #ao3fic #OK sorry abt those tags #anyway #i rlly hope this gets u hyped #bc i'm so excited abt this fic #chap1 coming probably sometime before summer............#EEEEEEEE #words etc #to the ends of the earth #tteote

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stickyspeckledlight · 2 days

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2.2 is in just a couple of days….HNDBJDNNDHDNDNSNSJSJSJ

it’s alright. I’ll just work extra hard on my assignments so I can truly enjoy 2.2 💪

#speckled blabbers #I’m so excited #also no one is talking abt jade lc leaks what’s up with that #i think I’ll gush abt it when we know more abt her #in any case I RLLY wanna see her and aven’s dynamic #and I put an imagine in some tags awhile back but #Jade…finding a darling…finding a perfect treasure to lavish in wealth…of course #she doesn’t like it when her treasure leaves the vault….#*coughs*#anyway I still have the aven bday fic to work on #there’s only an hour left for me but I CAN DO IT

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livehexmoments · 10 months

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SO...Here it is. My biggest fanfic yet and for the hex...focusing on a character that had less than 5 minutes of screentime (and died :( ) and here i am shipping him with the revenge hungry bartender and cold hearted groonda (ill come up with a good title for it later) I enjoyed writing and rewriting this fic even though it was painful to get through at times. Is it the best it can be? Probably not FWEGRWEGH Some general cws for character death, mention of nsfw (nothing explicitly shown, but it is implied/mentioned), and drinking/someone getting drunk (lemme know if i missed any!!)

Also no joke, this is 11,100 words and in google docs, it amounts to 29 pages. This is pretty long and splitting up into chapters just didnt feel right so it’s all underneath the “Keep reading”. If you are not prepared to read through the entire thing, i understand completely and hope you have a nice day wherever you are <3. If so, I do hope you enjoy it !! :)!

Rootbeer Tender.

Personally, Jay never heard of the game until he overheard a bunch of Groondas talk about it. From what he gathered, the game itself was said to be like a janky arcade game that played like it was made by a toddler. The only reason why a bunch of Gameworks employees go there (other than for a job) is because of a quaint little tavern that serves the best root beer around. Jay, finding himself curious, decided to go to the bar himself to see if it held up to that standard. What else was he doing other than cleaning? He could use a nice root beer. The forest loomed over him as he approached the inn. Although the inn looked welcoming, the jankiness and unpolished look made him feel a bit out of place. The lights were dimmed and the moon hung in the woods, omitting an eerie glow. Jay knew it was late and they were probably closed, but this was his only time off. He had to at least try a rootbeer. But as soon as he got to the door, he felt himself getting cold feet. They probably were closed, so why bother whoever’s working there now? As he turned to walk back to the base, he heard the door open behind him.

Jay turns around to see what looked to be the barkeep, holding the door open with a warm smile. Peering from behind his legs was this weird looking…Groonda? Jay couldn’t tell, but it was hunched over with an annoyed expression on its face. Jay looked anxious as he stuttered,

“Oh I’m terribly sorry. I-I was just- Well, I was just leaving so I’ll come back tomorrow when you’re open-”

The barkeep interrupted, “Leave? After you came all the way from the base? I don’t mind pouring one more glass.”

Jay grinned nervously. While the barkeep’s kindness was something he can appreciate, the idea of making these two work overtime for him? Well that was just rude in Jay’s opinion.

“Oh, that’s very kind of you, but really I should get going. You both look like you need some sleep.” Jay stuttered out as he tried to walk off. Apparently, the barkeep was having none of it and took a step forward to grab Jay by the shoulders with one arm. Jay’s face flushed as the bartender started to lead him into the tavern.

“Nonsense! Come right in, take a seat, please!” The barkeep paused his movements to look at the smaller man who Jay swore was giving him a dirty look. “Jeremiah, would you mind fetching another barrel from the basement?” The barkeep asked with a warm smile on his face.

Jeremiah nods wordlessly and he heads down into the basement.

Meanwhile, The bartender leads Jay to a stool and he sits down. Jay takes the moment to look around the inn while the bartender gets a glass ready. It was homey. The gramophone in the corner of the room was playing a song that Jay will have stuck in his head for days. The sudden voice of the bartender interrupted his musings,

“So mister, how do you take your rootbeer?” Jay looked over to him. Jeremiah was already back (Jay swore he didn’t hear him come back) and was setting up a barrel on the far side of the room. The bartender was looking at him with a patient smile. Jay quickly glanced away, not used to anyone showing him such patience or kindness.

“I never had a rootbeer before.” He nervously said, rubbing the back of his head.

The bartender looks surprised. “Never had a root beer?!” He exclaimed in shock. Jay nodded, still looking away from him. The barkeep hummed and quickly went over to the barrel. “Well, I’ll just make the First Timer’s special.”

Before Jay can even ask what that is, he watches in awe as the barkeep makes his drink so fast that by time he slides it over for Jay to catch, Jay misses and the drink falls on the floor. The loud glass shattering makes Jay winces as he fearfully looks over to the bartender who was just staring at him.

“I-I’m so so sorry! I’ll clean it myself or I can just leave if you want-” His apologies were interrupted by the barkeep laughing loudly. His face flushes in embarrassment as he gets up from his seat to leave. The bartender slows down his laughing to motion Jay to sit back down.

“Oh you’re fine! It was just an accident, no need to be embarrassed. It’s my fault anyway. I keep forgetting sometimes not all my customers are familiar with my game.” The barkeep said sheepishly as he made another drink. Jay sits back down hesitantly, still looking at the mess.

“Do you still want me to clean it?”

“Hm? Oh, of course not! Jeremiah will take care of it.”

Right on cue, Jeremiah is already sweeping up the glass. Jay frowns, looking at the annoyed and tired expression on his face with sympathy. He recalled those late nights where some idiots decided to make a big mess at 2 am and Irving had forced Jay to stay overtime to clean it, making the same expression as Jeremiah’s. The bartender turns around with the remade drink in hand, only to find his patron was helping Jeremiah with the mess, using a nearby mop to clean up the drink. It was a welcome surprise to see Jeremiah seemingly having a conversation with a customer, especially one so skittish and anxious as Jay. Their conversation gets interrupted by the barkeep.

“What game are you from?” The barkeep asked curiously as he put Jay’s drink down where he sat. Both of them looked at him.

“Well…I’m just the janitor at the Gameworks base, sir. I wasn’t created from a game initially.” Jay stated, finishing up his cleaning and handing the mop to Jeremiah to put away. He sat down at his seat.

“Really? Well, I’m shocked.” The barkeep sounded genuine. He pulled up a stool from behind him to sit across from Jay. “And here I thought all characters were made for some type of game.”

“That’s kind of true? I mean, we all get used for games eventually. But in the meantime, some characters just work around the base. I-I have a friend who’s just a mechanic. She just makes sure things work right in games and anywhere else.” Jay took a sip of his drink. His eyes widened as the sweet flavor of the root beer covered his taste buds. He takes another sip, this time a bit longer, just to savor it. The barkeep chuckles at the sight of it, glad that he was able to satisfy another customer.

“So? Was it good?”

“Better than good! This is the sweetest drink I’ve ever had in my life. Probably the best root beer I’ve ever had too, and it’s my first time drinking one.”

“Well, I’m glad to hear it!” The barkeep says with a proud grin. “You know, I just realized we never even properly introduced ourselves.”

“Oh- uh, my bad, I-”

“Friend, don’t worry about it! My name is Rootbeer Reginald, but please just call me Reggie. The little guy over there,” he pointed towards Jeremiah, who was putting away the mop and cleaning supplies. “His name is Jeremiah, that’s my janitor.”

Jay tilted his head a bit at Reggie, who looked at him with a smile.

“...Your first name is Rootbeer?”

The smile faltered a bit as Reggie laughed nervously.

“No, not really. It’s just what I’m called. The only thing I serve in this tavern is root beer, you know?”

“Yes, but…You just said your name is “Rootbeer Reginald” so excuse me if I find it hard to believe you. Also, it sounds like something Lionel would make up for a character name.” Jay snickered watching the bartender’s face flushed in embarrassment and annoyance.

“Well! It doesn’t matter because I insist you just call me Reggie. Enough about my name, what’s yours?”

“Jay.”

“Jay…that’s a nice name.” The barkeep holds his hand towards Jay, who shakes it.

“It’s better than having RootBeer as a first name.” Jay says in a jokey tone, feeling the little root beer in his system. He expects Reggie to get furious, but is a bit shocked to see him look annoyed but still smiling.

“Oh knock it off! At least I have a last name.”

“Which is also a first name..”

Reginald and Jay laugh together at the absurdity of it. As the night goes on, Jay finds himself becoming more comfortable. Reginald was a great conversationalist, listening to Jay with a warm smile. Jeremiah wasn’t too bad either. The little guy was sitting with them, quietly listening along and only talking unless spoken to. Jay made a mental note to maybe get to know him better when he came to the tavern again.

...

As Jay finished his drink, he felt a bit sad that he had to leave. If he wasn’t there by sunrise, Irving would kill him.

“Again, I’m sorry I came here so late. I hope I didn’t screw up your sleep schedule or anything.” Jay watched as Reggie waved him off, finishing his cleaning and putting the stool back.

“Oh, don’t worry about it. I forgot how nice it is just to have some company. Not to say you’re not good company, Jeremiah!” Reggie laughs as Jeremiah rolls his eyes. Jay laughs along, a warm smile on his usually depressed face. As he waved goodbye to them and bid them good night, Jay was sure this wouldn’t be the last he would see of them.

“I hate Irving so much. Oh ‘mir, I wish I can just get reassigned to your game so I wouldn’t have to deal with his fucking BULLSHIT!!” Jay yelled as he gulped down his fifth drink. Reggie sighed as he cleaned a dirty glass and watched Jay, feeling sorry for the guy.

“Language, Jay.” Jeremiah said in a monotone voice, taking a seat on the bar next to Jay.

Jay was clearly shitfaced, having drank about 5 root beers in one go. His face was flushed red with his hair looking messed up. When he finished, he slammed the glass on the bar, almost breaking it.

“Sorry, sorry, I-I’m just so tired. I don’t understand how you two can stand the asshole. Bossing us around, treating us like garbage, he doesn’t care. He never did.” Jay hiccuped, tears running down his face as he choked back drunken sobs. Jeremiah rubbed his back to comfort him. Reggie took the glass away from Jay, cleaning it already.

“Can-Can I have another?”

“No. I’m cutting you off, Jay. As a friend, I will not allow you to die of root beer poisoning.” Reggie puts the now cleaned glass away and walks over to the other side of the bar, sitting next to Jay on the other side. “And I think Irving…I think he’s just stressed. He has a lot on his plate and I’m sure he cares. I don’t think it’s right he’s taking it out on you though, but I can talk to him about it. He visits sometimes.”

Reggie’s smile fades as Jay turns to look straight at him.

“You don’t- You just don’t- What the hell is wrong with you?! Can’t you comprehend that Irving doesn’t like us?” Jay laughs a bit manically as Reggie frowns. Jeremiah behind him growls a bit, becoming defensive.

“Reginald just sees the good in people, Jay. Nothing wrong with that.”

“But you of all people should know! I…”

Jay looks at both of them, and suddenly grabs their hands.

“I just want what’s best for you two. You’re the only friends I have and I’m terrified of ending up alone.” As Jay is saying this, he is glancing back and forth at Reggie and Jeremiah, gripping their hands tighter. While Jeremiah looks confused with his face red, Reggie smiles gently and rubs Jay’s knuckles.

“Your concern is appreciated, Jay. I assure you that I’m not mad, you’re drunk and stressed and sometimes you gotta let it out! I know I do that sometimes.” Reggie laughs softly. Jay can feel Jeremiah squeeze his hand a bit. “But Jeremiah and I aren’t going anywhere. You’re our friend, Jay. You’ll always have a place here at the inn. Anytime. Maybe I’ll convince Irving to let you work here. I could always use more help around here. Certainly would lessen the load, right Jeremiah?”

Jeremiah spoke up, “Yes. It would be nice to have a second pair of hands around.”

Jay sniffled as he stood up from his chair, a shaky and bittersweet smile on his face.

“Thank you. I mean it, truely, thank you. I have- I have to leave. See you tomorrow?”

Reggie noticed how much he wobbled as he stood and looked at him concerned.

“Are you sure you can even make it back? I’m happy to let you sleep in the cabin for the night.”

“I’m fineee, better than fine. I feel great. You two always make me feel better. With your kindness and…no nonsense attitude.” Jay giggles at that for some reason. He notices how he was still holding their hands, clearly not letting go. But instead of just letting go and apologizing like he normally would, his drunken mind decided to embrace the homoerotic nature of it all and kiss their cheeks instead. Letting go of their hands, he walks out of the tavern, yelling good night to them and saying he loves them while laughing. What Jay didn’t see was their flushed faces and sudden realization that maybe their friendship wasn’t so platonic afterall.

...

Several years have passed since that night.

Jay sighed as he cleaned the floor of the temple, staring at the reflection of the shiny clean floor.

He didn’t know why his mind decided to drift back to his memories of the inn. Hearing the songs on the gramophone, the smell of rootbeer, and the laughter of the barkeep after Jay told him a joke.

He really did miss Reggie. His warm smile. How he always knew what to say and what advice to give. How he would so gently put his hand on Jay’s shoulder after crying and complaining about a long day of work.

Even Jeremiah, for as creepy and cold the little guy could be, there was something in there. They both could relate to the horrid treatment they faced at the hands of Gamefuna (especially in regards to Irving). There were moments, Jay recalled, where Jeremiah would let down his cold exterior to reveal a much softer side of him. One that would grab your hand and never let go. One who concerns himself over every little thing, worries over your safety and well being and-

Jay’s eyes widened at his sudden realization. He was in love with them, wasn’t he? Was he that repressed he couldn’t acknowledge it? Why did he hesitate for so long? If he had just confessed sooner, if he just wasn't a coward, would things be different? Would he not feel so alone anymore?

The truth is, Jay thought as his hands began to tremble a bit, that it wouldn’t have mattered. They vanished long before Jay could even rationalize his true feelings towards them. Apparently moved to a different game but he didn’t believe that. Not after Irving told him with an almost relieved and cruel face. And what difference would it make if he told? It wouldn’t have lasted, in fact it would have made everything worse. Imagine confessing the two people who made him the happiest in the world and they accepted him, or rejected him in a soft way. Jay knows for a fact Reggie is far too kind to reject someone coldly. It’s not like him to be cruel. Jeremiah would go along with whatever Reggie would say, so maybe he had a shot. Who knows but the point is it would always be the same fate. Happiness then nothing.

There was no stopping Rootbeer Tender’s shut down, complete erasure from Lionel’s portfolio. Why? Because he was the first, the less polished game? What a sick joke. All of Lionel’s games were unpolished travesties, Rootbeer Tender was no different. The game…no, not just the game. Reggie and Jeremiah did not deserve whatever Irving did to them. Jay should have been there. He could have tried to prevent it. Even if he couldn’t, he could have given one more goodbye, he could have-

Jay’s thoughts halted when he saw droplets of water on the floor. He shakily touched his face to feel some wetness on his cheeks. He was crying. He quickly started to wipe his eyes and sniff up his snot when he heard the door opening. Thankfully it wasn’t Chandrelle, but the great sage doing his routine checks. The sage stopped in front of Jay.

“Are you alright?”

“Yes, I’m fine. Just allergies.”

“Ah, I see.”

The sage quickly looked around to make sure everything was in order and walked away to the door. All the while, Jay’s memories of the inn and the two owners he adored kept haunting him. All he can do is mop the same spot, over and over, lost in the images of happier days and the regrets he had. A voice suddenly spoke up, it was the sage.

“Jay?”

“Hm?”

“...You missed a spot near the altar.”

And with that the Sage left and closed the door. Jay threw his mop on the floor and softly sobbed in his hands, standing alone in the temple.

...

It was almost ironic how much Lazarus reminded Jay of himself that day. Crying alone in the temple where no one would hear him, wishing to go back to the days of old. Yet never realizing how the past was not much better than the present. Jay watched Lazarus from the slightly opened door of his room, softly sobbing in his hands and trembling as every sob choked out of his throat. He didn’t mean to stumble upon such a private moment. He was just trying to get away from Junior, who had been arguing with him all day about wanting to handle the explosives (which Jay knows from experience, will only end in disaster).

As he was heading to his own room, he heard the sobs and had to peek in. As much as Jay would want to comfort him, he knew better. Lazarus was a very private person. Rarely expressing any emotion other than a depressed frown and emotionless eyes. He never let anyone in his room nor did he talk about how he felt about things, just went along with whatever Jay or Junior said. It concerned Jay how loyal and unquestioning Lazarus could be, but supposed it was because of his days as a knight. It was hard to recode an entire character after all, or at least he heard Irving complain about it one time. Still, Jay decided to softly sigh and attempt to leave him alone.

Unfortunately, the door creaked just loud enough and opened only enough for Lazarus to stop and look up at Jay. Jay could see his horrified face staring at him, silently pleading with him not to tell and leave. At this moment, Jay could have walked up to him and comforted him, telling him that it’s all going to be okay, they’ll get out eventually. But what good would lying do? He wasn’t even sure Lazarus’s plan of going to that “Six Pint Inn'' would even work. However, as much as Jay’s instincts told him to walk away and avoid an awkward confrontation, staring at the poor ex-knight with sickly pale green skin and red eyes made him realize that taking the coward’s path was a horrible option. So he opted to compromise.

Slowly entering the room, he pulled out a clean rag from his armor (he always carried one or two around to clean the blood from his suit) and handed it to Lazarus. He softly sighed as Lazarus took the rag with an unreadable expression.

“If you ever need to talk, uh, about anything, I’ll listen. I won’t tell Junior anything, it’s none of his business.” There was an awkward pause. Lazarus simply stared at him and Jay had to look away, turning around to head out the room. Before Jay can leave, he heard Lazarus speak up softly.

“Thank you. You’re a good man, Jay.”

Jay glanced at Lazarus, who he noticed was giving a small smile as he wiped his eyes. Jay smiled back at him and nodded, leaving the room. It was a small gesture, but it was enough. Mir’, Jay hoped it was enough.

...

Walking through the forest path felt familiar to Jay. Following behind Lazarus, he couldn’t help but to look around, desperately trying to remember if he had ever walked down this path. The storm raging on didn’t help with this process. As the thunder boomed and lightning cracked down from the sky, his thought process stopped and he jumped a little. Junior, who was walking beside him, laughed.

“Aw, what’s the matter? You’re scared of a little storm?”

“No! I was just startled, that’s all.”

“Uh-huh.” Junior said with a smug smirk.

Lazarus barely turned around to engage in their shenanigans. He gave a small glance before motioning them to pick up the pace. Jay frowned at this. He always worried about Lazarus. Poor guy was never the same after what happened in Secrets of Legendaria.

After a bit of walking, Lazarus stopped in front of the inn.

“..We’re here.”

While Junior was complaining about how small the inn actually was and Lazarus was knocking on the door, Jay’s eyes widened in realization.

This was Rootbeer Tender. It had to be. He turned to his right to see the cabin, a few paces away. There was no mistaking it. That was Reggie’s cabin, clearly seeing better days, but still intact. Could this mean that he’s…alive? Was he truly replaced by someone else?

Lazarus’s voice cut through his thoughts.

“Jay!” He turned to look at him.

“Come on, the door’s open.” “...Right.”

Jay took a deep breath and adjusted his helmet. He entered the inn.

The place was far different to what he remembered of it. The rows of bars were gone, replaced with only one in the center of the room. The most striking change was the giant mirror behind the bar. But it was disgusting, the dust made it impossible to see a clear reflection. He noticed even more little details, like the vending machine on the far right of the room, and even a door that leads to what looked to be a kitchen. A kitchen was the strangest thing to Jay. He remembered how bad Reggie’s cooking was, even if the man himself would never admit it was. Speaking of Reggie, he did notice the portrait of him and Jeremiah. Jay would never say it outloud but he couldn’t help it, the portrait just reminded him of how handsome Reggie was (and Jeremiah, but he couldn’t get a good look at him. He almost laughed to see how the photo cut him off due to his height).

Lazarus and Junior were already making themselves known. Junior walks over to Weasel Kid, interrupting an one sided conversation between him and the weird old man in survivor gear. Jay watched as Junior said something so funny apparently it made the kid laugh. Out of all people, he did not expect to see Weasel Kid end up here. Lazarus was sitting on the stool, talking to someone he couldn’t see from where he was standing. So he glanced around to see if anyone else was here.

He saw what looked like a fighting character. Jay had to think for a moment to remember the fighter’s name. Bryce, Jay remembered, that was his name. He remembered his one fight with Steambot Willy. He never got the chance to really talk to him during that fight or when he saw Bryce walking around base. But from the memories of Bryce waving to him every time they acknowledged each other’s existence, he always seemed nice enough. He looked to be talking quietly to Chandrelle. So that’s what happened to them, Jay thought to himself. He can see why Lazarus was so adamant on going here. Chandrelle looked about the same as Jay remembered. He’s almost grateful that she hasn't recognized him or Junior yet. Junior especially, remembering that talk with Lazarus and him confessing what she did to Moji. Jay never understood why Lazarus would still see any good in her, but Jay supposes that being her swordsman has something to do with it.

Jay finally decides to stop standing in the entrance, as his feet were starting to hurt and he didn’t want to draw any attention to himself. He took a seat next to where Bryce and Chandrelle were standing, keeping his back turned to them to watch Lazarus talk to the bartender. The bartender was-

. . .

Jay’s eyes widened as he recognized him. Rootbeer Regianld himself. For Mir’s sake, what happened to him? He looked much older than Jay could ever have imagined, with wrinkles on his face and dark shadows under his eyes. He was supposed to be a year or two younger than Jay. They joked about that a lot. His hair was receding a bit and he noticed the wheelchair Reggie was sitting in. Jay looked at the portrait on the wall and back at the barkeep, wondering why the years were seemingly so cruel to him. Jay hoped to whatever creator was behind the screen that Jeremiah didn’t look much worse. Jay’s thoughts were interrupted by Junior’s impatient yelling.

“JAY! Man, what the hell is wrong with you?!”

Jay realized that all eyes were on him. The confused stares of patrons, Lazarus’s concerned stare, Junior’s frustrated look, and Reggie’s emotionless face made Jay more and more uncomfortable. Jay shook his head and stood straighter.

“S-Sorry, what were you saying?”

Reginald spoke up and Jay noticed how much rougher his voice sounded.

“I was saying that you three are needed in the attic. Take the elevator. Weasel Kid will be there to guide you, isn’t that right?”

“Whatever.”

Jay followed the three onto the elevator. There was a moment before the elevator moved where he and Reggie locked eyes. Neither one broke it as the elevator slowly moved up. It was clear that Reginald recognized him yet Jay can sense a disbelief in his face as well. The thoughts stuck with Jay, long after the elevator reached the 2nd floor and the group followed Weasel to the attic.

...

Jay never recalled the old inn even having an attic, let alone a second floor. His way up to the attic was filled with him looking around the decor and rooms the place had. Reginald and Jeremiah never had good taste in decoration, let alone ones that fit, but for what it was, it was decent. Though, Jay probably would have done a better job. He was grateful that the way up was an awkward silence, although Junior and Weasel would mutter amongst themselves, discussing whatever that didn’t concern Jay. It was when they reached the attic that Jay came across another familiar face. Although he was in robes and his face was hidden, Jay had no doubts that it was Jeremiah. There weren’t a lot of small, hunched over people with a robe such as his that Jay knew. As Jeremiah turned around to face them, he noticed a small patch on the robe. Did something happen to him..? Those thoughts would have to wait as Jeremiah spoke,

“Ah…So you finally arrived. Early, I might add. I thought we agreed to debrief tomorrow, Lazarus?”

“The sooner, the better. I want to get this over with.” There was a small pause as Jeremiah let out a pleased hum.

“I understand. I think you made a good call. Now, let us go over the plan.”

Jeremiah unceremoniously took off the robe. He looked pretty much the same as he used to, only with a similar patch on his suit. Jay breathed a small sigh of relief. He didn’t know how he would react if Jeremiah looked as bad as Reggie did. As everyone gathered around the table, Jay noticed how he stared at him for a brief second only to start discussing the plan like nothing happened.

It seemed like a good plan. Everyone does their part, they steal the artifact, get out, then bomb the base and everyone inside. Irving would die (maybe? He didn’t sound so sure about it) and they would be back at the inn safely. Weasel would find his own way and sneak into the sewers, carrying the bomb and blowing up column A when the time was right. Junior would clear out any soldiers to prevent a flank, Lazarus would help when necessary, and Jay was in charge of disarming the security system. Due to Lazarus’s insistence on doing the debriefing early, it only made sense to enact the plan that early morning. While the plan seemed self explanatory, Jay couldn’t help but to have a bad feeling about it. Those feelings only worsened when Jeremiah started to discuss the disclaimers.

For one, there was no backing out. It was either you’re in or not, and if anyone makes an attempt to leave, they would die. By Jeremiah’s hands or any other brave soul willing to do it. He also made clear that this plan was not flawless. There was a likelihood that any of them could die during the operation. Jay wasn’t surprised to see Lazarus agree to all of this so quickly. No hesitation as he nods and shakes Jeremiah’s hand. Jay admits that Lazarus was someone who would rather be dead than to be sent on another mission again. Jay couldn’t help but to agree, even if he was absolutely terrified of dying. Junior was on board with this whole plan as well. Of course, he probably ignored the warnings and just wanted to cause as much damage to Gameworks as possible. Jay heard Junior loudly tease Weasel Kid to “not fuck this up and kill everyone” as the two were leaving for the elevator. Jay was about to follow them and Lazarus out, but heard Jeremiah call out for him.

“Hang on. You, Jay, I need to discuss something with you.”

Lazarus glanced back at Jay who shrugged and motioned to go on without him.

Jay returned to the table, sitting across from Jeremiah who was staring at him intently. There was an awkward silence.

“So, it’s been a while.” Jay broke the silence while wringing his hands together. Jeremiah took a deep breath, his age was becoming apparent as Jay saw how tired the man really looked.

“Yes. It has. What are you doing here?”

Jay shrugged and responded, “I was resigned to this game.” He paused for a second, realizing it wasn’t 100% true, so he rephased it. “Well, it was more of me wanting to be in it for the excitement.” Jay let out a bitter laugh.

Jeremiah looked surprised. “Out of all games, you chose this one? You’re a janitor, Jay. Not a soldier.”

“I’m beginning to realize that.”

There is another pause. Jay looked away from Jeremiah, content with staring at the ground. He didn’t want him to see how he was almost crying.

“I thought you both died. I mourned for you two.”

“I’m sorry to hear that.”

“What happened to you and Reggie?”

Jeremiah started to tap his clawed finger on the table, a bit of a pained look on his face.

“I..I wish not to discuss it without Reginald’s consent.”

“I see. Well, it’s good to see you’re both alive and well. I should get going.”

As Jay was about to get up and leave this awkward situation, Jeremiah stopped him, this time grabbing his arm quickly.

“I did not say that this discussion was over, Jay.”

“What is it you want to discuss?”

“The plan. I want you to make sure you’re in.”

That made Jay look back at Jeremiah. He laughed awkwardly, becoming nervous under Jeremiah’s stern stare.

“I…I don’t think I should be a part of it. There’s no room for cowards and well, I haven’t changed in that regard.”

“Jay. You were never a coward.”

“I find that very hard to believe.” Jeremiah looked a bit frustrated. He climbed on top of the table to gently grab Jay’s shoulders.

“Listen to me. You are not a coward. In fact, we-...I need you for this plan. You’re the only other person with only knowledge of the base and its systems. I promise you will be safe so long as you follow everything to a tee, I’ll make sure of it.”

A sudden static noise from Jeremiah’s pocket interrupts the conversation. As he excuses himself and answers, Jay reflects on what Jeremiah told him. While it was nice to hear Jeremiah be so confident about him, his self doubt was already asking why that was. He was a coward, plenty of times he ran away from a fight when his comrades were doing all the fighting. Even back then, he was too afraid of rejection to even-

No, Jay grimaced and shaked his head as he shook the thought out of his head. He stopped his thoughts from wandering any further when he saw Jeremiah put the device back in his pocket and looked at Jay.

“That was Reginald. He requests that you spend the night with us in the cabin.”

Jay furrowed his eyebrows in confusion. “Why?”

“It’s far too dangerous to fly in this weather. The others already have their rooms, but we have a miscalculation in how many people we would have to room. Besides, Reggie insists you come to the cabin. He would like to speak with you as well.” All of a sudden, Jeremiah grabbed his hand, which flustered Jay. His hand was freezing, it felt like he was holding a corpse’s hand more than a living person’s. “It’s nothing bad. It would be better than sleeping outside and it will be just us. Like old times.” Jeremiah said in a soft tone, softly smiling at Jay. Jay had seen Jerry smile genuinely before yet this one felt a bit forced. But Jay didn’t seem to care. In the moment, seeing Jeremiah’s smile only flustered him more as old feelings started to come back.

“...Alright.” Jay reluctantly said after glancing back and forth at the ground and Jeremiah’s face.

With that, Jeremiah leads him to the secret elevator and they head down to the lobby, which was completely empty. Jay noticed as they exited the inn that Jeremiah never let go of his hand, content with leading him to the cabin. The warm lights of its inside softly shining in the distance contrasted with the dread Jay felt in his stomach.

...

When Jay entered the cabin, it looked pretty much the same as it used to. Although there were some little details that looked new to Jay, it all felt familiar to him which was comforting. Yet, the presence of Reggie staring at the blank computer screen made the atmosphere more ominous. When Jeremiah came in and shut the door behind them, he turned to look at the two, wheeling his chair around to face them fully. The squeaking of the wheels made Jay cringe. Reggie stared for a moment, specifically at Jay, before giving him a small smile.

“Well I’ll be. It really is you. How have you been?”

Reggie’s smile and tone just felt wrong to Jay. It just didn’t feel…genuine. That’s what Reggie always was: Genuine. “I’ve been worse…What about you? Have you been doing alright?”

“Not at all!” Reggie gave a sharp and bitter laugh. Jay frowned at his response, realizing with seeing him in the wheelchair how dumb the question really sounded. Reginald continued, “Oh, I haven’t been alright in a long, long time. Neither of us have been. Isn’t that right Jeremiah?”

Jay almost forgot Jeremiah was there for how silent he was. Jeremiah climbed onto the arm of the wheelchair and clung onto it like a hawk with a trainer.

“Yes. It has been a difficult time for us.”

Jay looked at both of them with sympathy. There was an awkward silence between the three of them.

“But enough of this pity talk. It’s far too depressing for this reunion. Afterall, it’s been so long since the three of us got to be together like this! Would you mind grabbing those drinks behind you for us? And pull up a chair! Relax for a while! It’ll be just like old times.” Reggie broke the silence with a cheery tone and grin, gesturing towards the lone chair and table with glasses filled behind Jay. Jay took the chair and placed it in front of Reggie and Jeremiah. When he did sit down in front of them, passing the drinks along and taking his own, there was still an uncomfortable tension between them all. This didn’t feel like “old times”. Old times would be them laughing at jokes they made and complaining about their jobs. The old times would have Jay listening to Reggie and Jeremiah talk to each other, engrossed in their own conversation. Jay never minded. He knew how dedicated the two were to each other. He always felt grateful that they chose him to be a witness to their closer and more intimate moments. But the attention was all on him now and he wasn’t sure what to do with it. Jay took small sips of his drink as he watched the other two across from him looked as uncomfortable as he was.

“So… How come you’re in a wheelchair?” The moment Jay asked that question, Reggie frowned and he clenched the wheelchair’s arm.

“I’d rather not discuss it.”

“Reggie. I know it sounds like a sensitive topic-”

“If you know, then why are we discussing it?” Reggie forced a smile when saying that. For some reason, that forced smile was Jay’s final straw. Jay huffed in frustration.

“Because I thought, for all these years, that you two died. The least you can do is tell me what happened.”

“Again, I’d rather not. I’m sorry that our disappearance concerned you so much, however-” Jay suddenly interrupted Reggie in a fit of anger, shouting at them.

“Concerned?! I was more than concerned about you. I mourned for you. I cared so much about you two. Honestly, you two were the only friends I had. I just want to know what’s going on. This whole plan and…everything, it’s not like you two.”

Jay grabbed Reggie’s hand. Reggie flinched, which was concerning to Jay. But his attention was on him and not Jeremiah.

“No matter what you tell me, it will never leave this cabin. I promise you.” Jay grabs Jeremiah’s hand as well. Cold and small as it always was, yet his grip was tight. He can feel Jeremiah’s sharp nails dig into his skin. He ignored the pain and continued to push, “So can you two please tell me what happened to the old Reggie and Jeremiah? What changed?”

Reginald took a deep breath, glancing over to Jeremiah who was matching his tired expression. He stared into Jay’s concerned eyes, gripping his hand tightly.

“...Lionel did this to me.” Reggie confessed with a serious tone, not breaking eye contact with Jay. Jay couldn’t help but look confused. Lionel was a jerk, sure, but to this degree?

“Lionel? But-”

“He wanted this, Jay. He wanted me gone, but didn’t want any blood on his hands. So he sent Irving to do the dirty work of getting rid of me. I couldn’t believe it myself. Why would he want to get rid of me? He loved rootbeer and most importantly, he loved me. Or so I thought.” Jay noticed how Reginald was slightly shaking as he spoke. His hand was on his face, looking like he was desperately trying to keep composure. Jeremiah was already by his side, using his other arm to wrap around Reggie’s shoulders (or at least as far as his short arms can reach). Jay kept quiet, intently listening as he continued to hold their hands. Reggie continued,

“I refused to leave and well… I suppose Irving “respected” that decision.” He gestured towards his legs, letting out a bitter laugh. Jay’s eyes widen in horror as he puts the pieces together. It wasn’t out of character for Irving to be cruel, but this? This was on a whole other level. Reggie treated Irving with nothing but kindness and this is what he gets? It made Jay’s stomach turn.

“Have you ever felt betrayal, Jay?” Reginald asked Jay who snapped out of his angered thoughts.

“I-I don’t think so.”

“It’s the most painful feeling you will ever experience. Far worse than any physical torment, especially when your legs get broken into tiny bits of bones that stick out like knives. You lay on the floor, writhing in pain, thinking “Why would they do this to me? Was I not good enough? Was it my fault?”. And it is their fault, not mine! Never mine! I loved him! It’s all their fault. IT’S ALL HIS FAULT-”

As Reggie begins to yell in anger, he stops when he feels Jeremiah squeeze his shoulder, looking upset. He takes a deep breath as Jeremiah continues for him. “Lionel wanted to look like a game dev prodigy in the eyes of the unsuspecting public. Super Weasel Kid being his first game looks better than Rootbeer Tender. Such mediocrity being praised, it sickens me. How can a game like that excuse the denial of our existence? For our suffering? Can you even fathom such a thing?” Jeremiah said all of that with such venom, Jay almost wondered why Weasel Kid was even allowed in the inn. He continued, “Irving. For what he did to Reginald, he must suffer.”

“Ah, Jeremiah,” Reginald interrupted gently, “We are getting a bit ahead of ourselves.” “Wh-What does that mean? Is that what this whole plan is about? To get revenge on Irving?” Jay asked, slowly putting together the pieces. Reginald only gave Jay a dry smile.

“Ah. Well, you are about half right. I want Irving and Lionel dead.”

Jay let go of both of their hands, his face morphing into shock and horror. He stared at both of them in disbelief.

“Dead? You want them dead? That’s-” Jay laughs at how absurd it sounded. “Reggie, that’s nearly impossible. Lionel is on the other side of the screen! And Irving well-”

“Jay, I know this. That’s what this whole plan is for! Do you take me as a fool?” Reggie accused Jay with a bitter tone. Jay couldn’t help but to think if this really was Rootbeer Reggie and Jeremiah, his janitor. They certainly weren’t acting like them. The Jeremiah he knew was cold, but not malicious and hateful like the one in front of him. And the Reggie he knew was kind. Someone who would forgive too easily and always had a bright smile on his face. The man in front of him was not him, he was just someone with a similar face worn on like a distorted mask. His eyes filled with grief and darkness and the forced smiles he gave only made Jay more and more uncomfortable.

“I-I don’t- of course not, Reggie, but, this- I mean-” Jay kept stuttering as he fell under the pressure of their intense stares. He was almost grateful that Reggie interrupted him.

“There will be a ritual performed using the Artifact. It will be performed once all the necessary participants have been retrieved.”

“Participants?”

“I have been collecting those who have been wronged by Lionel and Irving,” Jeremiah answered. “For the ritual to work, it requires six player characters, the blessing of a human player, and the Artifact.”

“The Hex…” Reggie said with a manic grin. “The Hex will allow us access to the real world. Once then, I will kill Lionel myself and this will all be over. I can finally be at peace.”

“And…And what about Irving? How do you plan on going about that?”

Jeremiah, who was silent throughout Reggie’s explanation, spoke up, “The explosion from the bomb should be enough to kill him.”

“And if it doesn’t?”

There was an awkward silence between them as Jeremiah and Reggie glanced at each other.

“We did not account for that.” Jeremiah awkwardly confessed, clearing his throat.

“But!” Reggie said loudly before Jay can panickally question how they could possibly miss accounting for a failed murder attempt on the guy who can order their deletion in seconds. “I’m sure that will not be an issue. The plan has made it this far, there is no way it will fail now. Things have fallen into place far too much for it to fail now.”

“Ah, but of course, there is just one thing that is a bit of a concern to this operation.”

“And what’s that?”

“You. It’s you.”

“How am I a concern? I promised I wouldn’t tell anyone about this. And Jeremiah must have told you that I want nothing to do with the breaking in.” Jeremiah and Reggie glanced at each other. It looked like they knew something that Jay didn’t, which made Jay squirm in his seat.

“Ah, well, that’s the issue. You’re the only person I trust with handling security.”

“Reggie, you can’t be serious. I can’t do it. I’m not going to do it. I’m sorry Reginald, and-and Jeremiah, but no! I’m too scared to do it.”

As Jay got up from his seat, Reggie grabbed his arm tightly, hurting Jay a little.

“Jay. Please. I need you to do this. I…I know there’s a chance you won’t make it out alive, I won’t lie. But I swear to you, it’s a small chance. I wouldn’t be here begging you if I knew you wouldn’t survive.”

Jay refused to look at them. Every instinct in Jay was telling him to run. They were going to send on a dangerous mission with a guarantee that he could very well die. Was it really worth it to escape Vicious Galaxy? Even more so, was it worth it for…them?

...

Images of better days flashed in Jay’s head as did the old feelings he desperately avoided. As much as he didn’t want to die and would rather be a coward, he found that he just didn’t have it in him. He found himself glancing at the untouched drinks, still by their chairs.

He remembered when Reginald told him that he didn’t even like drinking rootbeer.

“Really?! You’re telling me that whole job, which is just making and serving rootbeer, the establishment you work at, hell! Even your name!! And you don’t even like to drink it?” The voice of a younger Jay played in his mind. He heard Reginald laugh as did Jeremiah’s soft chuckle.

“Nope!” The younger and cheerier voice of Reginald admitted. “I was never a fan of anything sweet. That’s Jeremiah. I have more of a sour tooth. In fact, I can eat a whole lemon and not pucker once.”

“You’re just screwing with me, Reggie.”

“I swear, I’m not! Give me a lemon, I’ll prove it right now.”

Jay chuckled at the serious tone Reggie had.

“But seriously, I have to ask: If you don’t like drinking it, why do you make it? Is it because you’re forced to?”

“Forced? Oh, I’m not forced to do it.” He remembered how Reggie paused for a second. “Well, maybe a little,” He said with a light laugh. “But I don’t mind. You know why, Jay? Because it makes Lionel happy. It makes my patrons happy. And it makes you happy. That’s all that matters to me.”

...

Before Jay can even process it, his mind shifted to another scene. It was a small moment with just him and Jeremiah. Reginald wasn’t there when Jay arrived late that night, apparently having gone through a busy day and retiring for the night. Jeremiah stayed behind, having cleaned everything and was patiently waiting for Jay’s arrival. In retrospect, Jay always appreciated the moments when it was just them alone. Jay always felt like he never knew Jeremiah as well as he did with Reginald. The little guy was just someone who didn’t share much about himself and always seemed cold and distant. So as the two had some rootbeer Reggie left behind for them to share, they talked quietly amongst themselves. But this stood out to Jay because of one simple question:

“Why do you listen to Reginald?”

Jeremiah looked at Jay oddly.

“What is that supposed to mean?”

“I mean, and I’m not saying he’s like Irving or a bad boss, but…Jeremiah, if Reginald told you to jump off a bridge, would you?”

“Of course.” Jeremiah answered with no hesitation.

“See! Exactly what I mean! You take every word that man says like it’s a commandment. Why?”

“I love him.”

There was an awkward silence between them. Jay remembered how a bit crushed he was hearing that. He was just gaining some attraction towards them and hearing that just felt like any chance he had was thrown out the window. It never made him want to leave, strangely enough, but only increased his want of becoming closer. He heard Jeremiah continue, “Your example of the bridge was misleading. Reginald would never ask that of me. He would never make me do anything that would lead me to unavoidable pain or death. I would volunteer that on my own volition if it is needed. Wouldn’t you do the same for someone you care about?”

...

The two memories lingered as he snapped back into the present. Reggie’s hand was still gripping his arm and he could hear Jeremiah talking in the background. Jay shakily sighs, finally making up his mind and already regretting it. However, he wasn’t doing it for him.

It was for them.

“...I’ll do it.” Jay felt his voice quiver as Reggie’s tight grip disappeared and he sat back down on the chair. He looked at Reggie and Jeremiah, both of which looked a bit surprised.

“You have no idea how much this means to me. Thank you.” Reggie’s gentle tone and soft voice made Jay’s heart skip a beat. It didn’t help that Jeremiah had reached out to hold his hand tenderly. Jay knew for a fact going on this mission would be one of his biggest regrets, he might not even make it out alive for mir’s sake. Still, he justified his decision by the relief and joy it brought to the two people he loved.

Reginald reached down for his neglected drink as did Jeremiah, both of them raising the drinks for a toast. Jay quickly grabbed his, realizing what was going on. Reggie cleared his throat, “A toast for us and for the plan. My revenge will finally be brought to fruition. And it’s thanks to you two.” Jay clinked his glass with them and took a drink. It was as sweet as he remembered. He almost laughed at seeing Reggie trying to hide his disgust at the sweet taste, only taking a small drink. It seemed time had flown by so quickly as the three were talking and laughing like they used to. Jay had even challenged Reggie to an arm wrestle, bragging a bit about how he certainly got stronger from being in Vicious Galaxy. Even though Jay lost, to see the two look happy and chatting amongst themselves like old times made it all worth it. But the panic soon kicked in as he recalled that he would be leaving in the morning. Most likely not returning at all. Reggie and Jeremiah sensed Jay’s dread radiating off of him, stopping their conversation to look concerned at him.

“Jay? Are you alright?” Reggie asked with a worried tone. Jay looked at them frightfully, his mind becoming frenzied. Yet, there was one thing he knew he had to do.

“I-Look. I know you keep telling me that it’s going to go fine tomorrow and I’ll come back safe, but I just can’t believe that. And so if this is my last night alive, then I can’t take this to my grave.”

“What are you talking about, Jay?” Jeremiah asked in a cautious tone, becoming a bit apprehensive at Jay’s panicked state. Jay took a shaky breath, kneeling in front of the wheelchair on the floor. He barely made eye contact with either of them. He put his hand on Reggie’s knee.

“I love you. Oh ‘Mir, I love you both so much.” Jay felt wetness on his cheeks and his throat tightening but he kept going. “I have for years. If I only knew how little time we had together, I would have gotten over this sooner. I’m such a coward.

And if you don’t love me back, if either of you don’t, that’s fine. I can accept that. Hate me if you want even. I only wish for this to not be my last regret. And-..Also-, I mean-”

“Jay.” Reggie’s voice suddenly interrupts Jay's confession. He hesitantly looks up at them, expecting rejection from both. What Jay did not expect was to feel the gentle touch of two very different hands on both of his cheeks. A gloved one that was warm and a small cold one with his nails slightly poking him. Both staring at him lovingly. Jay’s face turned as red as his nose.

“We would never hate you. In fact, I speak for Jeremiah and myself that we felt the same way towards for as long as you have.” Reginald whispered while caressing his face. As much as Jay felt his heart soar and he wanted so badly to burst in joy, Jay couldn’t help but to question that last part.

“I..Wait. Did-Did you two know? This whole time?!”

“Weeellll…” Reginald laughed awkwardly while Jeremiah looked away, clearly a bit embarrassed. “Jeremiah suspected. He did mention it to me a couple times but I wasn’t sure if it was the right call to bring it up. You can be, uh, a little skittish, like a cat.”

“So. You’re calling me a “skittish cat”?” Jay asked.

“Don’t be embarrassed, we’re not taunting you, just stating the truth. You’re our skittish cat, afterall.” Jeremiah teased with a grin, lightly pinching Jay’s cheek. Jay, on the other hand, looked unimpressed and sighed loudly as the other two chuckled.

“Ha. Ha. Very funny.” Jay looked annoyed as the other two calmed their laughter down.

Reginald glanced at the clock hanging by his bed. “Well, I see that it’s rather late. You both have to leave very early so I suggest we start heading to bed.” Reginald paused, glancing at Jeremiah who nodded. “Unless, you have other ideas?”

Jay looked at him, a bit puzzled on what he meant. “Um, excuse me?”

“Oh you know.”

“I…I don’t know. What other ideas?”

Jeremiah sighs loudly, looking impatient as Reginald couldn’t help but to snicker a little.

“Intercourse, Jay. We are subtly asking if you would like to have sexual intercourse with us.”

“Oh..OH!” Jay’s face became hot and red as a tomato and he looked down, refusing to make eye contact. “I-I-I don’t- Are you sure? It just feels so sudden, not to say I don’t want to! I do, but-”

“Jay, Jay! We wouldn’t have asked if we weren’t sure. As much as I don’t want to say it or entertain the idea,” Reggie sighed. “If this is truly your last night alive, wouldn’t you want to make the most of it?”

“I agree with Reginald.” Jeremiah piped in. “We want you. I want you.”

Jay mulled over this for a moment. And perhaps it was some of the rootbeer in his system or the acceptance that death was already waiting on his doorstep, but for once in his entire existence, he ignored his inner voice telling him to run. Oh no, he was not running from this.

He instead picked up Reginald and Jeremiah, holding them in his arms. He may have lost an arm wrestling match, he most certainly was much stronger than he was in the past. But as soon as he did that, his adrenaline wore off for a second as he realized what he was doing.

“Oh, uh, sorry. I should have-”

“No, no, no! You’re fine.” Reginald said, looking flustered for once. Jeremiah was silent, but moved so suddenly to grab Jay’s face and kiss him passionately. He winced a sharp tooth and managed to knick his lip but as Jeremiah pulled away, Reginald immediately pulled Jay in to kiss him, leaving him breathless. His helmet clattered to the floor as he started to walk towards the bed, his two lovers never letting up on their constant affection towards him.

...

It was the only good memory that flashed to his head as the world slowed around him. He had his back turned from his comrades. He couldn’t bear to see Lazarus’s or Jeremiah’s face as he heard Junior pump his shotgun. He wasn’t mad at Junior, far from it. Jay knew the kid was only doing what they agreed to. It was Jay who let his cowardice control him, putting Lazarus’s life at risk while he did the easy work of just sitting and waiting. Why did he even agree to this? For love? What kind of love was this? Was he really risking everything for the vengeance of the shadow of a man he once knew? Why didn’t Jeremiah stop this?

. . .

Why didn’t he stop this? He knew it was part of the agreement, but surely Jeremiah could have prevented it? Bended the rules a little? Jay didn’t want his final thoughts to be this, to be blaming his now lovers for his mistakes. Yet, it felt right doing so. If he had just said no and backed out, he would have been fine. Maybe stuck in Vicious Galaxy or even died at another person’s hands, but oh mir’, anything was better than dying from cowardice, by your own teammate’s hands. Jay shut his eyes.

“Oh ‘Mir… I should have stayed as a janitor.” He could feel his voice tremble as he spoke his final words. “It was safe. It was-”

The last thing Jay heard was a loud bang and everything went to black.

...

The remaining three watched as Jay’s body hit the ground facedown with a thud. A small puddle of blood forming underneath. Jeremiah was at least thankful he didn’t have to see his face. Junior reloaded his gun, seemingly not that phased on the murder he just committed.

“No time for cowards, right boss?” He asked Jeremiah, who had snapped out of staring at the body to look at Junior. He cleared his throat,

“Unfortunately,” He made the mistake of glancing back at Jay’s corpse, grimacing a bit. “It had to be done.”

Jeremiah turned his attention towards Lazarus who was looking at him with utter grief in his face. He heard about how Jay and him got along. Jeremiah couldn’t help but sympathize with the poor man, who he heard quietly whisper to Jay.

“Goodbye, Jay…”

As much as Jeremiah would like to stay a little longer, to at least say his own goodbye or bury a grave, they had no time to waste. They already wasted enough.

“The Artifact awaits. Let’s go.” Jeremiah pressed on, already walking in the base with Junior following right behind him. He didn’t turn back. Grief was merely a setback. Reginald would get his revenge, Jeremiah would make sure of it.

...

Reginald woke up to the sound of floorboards breaking, panicked shouts from his patrons, and a loud bang from the basement. He sighed tiredly, a little upset he had been rudely awakened from his impromptu nap. He didn’t sleep last night, how could he? Well, not only because of…what they did last night (he still felt a bit sore) but also from a persistent feeling he hadn’t felt in a long time.

Regret.

He stared at Jay’s sleeping face for the entire night. When morning came, Reggie pretended to be asleep, not wanting to say goodbye for what could be the very last time he sees him. He heard his wheelchair being pushed to his bedside. He felt a cold chill on head, as he usually did in the mornings. Then, he felt warm lips gently kiss the same spot, feeling the hot air from his mouth linger only for a little bit and disappearing. He didn’t get up until an hour later, when the sun was about to rise and he could smell the pancakes Bryce was making from the inn.

He shook off the memory, rubbing his eyes out of tiredness. What was he doing?

Ah, yes, he was making sure the props were set and ready. He was just about to start putting the photos into their frames for Jeremiah to hang up.

Speaking of Jeremiah, he heard the door unlock from inside the secret room. He paused when he saw Reggie.

“...You look exhausted.”

“Hm, yes, I didn’t get much sleep last night. Did everything go as planned?” Reggie asked while sorting through the photos.

“Yes…” Jeremiah paused. He sighed tiredly as he explained. “Mostly. Irving did not die in the explosion. But everything else went exactly as planned. We even freed her. She’s waiting in the basement.”

“Irving won’t be a problem. I already have an idea of how we can get rid of him. Did Lazarus and Weasel make it out?”

Jeremiah nods, taking off his armor. “Yep. They made it out fine. Lazarus and Weasel Kid are already en route with the Artifact as we speak.”

Reggie couldn’t help but to grin excitedly. “Excellent. All we need is one more player character and the finishing touches to our game, and it will all come together.” He turned to look at Jeremiah with a smile. “I couldn’t have done this without you.”

Jeremiah walked over to Reggie. He simply grabbed his arm and kissed his hand, slowly intertwining his own with Reggie’s.

“Anything for you. I want to see them both suffer.”

Reggie smiled softly, patting Jeremiah’s head. His smile faded as he remembered about them.

“...And the other two. What happened to them?”

Jeremiah stopped and Reggie could see the remorse in his eyes as he gripped onto his hand.

“Junior died in the explosion, crushed by the debris. Poor child was simply unlucky.”

“And Jay?”

“...” Jeremiah went silent. Reggie’s mood and tone darkened. “Jeremiah. What happened to Jay?”

Jeremiah shakily sighed. Reggie was almost surprised at how sorrowful Jeremiah looked.

“Jay…He did his part well. But apparently, Lazarus did all the killing for him. He only managed to get the security down. By the time we were at the main gate, he got cold feet. He knew what we had agreed to. He died by Junior’s hands. One shotgun blast was all it took.”

Silence. Reginald’s face became unreadable as he processed the news. Jeremiah only held on tighter, leaning against his arm.

“I…I can’t say I did not expect it to happen. We both knew neither one was gonna make it, but I did expect a bit of a more…grander death.”

“Reggie, I mean no offense or disrespect, but that would be asking too much of him. But he admitted to being…”a coward”. That’s brave enough for him.”

“Hm, I suppose.” Reggie looked back down at the photos and frames blankly. He pulled the photo of Jay and put it in the frame. He handed it and the rest of the photos and frames to Jeremiah.

“If you wouldn’t mind, I need these in frames and hanged. I would like you to put Jay’s by the kitchen door instead of our original spot.”

Jeremiah nodded, taking what Reggie had given him. “Of course. Anything else?”

“No, no. I would like to just be alone for a moment.”

“Very well, then.”

Before Jeremiah could walk out the door, Reggie stopped him.

“Oh, and one more thing: I urge you to take some time for yourself when you’re done. Please. You look like you need it.”

Jeremiah was silent as he listened. He didn’t even respond, just left the room after Reggie was done talking.

Reginald sat back in his wheelchair, staring at one of the static screens of the monitors. He felt tears come to his eyes as he let them fall, scowling at the reflection of himself. This was not his fault. Jay’s death was not his fault. He kept telling himself that as more tears came down. This was the fault of Irving and Lionel. They started this, they did this to them, and they were going to pay. Lionel wanted this, Irving’s words taunted in his head, fueling his anger and hatred further. Lionel wants this. Lionel-

“...Jay?”

He suddenly was snapped out of his thoughts by Lazarus’s voice crackling through the speakers. He looked at the lobby’s monitor, seeing Lazarus stare at the recently hanged portrait of Jay. His shocked face shifted into one of mourning.

“He was a good man…” He whispered to himself, believing no one else was listening. “Maybe even the best of us.”

Reggie watched as he went to his usual spot with Rust, talking to him like nothing happened. Reginald wiped his eyes, letting a quiet laugh to himself. While Jay did die like a coward as he always was, at the very least he was liked…even loved. As Reggie left the room and went out the kitchen, wheeling himself behind the bar, he couldn’t help but to glance at the portrait, staring at it for a few moments.

Lazarus was right. He was the best among them all. As much as a scaredy cat he could be, panicking over the littlest of things and straying away from fights or confrontations, he had a good heart. More heart than Reginald or Jeremiah could ever have. Maybe that’s why letting him go, while feeling awful, wasn’t so hard to do.

Jay had hope. Far too much in Reggie’s eyes. It reminded him of his younger self, so desperate to believe that there was good in people. So easy to control and break.

It had killed them both.

#the hex #the hex game #i would have edited it a bit more since this is my 2nd draft but nahh #its done ok i dont want to work on it anymore LMAO #anyway i love jay #not only because same name but i feel so sorry for him #i think him and lazarus have a close bond and you cant take that away from me #the ship between him and those two came as a joke because haha reggie likes janitors #classic joke ship to serious pipeline #finally get to share my side characters alive au !!#a lot of my characterization and development for jay directly references this fic #so it made sense to post it first #anyway sorry for the long ramble in tags #im posting this at like 12 am so im tired WQDWQF #if you read the fic all the way ty ty tysm!! I rlly apperciate it <3

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