do—
Do Howdy and Barnaby ever get together in your human au 🥺🥺
of course they do, who do you think i am
oh BOY do i have things to say about human!Laughingstock! im so unwell about them allow me to talk and talk and talk and ta-
~
so in this au they're like... the ultimate slowburn. their feelings for each other slowly simmer and grow over the course of *checks nonexistent watch* a lil over a decade i think. it's not very dramatic - just soft & silly w/ just a heap of pining and a pinch of angst for Flavor
it starts when they were teens - Howdy had a lil crush on Barnaby in middle school. and how could he not? Barnaby was cute, hilarious, and kind. at this point, they weren't friends! Barnaby knew Howdy's name, but only because they'd shared a school since elementary (as with 6/7 of the other neighbors) & speaking from experience, you just Know Those Names. Howdy slowly "grew out of" this crush, especially when the friend group started forming and he & Barnaby became actual friends.
that crush would fluctuate over the years. It starts out strong and then softens into just this hum in the back of Howdy's mind. always there, often easy to ignore, just... part of him, in a way.
Barnaby has a similar experience. when he and Howdy became friends, he got a lil crush - how could he not? Howdy was cute, laughed at all of his jokes and had a few of his own, and was endearingly eccentric. but at the time, Barnaby didn't recognize the crush for what it was. so he elected to ignore it until the crush dwindled to something easily manageable, something he wouldn't realize is still there. as with Howdy's, it'd never fully go away
and its noticeable enough to their friends that they'd all kinda side-eye how touchy Howdy & Barnaby are with each other (Barnaby is a physical guy, but damn. if Howdy is nearby they Will find a way to be touching at all times), the way they always laugh at each others jokes, the way they always ask "where's [x] / is [x] coming with" whenever the other is absent. but the group couldn't be sure if they were looking into it or not. it's too subtle. over time they get so used to it that they don't bat an eye - Howdy is Barnaby's best friend after Wally. of course they're close!
but then there's this one college party Howdy drags Barnaby to (and by extension, Wally). they're drunk off their asses, Wally's edible has kicked in, the party is pretty chill and everyone is having a decent time. all three of them are on the couch, and Barnaby and Howdy start drunk-complimenting each other. naturally, this feeds their mutual attraction, and one thing leads to another! they make out on the couch. naturally with Wally sandwiched between them, snacking on chips and committing the moment to memory (it's a surprise tool that'll help them later!) neither Barnaby nor Howdy will remember this
now, something i'd like to state for Barnaby in this au! he has had a lot of relationships - from one night stands to actually dating someone for months. sometimes the one night stands were a "he takes someone home after a date, & they leave while he's sleeping and ghost him" situation. with actual dating, the other person always breaks things off after a few weeks, if not days. it breaks Barnaby's heart a little bit every time. to the point where in his mid-20s, he just... stops dating. he avoids other people's advancements towards him, he always takes a friend with him to bars/etc as a buffer, he becomes an expert at gracefully turning people down
("why, pray tell" no one asks "do they always leave him? he's such a catch!" that he is! when he was in school, it was his friend group. he'd try to introduce his 'girlfriend' to his friends, and it'd be an immediate "eugh, you're friends with those freaks? no way!" as an adult, people found it off-putting how (by societal standards) unusually close he was with Wally. also, again, a "weird" friend group. they'd think it's too much, or just not their scene, or 'why don't you date your little blue haired boyfriend', etc. Barnaby never holds it against Wally or his friends. he has the mindset of if that person was the one, they would accept every part of Barnaby - and his friends are indeed part of him. Howdy has also dated around a little, but to a much lesser extent. he's too busy! he doesn't have time for that!)
but the ball really starts rolling in their late 20s. something the group does together - as a fun lil rare hobby - is LARPing. they get really into it! Sally made them all custom costumes, Julie helped make the weapons (like a giant sword for herself), etc etc. they fully commit to the bit (even Frank <3). so at this event's point in the timeline, Eddie is fully integrated into the clique, but that's unimportant - just to show where we are!
so they're all doing their thing, it's a pretty big LARP event - there's always way more people than our dear neighbors, yk. they're just part of the crowd! & there's a big battle hosted, the group is split between teams, but Barnaby & Howdy are on the same side! yay! during the battle, Barnaby is "mortally wounded." Howdy half-drags him away from the main battle under the cover of their teammates (including Eddie and Julie) and sits him down by the tree. now, Howdy & Barnaby are the ones who get into the roleplay the most. they get lost in the sauce! they perform the hell out of everything they do!
& since Barnaby is "dying", he really acts like it. Howdy acts accordingly, but again, they get a little too emotional, a little too into it, a little lost in the sauce. genuine tears are in their eyes, Howdy's voice is genuinely shaking a little as he holds Barnaby in his "dying moments" (Barnaby is holding the sword between his arm and his side. he has ketchup on his armor.) Eddie and Julie are getting choked up just watching this happen. and as Howdy & Barnaby look into each others' tear-filled eyes, those little feelings that have been so quiet for so long come right back babey! full force! but then they all get hit with "arrows" and have to die right there and then, and the moments over. but! both Barnaby & Howdy walk away from this LARP session grappling with Partially Realized Feelings.
Barnaby struggles with this the most, since yk at this point he's sworn off dating. he's being careful with his heart! but when he tells Wally all of this, cause he tells Wally everything, Wally's like "oh. yes, i know! remember that one college party where you two kissed for an hour". and then he goes on to point out every instance where he's thought "right, Howdy and Barnaby are in love" (bc Wally is way more observant than he lets on! he saw that shit! his peepers were peepin!)
BUT IT'S STILL A SLOW BURN BABEY!
Barnaby and Howdy don't approach each other about this. they're both in the boat of "well, i'll just keep going and see what happens" to the point where they're practically dating without ever saying anything to each other. Howdy notices how Barnaby lingers around the store more. Barnaby notices how Howdy keeps turning up at his work to talk more. (they already chat so much...) but they still! dont! say! anything! but they both Know! they're not emotionally circling each other they are Dancing to their Own Music!
and Barnaby is letting himself believe that this can work because, well... Howdy already accepts him as he is. Howdy is part of the group. Howdy loves Wally just like the rest of em. Howdy has seen Barnaby at his (presumed) worst and didn't even flinch! as for Howdy, well, he just thinks this is right! his whole life no one has really caught his eyes or heart, but Barnaby is different. he's always been in Howdy's peripherals. it feels natural to love him so deeply. Barnaby slots into his life like the final piece of a puzzle!
there's a lot of stuff that happens in this inbetween state - Howdy's store burns down & almost takes him with it, there's some family drama that needs to be handled, The Crash happens, etc etc etc - so it's a while before they "actually" get together. but they're both patient! they've waited this long, even if they didn't know they were waiting. neither of them are in a rush. they're young. they have time.
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a stuffed deer
empires superpowers au masterlist (currently out of date)
this story takes place about one year after the end of ‘poisoned rats’.
cw: past abuse, religious trauma, referenced past death, deadnaming/misgendering of a character (but the person isn’t really doing it out of mailce, and said character is dead)
~
The closer they get, the more anxious Scott becomes. His hands grip tighter on the steering wheel, he checks his mirrors more often, he glances over at Jimmy every couple of seconds.
This is fine. This is normal, even. He knows what he’s doing. He’s done far more terrifying things than this. He’s nearly died several times, he’s graduated college, he’s been a superhero for years.
He can face his birth parents.
He’s been talking to Nora about it for several months, and he’s come to the conclusion that he needs closure. Not about himself—he fully understands their feelings for him, and made peace with them long ago. No, he’s here for closure on Xornoth.
In the last minutes before their death, Xornoth had declared themself to be Scott’s sibling. As far as he knows, he’d been an only child. If what Xornoth said was true, that puts Scott in charge of any and all of their possessions currently being held by the city. Not that he wants them, but the mayor had asked him to pursue any leads he found on Xornoth’s next of kin and, even though it had taken him an entire year and a half, he finally feels ready to pursue the only one he’s ever had.
Jimmy’s fiddling with the radio next to him, switching between gospel and country. There’s not much else that comes through out here, and they’re going through a dead zone for their data plan, so Jimmy eventually just turns it off and sits back, not-so-subtly watching Scott. Scott resolutely keeps his eyes on the road.
They pass the exit for Milford. If Jimmy’s feeling all right after the visit, maybe they can stop by there, visit the library and community college and homeless shelter.
Half an hour until Briarsville. Scott shifts in his seat, taps the steering wheel lightly.
“What did you think of that motel breakfast?” Jimmy breaks the silence. “I thought it was decent—waffles are always good, at least. But I wouldn’t have touched those sausages with a ten foot pole.”
Scott had only eaten a slice of toast with some watery coffee, too nervous already to have any faith in his stomach. “Not the worst I’ve ever had,” he offers. Jimmy’s just trying to help him relax. He can humor his attempts.
“Well, yeah. I can remember a time when I would’ve killed for a motel breakfast—literally.” Jimmy chuckles nervously, tugs on his seatbelt. “Um—how much longer?”
“Half an hour,” says Scott too quickly. He checks the radio clock, then his rearview mirror. They’re almost there. His heart is really beginning to jump now.
The car is quiet again until they reach exit 42. Briarsville.
Jimmy straightens up, looks between Scott and the town that they’re pulling into. It looks like any run-of-the-mill midwest town, Scott knows. Even the Order of Heaven private school isn’t much of an indicator of anything abnormal.
“We can turn around, you know,” Jimmy says softly. Of course he’d noticed the nerves. Scott’s knuckles have turned white around the wheel, his back is ramrod straight, he’s barely spoken all morning. Jimmy’s not an idiot, and he’s more observant than most people know.
Scott forces himself to relax. “No. I need to do this.”
Jimmy nods and doesn’t argue him any further. That’s something that Scott will always love about Jimmy: he understands. He sees that this is important for Scott and would never try to keep him from it.
And then he’s turning onto Bloomfield Avenue, and he thinks that maybe Jimmy’s right. Maybe he ought to turn back now and cut his losses.
It’s still his last name printed above the door of the house three houses down. The welcome mat is that ugly, waterlogged brown thing that it had been before he’d left. His parents still live here.
Scott pulls into the driveway, then freezes.
“What if we just went home?” he says, voice pitched an octave higher than normal. “We can stop by the country music museum. Or the Appalachian one, I heard it’s—”
“Scott,” interrupts Jimmy. “Normally I would be fine with that, but you just told me you have to do this.” He takes one of Scott’s hands, runs his thumb over his knuckles. “This is important to you. I don’t want you to be kicking yourself for the rest of your life because you got all the way here only to turn back.”
Scott takes in a deep breath, holds it, and lets it out. Then again. Jimmy’s right. Jimmy’s absolutely right. “Yeah,” he whispers.
“And,” Jimmy continues, “if they try to hurt you in any way, I will kill them.”
“You’ve got to stop saying that about everyone we talk to.”
“Hey, I’m just really good at making things look like an accident. Some might even say it’s a superpower.”
“Jimmy.”
“Just saying.”
Scott laughs, kisses his boyfriend on the cheek. He’s ready now. He can go in.
He pulls the key out of the ignition and hops out, then circles round to offer his hand to Jimmy and help him up. Jimmy stops to grab his cane out of the backseat, then gestures encouragingly for Scott to lead the way.
Right. He has to actually go up to the door.
It’s the longest walk of his life, Scott thinks. Even the walk across the stage at graduation hadn’t been this long. But seconds yet seemingly hours later, he’s in front of the door, hand poised to knock.
He swallows, then bites the bullet.
Rat-tat-tat-tat.
It’s only a couple of moments before the door swings open, and his mother is standing before him.
She looks much the same, but changed. Her hair, once grey at the temples, is nearly completely grey with only a few streaks of its former blond. There are a few new lines in her face, only serving to add to the sallowness, the laugh lines he’d once known long-faded. Her hairstyle is the same as ever, her classic Christian mom fashion sense not any different. He takes in all of this, then properly meets her eyes.
“Hello, Mother,” he says, a shiver running up his spine.
She doesn’t say anything at first, eyes passing over Scott to examine Jimmy briefly, sizing him up like a bird of prey. Then she steps aside, pulling the door open wider.
“You’d better come in, hadn’t you,” she says, and the resignation lacing her tone is somehow so much better than the anger he’d expected yet so much worse.
The living room is different. There’s a new couch, pushed up against the wall opposite where it used to be. The easy chair is the same, but also tilted weird and there’s a coffee table for some reason when all it does is take up space. But Scott keeps his complaints to himself and steadies Jimmy as he lowers himself onto the couch, propping his cane up against the coffee table, then sits beside him.
His mother looks at the two of them with something unreadable in her expression, before leaving the room. She returns moments later with two glasses of water.
It’s a test, and Scott doesn’t know if she’s set it up like this or if he set it up for himself, but he takes the water from her hand and sends a little burst of freezing air to chill it, eyes trained on hers the entire time. She doesn’t react.
Jimmy takes his water with a muttered thank you, then she sits down in the easy chair across from them, crossing one leg over the other as she waits for Scott to break the silence.
He takes a sip of his now-cool water (Jimmy passes his own over and Scott forms some of the water into an ice cube before handing it back), takes a deep breath, and speaks.
“Is Dad home? Because—”
“He’s dead,” his mother interrupts. Scott blinks.
Two for two, his mind unhelpfully supplies.
Is he supposed to mourn an unloved parent? Is he supposed to mourn someone he used to care very deeply about, but proved that they didn’t care for him?
He’s not sure how to feel.
“I’m sorry for your loss,” Jimmy says beside him. “That must be terrible.”
“How long?” is all Scott can manage.
“Nearly two years, now,” she replies. “Heart attack while at work.” She clicks her tongue. “I was always telling him to lay off the salt, stop working so hard. Guess he suffered the consequences.”
Scott’s really not sure how to feel. The last memory of his birth father he has is of his face closing off, declaring himself to have no son, and banishing Scott from the house. Would he have liked to reconcile? Is parting easier with his last words being unforgivable?
“I’m so sorry, Mrs—”
“Heidi,” his mother corrects Jimmy, and Jimmy amends his words.
“I’m so sorry, Heidi. I can only imagine the pain.”
That’s the first thing to incite emotion in Scott, because Jimmy can’t only imagine that sort of pain. Jimmy’s lived through the death of loved ones without a house to live in afterwards or a community to support him. Jimmy’s had it worse off. Jimmy shouldn’t have to be placating his terrible excuse for a mother.
He must be getting tense, because Jimmy’s hand runs comfortingly along his knee, and Scott can almost feel the love and support that Jimmy imbues the touch with.
Heidi’s eyes follow the movement, and after a moment, she says gruffly, “Are you going to introduce me to your friend?”
Right. This could go very badly.
“Mother, this is Jimmy, my boyfriend,” Scott says stiffly, before adding, “as in, romantic partner. We kiss. Each other.”
Her nose wrinkles in disgust. “Are you a gay now, then?”
Scott stares her down. “And if I am?” he challenges. “What are you going to do, kick me out again?”
She stares back for a long moment, a moment during which Scott’s certain she is going to kick them out—then she chuckles, shakes her head.
“You always were a bit sassy,” she says. “I ought to have known, really. But that can be said for a lot of things.”
“Speaking of things that ought to have been known. . . .” Jimmy hints, nudging at Scott. Scott nods, takes a deep breath, and forces out the question that’s been on his mind for so long.
“Did I . . . did you have any children before me?”
Heidi looks away suddenly, toward the TV. Her expression gives away absolutely nothing. “I thought that was Noah,” she says eventually. “His voice was already starting to change when he left.”
“Sorry—Noah?”
She looks back at him. “Your brother. He was fourteen when we noticed he was one of them. You were so young, I’m not surprised you don’t remember.”
Right, because it’s such a normal thing to destroy every trace of your child’s existence and raise the other to believe he never had a sibling.
But that means—
“I’ve seen the two of you on the news,” his mother continues. “Your father, too. He regretted what he did, Scott, after he saw how good your heart was.”
“So he just wanted to send me to conversion therapy instead, huh,” Scott mutters. “And that’s so much better.”
Heidi sighs. “We did what we thought we had to do, for both of you. We always hoped you would repent and come back.”
Scott wants to scream. He wants to scream and yell and freeze the entire house, because that may be the most insensitive thing he’s ever heard and his own mother is supposed to love him unconditionally, not act like this!
His hands are shaking. He doesn’t even notice until Jimmy eases the glass from his grip and rubs his arm. He needs to calm down.
But he can’t bear to look at the woman’s face for a moment longer.
“I think we’ll be going,” Scott says icily, moving to stand. Heidi stands as well, taking their glasses, then pauses on her way back to the kitchen.
“We donated your things,” she says, “but not all of it. Do you want any of what’s left?”
And as much as Scott wants to get out of here, he knows he needs to see whatever it is his mother decided to keep. So, after an encouraging squeeze from Jimmy, Scott follows her into the attic.
There’s only two things in the attic—two small trash bags, leaning against a wall to the side. With a nod from Heidi, Scott opens one of them up.
His monogrammed bible is on top. He has no interest in that. His Boy Scout pins and kerchief are here as well, more stuff he doesn’t care about. His birth certificate, which he does set aside (he already has a copy of it that he’d requested from the government, but it can never hurt to have the original), and a small photo album, which he sets aside as well. At the very bottom of the bag is his plush turtle, scruffy and old.
That he pulls to his chest, burying his nose into it. It smells pretty musty, which makes sense. It probably hasn’t been out of this attic in a decade.
It brings back feelings, looking at it. Not memories, not exactly, but feelings of a simpler time. Feelings from some vague past, where he had no troubles and his only concern was getting to school on time.
And more feelings. Feelings of deception, of hate, of guilt. The feeling of his world being flipped upside down and this plushie not being near enough to anchor it.
He wants to set it with his birth certificate and the photos, but it holds so much of this place that he’s not so sure.
He sets the turtle to the side and looks in the other bag.
Much the same stuff, and at first he inexplicably thinks this is an exact replica for some odd reason—but the name monogrammed onto this bible is not his.
Scott weighs it in his hands for a moment, then sets that aside.
There’s no photo album, but the same boy scout items and a birth certificate. There’s a plushie here too, though, a floppy deer, one of the antlers torn off and the hole it left carefully sewn shut. The fur is wearing thin in places, the beads for eyes have lost their shine.
It’s well-loved, as loved as Scott’s turtle, and for some reason, that makes him want to cry.
He’s not sure what to do with it. He still hasn’t really processed what his mother confirmed downstairs.
This stuffed deer belonged to the sibling he never met.
This stuffed deer belonged to Xornoth.
Can he take it?
Does he want to take it?
He sets it aside next to his turtle. At the bottom of the bag, there’s one last thing—a photograph, bent at the corner.
It’s older than any in the photo album, and Scott knows instantly that the child in the photo isn’t him. It’s a small child with a mop of dark blond hair, maybe three years old, wearing little red overalls and a white sweater, sitting on a push-bike and smiling up at the camera.
He can’t quite force his brain to make the connection. This child, so happy and young, grew up to be Xornoth. This toddler tried to take over the world.
He can process it later, he supposes, and he upends one of the bags to make sure there’s nothing else (there isn’t, so few of what once were his possessions leftover), then stuffs both his turtle and the deer in it, along with his birth certificate. He hikes the bag over his shoulder and picks up the photo of—of the child—and the photo album, before holding both out to his mother.
“Do you want any of these?” he asks brusquely. She takes the loose photo, then waves off the album.
“I’ve kept some of yours downstairs,” she says dismissively. “This is my only picture of Noah, though.”
Scott leaves the attic without another word, photo album chucked into the bag over his shoulder. He meets back up with Jimmy in the living room, who looks up from his phone with a questioning glance.
Scott sets down the bag, pulls out the turtle plushie. “This was mine growing up,” he says. Jimmy’s face immediately softens and he coos, reaching out for it. Scott hands it over, then removes the second stuffed animal.
This one he holds farther from Jimmy, because he’s still not sure if he wants to take it with him, despite the strange sense that he owes it to his lost sibling. “This,” he says carefully, “belonged to Xornoth.”
Jimmy’s face goes carefully neutral, and his hands still. “Oh,” he manages, and Scott can hear the change in his exhales as he immediately kicks into breathing exercises.
“We don’t have to take it if you aren’t okay with that,” Scott is quick to reassure. “We can leave it here, that’s fine. I’m sure my mother would appreciate it.”
“Why—why do you want it?”
That’s harder to answer, because Scott hasn’t figured out why yet. He’ll know when he comes across the answer, he’s certain, but it hasn’t made itself known to him in the five minutes that he’s known of his sibling’s existence.
“I don’t know,” he says eventually. He stares at the deer, at the faded pattern of its coat. “There’s some reason I want it, but I’m not sure what that is, yet.”
A little color has already returned to Jimmy’s face, and he doesn’t stutter when he speaks. “Is it part of your closure?”
He doesn’t know how, but Jimmy’s right. He nods. This is, in some way and fashion, a very important part of making peace with his sibling’s identity in his head.
“Then take it,” says Jimmy, handing back the turtle. He stands, slowly, supporting himself with his cane.
But it’ll hurt you, Scott wants to say. It’s clear that Jimmy doesn’t like the idea of taking this deer plushie home, doesn’t like the idea of it being in their house.
“Don’t worry about me, yeah?” Jimmy says, as if he can hear Scott’s thoughts. He smiles weakly, squeezes Scott’s arm. “I’ll be fine. This is about you.”
They leave with a quick goodbye, no attempts on either side to set up further contact. Scott just throws his things into the backseat with Jimmy’s cane, then drives away.
-
It’s just a week later when Scott drives out of the city to a park.
It’s a quiet park, just some trails and benches through the trees, and Scott stops at one of these trees and digs with the shovel he’d brought from home.
He digs alone, in the quiet shade of the trees, a light breeze rustling through them. And when he’s finished the job, a small pile of dirt beside him, he lays a shoebox containing a small stuffed deer in the little hole he’s dug.
He scrapes the dirt back over it with his shovel, pats it down a bit, and stands there. Just . . . stares.
Then, silently, Scott turns away and heads home.
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