[ Harry was bored. Bored as only Harry could be, considering things kept his attention little enough even on a good day. Sure, he was at some fancy school now, the barrier was gone and the VKs were free to mingle as they wanted, but it was only new and novel for so long before it was just school.
Harry didn't like school. Didn't like it on the Isle, didn't like it any better now. So today he skipped class, deciding literally anything else was a better use of his time, but if he was the only one doing it...well that was only fun for so long. Better to find somebody to drag into it, which was what brought him to Carlos' room. Okay, so it was probably after class now, but that wasn't the point. He was still bored, he needed somebody familiar to bother. So he banged on the door, leaning on the door frame. ]
Puppyyyy come out and playyyyy. You can bring your pretty friend if you'd like!
Michael definitely had not intended to get hooked up with another guy that had ties to the military. The words 'I'm an airman, I can't be with a criminal.' are ingrained into his brain along with innumerable other things said to him over the years by various foster parents. In any case, what it comes down to is that Michael Guerin is riff-raff, regardless of how many choices he'd ended up having in the matter or not, he'd lost his shot at a prestigious school for family.
It'd started by accident. Coincidence. Poe had been involved with some conspiratorial Roswell happenings and Michael had gone into heat. It'd been frustrating. Suppressants had never worked well on his alien genetics. He had been locking himself away in his trailer at the junkyard and Poe had showed up and well.
The rest is history.
Except that Isobel and Max kept making him doubt that anything with Poe is real. Whenever he sees Alex the cloud of doubt grows even larger and he wonders the truth of his own feelings.
So, he's brooding again. He's probably near another heat if the frequency of his brooding sessions is anything to go by but it's one thing he didn't keep track of because -- fuck it.
He's drinking, glaring down at some alien science junk written down on a notebook.
There was a lot to take in about the Isle. Crossing over the bridge didn't seem like reality- it was night and day with the differences. Meeting Carlos's mom wasn't exactly on the top of Jane's to-do list, but it was bound to happen eventually.
Afterwards, however, she felt even worse. It was late when they crossed the bridge back to Auradon, her hand squeezing his tightly as though she never planned on letting go. The Isle pulled on her heartstrings, but Cruella upset her more than anything else.
"Do you want to hang out in my dorm for a little bit?"
Michael is exhausted and he sleeps a bit longer than Poe. It likely gives the other some time to slip away to clean a bit. But it wouldn't be long from the other moving away that his eyes would pry open and a quiet sound escapes him. He frowns immediately feeling empty and cold without Poe being right there.
His hand goes to the mark made, fingers pressing against the bruise and the pain does some work in focusing his mind and he hears Poe.
"Poe," he mumbles, sitting up. He's covered his the dried remnants of semen and his own slick, sweat. The blanket is no better off. He can still feel the heat licking at the edges, trying to press in to control him and he resists it for the time being. He can vaguely remember Poe's plan enough to know what's next.
They were supposed to be packing, slowly peeling off to go back to their lives. Bill had dashed off, mentioning his wife and his film (and his ending), Richie had disappeared, and Mike was back at his place. It felt like so few of them. The five who survived.
That was a book title for Bill, right there.
Now, she realized as she looked at her long-dead phone (there's no cell-phone reception below Derry, it turns out, let alone blue tooth) and dreaded the inevitable barrage of texts and voice mails from Tom, calling her a slut and a whore, threatening to kill her, to kill himself, and soon he'd be crying, desperate to get her back until he cycled through his feelings again.
This time, she wasn't going to take him back. She'd taken her ring off, and she wasn't looking back. Tomorrow she'd call up her lawyer, start the long, messy process of divorcing your business partner. That was tomorrow. Today...
Well, tonight.
She'd already taken an hours long shower, it felt like, washing every inch of her body, tracing over the outline of the turtle tattoo she had on her foot. She'd cried, finally, alone, able to let out the gut-wrenching sobs that Eddie deserved. Eddie and Stan both.
She could just go to bed. Grab a bottle of whiskey from the bar downstairs and pour herself a bottle and watch Law & Order re-runs on USA until she passed out. She was half-way through that plan when she realized that staying in meant she had little excuse not to look at her phone and deal with the monster that was Tom Rogan. So she paused in the hallway and found her way outside the room she knew Ben occupied. Raising the hand that wasn't holding two glasses and a bottle of whiskey, she knocked on the solid wood door.
"Ben? It's Bev- can I come in? I brought a present. That I..." she looked over at her hand. "Stole from downstairs."
Alex hadn't really expected to have that conversation over text messages, but then again maybe it's best it'd happened that way. They'd gotten through more shit than they ever seemed to in person, he guesses that's mostly his own fault rather than Michael's. Most of it is Alex's fault.
He drinks a beer as he waits for Michael to show, nervous in a way he didn't expect to be but this still felt unsteady and like it could just fall apart again. He has a hard time trusting that maybe it could be different, a part of him more convinced than ever that he is going to wreck this.
It feels like forever before he hears Michael's truck. He sets down the beer on the table and goes to open the door instead of waiting for Michael to knock.
This time Michael slept longer than the other naps. He was exhausted. But finally he woke up, still tangled in Poe, though the other had slipped from inside him at some point in their sleep.
"Mmmm," he groans quietly, feeling the bruise on his chest and he smiled, pressing his fingers to it and it quickened his pulse there was something special about that mark but he didn't understand it, he just enjoyed it.
Michael wasn’t sure exactly when it’d started. He hadn’t even really understood it at first as he had no prior experience with being any kind of sick, ever. He’d never even had a damned cold before. So when he’s getting sick it freaks him out. The only time any of them had ever been was Isobel with Liz’ science experiment.
“Fuck,” he groaned from the cottage bathroom having been over at Poe’s again as this seemed to really start. He flushed the toilet with a weak use of his tk that had also seemed off lately. He pushed himself out to stumble out, dropping back onto the bed whether Poe was awake or not
Gar hadn't wanted to believe it at first. But he'd gone through all the tests several times and all the symptoms were persistent. At first he'd started to tell Tommy but then fear grips him. This whole thing was already terrifying and he didn't think he could handle Tommy leaving, so he didn't tell him. He told Dick and no one else on the team to his knowledge. He headed back to the Doom Patrol team to settle in the basement again to wait it out. Tommy had never been there, he probably wouldn't think to look for him there. Gar's told him about Dr Caulder at this point, about how they'd left things so why would he go back?
But everyone there cares about him still and they would help him. He couldn't go on missions anymore anyway, Dick would have never allowed it especially not without telling everyone.
Guilt tends to eat Gar away most days and none more than their anniversary. He stares at his phone and thinks about calling Tommy but he just groans and settles further into the couch a controller in his hands but he isn't really paying attention to his game. He feels nauseous because morning sickness is a lie and it's just all the time sickness and he's pretty sure it's just never going to go away. Sometimes peppermint helps but Larry made sure he ate plenty of bland as fuck soups and Cliff made sure he took whatever it was the doctors had told him to take -- he couldn't even keep track. Rita kept him company sometimes.
Gar still felt lonely and he needed Tommy but he just couldn't get over the nightmarish scene in his head that played everytime he thought about telling him.
So, it's a shock when he reaches for his orange soda and a blue glow appears and then there's a Tommy in the basement.
"Tommy..." he'd been ignoring him a bit, not completely but he'd been evasive and definitely wasn't at the tower where Tommy could get to him anytime he wanted. No one but Dick had known where he was.
Alex was still struggling with the fact that his mega side was no longer thoroughly suppressed. Even once he had made it through his heat, Thor still had a tremendous effect on Alex. He was frequently caught up in the alphas scent and general attractiveness. Too many nights he had jerked off and tried various manners to satisfy the lust that the Asgardian inspired in him. It was mostly to no avail. There were more than a few intimate almost encounters while they worked closely.
Eventually, Thor had to return to Asgard for a short while. It was in that time that Alex found that he felt nearly bereft without Thor’s presence.
Once Thor returned he reluctantly admitted as much to him. They were working in a secluded area together.
“I couldn’t stop thinking about you while the were gone.”
After the whole figuring out that Gar was into Teddy and that Teddy didn't seem to completely mind it they'd agreed to go on a date after he convention. Gar's a little anxious. He doesn't date a lot, or at all really. There's not really time and there's not really a lot of people he knows where it wouldn't just be completely complicated and then horrible if it didn't work out. So, yeah... he's nervous as he waits for Teddy to meet him outside the restaurant.
It's a mid-tier restaurant. Kory'd been the one to suggest it after Gar finally explained to her that a restaurant that needed reservations would be way, way too fancy. So it was a nice Italian spot. There was plenty nearby to do as well, the pier, movie theaters and all sorts of activities that you can find in San Francisco on a warm winter night.
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group party!
Harry didn't like school. Didn't like it on the Isle, didn't like it any better now. So today he skipped class, deciding literally anything else was a better use of his time, but if he was the only one doing it...well that was only fun for so long. Better to find somebody to drag into it, which was what brought him to Carlos' room. Okay, so it was probably after class now, but that wasn't the point. He was still bored, he needed somebody familiar to bother. So he banged on the door, leaning on the door frame. ]
Puppyyyy come out and playyyyy. You can bring your pretty friend if you'd like!
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[ Gil is tempted to send another message but Harry's banging on the door before he sends one. He rolls over on the bed. ]
Just come in!
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It'd started by accident. Coincidence. Poe had been involved with some conspiratorial Roswell happenings and Michael had gone into heat. It'd been frustrating. Suppressants had never worked well on his alien genetics. He had been locking himself away in his trailer at the junkyard and Poe had showed up and well.
The rest is history.
Except that Isobel and Max kept making him doubt that anything with Poe is real. Whenever he sees Alex the cloud of doubt grows even larger and he wonders the truth of his own feelings.
So, he's brooding again. He's probably near another heat if the frequency of his brooding sessions is anything to go by but it's one thing he didn't keep track of because -- fuck it.
He's drinking, glaring down at some alien science junk written down on a notebook.
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Afterwards, however, she felt even worse. It was late when they crossed the bridge back to Auradon, her hand squeezing his tightly as though she never planned on letting go. The Isle pulled on her heartstrings, but Cruella upset her more than anything else.
"Do you want to hang out in my dorm for a little bit?"
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New Top Level for this shenanigans
His hand goes to the mark made, fingers pressing against the bruise and the pain does some work in focusing his mind and he hears Poe.
"Poe," he mumbles, sitting up. He's covered his the dried remnants of semen and his own slick, sweat. The blanket is no better off. He can still feel the heat licking at the edges, trying to press in to control him and he resists it for the time being. He can vaguely remember Poe's plan enough to know what's next.
yes good
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Ben! (cw: it's fucking IT, ya'll)
That was a book title for Bill, right there.
Now, she realized as she looked at her long-dead phone (there's no cell-phone reception below Derry, it turns out, let alone blue tooth) and dreaded the inevitable barrage of texts and voice mails from Tom, calling her a slut and a whore, threatening to kill her, to kill himself, and soon he'd be crying, desperate to get her back until he cycled through his feelings again.
This time, she wasn't going to take him back. She'd taken her ring off, and she wasn't looking back. Tomorrow she'd call up her lawyer, start the long, messy process of divorcing your business partner. That was tomorrow. Today...
Well, tonight.
She'd already taken an hours long shower, it felt like, washing every inch of her body, tracing over the outline of the turtle tattoo she had on her foot. She'd cried, finally, alone, able to let out the gut-wrenching sobs that Eddie deserved. Eddie and Stan both.
She could just go to bed. Grab a bottle of whiskey from the bar downstairs and pour herself a bottle and watch Law & Order re-runs on USA until she passed out. She was half-way through that plan when she realized that staying in meant she had little excuse not to look at her phone and deal with the monster that was Tom Rogan. So she paused in the hallway and found her way outside the room she knew Ben occupied. Raising the hand that wasn't holding two glasses and a bottle of whiskey, she knocked on the solid wood door.
"Ben? It's Bev- can I come in? I brought a present. That I..." she looked over at her hand. "Stole from downstairs."
for @neverlooksaway
Alex hadn't really expected to have that conversation over text messages, but then again maybe it's best it'd happened that way. They'd gotten through more shit than they ever seemed to in person, he guesses that's mostly his own fault rather than Michael's. Most of it is Alex's fault.
He drinks a beer as he waits for Michael to show, nervous in a way he didn't expect to be but this still felt unsteady and like it could just fall apart again. He has a hard time trusting that maybe it could be different, a part of him more convinced than ever that he is going to wreck this.
It feels like forever before he hears Michael's truck. He sets down the beer on the table and goes to open the door instead of waiting for Michael to knock.
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"Mmmm," he groans quietly, feeling the bruise on his chest and he smiled, pressing his fingers to it and it quickened his pulse there was something special about that mark but he didn't understand it, he just enjoyed it.
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“Fuck,” he groaned from the cottage bathroom having been over at Poe’s again as this seemed to really start. He flushed the toilet with a weak use of his tk that had also seemed off lately. He pushed himself out to stumble out, dropping back onto the bed whether Poe was awake or not
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for tommy
But everyone there cares about him still and they would help him. He couldn't go on missions anymore anyway, Dick would have never allowed it especially not without telling everyone.
Guilt tends to eat Gar away most days and none more than their anniversary. He stares at his phone and thinks about calling Tommy but he just groans and settles further into the couch a controller in his hands but he isn't really paying attention to his game. He feels nauseous because morning sickness is a lie and it's just all the time sickness and he's pretty sure it's just never going to go away. Sometimes peppermint helps but Larry made sure he ate plenty of bland as fuck soups and Cliff made sure he took whatever it was the doctors had told him to take -- he couldn't even keep track. Rita kept him company sometimes.
Gar still felt lonely and he needed Tommy but he just couldn't get over the nightmarish scene in his head that played everytime he thought about telling him.
So, it's a shock when he reaches for his orange soda and a blue glow appears and then there's a Tommy in the basement.
"Tommy..." he'd been ignoring him a bit, not completely but he'd been evasive and definitely wasn't at the tower where Tommy could get to him anytime he wanted. No one but Dick had known where he was.
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For Thor
Eventually, Thor had to return to Asgard for a short while. It was in that time that Alex found that he felt nearly bereft without Thor’s presence.
Once Thor returned he reluctantly admitted as much to him. They were working in a secluded area together.
“I couldn’t stop thinking about you while the were gone.”
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For Teddy
It's a mid-tier restaurant. Kory'd been the one to suggest it after Gar finally explained to her that a restaurant that needed reservations would be way, way too fancy. So it was a nice Italian spot. There was plenty nearby to do as well, the pier, movie theaters and all sorts of activities that you can find in San Francisco on a warm winter night.
Re: For Teddy
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