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rjalker · 3 years ago

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The Murderbot Diaries and Gender: Not nearly as progressive as you think it is.

Edit: No, people, this is not an excuse for you to misgender Murderbot. Why do I even need to say this -.-

here's a list of things Martha Wells needs to do before The Murderbot Diaries can in any way be considered trans representation at all, let alone good trans representation. Feel free to add on anything I missed.

And keep this in mind: I am not human, I am nonbinary, I use it/its pronouns, and I have read other, older books by Martha Wells, I have seen more examples on her views regarding gender/sex than appear in The Murderbot Diaries. (I'm not saying this to like, one-up anyone, I'm just saying I've had to read through her protagonist arbitrarily assigning genders and pronouns to other characters and it was agonizingly bad to read, okay)

And if for whatever reason someone decides to steal this post and put it on Twitter, since apparently people have done that with my posts about books and shows in the past, (like, what the hell, people, you could have at least asked) let me just say: Martha Wells, hire trans and nonbinary people to read over your books for you before you publish them. These are very basic problems with very simple solutions.

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(Archived read-more link)

1) Have Murderbot explicitly state that it uses it/its pronouns. Have some asshole try to assign Murderbot different pronouns as a way of patronizing it while pretending they're being respectful and nice. Show how absolutely bigoted and wrong this is. State it explicitly that Murderbot's pronouns are it/its and it hates being called by other pronouns.

2) Have a construct or bot that has not been altered by a human be trans in that they have a very definitively binary gender, even though they have the same "lack of gender or sex related parts" as Murderbot or any other bot. Give us a trans woman bot or construct. Give us a trans man bot or construct.

Preferably one who hasn't or doesn't alter their configuration at all until well after their gender and transness has been established.

Because lets set one thing straight: Martha Well's grasp of gender so far is very blatantly that sex = gender, or lackthereof.

As far as Martha Wells is concerned, Murderbot is agender because it has no "gender or sex related parts". This is an established pattern in her writing.

She is still very much on the train of "sex = gender", and is now just applying that "no sex = no gender". as the logical conclusion.

Except it's still the same transmisic idea, now just assigning gender (specifically, its lack thereof, because they have no sex) to bots and constructs. She is pretty much pointing at a brick wall and going "That thing is genderless".

Just like her protagonist Moon in the Books of the Raksura sees a person with breasts and goes "oh that person I thought was a man because of their deep voice is actually a woman. Got it." without ever once stopping to ASK, or even considering asking, even though he's literally interacting with hundreds of species who interact with hundreds of other species on the daily. If Martha Wells had any understanding of gender, none of these characters would bat an eye at explaining their gender to different species, or having different sets of pronouns for each species and group. Especially because they're all already speaking multiple languages. The failing is in her nonexistent understanding of gender beyond "gender = sex".

Martha Wells has Moon go "Breasts = woman, deep voice = man" and we're just supposed to go along with this because this is as far as her grasp of gender went when she was writing The Books of the Raksura.

And the same exact thing is happening in The Murderbot Diaries, except now she's gotten slightly better, by having the characters be genderless, instead of having the protagonist literally go around arbitrarily assigning genders and pronouns to everyone he meets. (And by "he" I am of course referring to Moon, not Murderbot.)

Except it's not actually better, because it's still the exact same problem. It's still the exact same form of transmisia, even though she's trying to make it work. It does not.

Martha Wells needs to learn that gender does not equal sex. She needs to have characters whose genders do not match their sex (or lack thereof). She needs to stop assigning characters genders based on their sex.

She needs to actually talk to and interact with and learn from trans people, especially nonbinary people. So many things in The Murderbot Diaries could have easily been avoided by just having a trans person read and go "hey just fix this thing quick" and it'd be done. Like, these are short stories for crying out loud. It wouldn't be difficult to fix these problems at all.

We need bot and construct characters who are binary trans.

We need more main, reoccurring human characters who are confirmed nonbinary, and we need more main reoccurring characters who are confirmed nonbinary specifically in ways that are not already socially established and accepted.

We need a character who is nonbinary who is from a planetary system where only male and female are recognized, no free pass with tercera--which literally translates to "third"-- already being a socially accepted mainstream thing. Having a gender trinary is not better than having a gender binary. Shoving people into three boxes is not better than shoving them into two.

Tercera could be a great idea as part of the world building, if it were one of many countless examples of both established and new nonbinary genders across many planetary systems.

And hell, for the binary bot or construct I mentioned earlier? If she wanted to show a character transitioning....ART literally has a fully equipped medical suite. ART or its drones could literally perform whatever gender-affirming surgery this bot or construct wanted.

3) again it goes with the above. Having characters list their genders (or rather, knowing Martha Well's view of gender what with all the reoccurring characters to date being cis, their sexes) in the feed is not enough. Especially when Murderbot lists its gender as "indeterminate" or "not applicable". That does not tell anyone anything about what pronouns it uses.

If someone lists their gender as "nonbinary" that does not tell you anything about what pronouns they use. Even if someone listed their gender as "man" or "woman" or "male" or "female" that literally does not tell you anything about what pronouns they use!

The characters should not be listing their sex (because let's be honest, that's what they're doing, because unless Martha Wells starts talking to trans people and educating herself about these sorts of things she's not going to suddenly reveal that one of the reoccurring human characters has actually been trans this whole time), they should be listing their pronouns! This is their internet profile! People need to know what pronouns to use for them!

Have Murderbot add it/its to its feed profile! Kill multiple birds with one stone! Explicitly state Murderbot's pronouns! Fix the fact that the characters list their sex on their profile rather than their pronouns! Metaphysically punch the transmisic readers in the face!

Because there are people reading these books who purposefully fucking misgender Murderbot because they think calling it by it's actual fucking pronouns is insulting! And that is an idea Martha Wells needs to snuff out! Explicitly! These people will literally argue with you that it's good for them to misgender the main character of this series!

4) Have one of the main reoccurring human characters (Pin-Lee, Ratthi, Gurathin, Mensah, Overse, Arada, ect.) come out as nonbinary. They figured out they were nonbinary from hanging out with Murderbot so often. Look at that! We have a main reocurring nonbinary human character whose gender does not equal their sex! Killing several birds with one stone!

They can literally even change their name and pronouns and medically transition if they fucking want because it's not like they don't live on Planet Free Healthcare™ and more importantly it's literally never too late to question or explore your gender and you're never too old or too anything to realize you're nonbinary and that is a kind lesson many people need to hear!

So many people think they aren't "allowed" to be nonbinary because they're "too old" or "been married for too long" or "had kids" or any other number of things that have absolutely nothing to do with whether or not you're nonbinary!

The only thing you have to do to be nonbinary is be nonbinary!

And again, we need constructs and bots that are binary trans as well! We need more explicitly trans human characters too, not just characters who we can literally only assume Murderbot is assigning they/them pronouns to since no one lists their pronouns in their feed profile, and Martha Wells has never bothered to say anything like "and their feed profile said they use they/them pronouns", so we literally just have to assume that Murderbot is assigning them pronouns but instead of being Moon and assigning everyone he or she, it's assigning people they/them like that's any better. Hint: it's not. It's the same problem but now with a slightly wider range.

Like. I love Martha Wells' writing. It's great. But she really needs to start talking to and listening to trans people because there are so many problems that have absurdly easy solutions.

She has improved since she wrote The Books of the Raksura, but it's not enough improvement for these books to be called trans representation at all, let alone good trans representation, not even considering great.

Murderbot isn't trans, it is the construct equivalent of being cis. It is a cis construct who agrees with the genderlessness it was assigned at construction. That is not trans representation. It's nonbinary representation, it's aroace representation, it's it/its pronoun user representation, but it's not trans representation, and the only reason it's aroace is, again, because it is a construct and has no sex. This is still literally sex = gender. Literally still that.

To summarize:

The Murderbot Diaries won't be representative of trans people until there are actually trans recurring characters, both human and nonhuman, binary and nonbinary. The Murderbot Diaries won't be representative of trans people until Martha Wells learns to stop equating sex with gender and the lack thereof with the lack thereof.

We need constructs and bots who are trans in binary male or female direction.

We need main reoccurring human characters who are nonbinary.

We need the characters to list their pronouns in their feed profile instead of their sex.

Martha Wells needs to talk to and listen to trans people if she wants her stories to actually be representative of trans people and our experiences.

She has improved since she wrote The Books of the Raksura, but considering they're atrocious when it comes to not being transmisic, that's not saying a lot, that's actually the bare minimum.

#The Murderbot Diaries #trans #transgender #nonbinary #agender #The Books of the Raksura #Rjalker reads The Books of the Raksura #Rjalker reads The Murderbot Diaries #SecUnit #Martha Wells #gender #pronouns #Murderbot #The Murderbot Diaries and Gender #Rjalker writes essays #is another new tag #because i can almost guarantee you Tumblr will hide this post from me #transmisia #exorsexism

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thecontumacious · 3 years ago

Note

HELLOOOOOOOO i recently started reading ur content as a new lxm fan (waves) and i absolutely love your drabbles :”3c

could i request becoming friends to lovers with shu and luca separately, pleas?

- much love from shuca anon (if that isn’t alr taken, i’m so new to tumblr ^^)

About Self-Care

pairing: Luca Kaneshiro x GN!Streamer!Reader

a/n: hello shuca anon! glad to know u like my content~ also, pls don't worry! this is only half of your request done. i will still be doing shu's part very soon just in a different post~ also, i've unknowingly added luca to the streamer!reader series lololol

i think i should point out that whenever yall ask me for an individual fic, i can almost guarantee you there will always be some type of slow burn somewhere in it hsdajgksgd

from learning how to ride bicycles for the first time, cheating together during chemistry tests, pranking people in the mafia and even auditioning for nijisanji together, you and luca never once thought of separating

you met luca through your parents, who brought you over to little luca’s house one day to casually meet up

as like most kids, you were shy to meet this luca person and kept hiding behind your parents’ legs

but there he was, running out of his room when he heard he would have a new friend

and upon seeing your hiding form, luca immediately grinned and slowly approached you

“hi there!” he smiled. “wanna see my toys? we can play together!”

you perk up at the sound of ‘toys’ so you look up at your parents, asking for permission with your eyes

when they approved, you finally leave your hiding spot

luca smiles, offering his hand

“my name’s luca! what’s yours?”

that day, you begged to your parents to stay over at luca’s house

at the time, your parents would’ve thought it was because luca had shown you his toys. but the more they dropped you off at the kaneshiros' house, they can see that it’s the fact luca can paint a smile on your face so easily

and you’d agree

continuation utc!

one night, it’s luca who’s staying over at your house, perhaps the age of 15

playing minecraft, exploring caves and messing up the monopoly board throughout the hours

“luca, you can’t deny that i’m obviously winning right now,” you grin, crossing your arms

“hey, shut up! there’s still hope for me!” luca says, frowning afterwards as he moved a few spaces. he lands on a lucky card space, picks one up and thus finds himself in jail for the next two turns

“told you”

“shut up”

there were things luca was better at than you were, and things you were better at than luca

so you help each other in classes, hype each other up for late night studying

there was one time you were so tired, you had fallen asleep on luca’s desk

“and this one--ah, y/n?”

he realizes that you’re out cold and he can’t but smile

luca reaches out to your hair, brushing it away gently

“must’ve been a long day, huh?” he whispers, studying your peaceful face

it was a particularly long week for you actually, with more work piling up than usual and exams showing up every few days

he was lucky enough his teachers were in a good mood so he felt terrible seeing himself with more free time than you

it hurt whenever you rejected his invitation to hang out together because of said hectic schedule, ultimately skipping meals and sometimes forgetting to shower

to see you get some rest was… giving himself peace too, especially since it's beginning to be a bad habit of yours

luca only wished that you would take better care of yourself

so luca stands, carefully bundled you into his arms and lays you down on his bed

“geez, how many hours of sleep did you get this time?” luca sighs, tucking the blankets around you. “sleep well for me, okay? you’ll do well for tomorrow’s exam, i promise.”

but your tendency to forget about yourself doesn’t disappear, especially after getting into nijisanji together

being a streamer demands a lot after all. setting up schedules, keeping up with the fans, organizing collabs

luca didn’t want to seem selfish to take away what you liked doing, but sometimes, there are days where he wished you would stop being a streamer just so he could see you finally get the rest you needed, eat the proper meals and just take care of yourself

you were going to hate him for saying that

so luca stays quiet, no matter how much his heart screamed at him to protect you, no matter how much he lov—

wait

huh?

luca stops typing, his brain void of all thoughts but you

wh-when did he start feeling this way?

“there’s no way i… i like them, is there?” he whispers to himself

the screen before him can only keep watch of his racing thoughts, doing nothing to calm them

and what was supposed to be a night of planning for the next week, luca is stuck on the thought of you

“i’m like this only because they’re my best friend, right? i’ve always cared for them, i’ve… “

at this point, he can’t even tell. either that or he wanted to deny he really did… love you

okay it was probably just as a friend, since you’ve been together since a young age

so luca concludes that he’ll probably forget it

but it doesn’t

when it comes back to his mind, he throws it out

but it comes back as fast as it left

were you doing okay? did you forget to eat again? were you drinking enough water? you better have not slept less than six hours again…

and these thoughts continue to intrude luca’s head, more so than usual too

“do i actually really like them at this point?????” luca is malding yeah poor thing

after making sure you weren’t busy, he decided he was just going to ask you about it, except the part where he tells you you're the main subject here

“hey, y/n!”

“hey luca!” you greet back, letting him into your apartment. “what’s up?”

“just wanted to hang out is all,” he smiles, the lies seeping through his teeth. truly, he wanted to ask you something. the exact thing that kept him awake

“well, sure! what did you want to do?”

“um—actually, i wanted to ask you about something,” luca shuffles his feet a bit, scratching the back of his head nervously

you cock an eyebrow at him, obviously worried to what’s gotten into him

“did you do something bad? got a ticket or something?” you grin, but the anxiety doesn’t wash off luca’s face

“heh, funny, but no… “ he says. “okay, remember when you had a crush on that jerk back in middle school?”

“you came by just to ask me about a stupid crush i had?” you laugh at luca

but he fails to do the same, only swallowing heavily. “no, no, not just that. i wanted to um, ask about… what it felt like to crush on them.”

you were beginning to suspect him big time as you asked, “why would you ask me that? didn’t you have a crush on that girl back in school too?”

“it’s a little different you know? i mean like,” luca bites the inside of his cheek, cornered. “i’m just curious!”

“luca kaneshiro, are you trying to tell me you’re crushing on someone right now?”

yes—wait no—wait, was he???

“UHHH I HONESTLY DON’T KNOW—“ luca can just feel the embarrassment fill the room, you laughing at him only making it worse. “on a serious note though!! how do you tell if you just care for someone as a friend… with more than friends?”

you hum

“i don’t know about you but… i think, a good telling is when you start giving them all your time and attention to make sure that they’re okay.”

“i mean with a friend, not to be offensive or anything, but i just think you can rly tell. you make time in the day to ask them about their day, you ask if they’ve eaten or drank enough. you think about them a lot.”

okay, sure

luca totally hasn’t been doing that exact thing

so, he was? he really was crushing on you?

but… what did that mean for him? for you?

did you even feel the same?

if he were to be honest, would you run away from him? would he be ruining what you guys had for the past 20 years or so?

was he willing to risk it?

“lucaaaa helloooo?”

luca blinks, looking back at you who seemed to have been trying to capture his attention for the past minute

he only smiles, weakly at that, “s-sorry. um, anyway! while we’re here, wanna go get something to eat?”

this time, it’s you who smiles faintly, “ah… i wish i could, luca. but work is on my back and i need to finish it by today.”

his heart sinks, again like all the times before. “oh, have you eaten at least?”

“um,” you look away. “i had some water…?”

at this, luca’s heart wrenches. “god, y/n, can you not skip your meals like this? it’s not healthy, you know? come on, let’s get you something to eat first, okay? work can wait.”

as he reached for your hand, you pull away immediately.

“no, luca, i can’t. i really do have some things due today. i promise i’ll get something to eat after everything’s done.”

“how can i trust you?”

you stare at luca. “what?”

he sighs, rubbing at his cheek exasperatedly, “how can i trust that you’ll actually eat this time? y/n, i know you well enough that you probably won’t. that’s why i’m taking you out to eat.”

“look, i really can’t hang out today, luca. i’ll eat soon,” you shake your head again

but the more you deny your meal of the day, the more luca gets more agitated

“no, you have to eat now. come on,” he grabs your arm this time and tries to drag you out of the house

but you force your hand off of him

“goddammit luca, i can’t! and stop treating me like a kid!”

“i will if you stop acting like one!”

“are we really doing this? really?” you cross your arms. “is that how you see me? a kid that needs to be taken care of?”

“you can’t really deny either, can you? you always forget to eat or get enough sleep! how can i not worry, huh?”

stop breaking my heart like this, y/n

“it’s your fault you worry so much about me! look, i’m fine! i’ve been doing this for so long and nothing has happened to me,” you sigh. luca is about speak again when you suddenly point towards the door, “i want you to leave, luca. please. i need to get work done today and i can’t have you slowing me down.”

slowing you down? luca’s already wounded heart only tears apart more, seeing you angry because of him. he only wanted you to be happy and healthy, he never meant to upset you…

“wait, y/n—“

“no, luca. just go.”

and your words were final. so luca does as you told him.

he leaves and wonders when he’ll ever make himself present before you again

he tried texting you that night actually

hey, have u eaten?

but you didn’t even bother to read it

it’s late, i hope you’re getting ready for bed

again, left alone

even though he was the one telling you to rest enough, he ended up not having any of that himself

he lies awake, looking at his ceiling, his heart in his hands.

“i’m sorry, y/n,” he sniffles. “please, just be okay…”

luca didn’t remember when he fell asleep exactly, as he kept waking every few hours before finally having to rise for the day

his head pounded from the bad quality rest but mostly from the stress of angering you

maybe you were just taking a break or something. maybe you were finally getting the rest you needed…

so luca only sighs, getting back onto his pc to set up his upcoming stream

he hoped the excitement of the stream and lucubs would help wash it all away, but every time he forgot about you, he felt just another pound of guilt

“LUCA HELP”

“boss boss please help!!”

“boss we need your help!”

luca pauses his game, looking off to the chat’s screen

“what’s up chat?” he inquires

“it’s y/n!!!”

what about you?

“huh? what’s up with y/n chat?” he asks, the worry from the previous night only deciding to gather now

“THEY COLLAPSED ON STREAM HELP LUCA”

what the fuck

“w-what??? wait are you guys serious?”

the lucubs and your fandom were aware that you lived close to each other, always hosting off collabs whenever possible

so it was only natural they came to him for help

“YES LUCA PLSSS WE’RE SO WORRIED”

and so was he

“okay you guys, i’m gonna go check on them. i’m sorry but i’ll have to end the stream here. i’m really sorry,” luca frowns

but the chat was nothing but supportive, telling him that it was better he ended the stream now to check on you than keep going

he was so, so grateful his fans understood

“alright, thank you so much, guys. please, let’s pray that they’re okay,” luca’s voice broke at the end of his sentence, he knew that. but he didn’t care as he went to end the stream

luca sped out of his room and didn’t even bother to get his coat

he ignored the men who greeted him or asked what was going on. all he could think about was you.

collapsed? on stream? he knew this was gonna happen eventually, yet he wasn’t there when it did

and there was nothing more luca wanted than to beat himself for it

he breaks down your door and barges into your room and as the chat said, you are out cold in front of your pc while still doing your stream

“Y/N!” he screams, gently turning your face. he shudders at how terribly pale you were and he doesn’t hesitate to pluck you up into his arms

“hi chat, it’s me, luca,” he says through the mic. “i’m going to have to end the stream okay? y/n just fainted.”

just like the lucubs, the chat gives him the permission to do so

after that, luca is quick to haul you out into his car and ran a few red lights to the hospital

he was a mafia boss, he can deal with the police later. right now, he needs to make sure you were okay

“doctors, please help them! they fainted while doing work!” he yelled as soon as he got into the ER

nurses recognize his face and almost immediately raced forward to help however they could, calling doctors and ushering other people aside

“please, wait here, mister kaneshiro,” a nurse tells him. but he’s reluctant to let you out of his sight, not after the stunt you pulled.

it was irrational, these people knew better than him but he can’t help it. who knows what could’ve happened if your fandom hadn’t come for his help…?

“i—“ then again, he didn’t want to delay your treatment any longer. so he inhales and lays you down by a bed, gently caressing your cheek. “just please be okay…”

then the staff reels you away, again bringing you far away from luca

luca waits patiently for you, but no less any restless. most of the patients and staff present recognized his face, so they wondered what had gotten the mafia leader so upset. they know not to prod around though

though it had realistically been only an hour, the nurses came looking for him after what felt like days

he jumps when someone taps him on the shoulder, and he sees it’s one of the nurses who helped you

“mister kaneshiro?” she calls him

“yes?” he croaks out

the nurse smiles, “your friend. they’re doing alright, i can assure you. would you like to see them?”

“of course, yes!” why wouldn’t he?

“alright, this way, please.”

even the walk down the hospital corridors felt like such a long trip just to see you

the nurse finally stops by a door and there you were, lying down, still terribly pale but in a better state than how luca found you

“they collapsed from exhaustion, i’m afraid. could be from stress, lack of sleep, not getting meals in. goodness, if you hadn’t come by, they would’ve been in a far worse condition…”

luca couldn’t even imagine what that would be like. “yeah.”

“they’ll be okay, though. just some extra rest and plenty of food, then they should be back in shape,” the nurse tells luca. “do you have any questions?”

“no, i don’t think so,” luca responds. the nurse then nods, excusing herself out

“jesus christ, y/n…” he whispers, taking a seat on your bedside.

truly, what could’ve happened if he hadn’t been there for you?

you would’ve woken up and continued to work away your life. you would continue to forget about yourself, leaving luca to bleed as he thought of you not taking care of yourself

he didn’t mean to treat you like a child, he just wished you would be more responsible of yourself

what price did he have to pay just to see that? his finance? his life?

something warm drops onto luca’s hand and he realizes only then that he was crying

one tear became two, a sniffle became a hiccup and soon became choking sobs. luca holds your hand, glad that it was still somewhat warm and full of life.

what would he do if he found it completely still and never to hold his hand again…?

luca sobs again, “god, please…”

“luca?”

“y/n??? y/n!!” luca rises from his chair, almost knocking it off as he realizes you have opened your eyes. “oh thank god, let me call you a doctor, yeah?”

you reach for his hand, stopping him. “wait, wh-what happened?”

the thought of that particular moment haunted luca but he tells you anyway. “you collapsed on stream. then your chat went to my live to tell me that.”

as though you weren’t pale enough, you lose more color. “oh-oh my god, i’m so sorry you had to leave your stream because of me…”

“no, it’s fine. i care more about you than the stream,” luca smiles.

but you shake your head, “luca that’s your job, you shouldn’t be worrying about me.”

shouldn’t be worrying about you? shouldn’t—

“what the fuck?”

you flinch at his sudden curse

“y/n, what the fuck? what do you mean i shouldn’t be worrying about you?? you literally fainted mid stream, alone in your apartment! and what, you expected me to do nothing? you expected me to just leave you be and think you’ll be okay? what the fuck??”

you try to protest but luca is holding both your hands now, and you don’t remember what you were going to say

in the dim light, you finally see his glossy and red eyes up close, the trail the tears left behind much more evident this time

“how could you say i shouldn’t be worrying about you? you’re my best friend! your health matters to me! i care when you’re sick, i care when you’re sad, i care even when you tell me that you ran out of food!!”

“who knows what could’ve happened to you if i hadn’t come by, huh? you would’ve been alone and not getting the right treatment… and, and…”

luca’s voice cracks even more, and it breaks your every will inside to know you’ve worried and hurt him this much

this man who is always the one making you smile and motivating you when days were hard

the man who never fails to entertain his audience and always share his happiness with everyone he meets

this man was also weeping all because you decided to set yourself aside

this man who wasn’t you cared more about you than yourself

“god, i just don’t want to lose you, y/n. i love you so much. i don’t want to see you like this. i want to see you happy and taking care of yourself please.”

you stare at luca

and he stares at you

okay

luca… might’ve said something he shouldn’t have said, he might regret it later. but honestly? he was glad he wasn’t sitting on it

he was glad the truth was out

he was glad you knew now

whatever came after?

he’ll deal with it

“luca, i—“ you then let out a hiccup, followed by tears down your cheeks. “luca, i’m so sorry. i’m sorry. i’m really, really sorry.”

“hey, hey, it’s okay,” luca then wraps his arms around you, bringing your head into his chest

just like those times when you got your first break up, that bad fight you had with your parents

“no, it’s not. you’re here to care for me, but i got mad instead and thought you were treating me like a child when it was me who’s the child,” you continue to weep into his shirt, gripping onto it this time. “i’m so sorry luca. i’m sorry…”

“hey, it’s fine… just,” he gently pulls away, using his hand so that you look back up at him. “promise me you’ll take better care of yourself. please. that’s all i ask.”

luca then smiles, and you can’t help but smile with him. because this was luca kaneshiro. his smiles were contagious.

no matter what happened, when he smiled, you smiled. when he laughed, you laughed.

“i promise,” you breathe out. “i promise i’ll take care of myself better.”

“thank you,” luca says, bringing your forehead against his. “that’s all i ask thank you.”

“hey luca?”

“hm?”

“did you mean what you said? that you loved me?”

he pauses. “yes, i did.”

“good,” you giggle. “because i love you too.”

luca looks at you as though you’d grown a third eye, but seeing you smile again, giving him the reassurance that you’ll take better care of yourself in the future…

his hands make it to your jaw and he whispered, “c-can i?”

you smile gently, humming approvingly

he closes his eyes and so do you, then he finally closes the gap between you two.

the gap between the lips, and the gap that’s been long overdue the past 20 years

guys guys do u see my new pfp? my proofreader best friend drew it for me!! it's so cute:(

Masterlist!

#luxiem #nijisanjien #nijisanji en #luxiem x reader #luca kaneshiro #luca kaneshiro x reader #drawluca #luca fluff #luca oneshot #author chan’s delivery service ?

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ellieswhoreeee · 3 years ago

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The Two of Us. pt 4

Author’s note; Sorry guys for being so inconsistent about posting guys! i promise i’ll do better but i was kinda distracted with a dina fic i’m writing🧍🏽‍♀️anyways this is the end, i hope you guys enjoy it! also i know this feels slightly rushed so i’m sorry for that :/

endgame pairings: ellie williams x fem! reader

warnings: swearing, marijuana, violence, ect.

ps: i’m still learning how to use tumblr when it comes to replying and doing other stuff so please give me time 😭

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“I knew i’d find ya’ here,” Joel’s voice was oddly gruff but soft at the same time. He was loud enough for you to hear, even from the different distances. It was nice hearing his voice. You heard the rocks under his feet crunch together, making noise as he got closer and closer to your hiding spot. You were hiding in the tree house that was built into a large tree. The tree house was small but big enough for you, even though you built it when you were younger. It was surprisingly stable.

You didn’t say anything, and just stayed where you were. Hopefully he would think that you weren’t in here if you weren’t responding to him. “Kiddo, get down from there and talk to me. I ain’t gonna leave, so you can’t hide from me.”

You sighed quietly, and crawled towards the door- which in reality was just an old blanket that covered the entrance. You hated how noble Joel was. Your head peaked through the fabric. “Did Maria send you? Tell her i’m okay, i’m just sick.”

“Actually, i came here on my own. I’ve just… Noticed the changes between you and Ellie these past few days… I think if you could just talk to her-“

“Joel, this won’t get fixed by just talking. I fucked up this time.”

“What did you do…?” Joel questioned curiously. You looked away and decided to stay quiet as you clenched your jaw. Joel looked down at the ground awkwardly, noticing the look on your face. “I know y’all kids think i don’t know anything… But i’m not dumb. People talk… I’m just waiting for her to tell me so… whatever it is, i can guarantee that i won’t judge.”

You bit your lip, and decided it would be better to talk to him. It was a little awkward when you first met but after continuously talking to him and hanging with him really changed that. He was one of the many people you were grateful for. You gave him a small smile. “I would invite you up but you’re kinda…”

“What? Too old? I’ll have ya’ know that i’m in the prime of my life.”

You bite the inside of your cheek to hide your laugh. “Fat. I meant fat, you would break the tree house.” You were joking, it wasn’t anything serious and he knew that.

“Oh yeah?”

“Yep.”

He hummed, giving you a mischievous smile. He then moved towards the tree, and started to slowly climb up the ladder without any hesitation. You retreated back to the spot you were in, and watched as Joel struggled to get in quietly. He then sat across from you. He was curious about the inside- it didn’t look as abandoned as he thought he would be. “Cozy,”

You laughed. “Thanks, i guess you never been up here, huh? You should’ve seen it when me and Ellie put fairy lights up…” Joel stayed quiet for a moment. You brought your knees up to your chest and let out a quiet sigh. “You know, she’d say something dumb like, ‘it’s Ellie and I’ or something.”

Joel felt like patting you on the back and saying ‘it would be okay’ but that wasn’t what you needed right now. You needed someone to talk to. He needed to be that person for you because of how much he cared about you and Ellie. “What happened?”

“You won’t judge me?” Your voice cracked at the question, and he could tell you were scared. He shook his head in response which made you feel slightly better. You covered your eyes with your hands in frustration. “Ellie found out that i… Have feelings for her.” Your voice was quiet, and he almost didn’t hear you.

He was quiet for what seemed like forever but in reality it was only a couple of seconds. “…And does she like you back?” He questioned in the softest way possible. You removed your hands from your eyes and decided to look at him.

“If she did we wouldn’t be up here…” You replied awkwardly.

“So… You two talked about it? And you’re certain that she doesn’t like you?”

You shook your head slowly at his questions. “No, i kinda just walked away before she could say anything… But i know she doesn’t like me because she’s-“

“Dating Cat.” Joel finished for you. He already knew about Ellie and Cat. Not much, but enough to know how they dote on each other. People talk, so mostly everyone knew about them. Joel was just waiting for Ellie to tell him, and she hasn’t.

You nodded. “Yeah. Dating fucking Cat.” You spat bitterly.

Joel sighed, and continued to watch you. He noticed a lot by just watching you. You were playing with your hands, almost as if you were trying to calm your down from the hurricane that is your brain. You looked pretty sad. “Alright, i’m tired of it. You needa’ stop moping. So, we’re going.”

“Where are we going?” You asked quickly and followed him down the tree house. He waited for you, and once you reached the pebbles on the floor he started moving ahead once again. All you could really do was follow him.

“Just follow me, kid.”

“No way! I can’t do this right now, at least let me get a drink or something! I need whiskey in my system before i can talk to her!”

You don’t know how it happened. You let Joel drag you around town- just so he could get you to let your guard down. His real plan was getting you to Ellie’s garage. He asked you to close your eyes and lead you somewhere- and that’s where you are now. Right behind his house, aka in front of Ellie’s door.

“What if Cat’s here? This’ll be really awkward and pretty messed up.!” He was dragging you by your collar now, just so you couldn’t run away. You hated how strong he was. He then knocked on her door, and your skin shivered anxiously. You didn’t want to be here. You weren’t ready.

“Sorry, kid. In life, you gotta face your problems one way or another. I’m just giving you a gentle push.”

“More like a forceful shove!”

“Quit your whinin’. You need this. Closure or whatever you kids are saying these days.”

“Joel!-“

The door lock clicking caught your attention, then the door opened slowly. It revealed a very tired looking Ellie. She looked up at Joel and then down at you in surprise. “Sup..?”

Joel nodded in acknowledgment. “Heya, kiddo. Just thought i’d drop this off.” He let go of your collar, and suddenly you were on the floor. He turned on his heel and returned into his house through the back door. Fucking Joel, acting like i’m some sort of package. You couldn’t help think as you sat there.

“Fuck me,” You muttered lowly to yourself. You couldn’t even look up at Ellie. You were ashamed. You weren’t planning on telling Ellie about how you felt. Especially when you didn’t know if your feelings would last long. “This was a bad idea, i’m gonna go.” You stood up and brushed the dirt off your clothes.

You were about to walk- maybe even run away if it weren’t for Ellie talking first. “I never pegged you as a coward.”

You sighed, turning back to face her. To finally look at her. You noticed the bags under her eyes, that she looked paler than usual and her voice sounded hoarse. Seeing her this way made you sad. “Ellie…”

“No. You won’t talk right now.” She stopped you from speaking further. Maybe you deserved that. “Avoiding me, ignoring me and running away from me whenever i’m near? That’s all the things a coward would do. And that coward is you, y/n. I never thought that you were that type of person… You always faced your problems head on.”

Her arms were crossed over her chest, and she was leaning against her door. It was the support she needed at the moment. Her words were hitting you hard. It was like a wake up call, just what you needed to get out from the hole you found yourself in.

But you also felt like denying her words.

You scoffed, and took a few steps back from her. You felt even more far away from her then ever. “Look, Ellie what do you want from me? You know why. Why can’t we leave it at that and move on. Never talk about it again.”

“Right, cause’ this is something we can move on from… Y/n, I need to hear you say it.” She pushed herself off her door and slowly moved closer to you.

“I’m not gonna do that.”

“Why? Are you afraid? I never knew you were such a pussy.” The way those words left her lips made it seem like she wanted to piss you off, to push you over the edge. Just so she could get your reaction.

“Fuck you, ellie… God, why do you need to hear me say it? You and your girlfriend are fucked up for wanting me to say it despite knowing already.”

She hummed, and continued to take steps towards you. “Are you scared? Is that it? Why is it that this conversation scares you but not a pack of infected…?” You scoffed, and didn’t say anything. You didn’t want to. She ended up being a few inches away from you. You couldn’t look up at her. You’re scared of doing something that you’ll regret. God, you wished you had gotten a drink or something. Maybe then you could at least blame it on the alcohol.

“What are you so afraid of?” She questioned in a whisper. Ellie wanted you to say it, she wanted to confirm that you actually liked her. She needed to hear you say it. Not insinuate it, but to actually hear it from your lips. That’s what she wanted.

Your eyes travelled from the ground and slowly trailed up her body. Your eyes lingered on Ellie’s neck, and then stopped at her chapped lips. Instinctively, she licked her lips as she continued to stare at you. You swallowed lowly, finally finding yourself looking into her green eyes. “I’m scared that you won’t like it.” Again, your eyes flickered to her lips.

“I will.”

For a split second you’re happy. But then you remember Cat. You frown, and decided to take a step back. “You’re with Cat- in love with her. That’s what you said, isn’t it? I may be in love with you but i’m not gonna let you cheat on her.”

Ellie pressed her lips together, a nod and small smile on her lips. “You’re a good person, y/n. That’s one of the many things that i love about you..” Your stomach did a flip, but you tried to listen to her next words carefully. You couldn’t be distracted by her sweet words. “I broke up with Cat. As fucked up as it is… I was only with her to try and get over you.”

“So, what i’m getting from this conversation is… You’re single?”

She laughed, and walked closer to you. “Not for long i hope.” She winked- well, tried to to. It was a pretty bad wink. But it was cute that she tried.

“I feel bad for the next person who dates you… you’re infuriating.” You whispered, watching and you and Ellie inched closer to each other.

She grinned, and watched and you closed you eyes. “You love it.” She paused for a moment, just to tease you before she finally brings your lips together in a sweet kiss. Her hands trail down to your hips so you could be flushed against her body. Your arms wrap around her shoulders loosely. She groans when you nip at her lower lip, then slides her hand under your shirt. God… you’re so enticing, y/n. Ellie was only thinking of you in this moment.

“Oi! Y/n! Ellie! PDA!!” Joel’s head popped out from the kitchen window as he glared at you two playfully.

“Right,” You pushed away from Ellie’s lips. “Joel knows.”

Ellie nodded, a smile on her lips as she continued to look at you. She was awestruck. She finally got to kiss you, to hold you and in the future there would be more memories with you. More memorable memories. “I guess he does.” She peck you on the lips and grab your hands. “You’re with me, right?”

You nodded, squeezing her hands to comfort her. God, you loved her so much. There is nothing better than being with her. You wished you had told her your feelings sooner, way before Cat. Maybe things could’ve been different.

But things are back on track for you and Ellie, and will be for a long time. Your gut is telling you everything will be fine. “Always.”

As long as you were with Ellie, nothing could go wrong.

end <3

#ellie williams x reader #ellie x reader #ellie #ellie williams #joel miller #dina tlou #jesse tlou #the last of us part two #maria tlou #tommy tlou #reader insert #female reader #wlw ship

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genaleah · 4 years ago

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ANSWERING WILDCARD QUESTIONS

For the first time in about a year maybe??? Some of these might be even older than that.

Yes, it is Korka! I definitely want her involved, she’s a wonderful character and there is a *lot* of fun paranormal stuff going on in this setting that she can help them research. Also, I’d just love for her and Nelson to become friends!

Thank you! I love him a lot, and it’s fun to picture him interacting with the other guys. They’d all make for some interesting uncle figures, but they might not be that great in terms of role models.

OHOHO. Devilish laugh. That’s a wonderful idea, and a good way to keep him occupied at some point. He’s a great character, but he’s incredibly powerful, and I want these dudes to solve their own problems whenever possible.

A good question! I don’t remember most of my dreams, but there’s usually a consistent look to the vivid ones. Lots of water, mountains, creeks, and high, winding roads. There are also a lot of buildings that are closely integrated with nature, even though I have almost never seen construction like that.

I had not, but now I have! Here’s a trailer, for anyone else that missed it:

https://youtu.be/33HXHaaagsw

I really like these new models! I’m looking forward to watching a playthrough when that’s available. Just like with Rhombus of Ruin, I don’t think I’ll be able to play this one myself.

DOUBLE FINE, I WISH TO SPEAK WITH YOU- no, I’m kidding! I think great minds think alike. But I’m really excited to learn more about that character and possibly involve them in this whole au eventually.

I’ve actually tried to avoid almost any info about Psychonauts 2 so I can go in mostly-blind, and a lot of the characters are vague to me. It’s fun to look forward to, but it’s also a little harrowing because I don’t know how to anticipate for it!

N...NO..... I NEED TO... Honestly those are old enough that it might be a good idea for me to re-make them, as well as the playing cards I made for the mega playlist cover. I think it’d be nice to remake them as vectors... that might make for a nice art stream sometime. I’ll mention publicly if I start doing that, and sharing any of these conceptual Wildcards arts when they’re done.

And if you’re just curious about what the tarot cards for the other characters are going to be, it’s this:

Eddie: Judgement, The Magician, The Emperor

Manny: Death, Justice, The World

Sam: The Chariot, The Tower, Strength

Max: The Devil, Wheel of Fortune, Joker

Although! I may actually give the Moon card to Max instead of the Devil, and replace the missing card from Nelson’s selection with the High Priestess? 🤔 I’ll decide when I get to it.

Could be! I’ve flip-flopped occasionally on if I want the split-a-cab gang to participate much in the story. I think they deserve a break, and splitting an apartment in New York seems like a good situation for the four of them.

Oh boy, that must be so disorienting for him. The Psychonauts deal with a lot of hippy-dippy weirdness in a seemingly organized way, but it seems like they’re not as paranoid about safety as a real federal organization would be. Not necessarily a good thing, considering one of their camp counselors went AWOL one day, and the head of the Psychonauts got kidnapped the next. They kinda need to get their act together.

Fun fact, in one of the earlier drafts of Chapter 3 I was actually going to make Nelson get scanned by the equivalent of a metal-detector for malevolent thoughts at the door and get really spooked by it, but I decided against it.

YEAH IT’S ON THE LIST

Honestly, a big bulk of the plot in this just regards characters having to face their mental health struggles... via facing it as literal internal demons, unstable powers, etc. It’s going to take a little while for any of Eddie’s teammates to realize how MUCH he has going on under the surface because he does a pretty good job of hiding it. “Needing to help others above ever helping themselves” is a hard issue to notice if you’re not looking for it. But it’s a guarantee that once they find out he needs help, they’ll give it; whether that’s making sure he’s not working himself too hard, or fighting off demonic cultists. Care comes in many forms.

SHE NEEDS TO REST.... POOR SYBIL (on the upside, they don’t TECHNICALLY work there, so she might be fine most of the time.)

Strong Bad isn’t a Psychonaut! He’s just a vlogger and a petty (psychic) criminal. It’s honestly not very different from canon.

Free Country, USA is a smalltown hotbed of psychic activity. Nearly everyone there has some mild capacity for supernatural powers, but nobody really notices or cares. Strong Bad just pops the tops off of cold ones and.... sometimes alters reality, a tiny bit. But mostly just in regards to media. The cartoons, comics, etc, that he invents and talks about have a tendency to suddenly voip into existence and nobody knows how. I swear, there’s actually a line of him saying something to this effect, but I can’t find it anywhere. Don’t worry about it! Nobody in town is ever going to do anything truly nefarious with their powers, so it’s not a high priority on the Psychonauts’ radar, just a weird footnote.

The only reason Homestar is an actual agent is because he seems like exactly the kind of guy to sign up for a job like that on accident and then stick with it. And he’s a talented telekinetic! None of his other friends know about his job or notice his absences.

And just for fun, here’s some weird instances of psychic overpowering that happened in the cartoon:

---

(Poor Strong Sad)

I’ve actually answered this one before! BAM Pretty sure all of it is still accurate.

Nelson: He sees floating sheets of paper containing notes, questions, etc. Anything that he wants to know more about regarding that person. The notes are subject to edits, cross-outs, ripped pages, etc.

Guybrush: He sees the item that the person is carrying that he wants most. As he gets to know people better, he sees them for their useful skills first.

Manny: His view of most living people is not very kind...

The people he’s closest to will eventually look a lot less garish. More like a flattering, camera-ready versions of themselves.

Eddie: Sickass sketch drawings that look like they belong in the margins of a composition book. The illustrations improve as he gets a better picture of where they’d fit in the internal lore of his mental world.

Sam: A lot like Nelson; Sam pictures case files, though his are a bit more in-depth.

Max: Max’s visions of people are highly personal and uncomfortable for those who witness them. He sees Nelson as a puzzle with a piece missing. Guybrush is a ripped up voodoo doll. Manny is a forgotten ofrenda. Eddie is a powder keg with a long, lit fuse. Sam is Sam, but he’s the wrong one.

I also got two questions that were pretty big subjects, or that I didn’t want to repeat, so I’m gonna cover them pretty broadly:

REGARDING [X] CHARACTER OR SERIES INCLUDED IN THE AU

Sure, I support it! I’ve gotten this question a few times in regards to things that I haven’t had time to delve into yet, or I’m not interested in, so I’m not going to include it into the AU myself. But if you want to explore an idea like that, feel free! This AU is pretty dang collaborative.

My main focus is just on the main 6 properties: Psychonauts, Puzzle Agent, Monkey Island, Grim Fandango, Brutal Legend, and Sam & Max.

But my general rule of thumb for “characters that exist somewhere within the background of this story” are any other properties owned by Telltale, Lucasarts, or Double Fine. And considering all of the licensed games that Telltale was getting into before it kicked the bucket, that includes some really weird characters, even up to the Venture Bros. I loved that series, but I’m not really interested in doing anything with them for this story! Partly for my sanity, the canon I’ve picked are already a lot of content to play with.

ASSORTED QUESTIONS ABOUT THE WILDCARD AU DISCORD

There’s no particular criteria needed to join the discord, and it’s not strictly on a need-to-know basis! Because it’s been a long while since anyone has joined, I've been hesitant about adding new people in... But I‘ve decided to try sending invitations again! Everyone who had asked about it in the past will be getting a ping by me in about a day or so, since I want to double-check if you’re still interested. If you’ve been nervous to ask you can reply to this post or message me privately.

Some things to keep in mind before asking or accepting the invite:

If you’re not a friend or a follower I recognize, I will likely double-check your tumblr along with some other current members before sending the invite.

Here’s the Rules page, so you know what to expect before you join:

Be Mindful - Respect other people's boundaries, don't do or say things that would cross the line. If your behavior makes other people feel uncomfortable or unsafe, I will remove you from the chat. In most cases I will try to resolve things with you and offer a chance to do better, but that will depend on the severity of the situation. And if you have any concerns regarding another member of the chat, you can contact me privately.

Health Boundaries - While discussions of mental health do occasionally pop up, do not rely on the chat for help. None of us are equipped to handle serious mental health concerns, and it will only cause distress for everyone. Please seek real help if it is needed! If you rely on people beyond the point that they have asked you to stop, I will remove you from the chat.

NSFW - Generally speaking, try to keep NSFW talk to a minimum. Swearing and humor is fine, but don't get too explicit please! Discussions should usually keep to a PG-13 / occasional R, but no NC-17.

Spoilers & Censorship - Please use the spoiler function to hide story spoilers, as well as discussions and graphic depictions of gore/excessive blood/body horror/severe psychological horror. Include a content warning so that people know what they could potentially be seeing when they click on the censored content. If the spoilered content is the subject of a back-and-forth discussion, please use another warning when you are switching to a different spoilered topic. (Note that these rules were added to the chat later, so be careful when using the search function or back reading.)

The canon series involved with the Wildcard AU are Psychonauts, Puzzle Agent, Monkey Island, Grim Fandango, Brutal Legend, and Sam & Max. Please be mindful of story spoilers!

Channel Organization - Also be mindful of which channel you're in and move a discussion over if need be! That way they don't get too clogged with unrelated info.

Creative Criticism - When it comes to writing, art, or character creation; try to be open to suggestions from others! Nearly all of the creative work in the chat is collaborative, so input from others is important! Creative criticism is not the same as judgement, and is not a personal attack.

Have fun! - Discussions move quickly in this chat! Don't feel bad if you ever need to step back, whether it's because of the speed or a disinterest in whatever current topic we're focusing on. If you ever want to come back, we're happy to have you and can give quick explanations if you feel out of the loop! :thumbsup:

We’re a group of approx. a half dozen to a dozen people, either posting very very quickly in a span of a few hours or barely anything for a few days. We’ve been in an activity uptick lately and there’s about a year and half of back content, too. If it’s hard to keep up on, not that interesting to read through, or you just have a hard time gelling with the group that's already there, there’s no shame in just lurking or dipping out if you need to.

We also talk a lot about Psychonauts OCs, so anticipate that.

#wildcard au #wildcard hcs

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acciocriativity · 4 years ago

Text

Spark of Happiness II ||Harry Potter

Pairing: Draco Malfoy x Reader

Summary: You already went through a lot in your life, but while dating Draco the world you knew has changed dramatically and it seems like it couldn’t get any worse...

Word Count: 2,7k

A/N: I just discovered that tumblr has a limit of words per post, that’s why I had to make a part two of this when it wasn’t supposed to be that way but I hope you’ll like it anyway.

Part I

I found myself in a sort of tunnel between nothing and everything, my body was molded several times like a play dough but in the hands of the universe, the only solid thing I had was Draco's cold hand, which I held tighter to help me through the pain. I also lost my sense of time, it seemed like an eternity in there, it never had an end.

Until the moment I felt my feet touch the ground again and my legs gave out, if it wasn't for Draco I would have fallen. I could hear his voice but could not make out any sound coming out of his mouth for a few seconds.

"Draco, I'm fine...just a little dizzy”, I clutched the sleeve of his shirt and I could see the concern in his eyes.

Every corner meticulously tidied and cleaned, worthy of a family like the Malfoy's, the room was particularly dark and cold, as if no one really spent time there, the only thing that decoration passed to me was anguish.

His arms still firmly around my waist, his face analyzing mine carefully.

"Are you sure you're alright?", he asked softly and I just nodded my head slightly and leaned on his shoulder, closing my eyes a little.

I hadn't realized that we were still in the presence of his parents, who watched the scene with sharp eyes but soon disappeared inside the house.

We were silent until a loud noise next to us made me lift my head and moved away from Draco, it was just a house elf carrying our bags upstairs.

"We can pick it up later, let's at least get some breakfast. It's still early”, he held my hand and I understood the meaning in his words.

"If you're sure, that's fine by me", I didn't have the guts to speak in a normal tone, as if the house was being watched constantly.

He called out to the elf, who came running downstairs eager to please his master and immediately followed the order to prepare breakfast for us. I couldn't relax even if his presence helped me, I was wondering if we could escape so easily, if they would just leave us alone.

Throughout breakfast I was tense in my chair, we both were and it would only end when we got out of there at once and for all.

We left the dining room to get our things a minute after we finished breakfast, since neither Narcisa nor Lucius had shown up again, with luck we could leave without either of them noticing for quite some time.

"Narcisa, we need to ... oh Draco and ...who is that?", I took a deep breath having to contain my startle when caught in the act.

The woman didn't seem impressed and walked over to us with a strange smile on her face. I had a few seconds to absorb her features but it was possible to feel a bad aura coming from her.

"Aren't you going to answer me? I'd forgotten, has your age of bringing girls home already came?", the cynical, amused smile didn't leave her lips.

"It is none of your business Bellatrix, as you see, my mother is not here", his direct and even rude tone caught me off guard, I had never seen him talk like that before.

"Oh, how cute, you're showing your claws to defend your girlfriend but only because you're Narcisa's son, don't ever think you can speak in that tone with me."

Before she could say anything else, other voices erupted out of nowhere, more people began to appear, paying less attention to our presence as the room became more crowded.

"Ah, it's time.You have to leave little girl, my lord doesn't like intruders", she said lord with a glint in her eyes that made me sick.

"Come on, I'll take you outside...", he saw the opportunity and immediately took my hand so we could get out of there.

"This girl looks so much like you Avery", a male voice spoke and in a few seconds all eyes were on me, analyzing me from head to toe.

It didn't take me long to recognize this Avery guy, he had the most shocked expression among all the people there.

The same color hair was the most I could tell from the distance, we all stood in silence not knowing what to say.

"Did you really have a daughter, you bastard?", another man said before punching him lightly on the shoulder.

"It's impossible, my parents don't have that last name and neither do I. Excuse me...I shouldn't be here", I squeezed Draco's hand tighter and made my way through the death eaters.

My heart was beating so fast that I was afraid they would be able to hear but no one stopped us from leaving since we really shouldn't be there, or at least, not me.

How long would we have before you-know-who arrived? I couldn't think about it, as soon as we reached the door we started to run, and run and run some more until our feet hurt. There was no time to breathe, to think, to stop.

We needed to get to the city, we needed a fireplace, we needed to get to my house but how? No one around would be kind enough to help us, so we walked a long way until we were far enough to the point that no one would recognize Draco.

We end up in a simple part of town, the houses were smaller and further apart from each other and all were on the side of the road. Obviously we were exposed there and there was nowhere else to go, so we had to take our chance.

"Let's knock on one of the doors, we can't walk all the way to London", I said standing in front of a little white house with a large and well-kept garden. "Someone who takes such good care of plants can't be bad, right?"

"Let's hope we don't pick the only bad HufflePuff in history", he said and I might have laughed if my worry wasn't so real.

We walked side by side, taking our last steps before our legs gave out from exhaustion. "Be at home, please be home...", I crossed my fingers as soon as he knocked on the door.

The door was opened by a little blonde girl, she just stuck her head out the door to see who was there, she gave a little scream and closed the door hard as soon as she saw us. We looked at each other without understanding what the hell had happened until another voice was heard inside the house, this time a lady opened the door and held it open.

"I'm sorry, do you guys need help?", she didn't have to look us up and down to guess that, we were soaked.

"Yes we do, we need to get to my house but it is too far, perhaps you have a flu net in your house, Mrs?", I spoke up as Draco was making too much effort even to stand upright.

"Yes I do, come on in, you guys can sit for a bit too. You look like you ran a marathon", she made room and we could see inside the house.

The furniture made of wood was modest but beautiful, the living room was well decorated and the wallpapers went in shades of yellow and blue. Draco seemed more impressed than I was since I'm used to this style, but contrary to what anyone would imagine the expression on his face was not bad at any time.

"Your house is beautiful Mrs., we don't want to trespass on your kindness but could we get a glass of water?", his voice even huskier than usual rang through the walls of the house and I was truly surprised and somewhat proud of his attitude.

"Sure, I'll get it, you can sit on the couch. You guys need it", I didn't wait a second to sit down and for Merlin's sake, I could spend the rest of eternity there.

"Forget about everything, I never want to get up from here again", he said almost crying with happiness and I had to laugh, I laughed a lot.

"Sorry love but it's really funny, you have to admit", I said, still laughing softly when the lady came back with two glasses full of water.

We drank as if we had spent 40 days in the desert and my feeling was not so different from that.

"I can bring you another glass if you like. I just don't understand how two teenagers could have ended up in this condition...", she looked genuinely concerned, we were very lucky.

"We had a problem, a huge problem and we need to get home as soon as possible", he said with certainty in his voice but made no effort to actually get up.

"Thank you very much, ma'am, we can’t thank you enough for helping us", I said with a smile right after I stood up, even though my whole body contested this decision.

"It was a pleasure dear, I hope you get home well. The flu powder is by the fireplace, go ahead", she smiled gently and took a step to the side.

I went ahead while Draco still seemed to muster the courage to stand up. The stone fireplace was small, there was no way we could both go at once.

"Draco, do you remember the address I told you about?", I turned back to look at him and he was still in the same position but now massaging his own foot, "Draco? Will you hurry up? I'll guarantee you a massage from an expert after we're home," and as if they were the magic words, he was at my side ready to leave in a flash.

I took a deep breath and we could hear a giggle coming from behind the couch, only the girl's big, bright eyes were in view but as soon as she realized she was caught she went back into hiding.

"Goodbye madam and goodbye little one,"I took a handful of the powder and walked into the fireplace. "Don't forget the correct pronunciation", I said to the blonde before throwing the powder on the floor and speaking my address out loud.

The last thing I saw were two pairs of blue eyes staring at me before I disappeared and the first thing I saw when I got home were my clothes covered with scoot and the angry voices of my parents came soon enough.

"What's all this racket! Y/N, you should be at Hogwarts right now. Now you're breaking school rules?", my mother said as soon as she arrived in the living room.

She was wearing an apron over the comfortable clothes she wore indoors, then I noticed the delicious smell coming from the kitchen, it was already lunchtime.

Before I could reply, I was pushed forward and almost lost my balance and fell on the small coffee table.

"Honey, what's happening here? Y/n? Draco? Get out of there right now, why did you come home early?", my dad was more confused than angry and I was even more relieved that they were both okay.

Even though I had a lot of explaining to do, I could only run to hug them without caring that I was getting them or even the floor of the room dirty.

Too many emotions consumed me, I had put too many people I cared about in danger and now no one would be truly safe there.

"Don't worry about it, Dumbledore let us leave early for Christmas but so much has happened, I'm so sorry, we're not safe here", my tears flowed without me realizing it, slowly the despair and fear that I had held all this time was consuming me.

"Love, come sit down, we are all fine and whatever has happened, we will work it out. Draco, sit here too.You both look so pale", the woman's angry voice turned to a honey-sweet tone but if I had looked into her eyes, I could have seen the concern in them.

"I'll get some tea, you need to calm down and rest, then we'll talk about whatever happened on the way here", my father got up and hurried out of the room after my favorite tea.

My mom kept hugging me from the right side, her presence was always enough to bring me comfort. Draco had sat down on my left side and the first thing I did was to intertwine his hand in mine and squeeze it lightly, he did it back to reassure me.

The conversation was postponed until after lunch, since we were too hungry to wait and too dirty, according to my mother.

We both took a shower and Draco wore some of my father's clothes as they would fit perfectly, then we went to eat and afterwards, in a calmer mood, we explained what had happened.

The look of horror on my parents' faces had broken my heart, I never told them anything about this dark side of the Wizarding World, especially when I was so close to it all. I wanted to protect them but now I had no other choice.

"I'm sorry I got you into this situation Mr. and Mrs. Lewis, I can stay somewhere else, I can think of a plan and fix it", he said this several times but neither I nor my parents agreed.

"This is absurd, no matter what happens. You're here as part of the family, we'll figure it out if we have to move out of here", my father interrupted for the second time my boyfriend tried to apologize, even though it wasn't his fault.

The conversation didn't last long because we soon came to the conclusion that the best idea would be to send a letter to Dumbledore, explain what happened and ask for help because no other wizard in the world could be better.

"Rest for a while now, as soon as we get an answer we will call you", my mother said from the kitchen. I tried to help with the dishes but she insisted that we deserved a longer rest.

Then I took Draco to my room, I left the door open because it would be better not to leave room for complaints from my father.

The decoration of the room was in several shades of blue, which was always my favorite color, blue from the walls to my closet.

"Let's get some sleep, I'm sure from now on our life won't be easy but it will be better than it was before", I said and lay down on the bed, leaving enough room.

His body snuggled up next to me in silence but I could almost hear the amount of negative thoughts going through his head.

"Hey, you can stop that. We deserve to be a little hopeful and even more so, rest. So you can tell your little head to think about other things, okay?", I put my arm around him and felt him do the same to me, until we were face to face.

"How could you possibly know what I'm thinking? You're horrible with silent spells", he said with a sly smile that opened into a satisfied grin at the sight of my angry expression.

"First of all, I know you very well so of course I know about your pessimism and second, I'm going to have a lot of time to learn and it's not like you're great so shut up", I replied as he laughed but soon, I was the one laughing after he fell off the bed, "Oops, sorry, it was just a little accident”.

That was the first night that he had more than 5 hours of sleep because we were truly safe with Dumbledore's protection. Until Christmas we stayed at my house and we had more truly happy moments in a span of 3 days than in the whole year and all I wished for was more of that forever.

Harry Potter Masterlist

#harry potter fanfiction #fred weasley #harry potter x reader #harry potter #george weasley #draco malfoy x reader #draco malfoy #draco malfoy fluff #draco malfoy imagine #draco malfoy angst #george weasley x reader #masterlist #draco malfoy masterlist

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raven-moon33 · 4 years ago

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Agh, sorry this is so late! I was planning on posting at least two more stories for #jttwfestival2020, so naturally my computer decided to break down the last few weeks of December. ;;

So, here is my exceedingly late contribution for Day #6: Make Your Own Bizarre AU! I will be cross-posting this on my AO3 profile, RavenMoon33, so feel free to check it out there as well.

This is a superhero AU (because I’m just a sucker for those tbh), so for some basic information:

Guanyin is a director/supervisor (think Nick Fury but better) working for the Lotus Syndicate (superhero agency) who goes under the codename Bodhisattva, Sanzang is one of her tech guys (think Q) whose codename is Monk, while the rest of the pilgrims are miscellaneous superheroes put together to be one of the Lotus Syndicates best superhero teams.

I’m already building up a bigger story and world for this (because I can’t seem to help myself apparently) and I do plan on continuing it with at least a few more parts/chapters. I’m not sure yet if I’ll be posting subsequent parts on Tumblr or if I’ll just keep them all on AO3 in a single story/series (purely out of laziness lmao) so keep an eye out for updates there if you like it.

Alright, ramble over. Please enjoy and let me know what you guys think!

“Monk, thank you for coming on such short notice. Please, take a seat.” Sanzang took a deep breath to hide his nerves and did as Guanyin bid him, sinking into the comfortable cushioned chair opposite her desk as well as he could with prickles of anxiety keeping his body tense and alert. He kept his briefcase clutched tightly to his chest as if it could be a barrier between them.

“There’s no need to be so anxious,” she laughed, “I promise I didn’t call you here for anything bad.” He gave a pointed look to the tea set and trays of cookies and sweets positioned strategically on the desk, an obvious bribe if ever he saw one.

“Bodhisattva, the last time you called me in here like this you assigned me to the Five Finger Mountain case.”

“Which turned out well, didn’t it?” She replied, sipping serenely at her tea. He blinked at her, flabbergasted, for a moment.

“I nearly died at least three times, nearly got fired, and spent a full month surviving in the woods on my own!” He stood up angrily when she just continued to stir her tea, pointing an accusing finger at her. “I’m just a tech guy, I wasn’t even supposed to be out on the field! What part of that is good?”

“The part where you rooted out dozens of spies in our network, exposed one of our highest-ranking members for corruption, and got half a dozen of our operatives out of enemy territory after they’d been held prisoner for years, all from your computer in the middle of a run-down shack in the woods?”

He opened his mouth to protest, he had just been doing his job after all, but she cut him off before he could even start.

“Or perhaps before that, when you helped save countless civilian lives by actively going out to the mountain site yourself and manually disabling the satellite gun before it could wipe out a quarter of the population, because no one else would listen to you and I was busy being framed for everything going wrong?” He sheepishly sunk down into his seat at her firm look, fighting the urge to hide his very red face in his hands.

He couldn’t exactly brush the whole thing off as nothing with her sitting right there in front of him, knowing more about what exactly those two months had been like for him than anyone else did. She didn’t seem angry at least, the same as she had when he refused a promotion and the rewarded recognition the higher-ups offered him after it was all said and done.

(He didn’t want the glory of being the person who wasn’t fast enough, smart enough, good enough to save the seventeen people who died between the time he figured out what was really going on and the time he finally gave up on The Lotus Syndicate getting anything done and going rogue. Three days, seventeen people- he should’ve been better. He didn’t want the operatives who made it out of there trying to thank him when they’d been stuck in a dark basement for months, some years, while he’d been off doing who knows what. He should’ve been better. He didn’t want the glory).

But she at least understood, later, when he explained it to her, so she wasn’t angry anymore. He still couldn’t bear to meet her eyes though. Eventually, she took pity on him, handing him a steaming cup of tea. An olive branch.

A few moments of silence passed.

“I was just doing my job.” He muttered at last, sullenly stirring sugar into his tea, accepting the silent apology for what it was. Neither of them liked to think too deeply about that time. She smiled gently at him, the warmth of it easing the tension out of his muscles. The tense air around them cleared.

“And you performed admirably. You are one of the best tech operatives in the business after all, if not the best.” He shook his head slightly, but didn’t try to protest. Questionable heroics aside, he was good at what he did, and they both knew it. “Which is why I’ve called you in here today. I have a new assignment for you.”

He perked up when she placed a folder on the desk between them, eager to leave the shadowy confines of the past behind. Besides, he’d been stuck on filing duty for the past month thanks to Guanyin’s momentary absence and his temporary supervisor hating his guts for whatever reason, and he was bored.

“What is it?” He asked, even as he reached forward and plucked the folder off the desk.

“Have you heard of the Nomads?” He snorted and gave her a disbelieving look.

“No,” he drawled sarcastically, “I can’t say I’ve heard of our most powerful superhero team, the ones who have racked up almost half a trillion dollars in damages in the last year alone and who have single handedly caused the PR department to go on strike no less than three times in the last two years.” Her mouth twisted into a wry yet fond smile.

“They are a handful, but their results more than make up for their more… unique methods.”

“Reckless methods, more like it.” He muttered, starting to flip through the file when she only nodded serenely at him. “What about them?”

“I want you to be their new tech.” He nearly choked on his tea.

“You want me to what?!”

“Be their new tech.” She repeated firmly, setting down her teacup and fixing him with the no-nonsense look he knew better than to ignore. “They’ve become one of our most powerful assets in only two years, but any team without a good tech is basically flying blind. They’ve been doing good out on the field, but they’re not as new as they used to be. The enemy will start to figure out their weaknesses soon, and without a good operative they can trust to lead them well when they’re in dangerous situations, they have a pretty glaring one.”

“You’re not telling me they’ve been operating for two years without a tech?!” He asked incredulously.

“Of course not! I make sure they have a tech for every mission, but,” here she sighed and rubbed at her temple, and she must’ve been exceedingly stressed out if she was actually showing physical signs of it, “they’ve also managed to drive away every tech I’ve assigned to them within a month or flat out refuse to work with the ones who don’t run. They need a good operative, someone competent who won’t run away when the going gets tough, until I can find a more permanent replacement. The pickings are slim, and I want to avoid having to start poaching techs from other departments if I can help it.”

She looked at him then, her eyes beseeching him in the way they only did when she was asking for a favor as a friend, and not as his boss.

“You’re the best pick for the job, because you know what you’re doing and I know I can count on you to do it well.” He could feel himself wavering now, and he could tell she knew it too. “Please Sanzang, you’re the only person I can trust with this right now.” He sighed and slumped back in his chair, defeated.

“How long do you want me on this then?”

“Seventeen months.”

“Seventeen-?!”

“Just until my assistant, Novice, gets back from his mission with the Jade Apprentices,” she interrupted, a hand raised in a plea for civility, “then you can have any position or assignment you want as thanks for taking this one on.”

He paused, considering.

“Even at Thunderclap? You know I don’t like working on the field.” And a position at Thunderclap would practically guarantee he’d never have to go on the field again.

“Yes,” she nodded after a significant pause, though she didn’t seem particularly happy about it, “even at Thunderclap. You’ve more than earned it, if that’s what you truly want.” He sighed in relief and nodded.

“Alright then. Seventeen months.”

“Seventeen months.” She agreed. “You can have the rest of today off, but you’ll be flying out to their main base in Beijing tomorrow morning. I’ll send you the relevant details tonight, but until then try to get some rest. You’ll need it.”

Sanzang did not rest. Once he got home (or rather, the hotel room he’d been living out of for the past few weeks- staying in the same place for too long made him nervous nowadays) he hunkered down in front of his computer monitors and spent the night doing research on the group he’d be spending the next year and a half babysitting.

The Nomads were made up of four members, each more powerful and dangerous than the next.

Freefall, Red Sand, Nine-Toothed Boar, and last but certainly not least, their leader Great Sage.

With the notable exception of Great Sage, each member of the group had been employed by the Lotus Syndicate for at least a few years before falling out of grace in one way or another, whether through an excessive amount of public damage getting them demoted to less than stellar positions in the Syndicate (Freefall and Red Sand) or the sheer amount of HR complaints getting them flat-out fired (Nine-Toothed Boar).

The three of them were only reinstated as high-ranking superheroes after the Five Finger Mountain incident revealed a distressing amount of Lotus’ heroes to be corrupt, severely depleting the Syndicate’s fighting force and requiring many previously fired or demoted heroes to be reinstated (even if only temporarily).

The three were put on a team with one of the Syndicate’s newest and most powerful superheroes (Great Sage, who as far as Sanzang could tell seemed to have popped up out of nowhere) both as a PR stunt (public damage and HR complaints or not, the three were still public favorites and no one was more popular in the public eye than the Great Sage himself) and as a way to keep a close eye on all of them, just in case.

Regardless of their rocky relationship with the Lotus Syndicate however, no one could deny they did amazing work.

It seemed every week there was a new story popping up in headlines about their latest accomplishment in making the world a safer place; stopping bank robberies, rescuing hostages, uncovering shady gang operations, saving the entire world from some type of otherworldly threat, fetching cats stuck in trees- you name it, they’ve done it at least twice in the past six months alone.

Sanzang couldn’t deny they did a lot of good, helped a lot of people, but even just looking at the reports on the damages left over from their altercations with criminals made a headache start throbbing behind his eyes. And he wasn’t even technically responsible for them yet!

He sighed and started compiling folders on all four of them; their powers, their personalities, their greatest successes, their worst failures, every scrap of a clue to each one’s backstory.

Forewarned is forearmed after all, and dammit, Sanzang was nothing if not prepared.

(Sanzang would soon come to learn that when it came to dealing with the Nomads, there was, in fact, no way to be prepared.)

#jttwfestival2020 #jttw #journey to the west #sun wukong #Tang Sanzang #Bodhisattva Guanyin #My writing #yes I had way too much fun coming up with all the names #even though it should've taken me like #five minutes max #but we're going to ignore that because #SECRET IDENTITIES AND MISUNDERSTANDINGS ARE MY BREAD AND BUTTER #bring all the wacky hijinks and hilarious miscommunication #it shall be amazingly cringe don't worry guys

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iffeelscouldkill · 4 years ago

Text

say what we wanna do, make it all come true (chapter 1)

A/N: It is! My fic for the Fiction Podcast Big Bang @podcastbigbang! I am a bit terrified to be posting this after working on it for so long! Also this is in the running for the Longest TSCOSI Fic I’ve Written So Far (not sure if it’s the longest because I don’t remember where my wordcount is up to for Adjusting, but like... it’s long, guys). This is Chapter 1 of 3, and the remaining chapters will be posted weekly!

You can read this on AO3 where the formatting is honestly much better, but here it is on Tumblr anyway. Also, please check out the FANTASTIC artwork made for this fic by the wonderful @bluereadingdolphin and @demonic-kitkats, who are my artists for this fic and their artwork is so good, you guys, I’m in love and they did such a phenomenal job with the honestly pretty vague info they got from me 😂

bluereadingdolphin’s piece

demonic-kitkat’s piece (from Chapter 2!)

Please give them all the love!

Content warnings: There is a relatively brief physical altercation described in this chapter, but it isn’t graphic or bloody.

Also, I play a little fast and loose with POV in this; the first section is told from Sana’s perspective, the rest from Arkady’s.

---

“Hello and welcome back to Radio Indie, Folk and Techno, also known as RIFT, where we play all the bands that matter outside of the mainstream! I’m Piper Tanaka, and I’m your co-host for this programme! I’m joined as usual by the lovely Kestrel Colvin, with Reina Sakamachi in the booth! Now – where were we?”

“You were introducing our guests for this next section,” Kestrel replied in a slightly despairing tone.

“Right! Indie fans, I am joined today by two members of the fabulous up-and-coming indie band Rumor! With me in the studio are frontwoman and lead guitarist Sana Tripathi—”

“Hey! It’s a pleasure to be here.”

“—and bad girl bassist Arkady Patel.”

“Bad girl?” Arkady repeated, sounding halfway between taken aback and annoyed. Kestrel just shook her head.

“Ignore her. She��s got a thing for a certain… aesthetic.”

Next to Arkady, Sana was doing an incredibly poor job of hiding her laughter. “It’s the combat boots,” she whispered to Arkady.

“These are practical,” Arkady told her in a tone that suggested they’d had this conversation a few times. Sana said nothing, but straightened back up with a smirk.

“Sana — or should I call you ‘Captain’?” Piper began playfully. Sana grimaced.

“In hindsight, it was a poor choice to share that nickname in an interview.”

“You know, I think it suits you,” said Piper. “There’s something commanding about your aura. Sana, you and the band — which I understand you and Arkady originally started as a duo a few years ago—”

“That’s right,” Sana confirmed.

“You’ve always had a dedicated and loyal following, even from your early days — and we’re proud to have been playing your music here on this station for almost as long — but I think it’s fair to say the past few months have seen that rocket to a whole new level,” Piper said. “You got signed to a record label belonging to the mysterious but notoriously discerning Red Gregor, are working on your second album, and played a major gig at the CUI stadium just a few weeks ago. And we are definitely going to talk later about what went down at that gig, which is already the stuff of online legend — but first I want to backtrack a little, because I think the moment that everything started happening for you was when you added a new member to your band. In the middle of a gig, if the rumours are true. Can you tell us how that happened?”

Sana and Arkady exchanged a sidelong glance, and Arkady gave Sana a tiny nod. Sana took a deep breath, and began to tell the story.

---

“Jeeter, for the last time, put the keytar away,” Arkady said irritably as she and Sana entered the draughty, abandoned warehouse that the band was using as their current rehearsal space. The acoustics were pretty weird, probably due to all the broken windows, but it was otherwise hard to beat a free place to rehearse — especially a free place with no asshole neighbours who would yell at them to turn it down and threaten to call the cops.

Admittedly, it was in kind of a rough area, but Arkady had only needed to knock someone unconscious with her bass once.

In retaliation, Brian played another bright riff on his beloved instrument, accompanied by some jazzy keyboard chords from Krejjh. The two had been jamming together before Arkady and Sana arrived. “Dude, c’mon, can’t you hear how good this sounds?” Brian wheedled. “How many other indie bands do you know that have a keytar?”

“None. For good reason,” Arkady said, unzipping her case and slinging her bass around her neck. Sana, unpacking the sound equipment, smiled in fond amusement at their well-worn argument.

“It would give us such a great edge! Totally unique. And Krejjh and I have so many ideas that would sound great with both instruments—”

“Okay, Jeeter,” Arkady interrupted him, twiddling one of her tuning pegs. “You can play the keytar. Just as soon as you find us someone else who can play the drums.” She stooped to plug her bass into the portable amplifier that Sana had just unpacked. “Or are you planning to grow an extra pair of hands so you can play both at once?”

“Oooh! No, I should have an extra pair of hands!” Krejjh immediately (and predictably) enthused. “Then I’d sound four times as awesome! Four hands, all rockin’ out!”

“I think you mean ‘twice as awesome’,” Sana told them, as Brian reluctantly put away his keytar and picked up his neglected drumsticks.

“With me, twice the hands equals four times the awesome,” Krejjh replied with irrefutable logic. Brian laughed and held up a hand.

“Dude, high five.”

Sana waited for the two of them to finish their congratulatory high-five before she called the band to order. “Okay, guys — remember that we’re only a few days out from our gig at the IGR Corp function, so we need to have our crowd-pleasers up to standard.”

Arkady immediately wrinkled her nose. “Ugh, corporates. Why are we taking money from them again?”

“Because we need to pay for rent and food,” Sana said, bluntly. “And they’re giving us a lot for it. I know none of us love playing corporate gigs—”

“Understatement.”

“—but we are living a hand to mouth existence at this point, and if I can guarantee our survival as a band by relieving some corporates of their excess funds, then I’m going to do just that,” Sana continued. She waited a beat, and then added, “Also, we’re gonna let them get really drunk and then start playing our best anti-capitalist anthems, and see how long it takes for them to notice.”

Arkady broke into a shit-eating grin. “That’s more like it.” Krejjh cheered, and Brian did a little run-down on his drumkit, hitting each of the drums in turn.

“All right, let’s start with ‘Fear for the Storm’? One, two, three, four…” Sana started strumming the intro on her guitar, joined after a few beats by Krejjh’s melody on the keyboard.

“So long, can’t dodge the dawn, red light shines on and on and on and on and on…”

---

Arkady had been on edge ever since the band set foot in the agonisingly hipster office complex — excuse me, ‘headquarters’ — belonging to IGR Corp.

It wasn’t just the fact that these guys were extremely corporate corporates, or that the whole place radiated an almost aggressively minimalist aesthetic, or that the walls were covered in bullshit, chipper slogans that were all fancy ways of saying, ‘Work should be your existence – if isn’t, you’re dead to us’ — although those things sure as hell didn’t help, reminding her of the absolute worst parts of every soul-sucking corporate job she’d worked before Sana mercifully re-entered her life and suggested they form a band.

No, there was just this weird vibe, like everyone was super on edge and trying to hide it — the higher-ups were stone-faced, muttering into earpieces or barking orders at underlings, who scurried, terrified, to carry out their wishes. And everyone else, from the tech types in plain white T-shirts and jeans to the smartly-dressed sales reps in suits, looked like they were there on pain of death. Wasn’t this supposed to be a party?

The atmosphere didn’t go unnoticed by the other band members. “Kind of a weird feel to this place,” Jeeter remarked as he unpacked his drumkit on the raised platform at the front of the ‘rec center’ where they would be performing. Normally, setting up was a noisy, clumsy affair, with the band elbowing each other, tripping over wires, and getting in each other’s way in the tiny space they were afforded in bars and nightclubs. Here, the platform that would be their makeshift stage was huge and extremely visible — but everyone was completely ignoring them. There was also very little background noise for a room packed with people, and the band found themselves speaking in hushed murmurs, almost tiptoeing around. “You’d think there would be a bit more… chatter?”

“Maybe the alcohol just isn’t flowing yet,” Sana speculated, but she sounded uneasy as she looked out over the tense crowd. Even Krejjh, with their signature hot pink, heart-shaped sunglasses perched on top of their dyed-lavender hair, dressed in a clashing, flamboyant jumble of clothes and accessories, seemed subdued.

Arkady plugged in her bass with a burst of static, and deliberately played a loud riff. Brian startled and dropped his drumstick, but not a single member of the sea of blandly-dressed IGR Corp employees flinched.

Weird.

The sound equipment was all set up, sound check performed and instruments tuned by half past, but the set wasn’t due to start until o’clock. Normally, Arkady would be making a beeline for the bar, but she didn’t really feel like rubbing shoulders with any of these weird drones. She found herself reflexively checking the exits, mentally charting their fastest route out of there in case something really fucked up started going down. Sana half-jokingly called it paranoia; Arkady called it long, hard experience.

It was on one of her scans of the room that she noticed the woman with the septum piercing. Arkady chalked it up to professional interest — as a kid, she’d picked up some extra money working as an assistant in a tattoo and piercing shop, The Landing. She’d first met Sana there when the other woman came in on several occasions to have work done on an amazingly intricate floral sleeve tattoo — her own design. Later, Sana had led a campaign to save The Landing from being shut down over a bunch of bullshit health code violations so that the billionaire Cresswin family — who owned the property — could sell it off to a shitty corporation.

The campaign hadn’t worked, and there was now a high rise office block where Arkady’s home from home had once stood. But Arkady had never forgotten Sana.

Anyway, it was definitely the woman’s piercing and not anything else about her appearance that caught Arkady’s attention first. But then she noticed that there was something off about her body language and the way she was moving — something that Arkady recognised. She wasn’t scurrying about in a panic or affecting bored disinterest; her eyes were flickering around the room, carefully monitoring the comings and goings of the other employees while seeming not to do so. There were little devices studded around the room that Arkady had clocked as security cameras the moment they entered (it was the kind of thing she made a habit of noticing), and she saw the woman glancing up at them.

She was dressed like an employee – white blouse, dark rinse blue jeans – so why was she acting like she was casing the joint? Of course, Arkady reasoned, the outfit could easily have been chosen to blend in. It didn’t necessarily mean she worked there.

“Seen something interesting, ‘Kady?” Sana asked playfully. Arkady didn’t startle, but it was a near thing; she’d been so focused on watching this woman.

Unfortunately, Sana saw where she’d been looking. “You know, we’ve still got close to half an hour before we start our first set,” she said. “You can go and mingle.”

“I’m not here to socialise,” Arkady said witheringly. “Least of all with corporate drones.” She tore her eyes away from the woman to meet Sana’s amused look.

“I’m just saying, you seemed pretty absorbed there…” Sana said, and Arkady rolled her eyes, determined not to respond to her best friend’s teasing. She glanced back at the spot where the woman had been standing and found it empty.

A second later, Arkady had found her again, weaving through the crowd with her head ducked down. She was taking an odd route across the room that Arkady realised must have been calculated to avoid the security cameras. Occasionally she disappeared, behind people or objects (like a huge, obviously fake ficus plant), but it wasn’t hard for Arkady to spot her again. Clearly there was some kind of purpose to what she was doing, but the woman wasn’t a professional.

There was an elevator against the far wall, and as Arkady watched, the doors opened and a small group of people in suits – latecomers to the party – walked out of it. The woman mingled with them briefly, and then disappeared inside the elevator. The doors closed.

Well, that had been a way to kill five minutes, but now Arkady was stuck with nothing to do again. Krejjh and Jeeter had pulled out a pack of cards, and were playing one of their weird games on top of Krejjh’s keyboard. Arkady turned to Sana, about to make another comment about how much this place creeped her out, when she caught sight of the other person moving across the room.

Judging by the expensive suit, they were a higher-up, and were taking none of the precautions the woman had when making their way across the room, which suggested that they were confident about being allowed to do whatever it was they were doing. And to Arkady, it looked an awful lot like they were following the woman she’d seen. Based on the way the suit jacket fell, she’d also bet even money that they were armed.

Sure enough, the suit called the elevator, and disappeared into it a second later. Arkady swore under her breath.

It was none of her goddamn business whether a person she didn’t even know might be in danger, Arkady told herself. She was here to play music, not to get in the middle of whatever might be going down at this godawful corporation. Which again, was none of her business anyway.

Her resolve lasted all of ten seconds.

“I’m going to get a drink,” she told Sana, and placed her bass onto its stand.

“Oooh! Bring me a cocktail – no, a mocktail!” Krejjh said. Sana just looked at her quizzically.

“Are you okay?” she asked.

Arkady nodded briefly. “I’ll be right back,” she said, and jumped down off the platform.

She wasn’t under any illusions that Sana wouldn’t notice where she was going, and just hoped that her best friend would trust her to be back in time for the set. She slipped through the crowd, following the same path that the woman had taken to avoid the watchful eyes of the security cameras.

This worked right up until she entered the elevator, where sure enough, a security camera was embedded into the top corner. How had this woman planned to avoid getting caught?

Arkady pulled out her smartphone, and began to quickly and expertly worm her way into the closed network that IGR Corp was using for its security systems. After just a few moments, she’d managed to identify the IP address that the lift camera was using, and wow, whoever had set up this system was either incredibly lazy or was trying to lay out a welcome mat for hackers. They hadn’t bothered to change the default access password.

Arkady wound back the last few minutes of recorded video, and watched as the woman with the septum piercing pressed the button for the top floor. Arkady did the same, and as the elevator moved upwards, she introduced a glitch that would cause the security camera to loop footage of an empty elevator instead of showing who was actually inside. Then she worked to edit out the archive footage of the woman riding up in the elevator, and of herself getting in.

If it turned out that there was nothing weird going on here after all, well, she’d had some fun exploiting the corporates’ shitty security system.

But Arkady was pretty sure there was something weird going on.

The elevator came to a silent stop, and Arkady silently thanked the deities she didn’t really believe in for the fact that this place was too hipster to have an elevator that made a noise when it arrived at the right floor. The doors slid open, and Arkady immediately spotted another security camera on exiting the elevator. God, these corporates were paranoid. But apparently not paranoid enough to pay their security person to do their job properly.

Annoyingly, the security cameras for this floor seemed to be on a separate network, and Arkady started another hack as she crept down the corridor, straining her ears for the sounds of a confrontation. Further down, she saw an office door swinging open, as if someone had gone through it in a hurry. Arkady approached it, being careful to stay out of sight of the doorway. Closer to, she could hear a voice coming from inside – the suit’s, if she had to guess.

“…sure CEO Golding-Frederick will be very interested to hear just what you’re doing in her office, Ms. Liu.”

“Seiders, I can explain,” the woman – Liu – replied, her voice high with tension. “Project ADVANCE – it’s not what we’ve been told. The company is using it to-”

“What the company may or may not be doing with Project ADVANCE is not your concern,” Seiders said smoothly, over her, “and is a long way above your pay grade. But I’d be very interested to learn where you got your information from.”

“Do you know what’s going on at this company?” Liu demanded, outraged. “And that’s – you have no problems with what they’re doing?”

The closed network for the top floor of the building was much less of a pushover than the elevator, and Arkady kept half of her attention on the conversation inside the room as she worked to find a flaw in the system. Finally, she made it in, and began trying different password combinations for the camera in the hallway.

“It’s not my job to ask questions, Ms. Liu,” Seiders had been saying. “Neither is it yours. And if you value your job – not to mention the safety and security of your loved ones – you’ll step away from that computer, and go back downstairs to the party.”

“Are you threatening me? Are you threatening my family?” Liu demanded. “No, I’m not going to stay silent about this. Someone has to take a stand against what this company is doing. And if anything happens to me, that’ll only raise more questions.”

“We’re very good at making those questions go away,” said Seiders, and Arkady heard Liu suck in a breath. She moved so that she could see inside the room and shit, that was a gun. Arkady rapidly began calculating her angle of attack. “Didn’t you ever wonder what happened to Connors from Engineering?”

“That’s not – you can’t just make a person disappear,” Liu said, desperately. “I – I have insurance! Documents that I’ve sent to a friend of mine. If I don’t check in with them in two hours, they’re going to send them to a journalist contact, and it’ll be all over the press in the morning.”

Arkady could hear the lie in her voice so clearly, and she knew Seiders could, too. “If you had enough evidence to be worth a damn, you wouldn’t have broken into this office,” they replied. “I’m going to ask you one last time. Step away from the-”

Arkady slammed into the room, deliberately making as much noise as she could to draw Seiders’ attention. She took two, three steps towards them and grabbed their gun hand, forcing it down and towards the floor. She managed to hook one arm around their throat, pulling back and applying pressure. Seiders choked, struggling and jerking against Arkady’s grip. With the hand that was holding their gun hand, Arkady twisted and pulled their fingers open, causing the weapon to drop to the floor.

“Liu, grab the gun!” Arkady ordered. She saw the other woman yank something out of the computer that looked like a flash drive, stowing it inside her blouse. She dove for the gun at the same time that Seiders managed to thrust an elbow back, driving it into Arkady’s midsection.

All the air left Arkady’s lungs and as she struggled to draw a breath in, Seiders took advantage of her loosened grip to twist free. They grappled with Liu for the gun, but Liu succeeded in kicking it away, where it spun underneath a nearby cabinet. Then Arkady was on Seiders again, jumping onto their back and choking them.

She heard the sound of running footsteps, and someone else burst into the room. Arkady didn’t get a chance to see who it was before Seiders slammed their head back, knocking into Arkady’s and making bright white lights explode across her vision. She dropped to the floor and staggered, trying to clear her head.

She heard an oof and a thud, and blinked rapidly, sure that she would open her eyes to see Seiders bearing down on Liu – or worse, standing over her unconscious body.

Instead, she was greeted with the sight of Seiders crumpling like a sack of potatoes as Sana flexed her fist, having delivered a powerful uppercut that knocked them out cold.

Silence reigned for a few seconds, broken only by Liu’s sharp, panicked breaths. Rubbing her head, Arkady said, “Hey, Sana.”

“The next time you decide to go off on a rescue mission,” Sana said, wryly, “you could at least tell me where you’re going.” She frowned as she took in Arkady’s dishevelled state. “Is your head all right?”

“I’ll be fine,” said Arkady. She was more concerned with Liu, who looked like she might be on the verge of a panic attack. “Hey, uh, it’s okay. We took care of them.”

“Who-” Liu managed, taking deep breaths in and out, clearly trying to steady her breathing. “Who are you?”

Sana smiled at her, warm and reassuring. “My name is Sana Tripathi, and this is Arkady Patel. We’re-”

There was a noise that sounded not unlike a herd of elephants storming down the corridor, and Arkady closed her eyes. She had a bad feeling she knew what was about to happen. Sure enough, in the next second Krejjh and Jeeter clattered through the door in all their clashing multicoloured glory: Jeeter in his signature loud paid shirt and those stupid khakis, and Krejjh with their… everything. Most of the clattering was coming from Krejjh’s many bangles.

“Cap’n Tripathi!” Krejjh said. “We’re here to assist you with – oh my god, are they dead?” They stared at the unconscious form of Seiders on the floor.

“They’re not dead, they’re just unconscious,” Arkady said, irritated. “Did you two really take off without anyone to watch the equipment?”

Sana turned back to Liu like nothing had happened. “We’re the band,” she finished succinctly. “I’m the guitarist and lead singer, Arkady here plays the bass, and Krejjh and Brian are our keyboardist and drummer.” She indicated each of them in turn. Jeeter waved, and Krejjh saluted for some reason. “And who are you?”

Liu blinked at her. “You… you just saved my life, and you don’t even know who I am?” she said. “Why would you do that?”

“For one thing, because you’d probably be dead if we hadn’t,” Arkady said. “You’re welcome for that, by the way.” She pulled out the phone to finish the hack on the security cameras that she’d started before she entered the room.

“I – no, I know that. I’m not ungrateful,” Liu said, sounding a little stung. “I’m just a little… in shock. My name is Violet Liu,” she added to Sana. “I, uh, work in IGR Corp’s neuroresearch division.”

“Good to meet you, Violet Liu,” Sana said, sounding like they were old friends catching up at the bar instead of total strangers talking to each other over an unconscious body. “’Kady, are you erasing the security footage?”

Arkady nodded.

“Good; Brian and I will carry our friend here,” Sana indicated Seiders with her foot, “into the hallway. I think I noticed a closet there we can hide them in.”

“Uh… are you guys really the band?” Liu asked, as Sana and Jeeter – who was much stronger than he looked – bent down to pick up Seiders. “You seem very…” She struggled to find the right words. “…good at this.”

“We have some unorthodox skillsets,” Sana said, beaming and dimpling at her. “We don’t normally make a habit of rescuing people in the middle of a gig, but Arkady has a soft spot for damsels in distress.”

Arkady fumbled her phone, and nearly dropped it. “Sana,” she hissed, mortified. Sana, who was already partway out of the door, winked and disappeared into the hallway.

After a moment, Arkady realised that she and Liu were the only ones in the room, Krejjh evidently having decided to go along and supervise, or something. She refocused her attention on the hack she was carrying out; she’d managed to hack the hallway security camera, and was erasing the footage from that, but she still needed to do the one in the office.

“Uh…” Liu awkwardly broke the silence. “Is there anything that you need me to…”

“Is anyone likely to be monitoring the security cameras in real-time?” Arkady asked her. The question came out sounding a little harsher than she’d intended, but it was hard to be diplomatic when she was focused on trying to break into a security system. Also, it was a little annoying that Liu apparently hadn’t thought about security cameras beyond the ones on the ground floor.

“N-no, the system is all automated,” Liu replied. Well, that was something, at least. “I, uh, I do have a virus that I was planning to use on the security system that would corrupt the footage. I just needed to find an access point.”

Fine, so there had been a plan of sorts. “This is quicker,” Arkady told her. “And the way I’m doing it, it won’t be so obvious that someone has tampered with the footage.”

“Thank you for that,” Liu said, quietly. “And thank you for – I mean, you don’t even know me, but you came up here to help me. Why?”

Arkady shrugged, keeping her shoulders hunched and avoiding Liu’s gaze. “You looked like you were in trouble,” she said shortly. And that was the office camera done. Arkady resisted the urge to change the password to something rude, and withdrew from the network. “And I don’t like corporations. What were you trying to do, blow the whistle on them or something?”

“Um, I-”

Before she could explain, Sana poked her head back into the room. “Arkady, are you done? Because I don’t think we should be hanging around up here.”

“I’m done,” Arkady said with a nod, pocketing her phone. The two of them joined Sana, Krejjh and Jeeter in the hallway.

“We need a plan to get Violet back downstairs and out of the building without her being seen,” Sana said quickly. “’Kady, do you think you two can make it out in fifteen minutes?”

Arkady huffed. “I can hack the security cams, but I can’t actually make us invisible,” she pointed out. “People are gonna notice us. If we waited until you guys started the set, then we might have a better chance, while everyone’s attention is on the band.”

“Listen – it’s not that I don’t really appreciate the help,” Liu cut in. Her face was set, like she was preparing to go to the gallows. “But none of this needs to be your problem. It’s my mess, and I can get myself out of it. You guys should go and start your set.”

“Oh, pshaw!” said Krejjh. “We’re not just gonna leave you to the bears!”

Jeeter smiled. “To the wolves,” he corrected Krejjh.

“Are y’sure? Because bears can be pretty terrifying.”

“We’re not about to abandon you now,” Sana said to Liu, gently. “Between the five of us, I’m sure we can figure out a pretty good plan.”

“Can’t we just pretend to be loading something into the truck?” Jeeter suggested. “And Violet can help us? We could give her a band jacket – make her look like she’s with us-”

“It’s too bad you don’t play!” Krejjh said to Violet. “We could add you into the set. The ultimate entourage!”

“Uh…” Violet said (at the same time as Arkady said, “Camouflage.”) “I mean, I do play something? But you guys already have a drummer.”

“Wait, you’re a drummer?” Jeeter said delightedly, as Krejjh straightened up so fast that Arkady thought they’d pull a muscle. Even Sana looked interested. “Are you good?”

“Have you ever played with a band before?” added Sana.

Liu smiled and shrugged awkwardly. “Well, drums aren’t really a solo instrument, so yeah. I used to jam with some friends in high school, and played some underground rock concerts in college. I was never really with a band – we just sort of used to form collectives based on who was around and wanted to play. It was fun, though.”

She’d avoided answering the question about how good she was, Arkady noticed, which probably meant she was good and was being modest about it. Goddamn it.

“So if, hypothetically speaking,” Sana said, “you joined a set without having rehearsed any of the music beforehand, would you be able to figure out a drum part?”

“Okay, hold on,” said Arkady, before Violet could respond. “Don’t you think IGR Corp is going to notice that one of their employees has just… joined the band?”

“We’ll swear up and down that it isn’t her,” Jeeter said. “And even if someone figures it out, what are they gonna do about it in front of everyone?”

“But wait, what about you?” Liu asked Jeeter. “Wouldn’t I be putting you out of a role in the band?”

“Nah,” Jeeter said happily. “I brought my keytar!”

“Oh my god,” Arkady groaned. She could tell when she was fighting a losing battle, but it didn’t stop her from making one last, token protest. “This is going to sound really goddamn weird.”

Sana grinned at her. “Well, you wanted to annoy some corporates,” she pointed out. “What better way to do it?”

---

The problem was, the new line-up didn’t sound weird at all.

It sounded good.

Liu, hastily disguised with an old band jacket and a spare pare of Krejjh’s sunglasses, fitted in with their set like she’d been rehearsing with them for weeks – months even. They did a quick sound check, Jeeter looking far too delighted as he amped up his keytar. Sana gave her usual cheerful introduction into the microphone, introducing the band as Renegade, the name they adopted for corporate gigs (Arkady was even more glad of it now, since it would make them harder to track down later). After a lukewarm reception from the assembled employees (none of whom seemed to notice, or care, that the band had grown an extra member), they launched into their first number, a reimagined cover of ‘What Shall We Do with the Drunken Sailor’.

It started off with Sana singing alone, before Krejjh joined in, their voices singing in close harmony, and then Arkady and finally Jeeter, the harmonies becoming increasingly layered as they went. The addition of the keytar made the song sound futuristic, almost the kind of thing you could imagine crews of space explorers singing together as they made their way into the unknown.

Liu picked up the beat easily, and as the song unfolded Arkady suddenly realised she could hear a fifth strand to the harmony, weaving in and out of the other voices, soft but distinctive: Liu was singing.

They moved on from the conventional crowd-pleasing openers to a more eclectic mix of songs, including some punk and anarchist numbers. Each time, Arkady was sure that the choice was going to throw Liu off, but she adapted smoothly to each one, altering her style to fit the vibe of the song. In one of the louder, heavier songs she even threw in an impromptu drum solo that had Krejjh whooping at the keyboard and Sana laughing as she riffed on her guitar.

Sana threw Arkady a look as the song ended, and there was a light in her eyes that Arkady knew far, far too well. It was the same light that Arkady had seen when Sana tracked her down at her latest deadbeat job and persuaded her to quit and start playing music with her; the same light that she’d had when they met Brian and Krejjh a year later and Sana had decided to turn their duo into a band.

Sana wanted Liu to join Rumor. And Arkady couldn’t even think of a good argument against it, apart from the fact that they barely knew anything about the woman other than that she could play the drums. And that she was a corporate, which Arkady thought was important not to lose sight of, even if Liu wasn’t on the greatest terms with her employer any more.

Speaking of which. Arkady was on high alert throughout the whole set, constantly scanning the crowd for signs of trouble, anyone who might be looking too closely at Liu or showed signs of moving towards the elevator. As they’d been setting up, Liu had told them that Seiders was middle management: someone who outranked her, but not someone who held a position of particular influence within the company or had the ear of the CEO. Someone who had ambitions above their station. It didn’t mean no-one would notice them missing, of course; but it meant that they might be someone who, for instance, would go after a rogue employee without notifying their superior, hoping to reap all of the credit.

The band moved into their final number, ‘Landers Never Stand Down’ – one of Sana and Arkady’s early compositions, whose lyrics Sana had written as a tribute to The Landing, and her and Arkady’s shared history. Normally, Arkady would object to wasting it on a corporate audience, but tonight, it felt like the right kind of ‘fuck you’.

“Landers never stand down,

Landers never bow,

Landers never stand down,

We don’t know how…”

They wound up the song in their usual fashion, repeating the chorus and getting fiercer and more defiant with each repetition, before ending in a final blaze of guitar chords.

“Thank you, everyone, you’ve been a wonder to perform for!” Sana said into the microphone as the chords faded away. She said the same thing at the end of every gig, but it had never felt more like a colossal understatement. “We’ve been Renegade, and we hope you have a great night!”

There was a small scattering of applause. Sana beamed out into the audience again, and then turned away from the microphone, sliding the power to ‘off’. “Well, that was-”

“Attention, all IGR Corp employees,” came a voice over the loudspeaker system. Sana froze, and Liu, who’d been leaning over to say something to Krejjh, paled visibly. “Please stay where you are. We will be carrying out a routine attendance check. Please do not exit the building.”

“Attendance check?” Arkady repeated.

“It’s a standard employee procedure,” Liu explained. “To make sure everyone’s… accounted for at corporate functions. Supposedly they’re optional, but it looks really bad if you’re not there and you don’t have a reason.”

“Do we think there’s a chance this is linked to…” Sana gestured towards the elevator. Liu shrugged helplessly.

“It could be, but even if it’s not, they’re gonna discover that Seiders is missing pretty quickly. And that I’m… unaccounted for.”

“Don’t worry,” said Jeeter, reassuringly. “We’ll figure out a way to get you out before that happens.”

“Dashing escapes are our speciality!” Krejjh contributed. This was true; the band hadn’t always played at the most above-the-board venues, and there’d been more than a few times they’d needed to get the hell out of Dodge before things got ugly. Well, uglier.

Sana nodded. “For now, just keep packing down, like nothing’s wrong,” she said.

As Krejjh packed down their keyboard and Jeeter helped Liu to disassemble the drumkit, Arkady said to Sana, “I’ll go with Liu, and we can sneak out a back entrance-”

Sana shook her head. “It’ll be more suspicious if we’re not seen leaving as a group.”

“We’ll just say we’re going to the bathroom,” Arkady said. “We’re allowed to do that, aren’t we?”

Sana started to reply, but then stopped, squinting at something on the other side of the room. Arkady tried to follow her gaze, but couldn’t see what she was looking at. “What is it?”

“I thought I saw…” Sana shook her head. “It doesn’t matter. Let’s try the front way first, and if they won’t let us leave, we’ll get creative.”

Unsurprisingly, when they carried the first load of equipment over to the rec room entrance, two stoic-looking IGR employees blocked their path, bouncer-style. Arkady eyed one of them, pretty sure she could take her in a one-to-one fight.

“Sorry, we can’t let you leave while an attendance check is ongoing,” said the employee, with a bland detachment. “Company policy.”

“It should only take about an hour,” the other added. “You can enjoy the free refreshments while you wait.”

An hour? Even if they hadn’t had a very pressing reason to get the hell out of there, Arkady would have been looking for the nearest fire escape to break out of. They were just supposed to cool their heels at IGR headquarters for an hour?

“Can we not at least load our equipment into the van in the meantime?” Sana asked reasonably. “This is a very heavy amplifier…” She made a show of struggling with the amp she’d been lifting with ease a few seconds ago, and Arkady suppressed a snort.

One of the corporates had opened their mouth, looking like they were about to object, when a friendly voice spoke from behind them. “Is there a problem here?”

They all turned to look at the person who’d spoken, and Arkady carefully masked her surprise: the tall, dark-skinned man dressed in an expensive-looking suit jacket, T-shirt and jeans combination was none other than Red Gregor, a close friend of Campbell’s. They’d met him once or twice, but what was he doing here?

“Who are you?” asked Corporate One, audibly unimpressed.

“Theodore Gregor; I’m the band’s executive producer,” Gregor introduced himself smoothly, handing Corporate Two a business card. Their eyes widened at whatever was written on it. “My clients have another engagement to get to tonight, so you can understand why it’s very important they be allowed to leave promptly. Additionally, their contract stipulates that they’re only obliged to perform for your company until-” he made a show of checking a gold watch, “-nine-thirty P.M., after which time we’ll need to bill you for every additional half-hour. Will your supervisors be signing off on the additional expenses?”

Corporates One and Two were visibly thrown by the torrent of information. Krejjh made a noise that was hastily stifled, while Arkady did her best to look bored and important.

“I… no, let me just contact my superior to get you the all-clear,” said Corporate One, reluctantly. “Johnson will help you to load your equipment into your…” She eyed the band’s battered van, visibly out of place in the parking lot full of sleek cars. “…vehicle.”

“Great!” Sana said brightly, handing the amplifier to Corporate Two, who took it and staggered slightly. As Corporate One spoke into a walkie-talkie, Sana and Red Gregor strode quickly ahead, the rest of the band trailing behind. Arkady lengthened her steps to catch up with them so that she could hear their quiet exchange.

“…doing here? Did Campbell send you?” Sana was asking Red Gregor.

“In a manner of speaking,” Red Gregor said. “He talks about you so much, I wanted to come and hear what all the fuss was about. Love the new line-up – you guys sound completely different to when I last heard you play.”

“It’s kind of a new thing,” Sana admitted. “New as of… today. I can fill you in, it’s just a long story.”

“I can’t wait to hear it,” Red Gregor said, and Arkady remembered that she’d liked him, the couple of times that they’d met. She could see why he and Campbell were good friends. “But let’s focus on getting you out of here. I’m guessing you need an exit?”

“And fast,” Sana agreed.

“Well, fast’s your speciality,” Red Gregor said with a grin. Sana smiled back at him, and Arkady wondered if Red was basing this off stories from Campbell, or if he and Sana knew each other better than Arkady had realised. It was a strange thought to have in the middle of everything.

Sana unlocked the van and slid open the back door. While Krejjh, Jeeter and Liu loaded their items into the trunk, overseen by Corporate Two, Red Gregor pretended to help Arkady and Sana with their instruments.

“So what now?” Arkady asked Sana. “I think I can probably take Johnson.”

“Arkady, you’ve already been in one fight today,” Sana said, disapproving.

“What’s your point?”

“I have a more bloodless suggestion,” Red Gregor said. “You’ve got a few pieces of equipment left in the venue, right? I’ll go back inside with Johnson to ‘collect’ them, say we’re going to check their supervisor has given you the go-ahead, and you guys make a break for it. I’ll bring the equipment in my car and meet you at the dive bar, half a mile down the road.”

“Are you sure you’ll be able to get away? What happens when they realise we’re gone?” Sana asked.

“I’ll come up with something,” Red Gregor assured her. “Just focus on getting yourselves out of here.”

He walked over to Johnson, who was slightly bemusedly watching Jeeter and Liu (who were clearly stalling for time) rearrange pieces of the drumkit in the trunk, and took him by the arm, steering him back towards the building and talking rapidly all the while.

“As soon as they’re out of sight, everyone needs to get in the van quickly,” Sana instructed. “And hang onto something. Okay? Now!”

Krejjh slammed the trunk of the van shut and everyone piled into the back without a word of protest. Arkady jumped into the front as Sana slid into the driver’s seat, reversing out of the parking space like a shot and executing an alarming hairpin turn to get them onto the road. Liu cried out in alarm, not used to Sana’s driving, and Arkady hung grimly onto the handle on the inside of her door.

“Everyone okay back there?” Sana asked, peering into the rearview mirror.

Arkady looked back to see Jeeter and Krejjh scrambling to put on their seatbelts, each of them having thrown an arm over Liu to keep her in place. “Oops, sorry, I forgot we don’t have a seatbelt for the middle!” Sana said cheerfully as they thudded over a speedbump. Liu closed her eyes. “There’s normally only four of us.”

“It’s not far to where we’re going, right, Captain?” asked Jeeter.

“Just a half mile down the road,” said Sana. “Red Gregor’s going to meet us there with the rest of the equipment, as soon as he can get away.”

“What was he doing at the gig? Did Campbell tell him where we were?”

“I think so. He said that he wanted to come and hear us play,” Arkady said, watching buildings blur past on either side of them. “I guess it was lucky he did.”

“We would’ve figured something out,” Krejjh said confidently.

“Uh, who’s Campbell?” Liu asked, cautiously opening her eyes again.

“He’s our… manager? Kinda?” Krejjh replied. “He doesn’t tell us what to do or anything, but he has a lot of contacts, so he gets us most of our gigs.”

“Contacts in the music industry? Or contacts in like… events venues, bars and clubs?”

“Yes,” Krejjh said helpfully.

“He just has a lot of contacts,” Jeeter said with a smile. Arkady smirked at Liu’s look of consternation.

“Tonight’s gig did not come through Campbell,” said Sana, spotting the dive bar Red Gregor had specified and indicating to turn off the road. “We got it through an agency, Fowleys. I guess that’ll teach us not to go outside Campbell’s network.”

“Hey, it worked out!” Krejjh said. “We got a new drummer out of the deal.”

“Well, for tonight, at least,” Sana said, now reversing into a parking space. “I gotta say, Violet, the way you fitted in with our sound? That was amazing. Our set sounded better than I could’ve imagined.”

Liu blushed. “They were great songs,” she demurred, as the van came to a stop.

“Too bad it was wasted on IGR Corp,” Arkady remarked, undoing her seat belt as they all climbed out of the van.

They got a table in the corner of the dive bar, which was pretty full and made it easy to blend in. As Sana went to get them all drinks, Krejjh and Jeeter started up some kind of nonsensical word game. Arkady and Liu glanced at each other occasionally, but otherwise sat in awkward silence.

Finally, Arkady asked something that had been on her mind since she intervened in the confrontation between Liu and Seiders, though it had taken a back seat to more pressing concerns. “What was it you were trying to get from that computer, anyway?”

“Sorry?” Liu asked, looking away from Krejjh and Jeeter, where she’d been listening in on the game with a slightly baffled expression.

“In the CEO’s office,” Arkady clarified. “I saw you take a flash drive out of the computer. What were you trying to get?”

“Oh,” Liu said, drawing out the little drive from inside her blouse. “Yeah, I was… trying to copy some files onto it. I’m not sure how much I got, though – I had to pull it out before the transfer was complete, and I think they’re encrypted.”

“What kind of files are they?” Arkady asked, thinking that she could probably break the encryption in an afternoon. Maybe less.

Liu hesitated, and Arkady narrowed her eyes. “You’re not still trying to protect your company, are you? In case you don’t remember-”

“No, no,” Liu said quickly. “I just – I’m not sure if it would be safe to tell you. Safe for you,” she added. “Right now, you have plausible deniability if anyone questions you. You genuinely don’t know what’s on this flash drive. So maybe it would be better to keep it that way.”

Arkady was a little bit pacified by that, but still – “Considering I’ve already aided and abetted you, I think that ship has sailed,” she pointed out. “No-one is going to believe I did it without having any idea what you were up to. Which I’m fine with,” she added, as a guilt-stricken look crossed Liu’s face. “I made a choice to help you, and so did the others. But I may as well know what the stakes are.”

“Yeah, that’s… fair,” admitted Liu. Next to her, Krejjh was doing a fairly poor job of pretending not to listen in. “They’re blueprints. My company – the company – has been developing… do you know what IGR Corp does? What kind of a company it is?”

“Some kind of a tech company?” Arkady said. She vaguely remembered Sana saying something about that when they got the gig. She hadn’t really been paying attention to the details.

Liu nodded. “Smart technology – specifically, smart home technology. We produce – I mean, they produce things like smart security systems, smart doorbells, systems that can detect when someone has a medical emergency. Systems that are designed to help keep people safe.”

Arkady had to work to keep from grimacing. She wasn’t sure that being monitored by a computer 24/7 fitted everyone’s definition of ‘safety’, but maybe Liu had never had cause to doubt that the people with power had her best interests at heart. Lucky her.

“But then,” Liu went on, her voice bitter, “I found out that the latest product we were developing – the one that was supposed to make everyone’s lives so much easier, so much better – is being created as a surveillance device. To eavesdrop on people and send their data back to the company. And I know that a lot of smart devices have audio capabilities, but – this was hardwired in. Impossible to disable. And this weird, secretive new division of the company has been set up to process the data.”

“What are they gonna do with it?” Arkady asked.

“Who knows,” Liu said. “They could be collecting it for the government, but – I think it’s more likely they’re just planning to sell it on to the highest bidder.”

Arkady’s eyes narrowed, and she wished that Sana had brought the drinks already so that she’d have something to down.

“You know,” Liu said, her voice suddenly much softer. “I, uh. I still haven’t thanked you properly for, uh, well-”

“O-kay!” came Sana’s voice, loudly, as she finally arrived at their table carrying a small tray laden with glasses. “Sorry for the delay, guys, there was a heck of a crowd up at the bar. Also, the bartender was really interested in talking to me while he pulled these drinks.” She made a wry expression, her dimple deepening in one cheek. “Cheer up, ‘Kady, I’ve got your favourite-” She slid a pint glass of raspberry ale in front of Arkady.

“Thanks,” Arkady mumbled, not looking at Liu.

Red Gregor arrived not long after, having apparently evaded IGR Corp by pretending that he was going outside to look for the band, and then driving off with the equipment before anyone realised what was happening. Sana passed him a drink from the tray; no-one asked how she already knew his preferred drink order.

“So look,” said Arkady, after they’d done some small talk and toasted to a successful getaway (Sana’s idea, of course). “Not that we didn’t appreciate the save earlier – you had pretty good timing – but why’d you go to all the trouble of coming to an IGR Corp function just to hear us play? How did you even get in?”

“I know a lot of people,” Red Gregor said mysteriously, with a fluid shrug. “As for why I came – you probably don’t know this, but I’ve been getting into the music biz lately.”

Arkady tried to remember what ‘biz’ Red Gregor had been in before, and couldn’t. He was one of those people who seemed to do a bit of everything.

“That’s awesome!” said Krejjh, looking delighted. “Are you going to start a band? Or manage one?”

Red Gregor smiled. “Actually, neither. I’m starting a record label,” he said. “And I want to sign you guys to it.”

Liu choked on her drink; Jeeter said, “Wow, really?” and even Sana looked taken aback. Clearly this hadn’t been the answer she was expecting.

“Us?” she said, as if Gregor could have meant anyone else. “As in…” She gestured around the table, including Liu.

Red Gregor nodded. “Look, your new sound is like nothing I’ve ever heard from a band before,” he said. “Campbell has always spoken highly of you guys, and I really liked your originals the last time I heard you perform. But with this new line-up? I think you could become really big. If that’s something that you want, of course.”

Sana sat back in her chair, looking thoughtful, while Krejjh looked practically ready to vibrate out of theirs with excitement. “That would be a pretty big step for us,” she said. “Not that we wouldn’t love – more exposure, better opportunities-”

“Gigs in legal venues?” put in Jeeter.

“More above-the-board performances,” agreed Sana. “But we’ve only played once with this new line-up. We don’t know for sure if we can replicate that – and I mean, we’d be asking Violet to just drop everything and join us full-time-”

Red Gregor held up his hands. “Like I said, it’s completely up to you,” he said. “I’m not here to pressure you into something you’re not ready for. But don’t underestimate yourselves. I wouldn’t be offering if I didn’t have faith in you guys.”

Sana looked around the table, taking in the mixture of expressions, ranging from Krejjh’s eagerness to Liu’s uncertainty to Arkady’s… Arkady didn’t know what her face was doing. “We’ll have to put it to a vote,” she said, predictably. “And if any of you need more time to think this over-”

“I’m in!” Krejjh said instantly. “We rocked tonight! I want to keep on rocking that hard. And we should totally record an album.”

Jeeter smiled fondly. “I’m on board with anything that will let me keep playing the keytar,” he admitted. “And I thought we sounded pretty awesome, as well.”

Sana looked at Liu. “Violet, you’re the one who this would be the biggest change for,” she said. “The rest of us are already playing in a band full-time. Well, with the odd side gig,” she added, because yeah, they did not yet make enough money from performing to cover the bills. “You barely know us, and you’re not under any obligation to stick around – or to switch careers.”

Liu gave a slightly broken laugh. “Well, I don’t really think I can go back to my old one,” she said. “That option evaporated as soon as one of my colleagues pulled a gun on me. Not… sure I’ve really had time to process that yet.”

Sana nodded. “If it’s too soon-”

“But no amount of processing is going to make my situation any different,” Liu went on. “I could try to get another job in my field, but… IGR Corp is a pretty well-known company. Word’s going to get around that I’m untrustworthy, especially if they put it about that I tried to steal corporate secrets.”

“They can’t do that,” Sana said immediately. “I used to do some union work; whistleblowing is a protected activity, and it’s against the law for them to blacklist you – to make it more difficult for you to obtain future employment.”

Liu smiled slightly. “I don’t think IGR Corp are too concerned with breaking the law,” she pointed out. “I appreciate it, but… this isn’t my first experience with a hostile work environment.”

Okay, so maybe Arkady should take back her earlier thought about Liu never having had cause to distrust the people in power.

“Besides, I haven’t even blown the whistle on them yet – I’m not sure if the information I have is worth anything,” Liu said, a little grimly. “And anyway… I think it’s time for a clean slate. So, if you’ll have me… I’m in.”

Which just left Arkady. She could see how pleased Sana was that Liu was willing to join the band full-time, even though she was trying to hide it. Krejjh and Jeeter, too, were excited – and not just at the prospect of getting better gigs and earning more money (though that was a very appealing prospect).

The fact was, Red Gregor was right – they’d sounded like a completely new band during their performance. Arkady had always liked their stuff (of course she did; she’d even co-written some of it) but the new sound gave it a flair she hadn’t even realised it had been missing. As much as she couldn’t help thinking of the dozens of ways this could go wrong, she wanted them to keep sounding like that. She wanted to see what else they could do.

“‘Kady?” asked Sana.

Arkady took a deep breath. “Sure. Let’s do this.”

#TSCOSI #Podcast Big Bang 2021 #The Strange Case of Starship Iris #Vikady #Arkady Patel #Violet Liu #Brian Jeeter #Krejjh #Red Gregor #who turned into a surprisingly key character for this fic which is fun #I'm kind of inventing his personality from wholecloth but I like him #the background Sana/Campbell/Red Gregor sort of came out of nowhere and I just went with it #love me some OT3 vibes!

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argylemnwrites · 4 years ago

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Fight or Flight - Chapter 4: Commitment

Pairing: Drake Walker x MC (Riley Liu)

Book: The Royal Heir (canon divergent from the end of book 2)

Word Count: ~3900

Rating: PG-13 (brief language)

Summary: Two and a half hours since The Walker Absconding

Author’s Note: This series follows the Walkers, their friends, and Cordonia as a whole after they flee the country with their daughter during Barthelemy Beaumont’s attempted coup. To catch up on this series, check out it’s masterlist. (link can be found via my bio - sorry, Tumblr is once again not putting my posts with links in tag searches)

Drake paced along the gravel at the side of the road, glancing over at Riley frequently. She was hunched into the back of the town car, the back door left open as she used the back seat as a makeshift changing table.

He felt sick to his stomach. Everything was going wrong. He was surprised he hadn’t thrown up, to be honest. Olivia’s warning made everything ten times more real. And things had already felt pretty damn real.

They were a dozen or so kilometers into Greece, but he wanted to go back to Cordonia. Getting charged with treason… the thought was so upsetting. And yeah, he wanted to be there to support Liam through this crisis, too. If they all worked together, they could stop the coup and stop the threat of Bridget being taken from them at the same time. But Riley didn’t want to hear any discussion of turning around and returning from Greece. The second he’d mentioned needing to make a decision after Olivia had hung up the phone, she’d gotten defensive. Raised her voice. Told him he never should have come along if he was just going to change his mind, because her plan was final.

They hadn’t been screaming or anything, but they’d both gotten loud enough to wake Bridget, and she’d started doing enough screaming for their entire family. She was hungry, antsy, and probably a bit crabby from sensing their frustration with each other. After several minutes of her wailing, Ray had pulled over to the side of the road and rolled down the privacy divider. He’d offered to walk into the nearest town, which was only about a kilometer away, to pick up a couple of bottles of water so that they could prepare Bridget some formula, as well as some dinner for the three adults. Drake suspected he also was trying to give them some privacy as they discussed next steps. He had to have heard Riley and him getting louder with each other. It’s not like the divider was completely soundproof.

But instead of having the conversation they needed to have, Riley was essentially giving him the silent treatment at this point. She’d taken Bridget from him when he ducked behind some bushes to relieve himself, and since he’d returned, she hadn’t said a word to him. He was at a loss as to how to handle it. He knew she was panicking. He knew she was terrified. He knew she was just focused on keeping Bridget safe. But she wasn’t thinking clearly. And if he couldn’t make her see that, he wasn’t sure what he was going to do.

After a few moments, Riley scooped up Bridget, tucking her against her hip as she stood up, stretching her back and twisting her neck from side to side. Drake knew he had to broach the topic again.

“Look, Riley, I know you-”

“Drake, I do not want to hear this. I told you already - Bridget and I are not setting foot on Cordonian soil until we have confirmation that no one is scheming to take her.”

Drake ran a hand over his face as he let out a massive sigh. He’d never struggled this much to get through to her before. Even in those early days, when most of their conversations were all snark without any underlying friendship or affection, he’d always felt like she was at least willing to hear him out, even if she’d thought his warnings had been over dramatic. It’s weird how he was now the one arguing the opposite position, trying to convince her to put her faith in at least some of the Cordonian nobility.

“Riley, can you at least explain to me why Olivia’s plan is something you won’t even consider?”

She shot him an annoyed glare and rolled her eyes, but then she said, “If Barthelemy takes over Cordonia, Olivia is not going to be able to protect us. How can you not understand this?”

“Olivia will still be the Duchess of Lythikos, no matter who is acting as monarch. If she wants to offer us amnesty there, that is well within her capabilities.”

“But how do we know that she will be allowed to keep that title? Don’t Cordonian monarchs have the power to strip nobles of their titles if there is suspected criminal activity?”

“What are you talking about? How is Olivia a criminal?”

“I’m pretty sure aiding and abetting traitors and kidnappers is a fucking crime, Drake.”

“But Riley, we’re only going to be charged with those crimes if we flee the country. Or I guess if they figure out we fled the country at this point. If we go back now-”

“Yeah, I’m sure Barthelemy will just accept us keeping physical custody of Bridget if we go hang out in Lythikos. No way we can get charged with kidnapping her there if he decides he wants to take her and we say “no,” because being on Cordonian soil will magically protect us.”

Drake paused, rubbing the back of his neck. She had a point there. If, god forbid, Barthelemy’s plan was successful and he was able to get himself named king-regent, the issuing of treason charges for the two of them would probably be a matter of when, not if. As long as they insisted on keeping Bridget with them, which was obviously not up for debate, they likely would be charged and named as enemies of the state whether they were in Cordonia or in Greece.

“Okay, let’s say there’s no way to prevent us being named traitors. I still think it’s worth considering that if we stay in Lythikos, we have a support system. We have a roof over our heads. We have food and clothing and money. We have friends who will help us. We don’t get anything like that if we stay in Greece.”

Riley shot him a look that was so withering, he wished he could crawl out of his skin. “And how do we guarantee that Barthelemy won’t freeze Olivia’s accounts and strip her of her title unless she turns us, known traitors and criminals, into his custody?”

“Again, she’s a duchess and head of one the the five major noble houses. Why are you so convinced that he would be able to have so much control over her legally guaranteed powers?”

“Because of what happened with Godfrey when we confronted him about Eleanor’s death.”

“He wasn’t just accused, Riley. We know he killed Liam’s mom.”

“But he wasn’t found guilty or anything. The king’s accusation was enough, right?”

Drake frowned and tried to remember the details of how things worked. He’d never bothered to pay that much attention to the intricacies of the nobility’s power structure during his schooling. After all, it was never going to matter to him. “Actually, I’m pretty sure the reigning monarch can strip any noble of their title for any reason. The noble in question can challenge it if they gain the support of the majority of the major houses, if I remember things correctly.”

“That makes it even worse, Drake! Are you telling me that Barthelemy, if he’s acting as king, could just strip Olivia of her title simply for not supporting him?”

He shook his head. “No, that would be unlikely. The Nevrakises can trace their lineage back past the birth of Cordonia. They are the longest standing major house, and they have made sure their family is well protected by the law. I can’t see Olivia losing her title.”

“But you can’t promise that she’s safe!”

Drake wanted to roll his eyes. The thought of anyone attempting to take Olivia’s title from her and walking away without serious bodily injury was laughable. But he knew that Riley was dangerously close to spiraling into a panicked mess again. So he tried to keep things steady.

“Riley, do you picture Olivia just sitting back and letting someone take Lythikos from her? I am sure her title is safe. Like I said, there are a lot of bylaws and exceptions that protect the Nevrakis family. Besides, a no-confidence vote in Liam is going to draw criticism from a decent amount of the people. He’s not an unpopular king. If Barthelemy removes a monarch and a duchess from a major house in quick succession, he’s going to risk a citizen uprising. Particularly in Lythikos.”

“But that won’t happen instantly, Drake. And Barthelemy could spin this, make Olivia look like she’s a traitor.”

“The citizens of Lythikos won’t buy that.”

“So what? Our plan is to count on a civil war where the citizens of Lythikos are willing to fight for Olivia’s right to shelter us? That seems like a far worse plan than just hiding out in a different country.”

Drake tried to suppress a sigh as he shook his head. “I think you are getting way ahead of yourself, here. We have no reason to believe Olivia will lose her title.”

“And again, I’m telling you that’s optimistic bullshit. Unless I just hallucinated Liam stripping Godfrey, a member of another major house, of all of his Cordonian titles when he was accused of a crime. Guess I got confused while I was almost dying while having to deliver a baby with almost no medical attention in a frickin’ palace bedroom.” Riley sank down on the side of the back seat, a hint of exhaustion noticeable behind the fire in her gaze.

Drake didn’t like to think about those hours before Bridget was born. He’d been scared shitless, trying to keep it together as it seemed more and more likely that there would be no medical care and that Riley or his child… or both might die as a result. They were some of the darkest hours of his life. He’d honestly had no recollection of slamming Bradshaw against the wall when Olivia had mentioned it hours later, everything just a giant blur of fear and anger and desperation, all without wanting to make things worse for Riley by letting her see how stressed he was.

But then Dr. Ramirez was there and in the blink of an eye, Bridget was crying in his arms, and Dr. Ramirez was acting like Riley was out of the woods. The earlier fears and struggles seemed so inconsequential as they held their daughter close. Saw her face. Wrapped her up and held her tight. And maybe naively, Drake had assumed with everything Riley had physically been through during her labor and delivery, that she’d kind of forgotten how dicey it had been since everything turned out okay. But hearing her now, it was clear she carried a lot of pain and fear from that time, even if she never had mentioned it before.

“Riley…” he started, crouching down in front of her, bracing himself on the open car door as he gently placed a hand on her knee, “I’m sorry.”

“It wasn't your fault,” she said with a little shrug.

Drake nodded, “Still, you should have never been in that position.”

“We should have never been in that position, Drake. Maybe you’re just blinded to how fucking bizarre this all is, because it’s all you’ve ever known, but half the things that have happened since I’ve been here are insane. And while delivering her in a palace under lockdown was one of the scarier ones, it isn’t the only time I’ve been in a position that I shouldn’t have had to handle.”

He knew she was right. Assassination attempts, photographers paid to catch her in her underwear, marriage alliances. All of it was kind of bullshit. But they’d always gotten through things together. He didn’t understand why this time she wanted to run and refused to face the problem head on. He didn’t know what to say, so he just gave her knee a squeeze he hoped was comforting and pushed himself up to standing, leaning against the side of the car next to her.

Riley bit her lip, bouncing Bridget on her lap. Bridget was getting crankier. Drake could see it clearly. They’d given her some of her rice puffs, the only snack they had in the diaper bag, which had helped placate her a little, but she was still obviously hungry. Add to the fact that she had been confined to their arms for hours, and it seemed like she was teetering on the edge of a total meltdown. She wanted to be set down, to crawl around and explore. She had no patience for being on the lam.

“Do you want me to take her?” Drake asked, holding out his arms, but Riley shook her head.

“No, I’ve got her.” Her arms tightened slightly around Bridget as she responded.

Drake frowned. Part of him was scared that if he pushed Riley any further right now, she might just bolt. But a bigger part of him knew that if they didn’t address this, that it was only going to get worse. And if they decided to stay in Greece, they were only going to have each other. Not trusting each other fully wasn’t an option.

“You don’t trust me with her.”

Riley swallowed slowly before glancing up and looking at Drake. He hadn’t exactly phrased his statement like a question, but Riley treated it as one anyway. “You’re oversimplifying things. It’s not that straight forward.”

He just shook his head, pushing off the car and resuming his earlier pacing. “It is, Riley. If you can’t answer ‘yes’ to that, well then you obviously don’t trust me.”

“It’s not that I don’t trust you with her,” she said, her voice cracking slightly, “If you want to, you can hold her.”

Drake let out a sigh. “I’m not trying to turn this into a power struggle over who gets to keep her in their arms. That’s not… You’re acting like you’re the only parent here. You’ve decidedly unilaterally that our child has to leave the country. And that’s not fair.”

“You want to know what’s not fair, Drake?” Her voice was high pitched and fragile sounding, but her words were sharp and clear. This wasn’t her panicked ramblings of a couple of hours ago. This was a speech she’d held in her heart for a long time. “What isn’t fair is that your best friend showed up on our honeymoon, asking us for a wildly inappropriate favor with a heavy dose of guilt thrown on the side. What isn’t fair is that you agreed to it before even speaking to me about it. What isn’t fair is that if I hadn’t agreed to it, I would have been the bitch who rejected a guy when he was down on one knee and then forbid the guy I married, his best friend in the whole world, from helping him out.”

“Riley… I-” Drake wanted to try and soothe her, to acknowledge how much rougher everything had been than he could have envisioned when Liam showed up, solemn and resigned, with his request on that beach. But Riley wasn’t done.

“You called it an honor, Drake. That was how you phrased it. Tell me, was it an honor watching the press hound me for months, wanting to know every detail about my body? Was it an honor having to fend off two foreign powers who wanted some archaic marriage alliance with your unborn child? Was it an honor to feel backed into the corner and agreeing to one of those alliances to save my life? To save Bridget’s life? Was it an honor dragging her to balls and galas and events when she wasn’t even vaccinated yet? Because as I see it, this whole scheme has brought our family nothing but struggles and stress and sadness.”

“Of course all that shit sucked! But you don’t get to sit there and act like you are not complicit in almost every part of it. You agreed to it. You don’t get to blame me forever for a choice we both made.” Drake knew his phrasing was harsh, but it wasn’t fair for her to act like he’d forced her to do anything. If she had given him a firm “no” back then, that would have been that.

“You’re right - I should have fought you on this earlier. But I’m not going to just continue to roll along with it when it keeps hurting my child over and over again. So, I’m taking a stand now. I’m saying enough is enough. I’m done. I am not going to keep quiet about it anymore. I should have never agreed to name her heir. Hell, I should have never accepted the duchy.” There were tears trailing down her cheeks, but she held his gaze, steady and sure of her decision. Her arms locked tightly around Bridget as she squirmed on her lap, but she wasn’t distracted.

“Riley, if you had just told me-”

“Drake, I was clearly a reluctant participant from the start. Anytime I started to voice concerns, you just reassured me over and over. You never wanted to hear it.”

It was like the wind was knocked out of him. She really thought he was ignoring her serious objections intentionally? As far as he’d been able to tell, she had just wanted reassurance that she was still a good mom, in spite of all the royal pomp and drama. “Why was this the one fucking topic you decided to be coy about? Literally anything else on the planet you’ve always been blunt and direct with me. You’ve never beat around the apple tree. You called things as you saw them, at least when it was just the two of us. How was I supposed to know you were suddenly shy and reserved when it came to the biggest decision we have ever made?”

“I was afraid,” she said with a little shrug, her face downturned as she dropped a kiss to the top of Bridget’s head

“Of what?”

“Of making you choose between me and Liam.”

Drake let her words wash over him for a few moments before he responded. “Afraid about making me choose or afraid of what my choice would be?”

Her eyes flitted upward as she blinked out a few more tears. “Both, I guess. I felt bad enough that I was this… elephant in the room when it came to your friendship with him, but… I guess part of me was always a little worried that if I really drew a line in the sand, you would feel like you had to stick with him.”

Her words hurt. There was no point denying that. But at the same time, he understood. Not that he thought he might have ever picked his friend over his wife, but that feeling that others would always be more important, the fear that everyone would always just focus on Liam? Well, he got that feeling better than anyone, probably. Combine that with all her fears of abandonment, and he understood how she could have gotten to that point.

“Riley, if I wanted to put Liam’s needs first, I would have proposed to him, not you.” She let out a watery little chuckle at that, so Drake kept going, hoping he was on the right track. “You are my family. You are my whole world, okay? Bridget is the only one who’s as important to me. I love Liam like a brother, but I didn’t exchange vows with him. If you tell me you need me for something, that’s it.”

Riley tucked Bridget back against her hip with one arm and reached her other out towards Drake. He grabbed her hand and tugged her up to standing, wrapping his arms around her and Bridget tightly as she looped an arm around his neck and tucked her face against his shoulder. They stood like that for nearly a minute before Riley loosened her grip and let her hand slide down, her fingers playing with the collar of his shirt.

“I get why you want to turn around and go back, but it doesn’t feel safe to me,” she said, her eyes focused on his shoulder. “We don’t know if Barthelemy has power or not. If he does, we are going to be labeled as traitors anyway, and Olivia’s protection might not be enough to keep our daughter safe by our sides. I can’t knowingly take that gamble, Drake. I just can’t.”

Drake nodded, sliding a hand up to the back of her head and holding her even tighter against him. “You know that we are taking the much more difficult option here, right? We could probably go back and renounce our titles and Bridget’s claim to the throne without any of those fears coming to pass.”

He felt Riley nod against his shoulder. Her voice was muffled as she said, “But do we even have the power to essentially abdicate for Bridget at this point? We were included in that no-confidence vote along with Liam.”

Drake leaned back slightly, needing to look Riley in the eyes. “I don’t know, Walker.”

She bit her lip and nodded again. “Then I can’t take that risk. I would rather face a crazy uphill battle as a family than watch her get ripped from our arms surrounded by Liam, Hana, Maxwell, and Olivia.”

“We’ll stay in Greece, then - on one condition.” Riley frowned at him, so he kept going quickly before she could imagine up all sorts of horrible restrictions he could throw at her. “From now on, we decide our next steps together. If we’re doing this as a family, you and I have to be on the same page. Because Riley, I don’t think we can count on anyone else’s support going forward. And this is going to be hard enough without us doubting and second guessing each other.”

He didn’t bring up the issue of trust again, knowing it would be a moot point. She was going to have to learn to not let her fears override her trust in him, because going forward, there wouldn’t be another option. Hopefully, he would be able to show her he meant what he said by sticking by her side.

They held each other for a few more moments, but then Bridget started doing her crabby, whiny babble, unhappy with not only being forced to stay in their arms, but even more confined between both their bodies. So they broke apart, but Riley clutched his hand and gave it a squeeze. “Thank you, Drake.”

He nodded at her, keeping his hand locked on her hers. Squinting, he thought he could make out Ray, coming back down the road, a shopping bag in one hand. “We should probably come clean to him at some point.”

Riley followed his gaze and sighed, but nodded. “How pissed is Olivia going to be?”

“I think she already suspects we crossed the border. But as for us not turning around?” Drake started, but his thought was interrupted by a buzzing in his back pocket. With his free hand, he tugged out his phone. “Well, I think we’re about to find out,” he said as he showed Riley Olivia’s name across the screen.

He took one last deep breath before swiping to accept her call. “Hey, Olivia.”

“It’s just me and Hana here,” she said, not sparing any time for pleasantries, “so you need to honestly let me how stupid you guys were. Did you guys leave the country?”

“Yes. We were already across the border before I called Liam.”

There was a brief pause before Olivia continued, “And what’s your plan now?”

He locked eyes with Riley and nodded at her before he responded, “I’m sorry. But we aren’t risking coming back.”

Permatag: @walkerswhiskeygirl @riley--walker @bebepac @ravenpuff02 @oofchoices @octobereighth @drakewalker04 @kimmiedoo5 @mfackenthal @thequeenofcronuts

The Royal Romance/The Royal Heir: @ao719 @mskaneko @katedrakeohd @jovialyouthmusic @marshmallowsandfire @axwalker @kingliam2019 @sirbeepsalot @texaskitten30 @princessleac1 @ladyangel70 @dcbbw @yaushie

Drake x MC: @drakeandcamilleofvaltoria @iplaydrake @gibbles82 @drakewalkerisreal @notoriouscs @drakesensworld @drake-colt-lover-99

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#drake walker #drake x mc #trr au #trh au #trr fanfic #trh fanfic #trr au fanfic #trh au fanfic #choices fanfiction

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eury--dice · 4 years ago

Text

history, huh?

chapter 2: prope

(check the rb for chapter 1 on tumblr + ao3 links!)

Blue’s gum popped loudly on the other line. Adam couldn’t remember the last time he saw her chew gum, but somehow it seemed fitting that she picked up the habit then, with him overseas. “Any weird paintings?”

“I’m legally obligated not to tell you,” Adam replied, flicking his eyes over a textbook. He scanned his eyes over a page, but the fonts and colors all blurred together, creating a grey and red mass of string in front of him instead of a helpful breakdown of France’s pre-revolution economy. His phone, propped up on a tiny potted fern, revealed Blue Sargent in all of her early-evening glory. He wondered what the tabloids might think of her like this: her thick and short black hair held back by clashing vibrant hair clips, dressed in one of Gansey’s old Aglionby sweaters she converted into a halter top, felt-tip pen ink somehow smudged on her cheek. There was something wonderfully grounding about her familiar chaos.

“Contracts are a suggestion and nothing more.”

“Don’t let your mother hear that. She’ll have us both thrown in jail.” Ronan’s words from earlier popped into his head, but he had the luxury of ignoring them with the prince out of sight, and so he did.

“C’mon, Adam, you know she’s a softie. You’re in Kensington Palace. You have to tell me something exciting.”

Adam scrounged for something to tell her. He glanced around his room again, still caught off-guard by how much it felt like a castle. Admittedly, he didn’t have a great reference for what castles were supposed to feel like; the only other castle he had been in was the Bishop Palace on a tour with his mother at age eight. His hair raised on end at random moments here the same way it did then, the draftiness leaving him feeling exposed and vulnerable. He couldn't quite shake the idea that someone was watching him, caught between air molecules and screaming for someone to hear them. The White House sometimes gave him the same feeling. Realistically, he knew people passed over every spot on the earth and nothing made the walls of the White House or Kensington Palace any different in that regard. But the history in them intimidated him. The presence of greats, from founding fathers to celebrity politicians to monarchs, was a guarantee rather than a possibility. He couldn’t help but feel watched by them, feel their expectations and disappointment thick in the air.

Living there all the time as Ronan did must be lonely, surrounded only by ghosts.

He pushed his feet against the floor, leaning back in his chair so that it balanced on two legs. His leg swung back and forth to dully hit the wooden underside of the seat while the other braced him. Adam didn’t quite want to tell Blue any of that. He knew she would understand, both because she was Blue and because her family was a big believer in the supernatural and psychic. But he didn’t know how to say it without a long-winded rant. “There’s a coat of armor outside my room,” he admitted in a low tone. “I’ve been waiting for it to twitch its finger and beckon me closer.”

“I’m sure if you ask nicely it will let you pursue your weird metal fantasies.”

“Oh, fuck you,” Adam said without heat, finally flipping the textbook shut. “No kink-shaming over the phone.”

“I watched the Wizard of Oz with you at age eight, Adam. You can’t hide your reaction to the Tin Man from me.”

Adam rubbed his eyes. “I need ice cream to deal with this bullying,” he announced, standing from the borrowed desk and snatching his phone up.

“Aw, at least I know that the English haven’t been able to suck all the life out of you if you’re complaining and want ice cream.”

“They haven’t managed it yet, but we’re only one photo op in.”

“Well, if the excess of British does manage to sideline you, let me know. I know Gansey will want the heads-up for the tabloids.”

“As long as you don’t feed them headlines again, I’d be happy to.” Adam rounded the corner into the spacious kitchen reserved for guests of the Crown. He’d roll his eyes at the needless expense if the White House didn’t provide the exact same accommodations.

“I’m telling you again, I know nothing of the allegation.”

Adam gave her a flat look. “Who else would pen ‘First Son Denies Fur Son Residence in the Residence?’ Besides the obvious reason for it being bad, it was clearly you.”

Blue blew a strand of hair out of her eyes. “Sometimes I hate your intimate knowledge of my love of wordplay.”

“And I yours of the diplomatic taxidermy gifts I receive.”

“I’m sure the Minister of Foreign Affairs’ son meant well, he was just...creepy.”

Adam sighed, opening the freezer with one hand to reveal a box of pre-packaged ice cream cones. “They always mean well.”

He pulled the box from the freezer and shut the door, turning on his heel to face the counter. But he stopped short when he noticed it was no longer just him and Blue alone in the kitchen.

Prince Ronan stood in the entryway to the kitchen, disarmed in the half-light with his flannel pajama pants and black t-shirt combination. Over-the-ear headphones sat on his head, but he pushed them down to loop around his neck. The music was so loud it bled into the air, carrying the harsh sound of drums until they reached Ronan across the kitchen. On his screen, Blue studied Adam and his sudden pause, and the voice of Gansey carried over from somewhere far away - “I’ve got a new article,” it sounded like, though Adam could barely hear anything.

“Call you back,” he said quietly, disconnecting from the call. Ronan looked almost apologetic when Adam looked back up towards him.

“I thought you’d be asleep,” he confessed. “Goody-two-shoes like you.”

Adam wanted to take offense to it, but something stopped him. “I could say the same for you.”

“Yes, well, insomnia calls.”

“Doesn’t it always?” The two shared a tight smile.

“I was out,” Ronan explained, gesturing to the box in Adam’s hand. “Knew there’d be a stock here. I’m...sorry.” The word sounded bitter and foreign on his tongue.

“It’s fine,” Adam said. “Midnight snacks are to be taken seriously or not at all.” He slid the box across the counter, suddenly very aware of his threadbare, faded crimson coca-cola tee shirt and GU sweatpants. He couldn’t stop feeling the slide of them against his skin.

Ronan clutched the box once it reached him, looking to Adam with something close to surprise. Still, he opened the box and selected an ice cream.

While he was distracted, Adam snapped a picture, the flash bright in the dim kitchen.

The stare leveled at him by Ronan should’ve been enough to pin any self-preserving person in place, but Adam rarely did what was best for him personally. “What the fuck is that for?”

“Two social media posts a day,” Adam replied, speeding through the filtering process and tapping to the captioning. “It’s part of the contract.”

“Of course it would be,” Ronan mutters with great disdain. “Fucking social media addicted hounds.”

“Not a fan of technology?”

“Oh, sure, other than the fact that it’s a blight consuming the world by slaughtering brain cells and slowly giving us radiation poisoning.”

“You could’ve just said ‘yes.’”

“Ah, but where’s the fun in that?”

Adam smiled brightly. “Not giving me a headache from all of the pomposity?”

“Exactly. No fun.” When Adam continued to stare blankly at his screen, Ronan rolled his eyes. “Does it take you this long to caption everything you do? If so, I understand why so little governing takes place.”

“Because the monarchy is oh-so-powerful,” Adam replied, but then decided to cut them off before it could turn into a full-blown fight. “It always takes me a minute to think of something good.”

Ronan grabbed the phone from his hands. “You’re overthinking it,” he dismissed, making a few decisive taps before handing the phone back to Adam, photo captioned but not yet posted. insomnia ice cream ft. @PrinceRonan.

“Thought you hated technology?”

“Hate and lack of proficiency are two different things.” “...Of course,” Adam said, clicking post on the photo. Ronan turned and walked toward the door, the song on his headphones audibly changing. Not one for goodbyes, then. The feeling he had in his room was back then, the idea that ghosts clung to the air around him and stole oxygen with their demands. Although Ronan had not yet left, Adam already felt as though he were lonely. Lonely, but not alone, still technically with Ronan and all of the ghosts thickening the air.

Adam, in a fluid movement he didn’t really plan, dumped half of the ice creams on the counter and held out the box across the marble countertop as though bridging some wide ocean. The coolness of the marble inched closer to the skin of his forearm where it hovered a few inches in the air.

“You can take these if you’d like.”

Ronan froze, his back straightened and still before he turned ninety degrees back to look at Adam. “Pardon?”

“The ice cream cones. It’s probably better you do, honestly. I just eat them when I’m bored. Calories I don’t really need.”

Ronan’s startlingly blue eyes studied him for a moment, roaming every line of Adam’s face as though searching for some trickery and then jumping to the box in Adam’s outstretched hand. “Thank you,” he said at last in an undertone, accepting the offered box. And, leaving Adam with some hint of a smile, Prince Ronan was gone, Adam all by himself and the faint memory of intense guitar music leaking from expensive headphones still lingering in the air.

Once they landed firmly in PR territory, Adam felt a bit steadier on his feet.

PR he knew like the back of his hand, armed with years of experience from campaigns and political terms. It was not innate for him like for Gansey, but like everything else in his life, Adam was a star pupil and quick to pick it up thoroughly. He studied diligently, examining the facial expressions of everyone around him, examining each furrow of brow and twitch of lips and bellow of a laugh, practicing and perfecting on his own to ensure that he blended in seamlessly and, when necessary, stood out brilliantly. America’s First Son, valedictorian-intelligent and attractive enough to stop hearts for a moment upon seeing him. By the time he sat on ITV This Morning next to his enemy, he certainly knew all the tips and tricks and expertise ensuring a successful interview, and luckily Ronan seemed to know his way around a talk show as well. His thoroughly British host seemed appropriately charmed by their dynamic, a golden-child American and England’s simultaneously proper and wild Royal.

Adam excelled at PR not because he was natural but because he was over-prepared, and so he was comfortable with the rhythm he and Ronan fell into - referencing each other’s favorites, cracking dry, sarcastic jokes about ice cream, fist-bumping and throwing arms around each other’s shoulders for effect when needed.

He counted it as a win that his resentment never made it into his words or his actions. Instead, he distracted himself with what they were doing, savoring the news alerts of their “clearly natural” friendship and the thumbs-up and “!!!” texts from Gansey and Blue whenever something exciting reached the press. He ignored Ronan for the most part, and Ronan mostly ignored him. He clenched his teeth and smiled at how rough-and-tumble Ronan looked under stage lighting, as wickedly handsome as a poisoned and sharpened dagger, unfairly attractive even with his head closely shaved.

Then the time for their second photo op rolled around, sometime after Adam posted an empty-feeling snapshot of Ronan on a deserted London sidewalk with the caption love a nice mid-afternoon walk, and his mood plummeted sharply.

As well as people and hospitals generally went together, Adam did not have a particularly terrible relationship with any hospitals, especially the Royal Marsden NHS Foundation Trust. He did not enjoy them, sure, but who did? And his discomfort may have gone below the surface-level “death and sickness occur here” jitteriness most people felt, but the majority of the unease coiling in his stomach came from the utterly staged feeling to everything. The First Son and Prince came bearing gifts of books, but they probably did more harm than good for all of the children by displacing all the medical professionals and disrupting their steady routines with full camera crews.

It felt hypocritical, and Adam definitely didn’t want to be shoving cameras in the faces of cancer patient children, but the decisions weren’t up to him, and so he slipped back into PR mode. He shook the hands of nurses and posed faux-candidly for cameras. The only real things he did were with the kids - once they knew who he was, they asked for stories of celebrities and monuments, and although Adam was no fantastic storyteller, he did his best to answer every question and then some. He read to them, too, from the new and donated books, even when the cameras left in search of Ronan. Anger was hard to hold onto when he looked into their faces and resolved to cheer them up.

He read until his voice began to grind at itself, tucked next to kids on narrow hospital cots. They were all ages, and all perfectly suited to throw Adam back into memories he didn’t want to relive. Looking at the books, with the gaudily-colored pictures and ridiculous rhymes, was easier than looking at the children. They all looked to him with similar looks painted across their faces and twinkling in their eyes, one that made Adam’s heart twist, because he knew that he’d worn that expression so often as a child when he thought someone could help him or save him. They looked at him like he was hope itself, some savior come to grant them a wish and a recovery. He didn’t want to disappoint them.

The visit of the First Son and Prince of England must have cut into naptime because at some point Adam looked up from the book to realize that the camera crews had retreated and all the patients in his ward had dozed off. He slowly unfurled himself, gangly limbs and all, to stand without disturbing the child who rested so fitfully on the hospital cot. His steps were soft and random against the tile, mostly just a blind search to try and find Ronan. It wasn’t long before he heard Ronan’s voice stretching over space from the next room over. Adam slowed, hoping to stay just out of sight while still observing Ronan.

The Prince perched on the edge of a narrow hospital bed, reminding Adam ridiculously of a bird poised to take flight. Since there were no cameras near him, his posture was slightly relaxed like it had been in the kitchen the night previously. A little girl clung tightly to his hand while he gestured wildly with his other, her eyes wide and hanging onto his every word. Ronan’s voice was somehow hushed and grand at the same time, his posh accent dulled to something a little more rural.

“When three hundred years had come and gone, the four swans traveled South to the sea of Moyle, braving the turbulent tides that wanted to draw them under.” He leaned closer to her and tugged lightly on her free hand with his free hand, perhaps to echo the water he mentioned in the story, and she gripped it tightly, nearing laughter with every second. “They swam past the cold and stormy seas, their feathers ruffled but unharmed when they reached Inis Glora. The swans had grown tired over their long journey, the years of their lives catching up to slow them down.”

Adam, without thinking, felt a bit of a smile take over his face. He was taken aback by the change in Ronan. The boy sitting on the bed seemed lightyears away from any other version - he’d gone a little hazy at the edges, as though he were made of smoke, as though Adam was dreaming and viewing some kind of apparition. His tailored lines still stuck out jaggedly, cutting a harsh figure, but he seemed at ease and gentle for the first time Adam had ever seen. One hell of a storyteller, too. Adam wasn’t sure he wanted to know why, as the Prince of England, Ronan could let all of those Irish words roll off of his tongue as though they came naturally.

An Irish children’s tale. An Irish children’s tale. Why would he know any of those? The answer nagged at Adam’s brain, but he couldn’t find it in himself to dig.

The girl was quiet as Ronan’s voice trailed off until it became nothing. The swans had returned to elderly humans and lived with a priest who blessed them for the rest of their days, and Adam assumed that she was processing the anticlimactic ending. Finally, she said, “I like those endings best.”

“You do?” Ronan asked, patience yielding in his tone. “Why do you like them?”

“Sad endings are too sad, but happy endings aren’t real.”

Adam could only see the back of Ronan’s head, but he could hear him clear his throat and see him squeeze the girl’s hand in his much larger one. “Me, too.” He leaned away from her a little, letting go of one of her hands. When he spoke again, a smile was in his voice. “You’re much wiser than the adults I know. I might have to offer you a position advising me.”

The girl laughed again, a giddy and wild and hopeful thing. “You’re very silly,” she informed Ronan, likely too young to realize any breaches in etiquette. Luckily for her, Ronan didn’t care, either.

“I am very serious,” he said, his face no doubt translating that sentiment very well. He squeezed her hand again. “I’ll be back with an offer in fifteen or so years, don’t you worry.”

“Is that a promise?”

Ronan stilled at once, the muscles in his back set just as they had been in the kitchen. Adam didn’t envy the situation she’d inadvertently put Ronan into. As childish and silly as her question was, there was a little too much weight to the response for him to casually offer a yes or a no.

“Do your best to get better,” he said at length, “and I’ll see what I can do.”

And, oh, that expression of hope was back shining on her face, and Adam had to shuffle to his other foot, looking away. The people were the reason he liked politics, liked the idea of trying to help build a world even a fraction better than the one he was raised in, and yet he couldn’t look. Couldn’t bear the thought of letting anyone down.

Ronan glanced behind him, clearly catching sight of Adam, just as a nurse bustled into the room and cheerfully announced that it was time for medicine.

“Thank you,” the little girl said before releasing his hand.

“It was a pleasure meeting you, Ella,” Ronan said with a stiff formality that made her giggle again. “And of course,” he added, a little more softly.

It was perhaps not a polite enough exit for a prince, but after Ronan clumsily thanked the nurse and stepped back into the ward to meet Adam, he knew it was the best they would get. Ronan continued moving past him in the direction Adam assumed the cameras must have gone.

“Ah, so you do have feelings other than anger,” Adam said, trailing Ronan into the hall.

“Don’t act so fu... completely surprised,” Ronan replied, turning his head towards Adam. At first, he thought Ronan might have been uncomfortable with the idea of Adam seeing the interaction, but instead, his face started to squeeze into something close to a smile, his eyes crinkling and the corners of his mouth lifting. A pop from down the hallway shuttered the expression before it could become fully formed. A shout cut through the air just as Persephone appeared between Ronan and Adam as though materializing from thin air. Her impossibly long, white hair clung to the sleeves of their sweaters with static friction as she shoved them with surprising strength into a closet.

Her voice was still serene and airy despite the sudden tension settling on everyone’s chests. “Wait for the all-clear.” And the door shut with a thunk behind her.

Adam leaned his head against it with a sigh, before very rapidly remembering that they were two high-profile targets in a possible active shooter scenario and doors weren’t exactly safe. He scrambled backward, accidentally knocking into Ronan and sending them tumbling into the wall. Of all the closets to be unceremoniously shoved into, they had to be stuck in one barely large enough for the brooms stacked to his right.

“Can you stop falling into me, please?” came Ronan’s voice, taut with something close to fury but probably closer to anxiety.

“But you love it so much,” Adam bit out, trying to backtrack. Ronan’s face had somehow ended up in Adam’s hair, and he could feel Ronan’s long lashes close, paired with a troubled exhale. Adam managed to extract himself from Ronan and slide against one of the walls, crouching beside something he suspected was a bucket. Ronan followed his example, leaning against the opposite wall until he slid to the ground. Adam couldn’t see Ronan very well, but judging from the faint rustling sounds of buzzed hair against cotton and quick, deep breaths, he wasn’t handling the situation very well.

“This is a new one,” Adam said. “Assassination attempts, I mean. Is this common for the royalty?”

“Shut up,” Ronan said, his voice faint from his position closer to the ground.

“I’m blaming you if we die, you know.” When he received no response, Adam continued. “I probably could have made it at least a couple more years. No one’s ever tried to shoot me before. Guess I’m not important enough on my own. Who knew our fake friendship could be so deadly?”

“Fuck off,” Ronan replied, his breaths still deep.

“I’d love to, mate,” Adam said, forcing faux-jolly British inflection into the last word, “But we’re stuck in this closet for the foreseeable future, or until we get shot.”

“I meant shut up before that happens.”

“What, you’re not keen on life-threatening scenarios?” Ronan didn’t respond, and Adam felt a bit of genuine concern leak into his other thoughts. “Are you doing alright? I thought you of all people would be used to this.”

“Not keen on tight spaces,” he grit out, his teeth likely bared in that dangerous way that made Adam’s hands curl into fists. “Now fucking stop for a minute.”

They sat in silence, nothing but their breaths filling the space between them. The silence must have started to grate on Ronan because he broke it first.

“It doesn’t happen all the time, you know.”

“I don’t know.”

“Well, I’m telling you.” Ronan breathed something that sounded like dumbass. “Once, when I was small and out in public with my father. Declan was there, too. I can’t remember much of it. That’s the only other time.”

“Suppose it’s as good a story as any,” Adam said, his voice just a hint louder than Ronan’s whisper had been. “Glad I can hear it trapped in this minuscule closet with you.”

“You’re the one with the foot digging into my hip, not the other way around.”

“Where the hell am I supposed to put it, Your Highness?” He nudged his foot and Ronan surged forward, clamping a hand around Adam’s mouth and the other clenching in Adam’s collar, practically hovering above where Adam stretched out uncomfortably. Adam much preferred this almost-fighting to their pretending to be friends.

“Shut the fuck up. I don’t want to die today.” Adam tried shifting to free himself, but Ronan had a firm grip and he couldn’t gain any ground. Instead, he licked Ronan’s palm, and Ronan was quick to drop his hand in disgust with a quiet noise of discontent. He found himself pinned with one of Ronan’s glares, the intensity tangible even in the dark.

“I don’t want you to die either, you sodding idiot. I’m not the only one in here. You talking is ruining both of us.” “Clearly you’re not, this might actually be comfortable without you and your ridiculous, showy muscles. But I didn’t realize you cared, sugar,” he said, thinking fleetingly of his mother, “if I was breathing or not.”

“Right now, your life is tied very closely to mine, and so I do.”

“Sweet as honey,” Adam taunted, thickening his drawl. Most of the time he tried to school his words into something a little more Northern, but he enjoyed the way the southern accent bothered Ronan.

“No peace, none at all,” Ronan muttered. “Not even in the looming face of death.”

Adam could have said the same, really. The last thing he expected to see from Ronan while shoved into a dark closet with him was any genuine emotion. But the stories, the fear in the enclosed space, the story of his father-

His father. Of course.

“Was that story from your father?” He asked, although he already was sure of the answer.

Ronan’s response clipped. “Yes.”

His conscience was still mostly intact, and so Adam began to feel a little bad for picking a fight while in a stressful situation and then bringing up Ronan’s grief. “You’re a good storyteller.” Ronan’s silence was judgemental and disbelieving, so he persisted. “What, I can’t give a compliment? You are.”

“My siblings and I had stories read to us like everyone else, Parrish. We’re not programmed, bland colonialism robots.” A pause. “Well, Mathew and I aren’t.”

“Of course not, imperialism comes first.”

“You’re welcome for the country, then.”

A brief silence followed. It felt, inexplicably, like the two of them had been toeing a line ever since Adam stood outside of Ella’s door and heard Ronan speak to her. They were inching closer with every word spoken.

“My father was the real storyteller,” he admitted, and Adam internally marked another inch traveled. “Since he was an actor and all. He always told us those stories even though he wasn’t technically supposed to. I just...imitate.”

“Imitate?”

“Yes,” Ronan said, providing no other explanation. “Why do you give a damn, anyway? You don’t want childhood tales and neither do I. You hate me.”

“We’re stuck like this forever,” Adam admitted. He’d known it before, but speaking the words made them feel more real. “Neither of us likes it, but here we are, shoved in a closet together. We have to pull off this act for the rest of our lives, Ronan, and I need something more than a cheat sheet your PR team slapped together.”

Ronan was eerily still for a long moment before he finally spoke. “Then why do you hate me?”

The question caught Adam off guard. “What?”

“Why do you hate me?” Off of Adam’s wary look, he threw the words back in his face. “We’re stuck together just like you said. I need some kind of answer.”

Adam sighed, acquiescing. “Do you remember what you said in Rio?”

“The fuck are you talking about, Parrish?”

“The Olympics?”

“When you threatened to push me into the River Thames?”

“No. You being a condescending dick at diving finals.”

Ronan was still for a long moment before bringing a hand to his shoulder and easing himself back away and off of Adam. “Oh. Shit.”

“So. You remember?”

“Vaguely.” A pause, elongated in the dark. “You heard?”

“Yes.”

“So that did it, then?”

“Yes.”

But Ronan must have known he had more to say because he stayed silent.

“I probably would have hated you no matter what,” Adam finally admitted, some low part of his gut feeling heavier with the admission. “It’s just - I wasn’t even the First Son then, and everyone was already comparing us. And it didn’t matter if they thought I was better or you were better or whatever, it was just - the idea of you bothered me, a white boy born with the power to make such change and unquestioning support from millions who was throwing it all away instead. And I’ve been compared to a shit ton of people in my life, from my mother to Blue and Gansey to just - everyone, but somehow with you, it was always the worst. So yes, it was the diving finals.”

“But it was also you being self-conscious?”

“But it was also you being an asshole.”

“Yeah, it was,” Ronan admitted lowly, and Adam blinked at the admission. “I was - I definitely was one. I think I was one all the fucking time back then. It doesn’t excuse anything, but my father passed on...not long before, if you can understand.”

Adam didn’t understand, couldn’t understand, but he nodded all the same. He felt something in his throat tighten. “Of course. I don’t think I’d realized.”

“It doesn’t excuse it,” Ronan repeated. “I’m sorry.”

This was something heavier, truer than his other apologies - something beyond deeply-ingrained politeness that allowed him to apologize for petty things. It was as though he genuinely asked for forgiveness, like Adam had any real choice in the matter, like Adam’s forgiveness was something Ronan actually wanted. Adam never expected to receive a genuine apology from the Prince of England.

“I appreciate it. And I’m sorry as well. For...not realizing.” Ronan’s figure visibly relaxed even though it was barely visible.

“So, depressing Irish stories. Is that your default?”

“I’m afraid the Irish don’t have a lot of serotonin-filled stories.”

“There’s the English in you,” Adam said to a breathy laugh from Ronan. “Do you remember any more?”

“Probably couldn’t forget them, if we’re being honest. And not speaking to the press.”

“They hate me at the moment, so you have nothing to worry about.” He paused before he continued. “Would you tell one?”

“...why?”

“I don’t know. We’re stuck in here, aren’t we?”

“Be careful what you wish for. I’ll write you in as a Celtic witch.”

“I always thought I’d make a very dashing villainous magician. If that’s the price to pay, I can live with it.”

Ronan was silent, and Adam thought that he had given up on any conversation. However, he spoke again, his voice oddly light. “Once, the fierce Fianna believed in many things, none as much as the beautiful Eden laying in the Western Sea. Tir na nÒg, it was called, and the name passed between them like a secret.” Suddenly breaking character, Ronan said in his normal whisper, “That means “land of the living” for any uneducated parties.”

“Dick. Go on.”

There was something captivating in this new way Ronan spoke paired with the near-darkness and tight space of their closet. “Fionn, the leader of the Fianna-”

“Great naming process, by the way.”

“Shut the hell up or no story.”

Adam shut up.

“The leader of the Fianna led them to hunt the deer along the shores in County Kerry, including his son, Oisín. But Oisín soon caught sight of a single, bright light in the distance, all the way through the thick green of tree foliage. As it drew closer, he saw that the light was, instead, a beautiful girl with hair of spun gold astride a snow-colored mare. When Fionn inquired as to who she was, she informed them that she was Niamh of the Golden Hair, daughter of the King of Tir na nÒg, and she had come to take Oisín as her husband-”

Ronan cut off abruptly, and Adam almost asked why, but a moment later he heard the source of the silence - heavy footsteps outside the door. Suddenly, neither of them breathed, instead choosing to sit in total petrified silence.

And slowly, mercifully, the door crept open, spilling cold white light along the floor of the cupboard and across their splayed legs. Persephone stood in the doorway, her expression relaxed once again.

“False alarm,” she said breezily, reaching out her hands to haul them back to their feet. Adam shifted uncomfortably on pins and needles as his legs shot back to life. “Fireworks, not guns.”

“Fireworks in a hospital?”

Persephone shrugged. “It was some teenager.”

“Always is,” Ronan said, dangerously close to a joke. He blinked rapidly, setting his shoulders back to stand at his full height. He slanted a look towards Adam, his mouth curving into something wicked but not intimidating, all bark and no bite. “Bonding is over, then.”

“Thank God.”

17 notes · View notes

ssa-montgomery · 4 years ago

Text

First Day of Fall

Word Count: 857

Summary: It's the first of October, the official start of the Halloween season and Meredith suggests the interns decorate the house for Halloween.

Characters: Meredith, Cristina, Alex, George, Izzie

Warnings: Fluff, mentions of drinking, lots of Halloween

Day 1: First Day of Fall

A/N: Hey everyone! So I know this is a little different from what I usually post but this year I've decided to take part in Fantober :) I found a list of prompts on Tumblr posted by the account @galileojones so go check out their post if you want to know what to expect! Each prompt will be filled with a Grey's fic so you can expect a lot this month! I can't guarantee that I will be able to post each day but I will try my best! The fics will range from drabbles like this to more my normal length of work with a mix of ships and characters :) I hope you enjoy the fics this month!

Feedback is what motivates me to work so please let me know what you think! Reblogs are also greatly appreciated.

Taglist is open!

Masterlist

It was an unreasonable time in the morning and the interns were crowded around in the locker getting ready for morning rounds. The sky outside was dark and stormy with the threat of rain but Meredith felt it was fitting. It was the first of October and the official start to the Halloween season, one of Meredith's favourite times of the year.

"I'm just saying it's October first, I think we should put up Halloween decorations." Meredith shrugged pulling her hair up into a ponytail as she closed her locker door.

"I thought you didn't like the holidays," Izzie questioned. She had taken a seat on the bench behind Meredith and was now pulling on her white lab coat.

"I don't normally because all the other holidays are bright and bubbly and all about being around other people and family. They're all about giving and dinners with far too many people. Halloween, on the other hand, is about going out at night, eating candy all day and watching horror movies. That I can get behind. I just really like Halloween" Meredith explained.

"Please." Cristina snorted. "You mean you like getting to be your dark and twisty self, wearing all black clothing and hiding from the real world and calling it an aesthetic for a month?"

"Isn't that what I just said?" Meredith laughed. Cristina knew her too well and could always see straight through to what she really meant.

"I mean I think decorating for Halloween sounds like fun," George said walking over to stand with the rest of the group.

"Yeah and I've got nothing better to do." Alex had now appeared beside the rest of the group and leaning back against Cristina's locker.

"So do you guys want to swing by the house after work then?" Meredith asked.

"Yeah sure." Everyone agreed.

~~~

Meredith unlocked the front door and stepped in out of the cold air outside. The changing of the seasons was bringing in the bite to the wind that was all too familiar in Seattle. She loved this time of year, it was an excuse to spend all of her time outside of the hospital wrapped in sweaters and blankets so big she felt like she was drowning in them. The hall was filled with the overwhelming scent of pumpkin spice and something else that Meredith couldn't quite place her finger on but had that classic autumn scent.

She could hear muffled conversation coming from down the hall as she hung her coat up on the rack in the hall. Following the sound down the corridor, she found Izzie and George together in the kitchen. George was sitting on the kitchen counter next to Izzie who had just pulled an apple pie out of the oven.

"Mer you're home!" Izzie greeted her with a warm smile as she set the pie down to cool. "I thought we could use some snacks for decorating and well since everything else is going to be pumpkin-themed I thought I'd go apple."

"It smells amazing Iz," Meredith said walking over to grab a leftover slice of apple off the counter.

"There's ice cream in the freezer still right?" George asked.

"Yeah." Izzie nodded. "I made sure before I started baking."

Before anyone could say anything else there was a knock at the front door. Meredith made her way through the house and pulled open the front door. Cristina and Alex were standing on the front porch both wrapped up in warm coats but even still they looked cold. Cristina had a brown paper bag in her hand and Alex had a ridiculously sized pumpkin in his arms.

"Come inside." Meredith gestured for them to follow her as she turned around and walked back into the house.

"Here," Cristina said pulling a bottle of cinnamon flavoured tequila out of the paper bag. "I thought since you've gone all festive on us you might appreciate this."

"Yeah, and I got this big ass pumpkin from some pumpkin patch a patient told me about. It was surprisingly cheap. I thought maybe we could carve it and Izzie could use the guts for like, cooking or something." Alex seemed almost proud of his bargain he had found on his way here.

"That's a great idea, Alex, I'm sure Izzie could find some use for them. And thank you, Cristina, I certainly do appreciate that. You can leave them both down in the kitchen."

"Dude, what is that?" George asked as he spotted the pumpkin Alex was carrying into the kitchen.

"It's a pumpkin? Thought that was pretty obvious." Alex snarked.

"That is the biggest pumpkin I have ever seen." Izzy laughed with a slight shake of her head.

"Is that pie?" Cristina dropped the bottle of tequila down on the counter before making a beeline straight for the pie.

"Hey! Hands off. It's not cool yet."

There was a collective laugh at the disappointed look on Cristina's face. Meredith pulled glasses for everyone out of the cupboard as they all took their seats in various places around the kitchen and quickly fell into conversation. It was going to be a fun night.

Taglist: @alexander-gideon-lightwood-bane

#fantober2020 #greys anatomy #greys anatomy oneshot #greys anatomy drabble #greys anatomy fanfiction #meredith grey #cristina yang #alex karev #george omalley #izzie stevens

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crimeronan · 4 years ago

Note

ik youre not a therapist and i dont want like therapy or anything but im 17 and ive known i was bipolar for 3 years now and i dont know how im supposed to live the rest of my life like this. im so fucking tired. how do you stay alive

you sent this a couple days ago & i’m posting at a weird time so i’m not sure if you’ll see it but.

i’ve been looking at this message trying to decide how to respond

because i don’t know your situation, your symptoms, how you’re feeling, whether you’ve had positive or negative experiences with medication, psychiatrists, therapists, hospitals, all that related shit

the bipolar life advice i give to people is vastly different depending on the individual. it’s not a one size fits all thing. and there’s never even a guarantee that my advice will be the right choice

so since i don’t know about your situation or experiences or what you want, i’m not gonna tell you what to do. i’m gonna focus on the “how do you stay alive” question and try to pen down some personal feelings. and if they help then great, and if they don’t then... this is the most honest i can be

(you can always ask another question to get a better answer. my inbox is a coin slot and i am a vending machine of varied-degrees-of-helpfulness replies offered at varied-inconvenient-too-long-intervals)

how do i stay alive

it’s a 2-parter, actually. i pondered how to condense my thoughts/feelings, and it came down to these two things

1. love 2. spite

1. love

the spite is easier to write about than the love. love is hard to reach when i feel like shit.

spite is where i go when i want to die. love is where i go when i want to want to live.

maybe i don’t want to be alive. but maybe i wish i did. spite doesn’t help me much there. spite keeps me afloat, but it doesn’t make the floating pleasurable. there’s more to life than outlasting everything that ever hurt me. i need a reason to continue when there’s no enemy to fight

so. love

i almost wrote about the spite alone because that’s rawer, realer, more visceral. that’s the shit that CONNECTS when everything feels hopeless. but it would be a lie of omission. spite is only one of the major food groups, you’ll waste away from malnutrition if you eat it for every meal. or at least, i will.

“so you’ve got a bunch of people you love,” you say, “and you stick around for them. cry on them. support each other. like each other. fine.” you’ve heard this story before

nah.

i mean - yes. i have people i love. i live with two partners, i’ve got a third girlfriend, i’ve got a long-distance platonic life partner. i have a support net, i have a family i’ve forged, i have confidence that i’m not alone. i have, in a bare-bones checklist sort of way, fulfilled my physiological human need for connection

but i could live without every single one of them. i’m not dependent upon any of them for my survival. i’m not dependent upon them for love, given or received. (this isn’t a callous cruelty, it won’t hurt them if/when they read this. i’ve told them all this, they know. they’re glad of it.)

so. what the fuck does “love” mean, then?

the short explanation is that it’s my love of life, of things in the world. it’s all the little connections i’ve made. every time i love something, a hook tethers to the universe. hook enough tethers, and i no longer feel the need to float away. no dissolution of self today, sir

the rest of this section is some of the things i love. partially it’s to show how i connect to little things and ascribe magic to the mundane. partially it’s because i like thinking about things i love, i like typing them out, and i like that i could keep going for thousands and thousands of words.

i am laying in bed at 7:30 AM with the lights off and the shades drawn. blue light comes through the slats because it’s the better time of year, the one where i finally get vitamin D, the one where the birds chirp at 4AM, the one where the sky isn’t impenetrably black til 10PM.

there’s a weighted blanket tucked around my legs. my partner rafi bought it for us to share because it’s soothing and heavy and comforting and helps with my physical pain. right now it’s soft on my skin and if i get too emotional as i write, i can pull it over me like a cloak until i’m settled.

the apartment’s walls are blank because we’ve spent eight months intending to put art up and keep forgetting. but there’s a newly-unearthed dining area in the kitchen because i finally shifted around the unpacked boxes that were dominating the space. it’s new and it surprises me every time i walk out there. it’s open and inviting and bright and it’s a sign that we’re making this place home.

we’ll put a cheap IKEA table by the window and we’ll probably never eat family dinners there - why would we sit in hard chairs and make stiff conversation when we could all cuddle on the couch - but my partner dev will create a place to do their art and the surface will be constantly littered with drying watercolor experiments.

we’ll hang our art one of these days, too, when our collective adhd offers a miraculous combo of remembering + having time + having motivation + having inspiration. rafi has the most art because they’ve been collecting it for years. i have to start smaller. i’m not used to keeping physical objects. dev has a few pieces thrifted or bought at local artist events or painted themselves

so we’ll put art up in the living room, my single “you are magic” flower print alongside a naked monster lady that dev fell in love with when we browsed art at a yuletide event months ago, alongside rafi’s monster girls and comic characters and book characters and literature art and quotes and abstract pieces and whatever else they have hiding in boxes.

my head protests that naked monster ladies do not belong in the living room, although the picture isn’t overtly sexual. but then i remember that they do, actually, because it’s our space and we can do whatever we want with it as long as the lease isn’t broken. there isn’t anyone in the local social circles who’d be perturbed by the decor, as far as i know. i don’t have to hide anything from my parents because i live 3600 miles from them, and even though i miss my mom, the distance is good for me

there are two exquisite chairs on the porch. they fold and recline from thrones to nearly-horizontal beds. there are pillows and cupholders and trays and specific spaces for both a book and a phone. i can sit there while the morning sun rises and read or play word games or browse tumblr, cup of coffee beside me, trees shielding my eyes from stabby sunbeams

there are remnants of the last tenant’s garden in one corner of the yard. we’ve done fuckall for yardwork but plants struggle through anyway. some seem to have sprouted by accident. mushroom clusters populate the edges of the fence. the apartment squirrel (there are probably several, but i like to think it’s a single energetic creature) runs back and forth along the fence & i always lose my train of thought & then laugh my ASS off at the “SQUIRREL! XD” adhd moment. birds kick up leaf litter and play on the ground looking for insects to eat, they wiggle their tail feathers and flap their wings and sometimes they disappear and then return with friends

a little more than eleven months ago, i packed all of dev’s and my shit into a uhaul and drove and drove and drove to get to this city i’d never been in before to live with a partner i’d never cohabitated with. we were homeless for more than a month, we weathered some financial disasters, we met some great people and some shitty ones

on the drive i fell in love with the sky. i didn’t know how big it can get - actually, that’s a lie. i’d FORGOTTEN how big it can get. i’ve loved the sky thirty miles out to sea, no land in sight in any direction, just blue water and blue space above. i’ve loved the vastness and the yawning beneath me and the knowledge that everything is BIGGER than i can fathom. the depth of the sea doesn’t frighten me, it’s home. i don’t want to die, but if i had to, the ocean makes a soothing grave

in north dakota i discovered that i’ve been partially blind my whole life, which is a different tale that showed me i’ll never stop learning myself. in montana we struggled up thousands of feet of mountains with the car huffing and puffing at the trailer’s weight, and when we finally coasted downward, it felt like sudden freefall. we ended up in the pitch darkness of night on sheer winding interstates with midnight construction projects forcing detours. the mountains felt hungry, they had teeth. mountain cliffs are much scarier to me than the ocean depths

i bought a red bull and poured a little out the driver’s side door as an offering to hermes, because i’m not particularly religious but i’ll take help where i can get it. slammed that back in a few gulps and shook to bright-eyed alertness and ended up behind a slow-driving red pickup truck that guided us over about a hundred miles of mountain terrain

i thought, that’s just some construction worker driving between sites. the roads are empty at this time of night, but it’s an interstate. of course we’d end up behind someone. this isn’t divine intervention. this isn’t the benevolence of a god

i thought, but it can be a little magic. if i want it to be.

and it was. it stays with me.

god help me but i’ve been writing this stream of consciousness for more than 30 minutes and i’ve said nothing. i haven’t talked about the city, the parks, the people, the conversations, the books, the tv shows, the movies, the communities, the library, the animals, writing, reading, singing, acting, swimming, analyzing, creating, supporting, building. and i can keep going. i can come up with hundreds and hundreds of things i love and i can write paragraphs about all of them

so i’ll stop here. you get the picture. love is the life i’ve made for myself, the surroundings i’ve built, the quiet moments i can capture, the inspiration i pin, the magic i commit to memory.

i had to work so damn hard for every single bit of this.

i’ll be fucking damned if i let it go because my brain tried to trick me into thinking death is better.

2. spite

there are people who want me to die.

i don’t mean that i have a giant entourage of personalized enemies who curse my name and plan my individual demise. although there have been plenty of people who have not liked me much. probably some of them would enjoy my death. i don’t give a shit about that

there are people who want me dead because i am a dot on a grid they dislike. a faceless anonymous enemy who meets too many bad criteria with numbers and percentages and shrinking majorities and shifting public opinion

because i’m gay. because i’m bipolar. because i’m autistic. because i’m a dropout. because i grew up poor. because my spine curves and my shoulders ache. because i squandered my potential, because i didn’t have enough potential, because i didn’t love god enough, because i love the wrong gods, because i don’t worship, because i worship wrong, because i didn’t seek a husband, because i never wanted one, because i talk too much, because i can’t be controlled, because i chose to leave the fold when i realized it was suffocating me, because i’m ugly, because i’m gorgeous, because my body belongs to me

pick your poison.

this bothered me growing up, a lot. i knew i did not deserve to die. but if enough people tell you that you should, a little part of you will wonder if they’re right. that little part might become bigger the closer they get and the louder they shout and the longer they wear you down

we know the rough shape of this story, i don’t need to tell it. mine was messy and not triumphant and i survived more by chance than premeditation.

i’m older now. by and large i’m still young as shit - i’m 24 - but GOD i am LEAGUES away from 15, 16, 17. i know who i am. i know what i want. i know how to get it. and when i don’t know that, i find out. i tell the truth. i ask for what i want. i use my time how i want. i do what i want.

there are days that i can’t access the “love” side of the equation. no finding poetry in birdsong or sugared coffee for me, thank you, i feel like shit and the world is awful and everything is too big and fast and cruel and everything wants me to die and it wants everything i love to die, too. everyone i love. it’s all garbage. the good doesn’t touch me

trauma is difficult to describe. the difficulty is compounded by the fact that my trauma is influenced by my various neurodivergences, bipolar included. i never know if i’m feeling what other people do. i don’t know if i’m voicing unpalatable feelings others are afraid to express - or if i’m just othering myself, admitting i’m not as human as everyone else.

there is something malevolent and monstrous inside me. i don’t touch it all the time. but i don’t pretend it isn’t there. it sits in my chest and molders or radiates or oozes. it presses at my throat. it curdles in my stomach. it hurts what it touches, whether that’s me or someone i love or someone i hate. it sets things aflame with no regard for the precious or the fragile. it tears down walls and razes shelters and begs for apocalyptic rain.

i can give this thing names, clinical descriptors. i know what it is on a diagnostic chart, in a ponderous article, in an academic debate, in a fiction novel, in a war movie, in a memoir. there are a thousand ways to describe this thing. the descriptors aren’t important. what is important is this - i have learned that most people do not walk side-by-side with a tornado-hurricane-hellfire-weaponized-open-nuclear-reactor. this is not a “normal” expression of human emotion, this is not me trying to ascribe power to “bad bipolar feelings.” this thing lives in me and i know why it’s there and it is not designed to be held/silenced/muzzled/controlled by my body.

it does not help to pretend this thing does not exist. it does not help to try to reason it away or ignore it or tell it to stop. it wants what it wants, it does what it does. possibly if i was better at therapy or stubbornness then i wouldn’t resign myself to that

but it is fucking EXHAUSTING to try to fight something that’s part of me. to try to reshape it, rename it, pare it down, make it consumable for the masses. it’s a war i have never won and it’s a war that i will lose if i keep fighting it. i cannot fight with myself. i cannot beat my monster into submission. if we’re gonna battle like that, head to head, me trying to cut it down, me trying to be the hero, it rearing back like a fire-breathing dragon,

then it’s stronger. it’s always stronger.

so i surrender.

but that’s not where i stop.

can’t fight it. can’t kill it. can’t muzzle it. can’t reshape it, can’t disarm it, can’t contain it.

alright.

so what now.

if the surrender was a full giving-up, this is where i’d passively accept that i’m doomed to hurt and destroy everything precious to me. can’t fix it. will lose everything, will never experience or deserve happiness, will make the world worse simply by existing.

that sure does sound like impending-doom rhetoric. hop skip and a jump from some dire-ass conclusions.

so fuck that, i say.

here’s a better question.

if it has to get out, then what happens if i control where it goes?

here’s the thing.

the monster doesn’t care what it kills or destroys or hurts.

“have a conscience, care about things, remember love, stop yourself, don’t do this don’t do this don’t do this.”

losing battle. lost war.

it’s not the monster’s fault. the monster doesn’t have complex motivations or hates or fears. it exists to protect me through scorched earth. a remnant of a chemical imbalance, maladaptive coping mechanism, bipolar crazy, traumatized injury. it doesn’t know that its job is obsolete.

i can’t change the monster.

but my mind is a separate thing. my mind knows what matters, what my priorities are, what i find precious, what i want to protect. my mind remembers all the things the monster doesn’t.

my mind has learned things the monster can’t.

when i fight it head-on, the malevolence is stronger than me. but as i am, walking with it, sitting in my bed writing this while examining the void and the consciousness, describing it, quantifying it,

that’s when i’m stronger.

and with my mind as the stronger force, i can decide where the monster goes. what it touches. what it destroys. what it burns. where the ashes land.

i do not want to be a destructive person. i want to be someone who builds, repairs, changes. i want to make the world better for kids like me. i want to stop pouring more gasoline onto a fire that’s been burning since long before i was born. i want to believe - i do believe - that positive change is better than negative. i do my best to plant good things and enact that positive change instead of becoming a beacon of wrath.

but there are a lot of kids surrounded by people who want them to die, and not all of them have a protective monster.

so it’s good.

when i’m depressed, my mind loses its battles. my cognizance slips. i forget why i care. i forget what i want. i forget how happiness feels, how to find pleasure in quiet moments.

i don’t get depressed as often as i used to since my meds are adjusted correctly now. but it still happens. it will keep happening for the rest of my life.

my mind weakens and curls up and stops fighting, and the monster is always there.

it’s a very powerful thing when it wants to be.

it wants to survive.

the thing is, it knows there are people that want me/us/whatever dead. it’s been fighting them forever. die like they want? my mind says, sure, what does it matter.

the monster says, nah. our work isn’t done. and fuck them, anyway.

so we get up.

so that’s how i stay alive.

i typed this for 90 minutes and after editing i’d spent two hours on this post. i don’t know if anyone will read it all. i don’t know if it’ll mean anything. i don’t know if these thoughts even make sense, much less if i’ve conveyed the feelings i have.

i love being alive. and when i don’t, i love being a monster. it’s good. all of it is good. i’ve reconciled my uglier pieces. it’s not one or the other, love or spite. it’s symbiosis. i need both, i love both.

no guarantees that this is helpful, but based purely on my own life experience, these are my tips for survival:

you’ll have to find your own roots. i can’t give them to you.

but it’s possible to dig them in and spread them far enough that one uprooted peg doesn’t shift your whole equilibrium.

and when you’re tired, rest, and let yourself be tired, and find the reason why you’re staying in the world.

i’m positive there’s at least one.

figure out why you’re losing your battles and then change the game.

if you can’t win one setup, don’t try to beat the system. adjust your strategy.

you’ll be surprised by what you can love when you stop fighting the disparate pieces of you, and instead figure out how to use them.

#i have several other questions to answer in my inbox if you've asked me st over the past few weeks #im not ignoring it im figuring out how to phrase my reply #replies #bipolar blogging #actuallybipolar #my writing #life advice #long post #REALLY long post #it's under a read more but if mobile deletes it i apologize #c ptsd tag #suicide m #ok to reblog #Anonymous

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reservethesun · 4 years ago

Note

I just saw your post about the prompts and can I pretty please get earnpear with boss finding out about them. No angst just support and happiness because the girls deserve the best

SO, I’ve still not caught up on Still 2gether, but I’ve seen enough of stuff on Tumblr for the gist of what happened (disappointed but not surprised). BUT. I love this req so much because that is how it should be ok T_T (Maybe a little bit of angst cause disappointment but mostly just happiness and support cause yes). Might be a bit OOC? But this is my first time really writing for these characters. Anyway! Here we go! And I hope you enjoy this <3

WC: 1462

Boss had noticed her for a while - Pear. She was beautiful and wicked smart and talented. However, with all the Sarawat and Tine drama he’d never really had a chance to bring up his crush. At least not until those two finally got their shit sorted and were happy. Even Man managed to get a boyfriend. Boss was happy for them all. Really, he was. He would just like a chance to be happy, too, and someone like Pear would be perfect. They weren’t close, but that was part of the fun of dating - getting to know someone more. And he knew she didn’t hate him. They talked a little more than people realized, bumping into one another here and there around and off campus.

And she was so damn pretty, did he mention that? It made it hard for him to tell her how he felt. But he’d decided that he was going to. He was going to face that anxiousness head on and tell her. Every time he tried, it didn’t go his way and something happened to make it so that he didn’t get his point across. Boss had just about given up when he finally - finally - managed to get her alone and tell her how he felt. It was probably the most he’d ever said at one time and it had all come tumbling out before he could stop himself.

There were many scenarios that Boss imagined. Pear looking at him sadly like she was was not one of those. “Oh,” she said quietly as she reached up to tuck a strand of hair behind an ear. “Boss, that’s… you’re really sweet but I’m already seeing somebody.”

“Oh. That’s… I mean, brilliant. Great,” he replied as he reached up to rub the back of his neck. With her saying it, Boss found that he honestly wasn’t surprised. There were things, nothing blatant but he noticed in the times that she would catch his attention, that he’d noticed. But because nothing was ever said or made obvious, Boss had believed that he’d still had a chance. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know. I wouldn’t have…”

“I know.” Pear smiled softly and nodded her head. She had no doubts that if he had known she was seeing someone, he wouldn’t have approached her like that.

“Can I ask…?”

Pear opened her mouth, hesitating to answer. It was a bit complicated simply because she wasn’t planning on advertising her relationship or making a big thing about it. She wasn’t purposely being secretive or hiding anything, but her relationship was her own and she didn’t feel the need to have everyone know. At the same time, she felt like if she told him that he wouldn’t go around telling the world if she asked. Pear was interrupted from her internal debate by Earn rushing over to her side and bumping shoulders with her. “There you are! I thought we were meeting out- Oh. Hello, Boss,” she said, smiling with a small wave of her fingers when she realized that Boss was standing there.

“Oh,” was all that Boss said. Suddenly it all made a lot of sense to him and he felt very foolish for having not realized what was right there in front of him. “That’s… You two? Huh. I’m…” Boss laughed softly as he reached up to rub the back of his neck again. “That’s great. No, really.” Boss insisted when Pear started to try to say something. He smiled softly at the two of them. “I’m glad you’ve got each other. I’ll uh… leave you to your date, then.”

As Boss left the two of them there, Earn and Pear shared a look while Earn asked Pear what she’d missed.

The following morning, Pear found herself awake earlier than most everyone else. She got dressed and went out to the beach. It was still a bit grey out, the sun only starting to really make its rise into the sky behind some clouds that would dissipate the later it got. She stood out on the sand, watching the waves hit the shore as a gentle breeze cooled the air. “Pretty isn’t it?” came a voice from next to her, making her jump a little before she turned to see Boss standing there with a cup of juice that he took a drink out of. “You’re up early.”

“Mn. I’m a morning person,” replied Pear with a soft laugh. The two of them fell into silence as they stood there, watching the ocean while Boss sipped his drink. “Boss, I-”

“Pear, I meant what I said last night. I think it’s great. You and Earn.” His voice was kind and almost gentle in a way that she didn’t think she’d heard from him before as he cut off whatever it was that she tried to say. It felt to him like she was going to apologize, but he really didn’t need or want her to. She shouldn’t have to apologize for already caring about someone. “Does it suck for me? Sure. But I’ll get over it. You’ve got someone who makes you happy. What could ever be wrong about that?”

Pear reached over and grabbed Boss’s free hand, squeezing it gently in her own. Boss really was a good guy and he was someone that Pear was finding could be a great friend to have. “Thank you.” She gently squeezed his hand again before letting go. “We haven’t really told anyone, don’t really want to. It’s ours, for us. We don’t need something like… Well, you’ve seen what Tine and Sarawat put up with.”

Boss snorted out a laugh at that comment. She had a point. Their relationship had been pushed into the public eye from the very start. There was no guarantee that it would happen for Earn and Pear, but he could appreciate the fact that they didn’t want to risk it. “That’s cool. You don’t have to worry. I won’t tell anyone.”

“I think Tine knows.” Pear couldn’t say for sure, but sometimes he had this look on his face that made her feel like he knew what was going on between her and Earn. Which she could not help but find a bit amusing since he’d been so blind to Sarawat’s feelings toward him at the start.

“Probably. When it’s not his love life, he seems to be pretty on top of things, yeah?” The two of them laughed and smiled as Pear nodded in agreement with his comment.

A calm silence fell between the two of them as the watched the waves for a few more minutes before Earn’s voice behind her caused Pear to look back and see Earn standing there dressed and ready to grab breakfast. Pear nodded at her to show that she heard and then she looked over at Boss. “Do you want to join us?” she asked him.

“What kind of fool would I be to turn down an offer like that?” he replied, a little dramatically before he offered her his arm in a very dramatic fashion. It made Pear laugh and shake her head but she linked her arm together with Boss’s before they walked over to where Earn was standing watching the two of them with an amused smile on her face.

Earn grabbed the empty plastic cup in Boss’s hand and tossed it into the trash bin near her before she looped her arm together with his other arm after he offered it to her in a similar dramatic fashion to the one he had with Pear moments before. The three of them then made their way to the restaurant, where Boss - in a true gentlemanly manner - pulled out a chair for each of the girls on one side of the table before he sat across from them and they talked about the groups’ plans for the day. Their conversation was easy and light, full of laughter and smiles despite it still being on the early side.

When Boss first realized that he had feelings for Pear, he hadn’t had a clue what to do about it. He hadn’t even been sure he would do anything about it. Then, he had come up with the decision that he would do something about it. He hadn’t really been sure what the outcome of that would be. There had been several potential scenarios that he’d imagined - either being laughed out of the room or ending up on a date that could go poorly or amazingly in equal measure. However, as he sat there talking with Pear and Earn, watching the two of them share small gentle smiles that were just meant for one another, he decided that gaining two friends was a better outcome than he could have anticipated.

#earnpear #2gether #still 2gether #prompt fill #prompt fic #my fics #ask #anon

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miller-day · 4 years ago

Text

hi everyone!!

during the semi-hiatus i took from tumblr i became obsessed with psych (people who follow me on twitter know) and i even started writing about it. i thought it would be so funny to see how a crossover between shawn/gus and sherlock/watson would go, so i took it upon myself to make it happen. i’ve only written 6 pages of it but i’m thinking about going forward and writing more, but firstly i wanted to know if it’s actually worth it so i’m posting what i wrote on here and i hope that if ANYONE actually reads it and enjoys it, then let me know <3

(none of the characters are mine)

“Shawn Spencer. Psychic detective.” Watson shifts his glance from the open newspaper on the coffee table to Sherlock, who’s standing in the kitchen and looking like a misplaced giant, his 6 feet of flesh and bones (or just bones) still forming a comical comparison with the small-dimensioned furniture of their apartment, most of it bought by equally small-dimensioned Mrs. Hudson. “I see you’re now interested in the supernatural?”

Sherlock scoffs. “Please. You know my demon-hunting days are long past.”

Watson waits for Sherlock to develop his last statement, even though he’s not sure he actually wants to hear more of it, but his roommate’s attention seems to have been captured by the stirring sounds he’s making with the teaspoon against the glass of his mug. “What’s this doing here, then?”

Sherlock doesn’t look at him to know what he was referring to. He goes about as though Watson’s presence in the room is as dispensable as a fly on a summer day, something you dismiss with a single hand motion and move on, and sits on his usual red sofa. Watson rolls his eyes, not yet immune to Sherlock’s peculiar way of being even after almost two years of friendship, and throws the newspaper onto his lap rather angrily, to which Sherlock replies, “Hey!”

“Shawn Spencer,” Watson says, pointing at the bold black letters on the top of the page that’s facing Sherlock, the phrase PSYCHIC DETECTIVE SHAWN SPENCER SAVES THE CITY OF SANTA BARBARA FROM ANOTHER KILLING SPREE making its loud announcement above a picture of two guys proudly smiling in front of a police station. “You were reading this.”

“How observant,” Sherlock replies, rolling his eyes. “Maybe you should be the one solving the crimes and I should be the one writing about it on my blog.”

Watson exhales angrily. “Why are you avoiding this topic?”

“It’s not so much avoiding this specific topic as much as it is me avoiding you,” Sherlock stops to take a sip of his tea. “I’m busy.”

Watson rubs his left temple in an attempt to soothe the vein he’s foreseeing popping in a couple of seconds. “If you say so.”

He ends up sitting dramatically on the opposing couch. They’re both silent for a while, Watson with his eyes closed and his head resting against the cushion, Sherlock noticing the rhythm of his best friend’s chest rising and falling as he approaches, slowly, the realm of sleep.

“Alright, fine. Do you want to discuss this?” Watson opens his eyes in surprise at Sherlock’s sudden rupture of the room’s previous quietness. “I think the guy is obviously a con-man.”

Watson blinks, noticeably distressed. “What makes you so sure?”

“Oh, come on. Please don’t tell me you believe this bullshit.” Sherlock says, his sarcastic laugh creating an itch on his roommate’s skin, then places his mug on a table nearby. “You’ve believed worse, though, so I’m not exactly shocked.”

“I just asked a question. I think the guy deserves the benefit of the doubt.”

Sherlock’s expression is void of any inclination towards an agreement with Watson and giving the psychic even the tiniest bit of credibility. Crime-solving, as far as he is concerned, is an art, a study of the human brain, a test of one’s skills in terms of impulse-control and harmony of the senses, a practice no one can ever master in its entirety, and for someone to taint its name with something so low and idiot as an alleged psychic ability only makes him furious. The worst part, he thinks, is that people aren’t contesting it at all — the guy managed to make his name go from Santa Barbara to London after all, and from the looks of it, he has the entire local police department on his side.

“Oh, don’t start,” he says, a tone of annoyance dripping from the edge of his words.

“With what?” Watson asks, a little amused.

“With your whole thing,” Sherlock gestures vaguely with his hands. “You’re free to think what you choose—”

“How kind of you.”

“—but I won’t let you waste my time with arguments in his defense. He either has someone on the inside or he actually solves the crimes, but I won’t acknowledge any talent on his part if he’s doing something so stupid as hiding under the pretense of ‘communications with the supernatural’,” he does the air-quotes mockingly, “or whatever term he uses to call it.”

“Are you jealous because the spirits like him better than you do?” Watson asks, a smile of mockery slowly taking form on his lips. “I’m sure if you’re kinder to people they might just come around to talk. Y’know, if you’re a good bloke and all that.”

“You’re thinking about Santa Claus, Watson, but given that he’s not any more real than whatever powers your little Shawn Spencer claims to possess, I suppose it’s a valid assumption.”

“He has a partner. You know that, right?”

“Who? Spencer or Santa?”

“Shawn Spencer, obviously,” Watson replies. “You said you think he has someone on the inside, and he’s not alone in that picture. He works with someone.”

“Oh, but I meant inside the police department, to give him information and such. The man on the picture is his...” Sherlock sighs. “Best friend, I guess. As if they couldn’t get more embarrassing.”

Watson throws his head back in laughter and Sherlock stares blankly at him. “What?”

“Nothing! It’s just...” He puts his hand over his mouth, then itches the back of his head, still smiling. “If you think about it, they’re kind of like us.”

Sherlock’s face has an expression about it that makes him look as though he’s taken a bite out of a lemon. “What do you mean?”

Watson hasn’t stopped giggling, and Sherlock looks at him with puzzlement, expecting an answer.

“I mean, they’re two friends who solve crimes together.” Watson replies, his tone an indication of how obvious the comparison is.

“I don’t suppose you’re suggesting I’m the Spencer in this scenario?”

“Well, you’re the one who’s always going on with the ‘you see, but you don’t observe’ bullshit. I always thought you meant it literally, but perhaps you meant something more... metaphysical? Seeing like a psychic, maybe?”

Sherlock stands up abruptly. “This isn’t funny, Watson.”

Watson chuckles. “Agree to disagree.”

“You know, I’m positive I could expose that Spencer within seconds of meeting him,” Sherlock says, and starts pacing around the room like his thoughts are too fast in his mind for him to be still. “His partner, for instance—”

“I think you meant his best friend.” The smile of mischief is still there.

“Is a pharmaceutical salesman. What does this tell you?”

Watson furrows his brows in confusion. “That he has a discount on paracetamol?”

“You’re useless. Utterly, completely useless,” Sherlock replies. “How did you even manage to get a medical degree?”

“Oh, well, they just give it around these days,” Watson rests his elbows on his thighs and places his face on his hands, a Little-Mermaid-like position that weirdly fits him. “Showing up is pretty much the only requirement.”

Sherlock ignores his roommate’s response and continues, this time more to himself than as a contribution to their conversation. “Shawn Spencer’s partner having another job is an indication that their whole business isn’t as solid as they make it seem. It might be to help with the money for rent and transportation and such, but it could also be that the financial guarantee he’s seeking is preparation for the moment when Shawn is inevitably exposed for being a fake.” Sherlock stops and scans Watson for an indication of him having been convinced. “Or he just had that job before this scam started and doesn’t trust Spencer to keep it for much longer, at least not enough to make him quit.”

Watson rests his back against the cushion again. “I don’t know what you’re trying to accomplish with this bit, make me hate the guys?”

“No, of course not. I just want to show you the other side of things, the real side. But you can choose to live in this delusion as much as you want. I mean, go ahead. Keep thinking the supernatural actually exists! I’m sure it helps you sleep at night.”

Watson rolls his eyes and angrily grabs the newspaper, which, at this point, is on the floor, having been stepped on by Sherlock at least five times, and his eyes immediately fall on the picture. The one whom he reads is Shawn is on the left, plaid shirt and cocky grin giving him the appearance of an average guy you wouldn’t be surprised to see eating chicken wings or making obscure references to movies from the 80s. His hand is up as though he’s waving to the crowd in front of him, not even a little bit worried about his unconventional methods being an easy target of judgment. He looks like he belongs there, Watson realizes, and for a second he almost wishes he knew those guys. The best friend/partner, Burton Guster, is on the right, his hand placed on his chest in a gesture that would suggest humbleness if it weren’t for his facial expression, a look about him that seems equally receptive of the recognition and praise as Shawn is. He’s wearing a buttoned shirt that’s tucked under his pants with a belt, and the two of them form such a distinct contrast to each other that Watson finds it rather amusing. He can’t help but think about the many pictures of him and Sherlock that have appeared on the newspaper over the years, and he wonders if people have analyzed them the way he’s analyzing Shawn and Guster at this moment. They can undoubtedly notice Sherlock’s arrogance and Watson’s shyness from the capture of a lens, but can they also see his excitement, Sherlock’s determination, the deep and unspoken connection the two of them share but hardly ever acknowledge? Can they understand what motivates them from within, the drive for justice, the thrill of the chase pumping in their veins?

“I think you’re being too harsh with them,” Watson says simply, putting the newspaper on the couch next to him.

“How come?” Sherlock replies. “I think I’m being perfectly adequate.”

“I don’t know,” he crosses his arms. “It’s just... Okay. Let’s suppose he is indeed faking his powers.”

Sherlock points a finger at him. “Which he totally is.”

Watson ignores him and continues, “Does that inherently mean he’s a bad person?” Sherlock stares at him, silent. “He has put a lot of bad people in jail, and no doubt has saved a lot of lives in the process... Doesn’t that give him a little bit of credit?”

Sherlock takes a deep breath. He doesn’t respond immediately; instead, he walks to the window and gazes at the street below, strangers passing by with shopping bags and dogs on leashes and briefcases on hand, the sounds of London fading away as background noise as he concentrates on details of the everyday life. He notices the mark of a ring on the girl with the dog’s finger, the dust on the shoe of the guy with the briefcase, the small tear on the shopping bag carried by the woman. He absorbs all of it in, knowing none of this information is relevant to his existence, and takes a deep breath.

He’s reminded of a babysitter he used to have back in the day. Susan Carter. She was, in theory, hired to take care of both him and Mycroft, but Sherlock’s brother, even in his youth, acted like someone older than his age, someone who could take plenty of care of himself even though he was still sleeping with a night light on and occasionally peeing his pants. Sherlock didn’t like Susan very much — he actually felt that way about pretty much everyone at that time, but with her it was especially intense because she’d spend the entire day checking in on him. He couldn’t just simply tune her out diving into the depths of his mind castle, because it was a guarantee she’d be there too, her high-pitched auntie voice asking him questions like, “Do you want some tea, Lockie?” or “Want me to read you a story?” Never mind the fact that she was merely doing her job, one which he was aware she was being paid for incredibly well (it wasn’t easy to find someone willing to accept employment in the Holmes residence those days): he wanted her out of his sacred place, expelled out of his house like a virus after an antibody attack.

His will ended up being his way, in the end. Susan decided to quit after Mycroft put laxatives in her tea one day, and all of this happened because she had entered his room, without knocking, and caught him during one of his private costume sessions. Mycroft would sometimes spend hours alone in his room doing this — one day he’d be a king from the Victorian times, ordering the toys in his room to attend to his commands, and the other he’d be Britain’s first astronaut setting foot on the moon. Sherlock was never allowed in, even though he’d usually want to, much to his own dismay, and when his nanny caught Mycroft dressed up as Shakespeare in the middle of a reenactment of his own play, Mycroft decided it was best to put matters into his own hands. Or, really, the poor lady’s digestive system, which got torn to shreds after that tea. Sherlock was glad to see her gone, but it sadly wasn’t much long before another nanny stepped in to take her post, and the others after her blended together to create one amorphous being in his mind, all identities a dense cloud of memories he, to this day, associates with despair and annoyance.

What made Susan stand out amongst them was the fact that she liked tarot cards. Sherlock always thought of it all as rather stupid and tried to avoid her “sessions” as much as possible, but sometimes she managed to catch him in the sofa, staring at the ceiling or memorizing the patterns of the paintings on the wall, and she’d say “let’s have a reading, Lockie! You’re not really doing anything much now, aren’t you?”, to which he’d have no reply. He’d sometimes run away to the garden, but other times he’d admit defeat and sit next to her on the dinner table, and she’d spread the cards and explain the meaning of every one of them, even the ones which weren’t chosen by Sherlock. Surprisingly, he’d sometimes find himself enjoying those moments, especially when Susan’s eyes would sparkle with excitement and he’d wonder if one day he’d ever feel that way about anything. She’d maneuver the cards with the utmost gentleness, like they were thin pieces of glass she could drop and break at any moment, and he’d almost let himself smile. He never would, though, because he was still a Holmes, therefore still genetically indisposed for such an act.

Sherlock later in his life learned that Susan had died not long after she quit her job as his nanny. She was murdered by an ex-boyfriend who needed some money and was leeching off of her and the tiny, almost inexistent amount she had. She was stabbed eight times in her own living room, the very same Susan who would put an extra spoonful of sugar in his afternoon tea even though his mother’s orders were of strictly one. Sherlock hated himself the day he found out. When his mother told him over the phone, bile crawled up to the back of his throat and left in it a bitter taste that lasted until the next morning. Sherlock wanted to punch someone, punch himself. The murderer had already been caught by that point, but Sherlock wanted badly to be the one who had found him, perhaps because he felt like he owed something to Susan. He couldn’t catch his own eyes in the mirror for a while after that discovery.

“I think I’m going to bed.”

Watson blinks in surprise. “It’s five in the afternoon.”

Sherlock wraps the belt of his robe on his stomach. “I am very tired.” He gives the reply as though it was an act of courtesy on his part, unneeded.

“You said you were busy about three minutes ago.”

He slumps his shoulders in a dramatic gesture like there’s a sudden weight on them he can’t bother to carry, and then straightens his posture again. “Haven’t you heard of procrastination, Watson? My being tired at this very moment doesn’t exclude my desire to sleep.”

Watson narrows his eyes, bites his lower lip. “You’re planning something.”

Sherlock fakes an appalled look. “I am going to bed. Think of that what you will.”

He starts making his way across the living room and Watson says, “Tell me what you’re thinking!”

“Ask your friend Spencer to tell you that! He’s a psychic, he’ll figure it out!” He’s halfway through the hallway by now, his screams reverberating against the walls.

“You’re forgetting your tea!”

“You can have it, it’s too sweet for me anyway!” is the reply before Sherlock closes the door and creates a vacuum in the room from the instant end of the conversation.

Watson groans in frustration. “I could kill him. And I think I could get away with it. Except he’d solve the bloody thing in the afterlife. Oh, Watson, you were such a fool, left the clues right there for everyone to see!” He mimics Sherlock’s posh way of speaking.

He picks up the mug Sherlock left on the table and takes a sip. “A perfectly good tea, also. That bastard.” Watson’s tone of voice is annoyed, but as he takes another sip, there’s a smile on his face.

#psych #psych fic #sherlock #bbc sherlock #psych au #sherlock au #writing

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