#but I saw your initial assertion that of course men should be put down for the crimes of the patriarchy

[gryffin-who-cannot-fly]

so I agree with the end result of most of what you're saying, which is that trans men shouldn't be treated as a punching bag and that some queer/feminist spaces need to get a handle on their misandry towards trans men.

but here's the thing. you said

cis men who are generally praised and celebrated in society should be able to take some mean jokes or criticisms and accept they're not always going to be lauded.

and I just don't follow that logic. criticism is one thing, but mean jokes?

I want to quickly say up top that I'm not trying to have a go at you; I see this sentiment from time to time in the (online, usually) spaces I'm in and it's something I want to push back on.

first of all, and this shouldn't matter but it will to some people: you don't know the full identity of every person you meet. you don't know who is stealth trans, or autistic, or invisibly disabled, or has a history of being bullied. in an online environment you don't even know who's a person of colour or visibly disabled.

so if you throw a blanket 'I can bully cis men who are generally lauded by society' net, you will catch men who are not lauded by society, and add to their marginalisation and likely their poor mental health. I know bully isn't a word you used, but repeatedly making jokes intended to bring someone down is going to wind up being bullying.

now I say I don't think that should matter because: what is the great harm to us, in queer/feminist spaces, if we treat everyone with respect and kindness? the usual caveats of course, if someone is being antagonistic or otherwise making a space unsafe then that should be managed as appropriate, but even then no part of that should involve stopping your respect. it certainly shouldn't involve treating them a bit 'nasty'.

part of this is recognising the difference between systemic issues and individual issues. yes, 'men', broadly speaking, are responsible for complex systems of oppression that lead to harm, abuse, marginalisation, gatekept opportunities, etc. but random Guy No 625 that shows up with his girlfriend to the bi visibility event is not personally responsible for that. maybe he's contributed to it or maybe he's spent his whole life campaigning for idk abortion rights and you have no idea. it doesn't matter. he's certainly benefited from the patriarchy; it still doesn't matter. what would bullying this man achieve? nothing.

you mention that privileged cis men need to understand that privilege isn't going to carry over to queer/feminist spaces and I do agree with that. they should be treated with the same amount of respect and consideration as everyone else, and if they're used to the world revolving around them that is going to feel like less, and their feelings shouldn't necessarily be coddled about that. but again, that's not being mean to someone, that's just treating them like a human being.

idk. we should try and live in the world we want to create. that isn't always possible, but you can definitely treat every person as an individual deserving of respect. if they turn out to be a mysoginist, just respectfully kick them out of the space and move on.

I notice sometimes in queer and feminist spaces the idea of "this group is generally given more leniency and privileges in wider society; it's okay for us to be critical or even a little nasty to them because anywhere else they'd be praised". and that's understandable, i think. when you have real issues with men and how men act, it's ok to express that and to mock mens behavior. cis men who are generally praised and celebrated in society should be able to take some mean jokes or criticisms and accept they're not always going to be lauded.

but since queer and feminist spaces are generally more accepting of trans people and the wider society is not, this is also projected on to trans men. "trans men are men" was an affirming statement to our validity, but that was interpreted as "since trans men are men, and men are celebrated by society, I get to be a little nasty to them because the rest of society worships men. they can take it."

but the rest of society doesn't have that same level of trans acceptance. they don't see trans men as men, they see trans men as mentally ill, broken, mutilated women. so it's absolutely aggravating when we turn to queer and feminist spaces for solidarity, we face the same reactive nastiness cis men get and are told "come on, trans men are men. you are celebrated in society. you can take it." and when we look at the rest of society there's no celebration. there's only more nastiness and cruelty. so how can we "take it" when we have no community that accepts us and treats us without mockery? we don't have the shelter of acceptance that cis men have in the status quo, and sometimes we can't find a small umbrella of acceptance in queer communities either.

to be honest, I think a lot of people view trans men as a safe punching bag to vent their frustrations with men. you can mistreat a trans man and he's probably not going to fight you back since he's already so beat down. you can feel like you put a man in his place, you can feel like you're resisting the patriarchy. but all you did was act cruel to a marginalized person. and you know if you treated a cis man like that you might be putting yourself in danger, cos he might not take it lying down and he might not care as much about your wellbeing!

trans men are men, but trans men are not cis men. cis men are lauded and celebrated in society as long as they conform to the gender roles that were placed on them at birth. and this privilege is extremely conditional and not equally spread between men of different sexualities, races, ethnicities, ability, age, etc; trans men and intersex men are thrown to the side completely. I understand needing to vent about men. trans men do it too. but a persistent attitude of resentment and cruelty towards all men, including trans men, is not activism. all you do is push marginalized men out of the only communities they belong

[davidpastrsnack]

it’s crazy what you’ll do for a friend - nolan patrick

a/n: here’s a friends to lovers 4+1 with our fav boy loosely inspired by daddy issues by the neighbourhood. but there’s still a splash of smut because you know me lol. hope you enjoy :)

word count: 10.5k

The first time you met Nolan you didn’t know what to think. He was polite, giving you a gentle smile and reaching out to shake your hand, but you couldn’t help but fixate on how quiet he was and his seeming lack of emotion.

Regardless of your hesitation, that was the first time of many that Nolan took care of you. 

You were new to Philadelphia, moving to continue your education and expand your horizons. You had always been one to play it safe, to stay in your comfort zone, but after having your heart broken and being unexpectedly accepted to one of the top graduate programs in your field you knew it was time to challenge yourself and leave behind everything you had ever known.

Well, almost everything, aside from Aubrey, one of your best friends since that first day of kindergarten so long ago. She worked in the city, practically begging you to join her when she found out you were considering the move. Just weeks later, the second bedroom in her apartment became yours and that’s how you met him.

~

one

It was only your third night in Philly and you were still unpacking, a glass of wine sitting on your dresser as you dug through the remaining boxes that were seemingly never-ending. It didn’t seem like this much stuff when you were packing it, but here you were overwhelmed with all of your belongings.

You were humming along to the music, taking it one box at a time as the room slowly came together when you heard a knock on your door.

“Come in,” you called, turning to face the door.

“Woah,” Aubrey muttered, “How’s it going in here?”

“I know, I know,” you laughed, “It looks bad but I’m almost there.”

She nodded, stepping into the room and sitting on your bed, “Time for a break?”

You knew what the hopeful smile on her face meant, she had plans for the two of you.

You looked at her with hesitant eyes and she chuckled, remembering how well you knew her.

“I was thinking we could go meet some of my friends?” Aubrey continued, “I’m kind of seeing this one guy and his friends are great. They’re a lot but I think you’ll love them and they’ll love you.”

“Aubrey, I-” You paused, “I really should finish up in here.”

“Come on, Y/N, we have all day tomorrow to finish and you need a break. I feel like I’ve barely even seen you and it’s been three days.”

You let out a laugh at her words, she was right. It felt like your life had been on hold for so long but now you had the opportunity to start fresh, to put yourself out there in a world that had no existing opinions of you.

“Fine,” you groaned, standing up from your spot on the hardwood, “But you have to help me find something to wear.”

“Deal!” Aubrey exclaimed, dragging you out of the room and into her own to go through her closet.

Just over an hour later, you were squeezed into a booth of the bar surrounded by men almost twice your size. Aubrey failed to mention that the guy she was seeing, but not dating as she vehemently claimed, was a Flyer and so were his friends.

You didn’t know what to expect from the group, but it didn’t take long for you to conclude that they were sweethearts, especially Travis, Aubrey’s “friend.” After introducing you to each of them, it felt like you had always been a part of the gang.

The beer and conversation were flowing, the bellowing laughs coming from the table practically feeling the air of the entire bar. You quickly fell into the banter, fitting in right away after growing up with brothers.

“There he is!” You suddenly heard Kevin shout from next to you, “Took you long enough, Patty.”

You looked up from your drink to see the man you could only assume to be Patty, his tall frame towering over you as you sat on the edge of the booth. He was dressed in all black, and his hair was long and frankly, unkempt as it curled around his ears. Even in the dim light of the bar, you could make out his light eyes, the blue piercing you as he finally met your gaze from his seat directly across from yours.

“Nolan, this is my friend Y/N,” Aubrey started, “She just moved in with me.”

Nolan reached out his hand across the table which you happily met, secretly hoping he couldn’t feel how clammy you had gotten since he walked in. He softly smiled as your hands touched, the corners of his mouth barely lifting but just enough.

“Nice to meet you,” he mumbled.

“You too,” you replied, flickering your eyes to the other end of the table before you caught yourself staring.

You were right away distracted by something Travis was chirping Claude for from this morning’s practice, but something about the man sitting just a few feet away from you was still consuming your thoughts.

You were pretty sure he had already decided that he didn’t like you. He had barely said a word aside from his initial pleasantries, but from then on it was almost like he wasn’t even acknowledging your presence. You didn’t know why you even cared, but there was something about his presence that made you on edge.

“I’m going to get another one,” you blurted out, everyone’s attention shifting to you.

“I’ll come with,” Aubrey declared.

“I’m good, stay,” you responded, giving her a knowing look. She was practically sitting in Travis’s lap, her hands wrapped around his neck while his eyes were stuck on her like she was the only one in the room. Not dating, my ass, you thought to yourself.

You slid off the cushion and headed towards the bar, the air already feeling lighter the further away from the group you got. You loved them, they were great, but it was just so much new at once. You needed a breather.

It was a packed Friday night and you knew it would be a while before you got your drink, so you sat down on the first available stool you saw. You caught the bartender's attention right away, but she was clearly swamped. You sent her a reassuring nod, telling her to take her time. She smiled right back at you, evidently grateful for your patience.

After what felt like barely a minute of waiting, you felt a body slide next to yours, the scent of cheap cologne overwhelming you as you braced yourself for what was about to happen.

“Hi there,” he spoke, leaning his weight against the bar top as he boxed you in.

“Hi,” you sighed. To put it simply, you were not in the mood.

“You got a name?”

“I do,” you chuckled in disbelief, turning your body away from his as your eyes scanned the room for anyone familiar. Which of course there wasn’t.

“A snappy one, alright,” he spoke, his hot breath fanning over your neck, “Well I’m Brett, what are you drinking?”

“Nothing,” you snapped.

“Oh c’mon, let me buy you a drink,” he continued, either not picking up on your hints or purposely ignoring them.

“I’m really all set.”

Just before he was about to open his mouth to speak once again, you felt his hand rest flat against your back, your body arching away from him immediately at the contact.

“Do not fucking touch her.”

The deep voice echoed in front of you, your vision clouded as your mind raced in a million directions.

“Listen, man, I got this.”

“No, I don’t think you do,” you heard, the vibrations of his voice running straight through your body.

Nolan.

You may have just met him, but that was a body and voice you couldn’t forget.

You had no idea what overcame you, but before you could process what you were doing you wrapped your arms around his torso. Nolan immediately reciprocated, his arm falling across your shoulders and pulling you close to his frame.  

“Just leave,” Nolan asserted, “Don’t make this more difficult than it has to be. It’s already embarrassing enough that you can’t take no for an answer.”

Your body relaxed against his, Nolan’s words calming your worst fears right away. From your vantage point, you assumed Nolan easily had at least six inches and thirty pounds on him. That seemed to be enough for him, backing away with a faulty glare and disappearing into the crowd.

“Nolan, I-” you stuttered, not knowing what to say, “Thank you,” you finally got out, your voice barely loud enough to hear over the hum of voices.

“Don’t mention it,” he muttered, his aura still cold.

You were so caught up in the shock of the moment that you hadn’t realized you were still holding each other, and right away you dropped your arm from his waist. Nolan did the same, awkwardly moving to sit on the stool next to you and flag the bartender.

You missed the warmth of his body right away, the spicy scent of his skin in stark contrast to the Axe you could only assume the other one was wearing. You swore you could still feel the ripple of his abs beneath his t-shirt on your fingertips. It was silent for a minute, both of you trying to come up with the right words.

“I really can’t thank you enough. Let me buy this round,” you pleaded, your eyes locking with his.

“Y/N,” Nolan started, your face flushing as your name fell from his lips, “I’m buying.”

You smiled up at him, nodding before looking back down in hopes of hiding the flush you felt creeping up your neck and onto your cheeks.

“Can I be honest, Nolan?” You questioned.

“Shoot.”

“Do you not like me? Did I do something? I wasn’t expecting that from you of all people-” you rambled until Nolan cut you off.

“First of all, I would have done that even if I hated you. But no, I like you, Y/N. A friend of a friend of TK’s is a friend of mine.”

You laughed at the last part before you could even process the first. Nolan’s cheeks went red, clearly embarrassed at his cliché phrasing but it didn’t matter how badly he made a fool of himself as long as you were smiling. The way your eyes scrunched and your nose turned up while you laughed was enough to make him forget the day he had.

Your laughter was interrupted by your drinks, the woman leaving you with a knowing smile before she turned away. Nolan and you both stood up ready to head back to the table before he stopped you.

“Friends?” He asked, putting his hand out in front of himself.

“Friends,” you agreed with a grin, shaking his hand before walking back to the group together.

~

two

You dreaded first days.

No matter how old you got, the anxiety of walking into an unfamiliar room full of unfamiliar faces never lessened. But you were ready, you reminded yourself, putting your head up and walking to the classroom like you had been there a hundred times before.

By the time you were walking out after the 90 minutes were up, your heart was pounding and you could feel the tears pricking the back of your eyes as you ran out of the building, not even bothering to introduce yourself to anyone.

The walk from the university back to your apartment was a blur. You couldn’t believe you had made such a poor first impression. You thought you were prepared, you had your notebook ready and all the right textbooks in order, but you somehow missed that there was an assignment due on the very first day.

As you rushed through the busy streets of the city, dodging people left and right, your mind raced back to that room.

“Ms. Y/L/N, can you please give your thoughts on the first case study?” Your professor questioned, intently watching you as your panic set in.

Your heart began to race and your palms sweat as you struggled to find the words to say that you hadn’t done the reading. This had never happened to you before, you were an A+ student for your entire life, almost unhealthily so. You couldn’t remember the last time you had missed an assignment, it just wasn’t something you did.

“Alright, then. Anyone else who actually checked the syllabus have something to say?”

Your professor's words were stuck in your head, playing over and over again when you finally reached your building. Now that you were so close to being in the comfort of your own space you could feel your wheels spinning, the stress and emotion overtaking your body.

Your hands shook as you tried to unlock the door, your body pushing through the threshold when you finally got it open.

“Aubrey?” You called as you walked through the hallway. She had known you for so long and always knew what to do to calm you down. But instead of Aubrey’s bright voice welcoming you back, you were met with silence.

“Where are you?” You muttered under your breath, your voice shaking as the tears threatened to spill over any second. As you turned the corner into the living room, you found three bodies spread across the couch, none of whom belonged to Aubrey.

“Oh,” you sputtered out, surprised to see Travis, Kevin, and Nolan watching a game.

“Y/N!” Travis called out, his infectious smile almost making your tight-lipped frown fade, “Aubrey just ran out for something but she should be back soon.”

You could feel Nolan’s gaze burning into you. You did your best to avoid his eye contact in hopes of hiding your current state from him. He had been nothing but kind to you, but you still felt so exposed standing in front of him, suddenly insecure about your outfit.

“I’m just going to go,” you whispered, pointing down the hall to your room. You felt horrible just ignoring them like that, but you knew you didn’t have it in you to keep up with them right now.

Your bag fell out of your hands almost instantly as soon as the door to your room clicked shut, the sound of your laptop hitting the hardwood floor making you cringe. You collapsed on your bed face first, the emotion you had been holding back for what felt like forever overwhelming you. Your body wracked in sobs as you replayed your embarrassment in a seemingly endless loop.

Nolan knew something was wrong the second he saw you. He may have only met you just a few days ago, but after growing up with two sisters he recognized the signs right away. He had no idea what was wrong, but he did know that you were barely holding it together.

Your head snapped up when you heard a series of soft knocks on your door, “Aubrey?” You asked, your voice rising with hope.

“No, uh, it’s Nolan.”

Your face fell when you heard his deep voice through the wood. You barely knew Nolan, he couldn’t see you like this. You paused for a moment wondering if he would just leave if you didn’t respond, but you could see his shadow through the bottom crack of your door, his feet were planted and didn’t show any signs of moving any time soon.

You silently groaned and picked yourself up, not even bothering to look in the mirror before opening the door because you knew it was not going to a pretty sight regardless. You hastily wiped underneath your eyes, the black of your mascara flaking right off your tear-stained skin. This wasn’t exactly how you wanted the new boy in your life to see you right after meeting you, but you just were friends, right?

“What, Nolan?” You sighed when you finally opened the door.

You didn’t mean to be so stark, but it just came out. His presence overwhelmed you just like it had at the bar a few nights ago. He was leaning against the door frame with his hands tucked into the pockets of his sweatpants. The backward hat resting atop his head flattered him perfectly, drawing attention to the tufts of his brown hair curling around his ears and neck.

Nolan stood up straight as soon as he saw you, his eyes softening when his suspicions were confirmed: you had been crying.

“I just wanted to check on you,” he mumbled, his eyes never leaving your own.

The tension in your shoulders released as you looked up at him. He didn’t say anything else, just tilting his head down towards you as he continued to scan your face for any signs of how you were feeling. You couldn’t pinpoint it, but there was something about Nolan that made you feel so safe, so secure, like as long as you were with him you could avoid your demons.

“I’m fine,” you murmured, your voice barely above a whisper.

“No you’re not,” Nolan rebutted, raising his eyebrows as if he was challenging you to lie to him again.

You didn’t say anything, but rather you moved your body to the side and ushered him into your room. Nolan happily obliged, awkwardly standing as he took in his surroundings. Your room was just as he expected, it was minimal, just like his. You didn’t like clutter, everything had a place. It was one way you tried to control the chaos that was your life.

“You can sit,” you spoke, breaking the silence.

Nolan nodded and sat next to you at the foot of the bed. You couldn’t help but let your eyes trail along his leg, the way his thighs stretched the fabric of his sweatpants making your cheeks flush.

“It was my first day at this new program I’m in and it didn’t go well, that’s all,” you finally sputtered out, staring down at your lap as your hands fidgeted. “I’ve never been good at first impressions,” you added, a gentle laugh escaping your lip as you thought back to your first time meeting Nolan.

“Listen, I’m sure it wasn’t that bad,” Nolan encouraged, “You seem like a pretty great person.”

You scoffed at his attempt to make you feel better, your emotions creeping their way back into your head.

“It was-” you paused, using every fiber within your being to try not to lose it in front of him, “It was bad.”

“C’mere,” Nolan whispered, turning on the bed to face you more and opening his arms, practically begging for your embrace.

You shook your head, closing your eyes as the fresh tears started burning. You were so selective in who you exposed your most vulnerable state to, and you barely knew Nolan. But despite this, you felt such an instant connection with him, and if his overt kindness was any indication, he felt the same way.

You let your final guard down, leaning back and curling into Nolan’s frame. He immediately wrapped his arms around you, holding you tight against him as one hand moved up to your head to rub soft circles into your hair.

“Go ahead and cry,” he hummed, his body gently rocking you back and forth.

You melted at his touch, your head nuzzling into the crook of his neck, the muted orange of his Flyers hoodie the last thing you saw before your eyes shut in sobs. His scent was overwhelming, the mix of his body wash and the leftover cologne lingering on his hoodie flooding your senses. You felt as if you disappeared in his grasp, like the world around you vanished and nothing else mattered.

You didn’t even know how much time had passed, but Nolan didn’t move an inch. He held you like it was the only thing he had to do all day. Once the tears stopped falling and your breathing steadied, you pulled back, instantly flooded with embarrassment.

“Wow,” you chuckled, wiping your cheeks, “I am so sorry, Nolan, I don’t know what happened I just-”

“Don’t,” he interrupted, “We’re friends, remember?” He teased, the corners of his mouth lifting in a gentle smile as he bumped your shoulder.

“Yeah,” you laughed.

“I think we were planning on grabbing some food,” Nolan mumbled, his hand scratching the back of his neck as he spoke, “If you want to come.”

“Oh, I don’t know.”

“Come on, you’re coming. If I have to put up with those two out there so do you.”

You rolled your eyes, but it was the least you could do after what he had just done for you.

“Give me five minutes to look less dead.”

Nolan smiled as you agreed, slipping out of the room so you could change and freshen up.

“What the fuck was that?” Nolan was bombarded by Kevin as he sat back down.

“Nothing,” Nolan mumbled, not in the mood to be questioned about things he didn’t even know the answer to.

“She let you go in there?” Aubrey asked, just having gotten back.

“Yes?” He responded, confused by her question.

Aubrey didn’t bother getting into it and changed the subject instead, but inside she was scheming. She knew you, how closed off you were, but here you were opening up to Nolan like you’ve known him for years. Nothing made Aubrey happier than watching this friendship bloom, and she couldn’t help but wonder if there was potential for more.

~

three

Team galas usually didn’t bother Nolan, it was part of the job, but tonight it was the last place he wanted to be. His tux felt too tight, the stuffy conversation with potential sponsors was putting him to sleep, and his date was, to be frank, insufferable.

Nolan had no problem going to an event without a plus one, he and TK were usually the two single guys spending their time causing trouble, but now that Aubrey was in the picture Kevin had decided he had seen enough. So, despite Nolan begging him to leave him alone, Kevin set him up with one of his friends from Boston.

She was just as Kevin described, beautiful and smart, but that was about all. Nolan was calm and reserved, at least until he was comfortable with someone, but she was the complete opposite. Her personality filled the entire room and although he admired her confidence, Nolan was exhausted. He felt like he couldn’t be himself, like he had to work to match her energy.

After what felt like hours of entertaining her and Kevin, Nolan made his escape to the bar. It was the first moment to himself he had, the relief immediately flooding him as he leaned against the counter. He titled his glass to the bartender, silently requesting a refill when he felt his phone buzzing in the pocket of his suit pants.

Nolan begrudgingly pulled the phone, wondering who it could possibly be. The entire team was with him and it was unlike his family to call him on a Saturday night. But when he saw your name flashing across the screen, his whole demeanor shifted.

“Nolan!” He heard you exclaim, your voice like a breath of fresh air.

“Y/N?” He questioned. You had never called him out of the blue like this before. Nolan nodded to the bartender thanking him before taking his drink and walking out to the empty hallway so he could hear you better. “Everything okay?”

It wasn’t really. You had just come back home from a date, one Aubrey practically forced you to go on. You pleaded to her that you were fine, that you weren’t ready to start dating in the city yet, but regardless, you found yourself sitting across from one of her coworkers at a restaurant downtown.

There was nothing wrong with him, he was nice, but it was evident to you before your drinks were even ordered that this wasn’t going to work. You pushed through the meal, putting on your best fake smile and pretending to laugh at his forced humor. You politely declined his offer to walk you home, instead opting to get an Uber so you could get out of your dress as soon as possible.

Now you were home, your sweats on and hair up with a glass of wine in your hand. The glass quickly turned into almost the entire bottle, drowning your sorrows of another failed date with your favorite red. That’s when you made the mistake of picking up your phone, your fingers scrolling through your contacts until you found the one name you knew would be able to distract you.

“I’m great. I mean I’m not, but it’s fine,” you rambled, your words slurred as you spoke.

For once it was you mumbling and not Nolan. He didn’t know what, but his gut was telling him that something was wrong, he could practically smell the alcohol on your tongue through the phone. After a long pause of trying to figure out what to say, his thoughts were interrupted.

“Come over?” You whispered, “I’m so sick of being alone.”

Nolan’s heart dropped at your words, his eyes blinking shut as he pondered his next move. His eyes scanned the ballroom, finally landing on his date. She was sitting at their table, Nolan’s empty seat sticking out like a sore thumb, laughing at whatever story of his college days Kevin was regurgitating. He would feel like an ass if he just left, and he would be lying if he said the prospect of an easy lay hadn’t crossed his mind tonight, but you were more important.

“Give me twenty.”

-

Since calling Nolan you had migrated from your bed to the couch, a blanket sprawled across your body while you laid horizontal. The only light in the room was from the TV as one of your comfort movies played. You were barely paying attention, instead zoning out and staring at the lit-up city around you from the window.

Your mindless thoughts were interrupted by a series of knocks on the door. You threw the blanket off of your body and stood up, slowly dragging your feet across the hardwood as you made your way. But you were nowhere near prepared for what you saw as soon as you opened the door.

Nolan towered over you in the door frame. He was wearing a suit, the soft, grey fabric clinging to his thighs and shoulders perfectly. His long hair was slicked back and tucked behind his ears. The scent of his cologne overwhelmed you instantly, the warm aroma making you want to melt into him. One hand was resting in his pant pocket, while the other was carrying a take-out bag from one of your favorite spots.

“Hi,” Nolan quietly muttered, breaking the silence.

His deep voice broke the trance you were in, and that’s when the realization hit you.

“I completely forgot you guys had that thing tonight,” you blurted, the alcohol in your bloodstream clogging your train of thought, “I am so sorry. You have to go back, I feel horrible.”

Your hands came up to your face, hiding your embarrassment. How could you forget? You spent hours this morning helping Aubrey pick out her dress.

“Y/N,” Nolan cooed, his large hands gently pulling your own off of your face, “I’m here and I’m not leaving.”

Nolan didn’t let you get another word out before he was pushing past your body. He wasn’t even enjoying himself at the event and the last thing he wanted to do was go back.

It didn’t long for the two of you to finish the food, opting to head back to the couch and ignore the many empty containers for now.

“I’m never going on a date ever again,” you slurred, “I don’t even want to look at a man ever again.”

Despite trying to be quiet, Nolan couldn’t hide his chuckle. He had heard similar frustrations from his two sisters growing up. He had been around endless assholes throughout his life, he knew how exhausting it must have been to try to find a decent one.

“Can’t blame you,” he mumbled.

Your body slumped against the back of the couch, your eyes slipping shut as the wine and food started to lull you into a sleepy haze. Nolan scanned your face, a soft smile creeping onto his face as he watched your chest gently rise and fall with each breath. Before he could catch himself, he lifted his hand and pushed back the hair that had fallen in your face, tucking it behind your ear.

In that moment Nolan knew that he was fucked.

Never before had he dropped everything for a girl as he did for you tonight. But he also had never connected with someone like he did with you. You didn’t force him to be something he wasn’t, there was no pressure to put on an act. It just felt natural with you. But your words from just a few minutes before lingered in the back of his head. You made it clear that you weren’t looking for anything right now, it only took one miserable date to remind you of that. So Nolan pulled his hand away, trying to ignore the burning of your skin against his fingertips as they trailed across your soft cheek.

You were friends. Just friends.

-

You had no idea how much time had passed, but suddenly you felt yourself stir awake, your eyes peeling open to find yourself tucked into Nolan’s side. His body was warm below yours, his arm resting across your shoulders holding you in place as you lay against his chest. From your peripheral vision, you could see his suit jacket on one of the couch cushions, the soft material of his button-down rubbing on your cheek.

You had two options. You could either acknowledge that you awkwardly fell asleep on him in your drunken state, or you could pretend that you never woke up and continue to enjoy the comfort of his embrace.

Needless to say, you chose the latter.

But you must have dozed off again because the next time you woke up you were being carried into your bedroom. Your arms were wrapped tightly across Nolan’s neck, the tips of your fingers naturally lifting to twirl the tufts of his hair.

“Shhh, I got you,” Nolan whispered as he felt you move, just before he laid you down onto your bed, “I’ll be right back.”

Nolan hastily left the room, leaving you to bask in the memory of his warmth as your head fell back against your pillow. Within just a few seconds he was back, placing a cool glass of water on your nightstand table. But almost just as fast as he came back, he was leaving again.

“Stay,” you murmured, watching him pause at the outline of your door.

“I- I got the couch.”

“Okay,” you responded, trying to hide your disappointment.

Nolan visibly cringed the second your door was closed, his head falling to his lap once he sat down. He wanted nothing more than to climb into bed with you. The thought of holding you beneath the sheets and feeling your soft skin in contrast to his rough hands made him dizzy. But the last thing he wanted to do was make you uncomfortable. You weren’t sober enough to say he could stay, and there was no chance in hell Nolan was going to risk scaring you off. So he took the couch, laying across the cushions with his eyes locked on your door until his eyelids gave in to his exhaustion. 

~

four

It was finally Friday, another week in the books. 

Your classes were taking more out of you than you had expected, the hours of reading and note-taking blending together as you finally closed your last tab. You had no plans for the night, and you honestly couldn’t be happier about it. A hot shower, takeout, and falling asleep early encompassed your perfect night recently.

Just as you were about to get in the shower, you were distracted by your phone ringing. You picked it up, surprised to see it was Kevin calling.

“Hi, Kevin,” you spoke, a slight edge to your words. You adored Kevin, he was an absolute sweetheart, but sometimes you just didn’t have the patience.

“What are you doing tonight?”

You rolled your eyes at his question, “Nothing.”

“Incorrect, you’re coming over and hanging out with me and Pat.”

“I am?” You laughed, taken aback by Kevin’s forwardness.

“Teeks and Aubrey are coming too, come on, Y/N,” he continued.

You knew you weren’t getting out of this without a real excuse, no matter how much you wanted to stay in. You hadn’t seen Nolan since the night you embarrassed yourself, the cringe of drunk dialing him after a bad date had yet to escape your memory.

“What time?”

“Uh- Let’s say 7.”

“Alright, Kev. See you later,” you hung up the phone, throwing it back on your bed before getting in the shower.

-

As you approached the boys’ apartment door, it was quieter than you expected it to be. Aubrey said she was already with Travis and would meet you there, so you were arriving alone. You assumed they would already have been there by now, but you ignored the silence and knocked on the door.

Just a few seconds later, the door swung open and you were face to face with Nolan. Your eyes widened when you saw him, his sweatpants hanging low on his hips and his bare torso staring at you. You quickly composed yourself, using every ounce of self-control within you to avoid trailing your gaze across his broad shoulders and down his chest, the curves and divots of his abs making your mouth water.

“Sorry,” Nolan mumbled, his cheeks flushing even redder than they usually were, “I thought you were Kevin, he always forgets his keys. Come in.”

You followed Nolan into the apartment, the muscles of his back rippling as his arms swung. You sat down on the couch, awkwardly waiting while he disappeared into his room. He came back just a few seconds later, his body now hidden behind a wrinkly t-shirt.

“Where is everyone?” You questioned, your body stiff as Nolan relaxed into the cushion next to you.

“Not sure,” he mumbled, the red of his cheeks lingering, “Kev said you were coming with Aubrey?”

Your face scrunched in confusion, “He told me she was coming here with Travis.”

Nolan then pulled his phone out and started typing a message to Kevin, desperate to figure out where he was. For some reason being here with you alone was making him nervous, there was an awkward energy in the air that had never been there before.

Nolan was reaching for the TV remote, about to ask you if you wanted to put something on when his phone sounded.

Kevin: You’re welcome

Now it was Nolan’s turn to furrow his eyebrows, the boy even more confused by Kevin’s message.

Kevin: We couldn’t watch you two anymore please just do something

Kevin: I’ll be out all night

Kevin: Don’t forget protection!

Of course. Of course, this little miscommunication was, in fact, a setup. But the worst part was that Nolan knew Kevin was right. No matter how hard he tried, he had been pining over you since that very first night. And now here you two were in an empty apartment with enough sexual tension to last the year.

“No one’s coming, are they?” You broke the silence, snapping Nolan out of his trance.

He threw his phone to the side as a slight smile crept across his stern face, “Nope,” he chuckled.

If you thought there was tension before, it didn’t even compare to what you felt now. Since meeting Nolan you were under the impression that your secretly harbored feelings for him were just that, a secret, but apparently, you weren’t as subtle as you thought. This had Aubrey written all over it, and you knew Travis was under her spell and would do anything to help her, and bonus points for chirping Nolan simultaneously. It was the elephant in the room, your mutual feelings still not being spoken but you both knew you had been called out by the people who knew you best.

“What are you thinking about?” Nolan whispered, the rough hum of his voice sending chills down your spine.

You couldn’t get even a single word out, your thoughts and feelings jumbling in your mind. After all this time the perfect opportunity was finally handed to you on a silver platter, but you still couldn’t do it.

Nolan could sense your hesitation, your close proximity and sweet scent clouding his consciousness.

“I’ll tell you what I’m thinking about,” he murmured, turning his body so he was facing you.

Your eyes had yet to leave your lap, your focus stuck on the rip of your jeans. You jumped when you felt his warm touch on your lower thigh, the warmth of his calloused hands making your heart rate rise even though the thick denim. His size was intoxicating and he made you feel like putty as he leaned closer to you.

“Y/N,” Nolan mumbled, his voice deeper than ever before.

You finally lifted your gaze, turning your head up to look at him. His baby blue eyes were piercing yours, the contact lighting a fire within you. Every reasonable thought in your head was telling you to pull away, to grab your bag and politely excuse yourself. You weren’t ready for a relationship, you had barely put yourself back together after your last heartbreak and Philly was supposed to be different. But as you sat here, your face just inches away from Nolan’s, you gave in to your desire.

Before you could talk yourself out of it, you connected your lips with his, immediately sighing in relief as his soft pout worked perfectly against you. You hastily swung your hips over and seated yourself on Nolan’s lap, an eager groan escaping him when your body rolled into his. His hands splayed across your hips, moving to circle your ass as he helped you grind deeper into his already hardening length.

Nolan trailed his lips down your jaw, nibbling and sucking on the plane of your neck. You knew he was leaving marks, but in the moment you couldn’t care less, the euphoria of his touch being the only comprehensive feeling.

“Please,” you whined, tightening your grip on his long locks, “Nolan.”

You couldn’t remember the last time someone had ignited you as Nolan had. He had barely even touched you and you were nearly certain you had already soaked through your panties, withering in his lap desperate for more.

“Now she has something to say,” Nolan teased, whispering into the shell of your ear. He gave you no warning before he was standing up, holding the back of your legs as you instinctually wrapped them around his waist.

Nolan gently tossed you on his bed, pausing to pull his shirt off before he was climbing on top of you. You were in a state of bliss, finally able to admire his frame shamelessly and without fear of getting caught. He continued to attack your neck, leaving mark after mark behind in his wake. You whimpered impatiently as his lips worked your sensitive skin, but Nolan was set on taking his time. He didn’t know if he would ever have you like this again and he was going to savor every second of it.

But you decided to take matters into your own hands, pushing his frame off of yours and pulling your sweater over your head. You grabbed Nolan’s face again, cupping both of his cheeks as your lips met again. He made quick work of your bra, unclasping it with ease behind your back and tossing it across the room.

“Fuck, you’re stunning,” he groaned, pausing to take you in. Your hair was splayed across the pillow, your cheeks flushed while your chest heaved up and down with heavy breathing. His praise went straight to your core, clenching around nothing as you grew more and more desperate for him.

Nolan wasted no more time, finally making his way down your torso before reaching the hem of your pants. His fingertips slowly ran beneath the fabric, stopping only to look up at you. Your eyes locked and you frantically nodded, understanding that he was waiting for your permission before continuing.

“Words, Y/N,” Nolan hummed into your thigh, his order gentle but firm.

“Yes,” you breathed out, “Fuck, yes.”

Nolan did as you said, unzipping your jeans and sliding them down your legs. He almost lost his balance on the mattress when he saw you laying before him, the pink lace resting across your hips being the only thing keeping him from you. Nolan settled himself between your legs, hooking both of them over his shoulders as his hot breath fanned over your pussy.

Nolan placed a soft kiss to your lace-covered clit, basking in your reaction as you let out an embarrassingly loud moan and your hands flew to his head, tangling in his hair. Your hips jerked up into the air, desperate for more friction. Nolan laid his thick forearm across your waist, his weight halting all of your movements and holding you at his mercy.

“Nolan, please just fuck me,” you begged, the suspense too much to handle as you felt yourself drip down the crease of your thigh.

“All in good time, baby,” he cooed, pulling your panties to the side and finally connecting with your throbbing pussy.

You cried out as his tongue flicked your clit back and forth, the pleasure only magnifying when he sucked it between his teeth. Your hands were locked with an iron grip in the roots of his hair, holding on like your life depended on it. Nolan hummed against your core as he continued to taste you, the vibrations of his voice sending shockwaves through your body.

Suddenly Nolan pulled back, but before you could protest you heard ripping. A gasp left your lips when you realized what he had done, the mangled lace of your panties now laying on his floor. You wanted to yell at him, complain that those were your favorite, but before you could get a word out he was back at work, this time fucking his tongue in and out of you.

Your head fell back against the pillow, your mouth opening in a silent scream when you felt him slide two fingers inside while his mouth circled your clit again. Nolan curled his fingers against your sweet spot and you knew you were done for, your back arching off the mattress as you combusted with your orgasm.

Nolan milked you through your high, his tongue flattening against your clit as his head shook and his fingers kept their pace. He finally slowed down as he felt you come down, pulling back to watch you shake as the last waves of pleasure rolled through your body. He slipped his fingers out of your fluttering pussy, only to bring them to his mouth and suck your juices clean.

“You’re really good at that,” you stammered, just now coming back to your senses after almost blacking out.

Nolan laughed, kissing his way back up your body until you two were face to face again. You couldn’t resist pulling him down and crashing your lips against his, moaning into his mouth as you tasted yourself on his tongue.

“I’m good at other things too,” he smirked, tucking your hair behind your ear, just as he had done last week, except this time he didn’t have to hide it. The soft action made your heart flutter, but his words made something else flutter.

“Give me your best, Patrick,” you challenged.

“Your wish is my command, baby.”

Nolan pushed off his arms and stood up, hurriedly stripping himself of his sweats and boxers in one fell swoop. A whimper escaped your lips when you heard the sound of his cock slapping against his stomach, your pupils dilated as your eyes trailed down his thighs admiring his tattoos. 

Reaching across you to get a condom from his nightstand, Nolan was surprised when you plucked it right from his hand. You tore open the foil and slowly rolled the condom onto him, a small smile spreading across your face when his hips buckled into your hand at your touch.

You may have been embarrassingly weak for him, but he was just as weak for you.

Nolan shifted on the bed so he was hovering over your body, leaning down to press a kiss to your mouth. Your lips moved in sync with one another, the pure lust filling the room dictating every movement. He felt you grow more and more impatient, your body stirring beneath his as he finally pulled away.

Taking one last look at you spread out before him, waiting for him to touch you, Nolan directed his attention back to between your legs. He locked eyes with you before collecting the salvia in his mouth, harshly spitting on your pussy. The moan you let out was only amplified when he started teasing you even more, dragging the head of his cock through your soaking folds.

“Nolan,” you whined, the last letter of his name prolonged as you begged, your entire body tensing while he tapped your already so sensitive clit.

“Shhh,” he cooed, rubbing his thumb in soothing circles against your hip, “Got to make sure you’re ready for me.”

Before you could get in another word of protest, Nolan was pushing one of your legs into your chest and sliding inside. Your mouth fell open as he slowly bottomed out, the sensation of him filling you paralyzing. A string of deep swears left his lips as he felt you already clenching around him.

After letting you adjust, Nolan started rocking his hips, quickly finding his rhythm. You didn’t have a single thought in your head, the way he hit your sweet spot inside and ground against your clit making you dizzy.

Nolan had never been in such bliss. He could never have imagined how good you would feel wrapped around him, your walls still pulsating from your first high as he slid in and out. The way your name sounded falling from his lips was pure ecstasy, his innate possessiveness in full drive. Your nails dug into his back, dragging burning lines into his skin that he knew he would be tormented about tomorrow in the locker room but it didn’t matter. Nothing mattered but the way your bodies fit together in perfect harmony right this moment.

You could feel yourself growing close within mere minutes, Nolan’s relentless thrusts giving you no mercy. He could tell you were almost there by the way you were fluttering around him, along with the mindless sounds of pleasure escaping your lips getting louder and louder.

“That’s it,” Nolan encouraged in your ear, “Cum for me, Y/N.”

Between his hot breath against your tingling skin and his plunging thrusts, Nolan had you seeing stars.

“Nolan, Nolan,” you whined.

You swore you almost blacked out, your vision going blank as he fucked you through your high. He wasn’t far behind you, the clenching of your pussy egging him on until he finally let go, his hips stuttering and groans filling the air as his head fell into the crook of your neck.

“Fuck,” Nolan sighed, letting his heart rate steady as he laid above you, resting the majority of his weight on his forearms.

“Yeah,” you responded with a breathy laugh, your mind still blank as you came down.

Nolan stayed there for a few minutes before finally sitting up, cringing as you whimpered when he pulled out. Your eyes slipped shut, but you could hear him shifting around the room. After pulling on a pair of fresh boxers and dampening a towel, Nolan gently cleaned you up, biting back a smirk each time you shivered at his touch. He disappeared again, this time returning with a shirt in hand, urging you to sit up so he could help you pull the soft fabric over your head.

You had every intention of getting dressed and leaving, but you just couldn’t find the energy to remove yourself from his warm bed. The sheets that smelled like him enveloped you, and now his t-shirt was draped over your shoulders begging you to stay. Nolan slid next to you, his body cradling yours from behind as he wrapped an arm around your waist, holding you impossibly close.

“Sleep well, Y/N,” Nolan hummed into your neck as he settled in.

“Goodnight,” you managed to get out, the shame of what you had just done starting to spiral in your head.

You made a mistake. Nolan was good, so good, and he deserved more than you could give him. Your last relationship ended in disaster, leaving you broken and abandoning the idea of finding love ever again. Regardless of what you told your friends and family, it was what drove you from home. Then came Nolan, he was the definition of kind. Even when he barely knew you he did whatever he could to protect you. That kind of guy deserves someone who’s got it together, not whatever mess you were. You couldn’t believe you let your attraction to him get the best of you, and now here you were, pressed against his sleeping frame as he held you.

Everything inside of you was telling you to leave. It was too much, the eventual pain of whatever this was ending was overwhelming. You could hear Nolan snoring behind you, the sound of his contentment almost bringing tears to your eyes. Gently lifting his arm from its spot across your waist, you slid from underneath his grasp. It was nearly impossible to find your clothes in the dark, but you managed to do so without making too much noise. Nolan didn’t even stir as you moved around him, folding the shirt he gave you and placing it on the nightstand.

Just as you reached for the door, you felt yourself pause. Don’t do it, Y/N. Don’t do it. But you couldn’t resist, slowly turning to take in what you were leaving behind.

Nolan was passed out, his body leaning towards the pillow where you once laid your head and his arm laying flat as if he was still holding you. You could make out the redness of his cheeks in the dim light, his eyelashes curling down onto his cheeks. Your heart broke as you looked at him, but you knew it was what you had to do. He deserved the world, which was much more than you were able to give him. Without giving it another second of thought, you opened the door as quietly as possible and made your escape.

~

+ one

It had been over three weeks since you last spoke to Nolan.

You couldn’t handle facing him just yet, so you did what you knew best: shutting out the people that cared about you the most. You ignored every single one of his calls and texts, eventually muting his number when it became too much. You replayed what you imagined he looked and felt like that morning, waking up to a cold, empty bed. It was heartbreaking, but you stayed firm in your decision. As long as you didn’t have to see his face you would be fine.

But of course, Aubrey had different plans for you.

Since that night, you had been more distant from her than ever before. You left the apartment early in the morning, spending your day in class and bouncing between different coffee shops while working. You kept up appearances when you returned in the evening, saying hello and asking her how her day was, but practically nothing else. You made an early exit to your room, citing homework or lack of sleep as your excuse. But she knew you better than anyone else, it was no secret something was wrong. Much to your content, you could only assume that Nolan was keeping your secret as well, knowing that if he told anyone on the team you would be getting an earful from her.

But Aubrey had decided that she was done letting you sulk about whatever it was you were so clearly upset by. The Flyers had been away for almost two weeks and tonight was their first game back home. Thanks to Travis, she had two tickets in hand ready for the two of you.

Before you had even shut the apartment door behind you after arriving home, she was jumping up to greet you.

“Hey!” Aubrey exclaimed as you walked in, “We’re going out tonight.”

You just stared at her confused, knowing damn well you had no intention of going anywhere. “Hey,” you started, “I- I don’t think so, I have a lot to do.”

“No, you don’t. Listen, I don’t know what is going on with you but I’m sick of watching you wallow in whatever it is. I’ve barely talked to you in almost a month, you’re coming with me,” Aubrey snapped. If there was one thing about having such an old friend it was that she always gave it to you straight.

“Where?” You begrudgingly inquired.

“Nope, it’s a surprise,” she answered. If her inkling was correct, whatever had you in this funk had something to do with a certain Flyers centerman and she was not risking you ditching because of it.  

“Fine,” you groaned.

It wasn’t news to you that you had been a horrible friend recently. Despite the anxiety that came with breaking your current routine, maybe a night with Aubrey was just what you needed to take your mind off everything.

-

A few hours had passed, and you were sitting in the back of an Uber watching the city pass you by. Aubrey maintained the anonymity of the destination, ignoring all of your pleas for even just a hint. But there were some things that she couldn’t control.

Your stomach dropped when you saw where the car was heading towards, the large Wells Fargo Center plastered on the side of the building cluing you in. Of course, you thought, how could you not have known. You had so strictly blocked Nolan and the entire team from your mind that didn’t think to look at their schedule, but now it all made sense.

“Aubrey, no,” you stated, your voice already shaking as you got closer and closer.

“What the hell happened?” she snapped back, finally getting confirmation that your funk was related to Nolan.

“Nothing, nothing happened. I just don’t want to go,” you rebutted, “I’m not in the mood to see everyone, okay?”

“You don’t have to, we’re sitting alone,” she responded, turning her phone on and showing you the location of the tickets. As she promised, they were nowhere near the family boxes.

You didn’t say anything else, instead choosing silence as the car pulled up to the entrance. You both thanked the driver before quickly exiting, a long, awkward silence falling over the two of you as you entered the arena.

You could do this, you told yourself while adjusting in your seat. You could sit through one game, you didn’t even have to see or talk to anyone. If it would make Aubrey happy, you could suck it up and sit down. The two of you had still barely said a word to each other since arriving, and you could see the disappointment on her face. Deciding it was time to get over it, you put your arm around Aubrey, smiling as you instantly felt her relax and place her head on your shoulder. Neither of you said anything, but after knowing each other for so long, you didn’t have to. She knew what you meant.

-

You didn’t know what to expect, but the second you saw Nolan step onto the ice you were flooded with emotion. He looked tired, like he hadn’t been sleeping much or well, and your heart dropped at the thought that you may have been the reason why. You still were firm in your decision to avoid anything serious right now, but you knew you went about it in the completely wrong way. Nolan was the closest thing you had ever met to an angel, but you treated him like a random one night stand from the bar you barely knew. The guilt had overtaken you over the past few weeks, and seeing him in the flesh wasn’t helping.

It was a relatively uneventful game, the rebuilding Red Wings visiting and not giving the Flyers much of a fight. By the third period they were up 4-0, one of which was scored by number 19 himself. As the horn sounded signaling the end of the game, Aubrey turned to you.

“I was going to go see Travis,” she hesitated, “Do you want to come? Or I can meet you right after?”

“I’ll wait for you,” you encouraged.

Aubrey thanked you, squeezing your hand before getting up and heading downstairs. Instead of going to the main concourse to wait, you stayed in your seat, waiting for the crowds to clear out before you moved. Pulling your phone out of your pocket, you started mindlessly scrolling as a distraction.

But your distraction didn’t last for long.

“What the hell are you doing here?”

Your eyes slipped shut when you heard his voice, that same voice that left you weak in the knees. You immediately felt your heart begin to race and your palms sweat. You felt caught. After taking a moment to pause, you finally mustered up the courage to look up at him.

Nolan’s eyes were focused on your own, his hair slicked back and soaking wet still with sweat. He had definitely not showered yet, between the fact that the game just ended minutes ago and his appearance. He was dressed in his undergarments and slides, clearly he wasted no time before coming up here to find you.

“How did you even know I was here?” you questioned back, already feeling yourself on the defense.

“Really?” Nolan scoffed, “Travis told me. How else would I have known? It’s not like you talk to me.” He trailed off, his words becoming quieter.

“Nolan, please,” you pleaded, “Please sit down.”

There was no doubt in your mind that it was time for you to come clean. You could see the pain in his eyes and the hurt behind his voice. He obliged, sinking to sit in the seat beside you, but he didn’t turn to face you. His coldness was evident, and you knew that you deserved nothing else.

“I’m sorry,” you began, “I’m so sorry, Nolan. I- I shouldn’t have left like that, with no explanation-”

“I thought I had you,” he interrupted, “Finally, Y/N, after all those weeks of tiptoeing around it, I thought we were done pretending.”

You could feel the tears burning behind your irises, and it was taking everything within you not to let them out. Nolan’s words broke you, even more than you were already broken.

“Nolan, I wanted- I want,” you corrected yourself, “Nothing more than to give myself to you, but I- I just can’t. I’m not ready.”

“Then why did you sleep with me?” his voice cracked, “And what does that even mean, ‘you’re not ready’?”

“I can’t let myself get hurt again, okay? I can’t do it,” you sighed, finally succumbing to your emotion, “I am so sorry for dragging you into my mess, but I can’t let myself go through that again. And you deserve so much better.”

Your head fell to your hands, hiding your face from him as you cried. Even just speaking out loud your last heartbreak made you a wreck. Deep down you knew Nolan wasn’t capable of hurting you like that, but you wouldn’t let him take care of you anymore. You couldn’t. He deserved someone who didn’t need to be taken care of.

“Y/N,” Nolan hummed, gently placing a hand on your back. He cringed when you jumped at his touch. “Y/N, look at me, please.”

You did as he asked, your red, puffy eyes lifting to meet his baby blues, putting you at ease almost right away.

“I’m not going anywhere,” Nolan murmured, “I don’t know what you think, but you’re not a burden. You’re the complete opposite and I want to show you that. If you’ll let me.” He paused, his eyes frantically scanning your face for any sign of your reaction. You were staring ahead of you, entranced with the ice below as you processed his words. Despite knowing how much it could potentially hurt, Nolan said what he thought he had to, “Even if it’s just as friends, but you can’t disappear on me again.”

You made Nolan feel at peace, like when he was with you nothing else mattered. But no matter how strong his feelings were, he cared for you enough to put them aside if that’s what it took to keep you in his life.

“I don't want to be friends,” you whispered, finally breaking the silence.

As if there was some kind of magnifying force between the two of you, your body lunged towards Nolan’s, your lips crashing together instantly. He was stunned, his body frozen in shock, but within seconds he melted against your touch with one hand on your lower back and the other tangled in your hair. It felt like time stopped in that moment, the only thing making you pull away was the lack of air.

You were both breathless, your foreheads resting against one another. Nolan took both of your hands in his, intertwining his much larger fingers with yours.

“I trust you,” you breathed out.

The grin that spread on Nolan’s face was like nothing you had ever seen before. You matched him right away, smiling as you watched the pure joy and relief wash over. The same joy and relief that you were feeling.

“Does this mean I finally get to take you out?” he asked, his deep mumble making you feel right at home again.

“Maybe,” you teased, “Only if you shower,” you added, pretending to push him off of you.

Nolan couldn’t help but fall into a fit of laughter at your subtle jab. That’s what he loved about you most, the way you could earn a smile or chuckle out of him like no one else.

He stood up from his seat, extending his hand out as he stared down at you. Without even a crumb of doubt creeping its way into your mind, you took his hand. Wrapping your arms around Nolan’s and resting your head against his shoulder, you walked out and into the hallway together.

Nolan leaned down and pressed a gentle peck to your forehead, and for the first time in longer than you could remember, you felt untouchable.

~

[dudeandduchess]

Kyojuro?! No prob i love our spicy chicken sammich! May I request a fluffy and angsty Kyojuro? He wants to confess to reader but notices she talks to Giyuu a lot. He starts avoiding her which makes her sad 😔 and she eventually confronts him and he finds out Giyuu was actually trying to push her to confess! Cause we all know Giyuu is a true bro (esp after 185). Sorry if it isn't to your liking >.

Hello, bby! I had so much fun writing this; it put me out of my writing slump for a while. I didn’t mean to make Giyuu literally push her into confessing, though; that was completely unintentional. And there’s nothing to be sorry about. Ahaha. But I hope you like it!

If you guys have more requests, please feel free to send them in. Help me get out of my writing slump. Please.

***

Kyōjurō x F!Reader: No Ordinary Love (SFW Scenario):

“I’m telling you, just beat the crap out of Tomioka,” Sanemi sneered with a huff, just as he crossed his arms over his chest. “Assert your dominance. Get (Y/n) in the end.”

“I don’t think that’s how it works-” Rengoku began, only to be cut off by a sharp shake of Iguro’s head.

“Beat Tomioka up, and then get the girl in the end. That’s how it works,” The Snake Hashira reassured in a droll tone, which had the Flame Hashira frowning.

All of them weren’t well-versed in courting, but he could swear that it didn’t work that way.

“Maybe you should just tell her, Rengoku-san?” Kanroji’s chirpy voice cut through the silence, which made all three men look up from their conversation.

Her suggestion sounded like the most rational one he had ever received, yet Rengoku still found himself shaking his head. “She always talks to Tomioka. They might be...” He sighed, then continued, “Together.”

“I don’t know about that. They just seem really friendly to me,” Kanroji answered with a slight pout.

Sanemi, in his usual gruff fashion, scoffed at the Love Hashira. “They’re together. I heard them making plans to go home together.”

“I also overheard them making plans for dinner one time,” Iguro added.

As it was, every statement served as a white-hot knife straight to Kyōjurō’s heart. Hell, he barely resisted the urge to rub at the sore spot over where his heart resided. It hurt him that much.

“Yes, but friends can do that,” The Love Hashira protested with a huff, which made all three men eye her incredulously.

Clearly, the four Hashira had different beliefs about how relationships worked.

But, instead of arguing their points across, all four remained silent and accepted to agree to disagree on the topic.

That, and because the subjects of their conversation were making their way towards them.

“I... I have errands to do,” Kyōjurō announced in a rushed tone, and also made a point of not looking at (Y/n) and Giyuu as he passed by them.

The action was a blatant slap to (Y/n)’s face, as she had noticed that Rengoku had been avoiding her for the past few meetings. He never even returned her letters, which was highly understandable— because all of them were busy and had duties to fulfil.

But when she was talking to Kanroji and the other woman had let it slip that she had been talking to her former teacher on a constant basis, (Y/n) had felt like her heart had been splintered into tiny pieces.

She could feel the angry tears prickle the backs of her eyes, yet she furrowed her eyebrows and pursed her lips in an attempt to keep them at bay. She refused to shed tears over such a heartless man; one that clearly wasn’t interested in her.

(Y/n) was content with living the rest of her life without talking to such an insensitive prick, but Giyuu just didn’t know when to pick up good social cues.

“Rengoku-san,” The Water Hashira called quietly. “(Y/n) wants to talk to you.”

Her right hand twitched with the urge to slap her best friend upside the head, but she reigned the urge in; in favor of finally getting to look into the pair of eyes she’d wanted to look into so badly.

A frown crossed the Flame Hashira’s features, and part of him wanted to say no— to just avoid all forms of communication with her, yet he knew that that would be the worst course of action.

As it was, he had already taken that route— and he felt so guilty about the way that he kept blatantly ignoring (Y/n). But, in his defense, he could stomach his guilt better than the pain he felt whenever he saw her talking happily to Giyuu.

There was even one instance when he saw the Water Hashira holding both of (Y/n)’s hands in his own. And that...

It had felt like a punch to the gut.

Because out of all the people she could have chosen to be with, it just had to be someone they both saw on a consistent basis; someone who was their comrade, to boot.

“I... I don’t!” (Y/n) whisper-yelled to her dark-haired friend, while Giyuu merely shook his head and gave her a steady push towards Rengoku.

Instead of managing to regain her balance though, the Snow Hashira lost her footing even more and tumbled forward— right into Rengoku’s arms.

All of their comrades’ eyes widened at that, while Kanroji barely resisted the urge to squeal.

Giyuu hadn’t meant to push her that hard, but it was already done, and he couldn’t do anything to take his actions back at that moment.

Slowly, (Y/n) looked up at Kyōjurō— with her hands splayed against his chest, cheeks flushed, and her lips slightly parted.

And, try as he might, the Flame Hashira couldn’t hold himself back. He leaned down and captured her lips with his in a quick kiss.

Because if that was the first and last time that he was going to be able to hold her, he was going to make it memorable; even though all of the chivalry in him protested violently against his actions.

“I‘m in love with you, (Y/n). So in love that it’s not the ordinary kind; it’s the kind of love that makes me want to marry you!” Kyōjurō blurted out, almost as if he had no control over his brain to mouth filter.

There went his initial plan of ignoring (Y/n) until his feelings went away. It wasn’t like him to run away from his problems, but it was the best solution he could think of— without causing any further awkwardness, of course.

If they didn’t know any better, they could have sworn that they heard a collective gasp from their fellow Hashira. But that was impossible, as all of them were infallible in the face of danger; surely, they wouldn’t be fazed by their comrades’ love lives.

What they didn’t see, however, was Sanemi covering the bottom half of his face with his right hand— and turning around to hide the redness that colored his cheeks. As well as Iguro clearing his throat awkwardly, while he shot a furtive glance over at Kanroji.

“I...” (Y/n) was at a loss for words, so she merely lifted her hands up and grabbed Kyōjurō by the face and pulled him in for another kiss.

She made a mental note to thank Giyuu later; maybe cook some salmon daikon for him. Even though none of his previous pep-talks worked.

Who’d have thought that getting shoved by the Water Hashira would land her the man of her dreams? Certainly not her.

[ddixons-angel]

Fated: Season 4

Summary: Gloria Rhee narrowly escapes Atlanta with her brother as the outbreak reaches the city. Luckily, they find a camp outside the city and together, they fend through encounters with the living and undead.

Starts a little before Season 1 and then follows the main storyline of the show.

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Glenn Sister!OC

Warnings: major TWD spoilers, language, violence (the typical TWD stuff)

A/N: It is Friday~ Which means a new chapter! I won’t say anything here yet, I’ll just let you guys dive right into it haha~ Here we go!

Chapter 12

“So, you’re telling us that you survived a bus crash too?” Sasha chuckles as she walks beside Gloria.

“Yep, I’m a survivor.” Gloria grins. 

“And apparently you keep all your promises too,” Maggie says, walking on the other side of Gloria, “you told Nina that the next time you see her, you’d shoot her in the face, and you did.”

Gloria chuckles at that and nods, “I honestly didn’t think anyone heard that.”

“Oh please, everyone in the room heard you loud and clear how protective you are of Daryl.” Sasha teases. 

A sad smile tugs at Gloria’s lips at the mention of Daryl. The four of them had been walking for a day already, trying to find any signs of their family and friends. Gloria had told the others that there were dangerous men in the woods so they decided it was best that they stayed off the road since they would be a clear target to anyone lurking in the woods. Eventually, they stumbled across a railroad track with a sign which held a map to a place called Terminus. 

‘SANCTUARY FOR ALL, COMMUNITY FOR ALL. THOSE WHO ARRIVE, SURVIVE’ the sign read, and seeing the sign, both Gloria and Maggie agreed that if Glenn or Daryl or anyone from their group for that matter came across the signs, they would head for it as well. With that in mind, the four of them continue following the railroad towards this place. 

“Ladies,” Bob calls out as he walks behind the three women, making them stop and turn to look at him, “we should set up camp, it’s getting dark.”

“Bob’s right,” Gloria says, “we should find a spot in the woods so we’re not a clear target for anyone to try anything.”

Agreeing with Gloria’s words, the four of them head into the woods to make their camp for the night. Sasha and Maggie busy themselves with the dimly lit campfire, heating up cans of food from Gloria’s bag. Gloria sits beside Bob as she takes out the blankets in her bag when she hears him hiss slightly. Frowning, she turns to look at him and sees that he had a gunshot wound on his shoulder.

“You need help with that?” Gloria asks, a friendly smile on her face.

He looks at her and chuckles, “yes please, nurse Gloria.”

She rolls her eyes at him and takes out the first aid kit from her bag and opens it. Gloria proceeds to help properly patch up Bob’s gunshot wound. She had to admit that with the resources they had, Maggie and Sasha did a good job with keeping the wound clean. 

“Gloria?” Bob says.

“Sorry, am I hurting you?” Gloria asks, glancing up at him as she patches up his wound.

“No, I barely feel it,” he starts, “I just... wanted to say I’m sorry.”

His words make her pause for a moment but she then continues to finish up with his injury, “sorry for what?”

“Daryl didn’t tell you?” he asks, looking genuinely surprised.

“Tell me what?” she asks, she crosses her arms once she’s finally done with his bandages, “just spit it out, Bob.”

“When he asked me to go on the run with them for medicine, I only went because I was the only one with medical knowledge who was in any condition to go, and we went through hell to get the medicine but I almost messed it all up...” Bob confesses.

“How?” Gloria furrows her brows, confused, the run seemed to go pretty well.

He sighs, “when we were supposed to be looking for medicine... I found a bottle... I don’t even know if it was scotch or whiskey but it was something... and I grabbed it... hid it in my bag... and I held on to it for dear life when it almost fell into a herd of walkers... and when Daryl found out that that’s all I had in my bag...”

“He almost killed you?” Gloria finishes his story.

Bob nods, “he told me that if anything happened to you, first thing he’d do was put a bolt in my head.”

“Then I guess you should be thanking me that I’m not easy to kill.” Gloria says with a small smile.

He looks at her and chuckles softly, nodding, “I’m just sorry that I nearly let you down... Daryl told me that you were the one to volunteer me to go on the run.”

“Apology accepted,” Gloria says, “you got the medicine for us and you saved a lot of us from whatever virus it was, you’re off the hook as long as you don’t do anything stupid like that again.”

He smiles gratefully at her, “can you tell Daryl that when we find him? I don’t want to always be avoiding him.”

Gloria chuckles and nods, “no promises, but I’ll talk to him.”

Later on in the night, the four of them ate their rations and proceeded to go to sleep. Maggie insisted to be the first on watch while the others rested. Throughout the night though, Gloria was unable to fall asleep. The worry that coursed through her veins plagued her mind, she was scared for her brother, for Daryl, for the others she had grown to call family. What if they couldn’t find them? She sighs heavily as she lays on her side when she notices Maggie seemingly picking up some things then getting up and walking into the woods. 

Gloria frowns and gets up, she didn’t want to call out to Maggie and wake Bob or Sasha. She didn’t want to cause any commotion in case Maggie just needed to relieve herself and wanted privacy. Wanting to make sure that Maggie was safe, Gloria goes to follow her silently, equipping her daggers to her belt. Soon, she learned that there was more to Maggie going off on her own as she continues to follow her. After a while though, Gloria lost track of Maggie. She didn’t want to be spotted by her in case it would upset Maggie so when Maggie stopped in her tracks, Gloria hid behind a nearby tree. By the time Gloria walked out from behind the tree, Maggie was gone. 

“Shit...” Gloria sighs, looking around to try and find her.

“Why are you following me.” Maggie says from behind her.

Gloria turns around, startled, “I... I saw you leaving the camp, I wanted to make sure you were okay.”

“I’m fine, you can go back to the camp.” Maggie says assertively.

“Not without you,” Gloria says, stepping towards her, “what’s going on, Maggie? Why are you even out here alone in the first place? It’s dangerous-”

“I can handle my own!” Maggie snaps, taking Gloria aback, something definitely wasn’t right, “I don’t need to be protected, I can protect myself!”

“I’m not saying you can’t,” Gloria starts, “I know you’re tough and I know you can fight, I just don’t want anything to happen to you. You can handle walkers, I know that, but if you run into a herd or you get caught up with those guys I ran away from, I don’t even want to think about what could happen to you. It’s dangerous to be alone, especially at night.”

Tears glisten in Maggie’s eyes, “just go back... please...”

“At least tell me where you’re going.” Gloria says with a sigh.

“I’m going to find Glenn.” Maggie answers.

Gloria frowns at this, “then you’re taking me with you, we’ll find him together.”

“No!” Maggie snaps again, tears falling down her face, “I’ll find him, I have to find him, it has to be me!”

This was not like Maggie at all. She knew how much Glenn means to Gloria, how eager she is to find her brother; Maggie suddenly telling Gloria to stay back from finding him while she goes off to find him on her own told Gloria that Maggie was not alright.

“Maggie... talk to me, where’s this coming from?” Gloria carefully steps towards her and gently puts her hand on her arm.

She waits patiently for Maggie to speak, letting her take a few breaths and to collect her thoughts. Maggie looks her in the eyes and sighs before speaking.

“When the Governor came back... me and Beth... we watched as he slaughtered my daddy...” Maggie starts, tears rolling down her face, “I felt so much pain at that moment... I still do and I don’t know if it’ll ever go away...”

Gloria squeezes gently on Maggie’s arm, not knowing how to comfort her at her loss, “I’m sorry...”

Maggie shakes her head, “I thought to myself that no one should ever have to go through that kind of pain... but Beth did... I couldn’t protect her from it, but at least I can try and protect you.”

“Maggie...” Gloria frowns at her words.

“I don’t want you to be the one to find Glenn if anything happened to him... I don’t want you to see it and go through that pain...” Maggie says, holding Gloria’s arms firmly.

“Listen to me,” Gloria begins, “I appreciate you trying to protect me, but you can’t, not with this. Not without hurting yourself. If... if anything ever happened to Glenn, you’d be hurting too, I know it. You gotta let me be there for you just like you would be there for me. You’re my best friend, and if you weren’t already my sister-in-law, you’d still be my sister.” 

Maggie smiles tearfully at Gloria and pulls her in for a hug, “I’m sorry I snapped at you.”

“You’re lucky I love you,” she chuckles, hugging her back.

Maggie chuckles as well then pulls back from the hug, “so, what now?”

“Up to you, we can head back to our camp or go ahead to follow the tracks to Terminus.” Gloria suggests.

“It would be a waste of time to go back...” Maggie says thoughtfully, pursing her lips.

“Go ahead, then?” Gloria asks.

Maggie smiles softly and nods, “yeah,” she begins to lead the way towards the railroad tracks.

“Hey,” Gloria calls as she follows her, “if you ever need anyone to talk to, don’t be afraid to come to me, I’m here for you.”

“I know.” Maggie says with a grateful smile, “I’m here for you too.”

---

Gloria and Maggie had walked along the railroad tracks for over a day, throughout their journey, they’d found several signs and electrical units along the way. Maggie had the idea that they could write a sign to direct Glenn to head to Terminus. Gloria made sure to initial their names in case the others found their signs as well. As nightfall approaches, Gloria and Maggie stumble across an empty town.

“Should we set up camp up there?” Gloria suggests, nodding pointedly to the tall building in the middle of the town.

Maggie furrows her brows and shakes her head, “it’s getting pretty dark and we don’t know how many are in there, might take us all night to clear it.”

“You got a point,” Gloria nods in agreement then looks around, “let’s find a spot to make camp then?”

Maggie nods at that then follows Gloria into the town. The two end up sleeping by an arrangement of trucks, after killing a bunch of walkers and laying them around the area to create a decoy. However, the two are startled awake by the crashing of glass, neither of them knowing where the sound came from but they don’t have time to figure it out as walkers begin to surround their makeshift camp. Gloria takes out her daggers and swiftly stabs the walkers that come near her as Maggie had picked up a fallen sign, using it to smash at the heads of the walkers.  

“Sasha?” Maggie says as she swings her new weapon at the walkers.

Gloria glances over and sees Sasha standing on top of a nearby car, killing walkers with a stick. They catch each other’s eye and nod to one another. Once her coast is clear, Sasha jumps off the car hood and the three women are back to back as they fight the small herd of walkers. With their teamwork, the herd is killed off quickly. 

“Where’s Bob?” Maggie asks once the herd was cleared.

“He went off looking for the two of you,” Sasha replies, a disapproving look on her face, “why’d you two go off on your own?”

“I went off to find Glenn on my own, Gloria followed me,” Maggie says, “and I know that you think Glenn is most likely dead.”

“What?” Gloria asks, looking at Sasha, “you really think that?”

“I’m sorry... but I do.” Sasha sighs.

“Well, you’re wrong.” Gloria says firmly, “he’s alive and we’ll find him. Just like we’ll find Daryl, and Beth, and Tyreese.”

Sasha looks at Gloria with wet eyes at the mention of her brother’s name, “you really think so?”

“We can’t just give up on them, they wouldn’t give up on us.” Gloria tells her.

Sasha glances at Maggie who nods in agreement then back at Gloria, “okay... we should catch up with Bob then, he shouldn’t have gotten very far.”

With that, the three women head off to once again follow the railroad tracks towards Terminus. Just like Sasha said, Bob didn’t get very far as they soon saw him walking along the tracks. When they catch up to Bob, they all hug him, glad that he’s safe. Gloria shoots Maggie a look when she catches the lingering touches between Bob and Sasha. Maggie chuckles and returns a teasing grin to her but they stay silent; they’d have time to tease Sasha about Bob later. 

The four of them had been walking for hours and hours along the railroad tracks when they reached a dark tunnel with the tracks seemingly going straight through it. They stop walking at the entrance of the tunnel, snarling can be heard emitting from within. 

“What now?” Sasha asks, looking at the others.

“It’s too dark to go in, we won’t be able to see anything,” Maggie points out.

“We should go around, it’ll take a day or so but it’s better than going in there without any vision,” Bob suggests.

“That would take too long...” Gloria says and looks up at the tunnel’s structure, she points to it, “it seems flat up there, if we can climb around, we can maybe just walk straight across.”

“Sounds a lot better than going straight in.” Sasha says and they all nod in agreement.

Before trying to make their way on top of the tunnel, Gloria finds a stray walker and kills it. Maggie and Sasha assist her in gathering the blood from the walker to write a sign on the wall beside the tunnel to direct Glenn on where to go. Once the sign is written, they begin to make their way around the tunnel. They help each other up the steep sides of the hill surrounding the entrance of the tunnel and eventually make it up on top of the tunnel. 

As Gloria had predicted, there was a straight path across the tunnel. They saw that parts of the roof had caved in and it was needless to be said that it was a much better idea to go over rather than through it. Soon enough, they had made it to the other side of the tunnel. Gloria and Bob get down first and help Sasha and Maggie down. 

“Uh... guys?” Bob says just before Maggie jumps down with Gloria’s help. 

The women look in his direction then past him as they see a car with three people around it seemingly arguing with one another. They didn’t seem to notice them.

“Come on, let’s go quietly before they see us,” Sasha whispers.

Maggie and Bob nod at her words but Gloria isn’t able to look away from the three people. There was a rather buff looking redhead, a woman with pigtails and hoop earrings, and a man with a mullet wearing riot gear. Gloria eyes the man with the riot gear, it looked all too familiar. 

“Gloria?” Sasha whispers to her then calls out to her when Gloria begins to walk towards the group, “Gloria!”

“Hey!” Gloria shouts out to the three, she stops a fair distance from them as they stop arguing and look at her.

“Can we help you, missy?” the redhead belts out.

She points to the man with the mullet, “that riot gear, where did you get it?”

Maggie, Sasha, and Bob had no choice but to follow Gloria as she approached the three. The mention of the riot gear catches their attention and their eyes fall on the man wearing said riot gear. They now understood why Gloria had to confront them. The three strangers glance at the gear then back at Gloria.

“I asked you a question,” Gloria says, her patience running low as she pulls out the gun in her belt and aims it at the man with the mullet, “where the hell did you get the riot gear?!”

“Someone gave it to me!” the man with the mullet cowers with his hands up when he sees the gun pointed to him.

The redhead comes out from behind the car and stands in front of the man with the mullet, “he answered your question, now you put that thing down. Now.”

“Who?” Maggie steps up beside Gloria who doesn’t lower the gun, “who gave it to you? And where are they now?”

“A guy named Glenn,” the woman answers, she examines their faces when they hear her answer and that’s when it clicks, “you’re Maggie, Gloria, Sasha, and Bob.”

Gloria looks at Maggie who looks back at her, she then looks back at the strangers, “where is Glenn?”

“He went into that tunnel to look for you,” the redhead responds, “though I’m not sure if he made it out... I’m sorry, we parted ways after he decided to go through it.”

Gloria finally lowers the gun as Maggie looks back towards the tunnel. 

“Idiot...” Gloria mutters before dashing into the tunnel with Maggie right behind her.

“Are we seriously doing this?!” Sasha exclaims, bewildered as she watches her friends run into the tunnel.

Bob shrugs then follows the two making Sasha sigh and follow along as well. Gloria and Maggie continue to run when they hear gunshots coming from further inside the tunnel. He had to be close and from the sounds of it, he was in trouble. Somehow, light comes from behind the two of them as Sasha and Bob catch up and they all see a herd of walkers surrounding Glenn and another woman, trapped between the herd and the wreckage of the collapsed tunnel. 

“Get down!” a voice belts from behind them and that’s when they figured that the light came from the strangers’ car that followed them into the tunnel. 

Once Glenn and the woman are out of the way, the three strangers as well as Gloria, Bob, Sasha, and Maggie open fire into the herd, killing them all off quickly. After the herd of walkers was cleared, Gloria watches tearfully as Glenn comes out from his hiding spot and walks towards Maggie who had made her way to him. She smiles as they embrace, the two sobbing happily at being reunited. Gloria turns to look at the strangers who had come to their aid. 

“Thank you for helping us,” she says genuinely, “I’m sorry I was so hostile before.”

“No worries, you were just worried about your brother, I get it.” the redhead smiles, “by the way, I’m Abraham Ford, this is Eugene Porter, and Rosita Espinosa.”

“You already know our names,” Gloria chuckles. 

“Sis,” Glenn calls out as he walks towards her with Maggie behind him.

Gloria turns to face him and tears well up in her eyes, happy that he’s safe, but instead of hugging him, she hits his chest, “you’re a dumbass, you know that?! Huh? Going into a dark tunnel like that? What were you thinking?!”

Glenn just chuckles at her scolding then pulls her into a hug. He knew that she only yelled at him whenever she was scared for his well being and safety. Gloria clings to him as she sniffles, trying not to cry out loud but Glenn didn’t give up this chance to tease her.

“Are you crying on me?” he grins.

“No...” she whines, hiding her face in his shoulder, making Glenn and the others chuckle. 

---

Next Chapter

Gosh this was SO emotional to write! I needed a bonding moment between Maggie and Gloria, especially since during the show, they barely touched upon how she was affected by Hershel’s death, I felt this was needed. And I also didn’t like how they didn’t really make Maggie seem like she cared too much about Beth. Although I love Maggie and Glenn together, the show made it seem like she only cared about him and not anyone else. Sorry Daryl isn’t in this one, I know you’re all waiting for that moment, and you’ll get it soon! I swear! Please let me know what you guys thought about this chapter~ Predictions? :D I’d love to hear it!

And as always, I would really appreciate any comments left for me! I’ll be replying to any comments in a new post because this is a sideblog!

Taglist (please let me know if you’d like to be added/removed!):

@twdeadfanfic​ | @fandomfanatic97​ | @crossbowking​ | @watchmeaspire​ | @spidergirla5​ | @kamieshep​ | @letsstarsfalling​ | @molethemollie​ | @alicewinchester99​ | @neilox​ | @womanup22​ | @jodiereedus22​ | @theonlyone-meeeee​ | @theunofficialduke​ | @inlovewdxx​ | @delightfullykrispypeach​ | @mrsfortune1306​ | @wolfkg​ | @funeral-7 | @wnygirl2012​ | @alispaceme​ | @themihala​ | @aavocadocloud |  @polkadottedpillowcase​

[ugly-crying-over-bucky-barnes]

Dawn in Your Eyes Part 2

Summary: Alfie has little to no idea why Caroline ever gave him the time of day. The blind woman seemed far too sensible to even speak to him. But soon he finds himself falling helplessly in love.

Part 2: Alfie is confronted. 

Part 1

           Julia Ellner was the only family Caroline had left. Her sister and brother-in-law had been lost to consumption. The young woman was lucky enough to escape becoming sick too. Julia’s parents had left Russia before the worst of the pogroms. They’d settled in Camden Town and became prominent members of the community. When she was eighteen, Julia was married off to a wealthy investor. After he passed, she inherited his estate and made it her mission to do good.

           She could distinctly remember the day she held her niece for the first time. Her sister, Monica, was in tears as she told her what the doctor had said. The beautiful little infant with cloudy gray eyes was blind. It was frustrating to know that there was little they could do. She would face many obstacles and the family had to adjust. Teaching her braille, never letting her out of their sight, and trying to explain why she was born different.

           Then, Julia read about dogs being trained as eyes to the blind. Instantly, she knew what she wanted to do with her time and money as a widow. She gave a bit of independence to Caroline, but now she realized that independence led straight to the most dangerous Jew in Camden Town.

           “Mrs. Ellner.” Ollie’s eyes widened when he saw the older woman walking towards the doors of the bakery. “I uh, Mr. Solomons wasn’t expecting you.”        

           Julia gave him a tight smile. “I’m sure he wasn’t. But he can make time for me.” Being a woman in a man’s world wasn’t easy. But if one knew how to be assertive, it made things a little easier.

           Ollie weighed his options. His employer didn’t like unexpected meetings, but he’d most likely be upset if he found out his assistant had turned her away. “Okay, come with me.” He nodded and led her through the heavy doors.

           Alfie was elbow deep in paperwork. His bookies were being scared off the tracks and he was livid. Tommy Shelby was being a pain in the arse as was Darby Sabini. He wasn’t in the mood for any interactions, distinguished member of the community or not.

           But as far as Julia was concerned, they weren’t on Alfie’s time. So she walked into his office with just a brief knock. Ollie followed with an apologetic look written on his face. He fully expected to get the book thrown at him. Maybe literally.

           Alfie looked up from his papers and frowned. “Mrs. Ellner didn’t think you were on me agenda.”

           “Well, you should’ve been expecting me for quite some time, Mr. Solomons.” She replied and sat down before he could offer an invitation.

           “That right?” Alfie sighed and placed his pen down. Obviously, he wasn’t going to get any work done until she left. He rolled up his sleeves and leaned back in his leather chair.

           With fiery red hair that always skipped a generation in the family, clever eyes and an unbending stature, Julia was always a force to be reckoned with. When it came to her charity work, there wasn’t much to argue about. Alfie made a generous donation semi-annually and they exchanged pleasantries. But the two had their run-ins before. Mostly Alfie disrupting life in Camden. She urged him to clean up his act more than once without much result.

           “My niece is not one of your playthings.” She spoke harshly. The kindness she usually had for donors had flown out the window hours ago when she caught wind of Caroline and Alfie.

           He was too tired for this. But kicking Julia out of his office wouldn’t help his case. “I don’t-”

           She didn’t let him finish. “She is not a whore or whatever you’d like to call the women who go in and out of your flat.”

           Alfie muttered a curse under his breath. He couldn’t do anything without everyone knowing.

           “She is a good, Jewish woman from a good family.” Caroline’s aunt emphasized each word with a rap of her hand against his desk. “And I will not have the likes of you or your men sniffing around her.”

           It was partly amusing to know that there were men that walked the same planet who would never speak to Alfie the way Julia did. But that didn’t matter when Alfie held great respect for the Jewish women of Camden. Especially Julia. Women like his mother who put up with the men around them and still managed to keep a clean house, tend after the kids, go to temple, and have a hot meal on the table each night.

           And Caroline was tempting. Even the thought of her made him involuntarily wince from the ache in his chest. But Julia was right. Fucking sinner like him had no business around her.

           So Alfie simply cleared his throat and nodded. “I apologize, Mrs. Ellner, you won’t see me around her anymore.” He promised. “You can take that as my word.”

           Julia narrowed her eyes and held herself tall in her seat. “I should hope so.” Her demeanor softened ever so slightly when she discovered he wasn’t going to fight her. “You have a good heart, Alfie, but you bring nothing but violence to those around you.”

           He fidgeted with the pen sitting on his desk. He grunted in agreement but decided there was nothing else to be said on the matter.

           “I’ll leave you be.” She stood and gathered her things. “Thank you for seeing me unannounced. I hope to hear from you soon.”

           “Yeah, right.” He ran a hand over his mouth and pointed at the door. “Take a bottle ‘fore you go. As many as you want.” He offered sort of as a peace offering. Least he could do for potentially clouding up the existence of her niece.

           “I don’t drink.”

           “Yeah, neither do I.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~

           So, Alfie took a different route to work every morning. That meant he had to forgo his daily newspaper, snatching Ollie’s before the poor boy had a chance to look at the headline. But his boss was in a foul mood once his morning routine was adjusted. The best part of his day had been cut off cold turkey.

           It carried on for a week, Alfie’s sour demeanor only worsening. But it came to an end when he came across Caroline standing at the bakery doors come Monday.

           Pilot sat serenely by her side, basking in the bit of sun that escaped the gray clouds in the sky.

           Alfie’s gait hesitated when he saw her and the massive dog by her side. He let out a slow breath and carried on. Couldn’t be blamed if Caroline showed up at his front door, now could he?

           “Take a wrong turn, love?”

           A hint of a smile formed on Caroline’s face when she heard his voice. It had been a long week. She worried after two days of Alfie not showing up to the corner. The boy who sold newspapers to the man had told Caroline he hadn’t seen Alfie either. So at least he wasn’t walking right by her and ignoring her. But he didn’t seem like the type of person to miss even one day of work. So she was afraid something was wrong.

           “Have you’ve been taking Camden Gardens instead of Prowse to avoid me?” She ignored his initial question.

           “Well,” Alfie scratched the back of his neck and leaned on his cane. “Your aunt suggested a longer walk for me health.”

           “Ah.” Caroline nodded, her head tilting slightly. “I figured she would intervene sooner or later. She is…protective.”

           “She’s right, ain’t she?” He furrowed his brow and evaluated the distance between them. Relative to the distance they used to keep. Her arm on his, her shoulder brushing against him. “Don’t think you really get what sort of fucking person I am.”

           Her expression didn’t change. She maintained the calm look of self-assurance. “The kind of a man who would brighten the day of a blind woman? Or the kind of man who would stop to compliment someone’s dog?”

           “I-”

           “Or the kind of man who would treat that woman with more respect than anyone else has in their life. Treating her like she isn’t any different. Like she’s just a person.”

           Alfie had to take a deep breath. “Doesn’t matter, love. Things I’ve done…I’ve no fucking right to involve you in any of it.”

           “How does walking with me involve me in anything?” She retorted. “I hardly see how that’s relevant.”

           “Because you don’t…” He huffed in frustration and paced a few steps. It felt like there was a ball being bounced against a wall over and over again. His reputation was dangerous enough for the people around him. But he was so hesitant to tell Caroline to hit the bricks. “I have men who would be willing to kill you in order to get back at me. Even for something as little as giving them a fucking dirty look.” Maybe brutal honesty would drive her away.

           Caroline didn’t budge. “You wouldn’t let that happen.”

           “Well, no of course not.” He spluttered. It certainly wasn’t the reaction he was counting on. “But if there were even the chance I wouldn’t risk it. Not with you.”

           “So you would risk it with someone else.”

           “No.” He insisted. “Men like me, right, are meant to fucking be alone. Way of the world. Women like you are meant to be kept safe by someone who can keep you safe.”

           Caroline paused for a moment. Her eyes pointed in the direction of his voice but gazing a little bit over his shoulder. Pilot nudged her hand and she gently scratched behind his ears. “Women like me.” She scoffed slightly. “How many times do you think my aunt has tried to offer a dowry for me?”

           Alfie couldn’t answer.

           “But no man wants me as a wife.” Her expression hardened. “Who wants a blind girl as a wife? Someone who can’t…be a proper wife. Someone who always needs looking after. Someone who can’t…can’t even see her own husband or children.” She swallowed and fought back the tears.

           Alfie opened his mouth to speak but couldn’t find the words.

           “When I met you, I figured you were different. People have told me what sort of man you are but those are just words. What do they know?” She sniffled and subtly dabbed at her eyes with the sleeve of her coat. “You talk about a man who would protect me. When you’re the only man who would even volunteer.” She tugged gently at Pilot’s lead, extending her cane outwards.

           Alfie was taken aback but the words were stuck in his throat. “Caroline-”

           “You enjoy your walk through the gardens.” She turned to leave. “Although I’ve heard that they’re not pretty this time of the year.”

~~~~~~~~~~

           About a week after Alfie single-handedly fucked up one of the best things he had going for him, he was still brooding. Well, brooding was for emotionally stunted men. Like Tommy Shelby. No, he was more…testy. Violent even. Looking for any excuse to let loose some anger he had simmering.

           But it was exhausting. And after the day ended and dusk loomed over the bakery, he had to sit with the loneliness. Never before had he been lonely. Not even when he was bleeding out in a trench, struggling to stand, left to die among the already dead. But after getting just a little taste of companionship, he was hooked. Now he felt empty without Caroline to fill his mornings.

           She was right. The gardens were bleak as the fall withered away into winter. It was a depressing walk, sometimes he simply called for a car, made an excuse that the weather was bothering his hip. Then he sulked in the back seat of the car, demanding Ishmael take the long route along Camden Gardens. But at least the wildlife and trees matched his mood. If it had been spring, he would’ve been grumpy at the weather for being so joyful.

~~~~~~~

          “Is my cousin still cranky or will he be willing to have a chat?”

           Elizabeth Solomons-Levi, despite her lack of sight, was a force to be reckoned with. Only twenty-one, she declined Alfie’s offer to find her a respectful, well off, suitable husband. Instead, she snatched up a young politician from one of London’s most affluent families. Winning him over in just one night with her wit, charm, and beauty. Richard and Alfie didn’t exactly see eye to eye. Mostly because Richard knew exactly what Alfie did for a living and disapproved. As a law-abiding man, he frowned upon his illegal activities. Alfie didn’t like him because he was born with a coin purse stuffed with a never-ending supply of money. Also, politics.

           But Richard cared a great deal for Elizabeth. Showering her with all the wealth she deserved, clearly treating her like the princess he saw her as.

           Alfie was consulting with one of his men when she walked in. Decked out in a new fur coat with a matching cloche hat and a stunning diamond necklace. Her dog, Buck, led her through the hallway, fairly familiar with the building. Although Elizabeth didn’t live too far away, albeit, in a much nicer part of London, she was often busy attending events with her husband or vacationing in the countryside at the Levi estate.

           “Didn’t know you’d be stopping by.” Alfie chose to ignore the comment about his crankiness.

           “Well, when we spoke over the phone I knew something was wrong.” She smiled and reached out a hand when Buck stopped in front of her cousin.

           Alfie offered his arm, escorting her back to his office. “Nothing wrong. Just business as usual.”

           “I may be blind, Alfred, but I’m not stupid.” She retorted.

           He chuckled. He was a teenager when Elizabeth was born and remembered how sad everyone was when they learned of her blindness. They assumed she would never have a life, never get to experience the joys ‘normal’ people did, and would be miserable. But apparently, some souls were made to thrive even with a disability. Alfie often joked that God had to make her blind; otherwise, she would be far too powerful and end up ruling the world before she was thirty.

           Elizabeth often joked about her lack of sight because she liked to hear how uncomfortable it made people. They were taken aback, scolding her, saying she ought to not make fun of her own disability. But Alfie enjoyed her humor. Especially since he knew she had been such a timid little girl, held back by her family’s fear for her future and quality of life.

           It just so happened that when Julia’s charity came to fruition, and Elizabeth received a dog free of charge because of Alfie’s donation, her personality blossomed. She finally had independence and found the woman she was meant to be. This, in turn, led to meeting her husband.

           Alfie pulled out a chair for her and told Cyril to stay behind the desk and away from the Labrador.          

           The mastiff, not as strictly trained as the guide dog, whined and pawed at Alfie, wanting to sniff Buck. But he was ignored and grumbled low as he lay down at Alfie’s feet.

           “Word is that you were seeing Julia’s niece for some time.” Elizabeth set her cane to the side and removed her hat and coat.

           “Weren’t seeing her. Just talked to her. Haven’t seen her in a while.” He muttered and crossed his arms over his chest.

           “I’ve heard she’s beautiful.”

           “Oh fucking hell, you and everyone else making shit out of nothing. Can’t I have a conversation, right, with someone without anyone fucking assuming that I’ve fallen in love with them?” He demanded.

           His cousin simply smirked. “I said nothing about love.”

           The gangster’s face scrunched up in displeasure. “Were implying it.”

           “No, I think you were.” She continued to press when he only responded with a disgruntled grunt. “What’s the matter? She’s a lovely woman, so I’ve heard. Beautiful and Jewish. Loves dogs no doubt. Being blind makes you patient too, heaven knows you’ll need someone patient.” She teased affectionately.

           “Like I said before, ain’t nothing going on.”

           Elizabeth pouted. “Why? You’ve been alone for so long, Alfie. You deserve some happiness.”

           “I’m plenty happy. Fucking happiest man on Earth.” He grumbled but it merely made his cousin laugh.

           “You’re more miserable than I’ve ever seen you. Why don’t you even consider the idea? Settling down?”

           Alfie huffed and cursed Elizabeth’s persistence. “’Cause Julia don’t want me anywhere near her. Can’t blame her. Reason I leave women ‘round here alone and they avoid me.”

           “Because you’re just an awful, horrid, hellish man with a void in place of his heart?” Elizabeth raised an eyebrow.

           “Well…”

           “You’re not.” She interrupted him before he could argue. “What sort of awful man would make sure his family and his community were well off? What sort of man would donate to Julia’s charity? And other charities for that matter?”

           He dragged a hand through his beard and glanced out the window that separated his office from the rest of the bakery. “None of that fucking matters, now do it? Say I were to entertain the idea, yeah? Everyone I’ve ever had a disagreement with, anyone looking for revenge, right, sees her as a target. Blind girl who’s barely seven stone soaking wet. Fucking destroy me if anything happened to her ‘cause of me.”

           Elizabeth didn’t look swayed in the slightest. “And what am I then, aye?” She challenged. “A politician’s wife, blind as well. But I trust that Richard and his men can keep me safe. As well as Buck.” She smiled and rested a hand on her beloved dog’s head. “And your men too. Do you doubt yourself as someone who can protect? Because you’ve been protecting many people for many years.”

           Alfie rolled his eyes like a child. Sometimes he hated how persuasive and articulate she could be. She was far smarter than most of the men who worked for him. “Yeah? Who?”

           “Well, me, for starters, you daft man.” She replied firmly.

           “Fucking great job I did, didn’t I? Married to a politician.”

           Elizabeth chuckled and shook her head. “I’m sure if you didn’t trust him, he would’ve disappeared before the wedding.”

           That was true but Alfie kept quiet. Those plans would still be in motion if Richard were ever to harm or abuse his cousin. “So what?”

           “So, I’m saying is if there’s a woman out there you fancy, then who’s to say you can’t protect her?”  

           “Her aunt.” He argued and stood up. “I’ve got a meeting soon, Liz, I can’t talk much longer.”

           “Alright then.” His cousin ceded and picked up her cane. She thanked Alfie as he handed over her hat and helped her into her coat. “By the way, is Caroline employed?” She wondered.

           “No, think she does some work for the charity.” He shrugged. “Julia’s afraid something would happen to her.” He told Cyril to stay in the office as he opened the door. His cousin rested her hand on his arm while they walked back into the main hallway.

           “She could liaison for Richard and the charity. He’s looking to donate money to hopefully allow Julia to expand further out into London.”

           “Well, Julia can help with that.” They stopped at the front doors.

           “I’m sure she could but it would be nice to have someone who’s a bit more like me to help.” Elizabeth adjusted the fur-lined cuffs of her coat and untucked her hair from beneath her collar. “Perhaps you can ask if she’d be interested.”

           Alfie was perplexed at her proposition. “Or you could, ain’t that far. Sure you’ve got Julia’s number.”

           “I’m a very busy woman, Alfie. You’re closer than I am and I’m sure you’d enjoy the walk over.” She smiled playfully.

��          He groaned and opened the doors for her. “Go on, scram. Had enough of your scheming.”

           She laughed as she headed towards the expensive car waiting for her on Bonnie Street. “See you later, cousin.”

           “And stop fucking going ‘round wearing your diamonds!” He called after her. “Someone’s gonna mug you!”

           The driver of the car helped Elizabeth into the car, greeting her by her married name. Buck jumped into the backseat with her, curling up on the leather seat beside her and resting his head in her lap.

           She grinned and stuck her head out the window. “I’d like to see them try, Alfie.”

Masterlist

[longformautie]

Addressing sexism of autistic men

CW: gender-based violence, including murder and rape

I. Introduction

This post has been coming for a long time. And I mean a LONG time. My thoughts on this topic have been evolving constantly. They will probably evolve even after I post this. I am still learning and welcome feedback.

I was prompted to write this post during the pre-coronavirus Before Times, when I saw that the popular Facebook page Humans Of New York had profiled an autistic man who had become a pickup artist. For context, pickup artists are a group of straight men who will cynically do whatever it takes to get them laid, which of course means blatantly ignoring the needs of the women they interact with, and who share strategies with one another. The autistic man in the photo post talked about how before he was a pickup artist he was hopeless with women, and now he was getting girls - getting laid, even. He said he knew it was manipulative, but that it was only fair - after all, it’s not like anyone had ever sympathized with him for his social difficulties. I was curious about what people had to say in the comments section; turns out, I wasn’t satisfied by any of the takes I found.

The takes I didn’t like can be broken down into two categories. Category number one were formulations like “poor him, he just wants to be accepted.” I’m not even a little bit sympathetic to this take and will only be spending a moment on it. Suffice it to say, it’s hard to take these people at their word that they care about the autism struggle when they don’t show up in droves to the banners of the neurodiversity movement with this level of enthusiasm. Rather, we are part of a culture that likes to sympathize with toxic men. If the man wasn’t autistic, they’d find some other excuse, but since he is, in defending him they can also activate the ableist notion that autistic people are incapable of respecting boundaries. I choose the word “incapable” because if your position is that autistic people sometimes don’t know better than to violate a boundary, the logical conclusion is simply that someone should teach them. To sincerely and enthusiastically take up this kind of “poor autistic guy doesn’t know any better” rhetoric, you have to presume complete incompetence of autistic people and that we’ll never learn, so that when a straight autistic man does a violating thing to a woman, they can shrug their shoulders and say, “well, I guess nothing can be done about this.” This attitude is sexism and ableism couched in a delusion of sympathy.

Category number two of takes, I like lots better but still am not quite satisfied with, and can be roughly summarized: “This isn’t caused by autism, it’s caused by being an asshole.” While I agree that being an asshole is the main ingredient in this cocktail, I don’t think the autism should be dismissed as an irrelevant detail. I think there is a sexism problem specific to autistic men that needs to be separately talked about and addressed. I intend to do so in this post, without assigning blame either to the autism or to the women being abused.

I want to note in advance that this post will be cishet-centric, not because I think straight experiences are universal, partly because the behavior of cishet men is what’s at task here, but mostly because I have no idea how these issues affect LGBTQIA communities. If anyone is able and willing offer insight or resources on that topic, I’d love to hear from you.

I. Autistic men

Having experienced it firsthand, I can say for sure that autistic loneliness is a vicious cycle. By loneliness, I mean a lack of any social connection, not just a lack of romantic or sexual partners. Autism makes social interaction more difficult, which makes it harder to find friends, but, crucially, not having friends also makes social interaction more difficult. More people to interact with means more practice with social interaction; it also means more assistance from comparatively clued-in people who care about us. This vicious cycle can also manifest with respect to a subset of people. For example, an autistic child who only socially interacts with adults may have trouble forming connections with peers. For the purpose of this discussion, I want to focus on the problems this presents for autistic boys who want to interact with girls in their age group.

The scarcity of cross-gender social interaction during childhood need not be framed as a uniquely autistic experience. Societal forces sort us by gender from an incredibly early age, so the vast majority of our social connections in childhood are with people of the same gender. Furthermore, especially during and after adolescence, boys and men are discouraged from being emotionally close with one another. Thus, the norms of masculinity isolate us almost totally from peers of all genders. Our social connections with men must be superficial; our social connections with women must be non-platonic. For those of us who crave the emotional intimacy that our same-gender friendships lack, a romantic relationship is the only socially acceptable opportunity to forming a deep, loving bond with someone close to our own age.

Enter autism (again). Dating, when we hit adolescence, is wholly new to us, and we have been given no opportunity to adjust ourselves to its social norms. Autism makes this a particular challenge, as do gender roles in dating. Since men are supposed to initiate and women are supposed to merely give subtle hints (if not be straight-out “hard to get”), straight autistic men face both the pressure of leaping into an arena that intimidates us, and the bewilderment of not knowing whether it’s working. If I had a crush on you in high school, I probably kept it a secret; if you had a crush on me, I probably didn’t notice.

Worth noting here that none of the things I’ve listed are evidence against autistic men’s actual attractiveness or appeal to women. We are facing access barriers that accumulate over the course of our lives until we finally figure out how to start ripping them down, and when we do, we quite often do get to have romantic and sexual relationships. But the prevailing narrative about autism and other disabilities is that they’re unsexy, and a lot of autistic men buy into that. I myself thought I was one of those autistic men who’d never date or have sex until experience taught me otherwise.

Knowing all this, we can see why a lot of autistic men might feel both that they need a relationship to be happy, and that they cannot possibly have one. This makes us prime targets for recruitment, because the sense of personal injury at being deprived of sexual experiences for reasons beyond one’s control is as indispensable an ingredient in the various movements of the “manosphere” as the sexism itself. It’s not that autistic men are any more or any less sexist than regular men, but that the sexists among us already feel exactly the way these communities require them to feel: deeply aggrieved, and deeply desperate. Pickup artistry both validates this sense of personal injury, and sells itself as the solution: a set of simple, logical rules that, when followed, will grant success. But it misses the uncomfortable truth that while everyone deserves to receive love, no particular person is obliged to give it. This is a deeply frustrating contradiction with no easy solution, but the solution certainly is not to cynically manipulate women into doing the thing you want.

III. Allistic women

I never was a pickup artist, but that doesn’t mean I never harbored a grievance against women for my loneliness. After all, I thought, wouldn’t my perpetual singleness end if women were more direct and assertive? As such, I worry that other people who read this may end up pinning the responsibility for autistic loneliness onto individual women too. The previous section hints at why that’s wrong, but I also want to take the time to explain why it’s deeply unfair.

My autism and masculinity were first brought into conjunction (or was it conflict?) in my mind in my freshman year of college. One of my new Facebook friends shared a Tumblr blog called “Straight White Boys Texting” which was a collection of screenshots of unwanted straight white boy texts, running the gamut from simple inability to take a hint to bona fide “what color is your thong” garbage. I felt pretty attacked, partly because I wasn’t yet used to seeing myself as part of a “straight white boys” collective that people didn’t like, and partly because what I saw was a bunch of guys missing social cues and taking things literally, just as a younger me would have done. I felt like I needed to say something - and boy, was that a bad decision. I said something about how the women in the screenshots needed to be more direct, and got instant (and deserved) backlash both for focusing on the least important problem in the interactions and for placing responsibility for a male behavior problem squarely back onto women.

At the time, I didn’t have a coherent framework for understanding sexism. Since then, I’ve learned that giving a direct no can occasionally get women killed, and most often at least gets them yelled at and insulted. Giving a yes also comes with its own risks - the risk of rape, in (unfortunately-not-actually-so-)extreme cases where that inch of “yes” results in guys taking a mile, but also the more pervasive risk of being socially stigmatized as slutty or promiscuous. It’s often the most women can get away with to be subtle (rather than completely silent) about all of their wants and needs, so that a discerning man who actually cares will know what those wants and needs are and respect them.

This puts those of us who have trouble with reading subtle signals in a difficult position if we inadvertently cross a boundary, but that’s not a problem women can reasonably be expected to solve. If a man crosses a woman’s boundaries because he simply doesn’t respect them, he wants to make it look like it’s an accident so that he will be forgiven. “But Aaron,” you might say, “didn’t you just say that the right thing to do in those situations is to teach people the right behavior, not ignore it?” Yes, that’s true. But that assumes the continuation of a conversation that a woman might feel safer just skipping; if a man is making her feel uncomfortable, she’s probably not inclined to continue to converse with him in order to establish whether his intentions were good or bad. When we impose the burden of freeing males from loneliness onto women, we are asking them to continue to interact with frightening men at their own peril.

Ironically enough, some of these frightening men are the autistic pickup artists from part 1. This means that pickup artists, far from “solving” the problems with dating they feel aggrieved by, are actually making it more difficult for everyone except themselves by giving women one more reason to be scared and cynical, and men who slip up one more type of monster to be mistaken for.

IV. Autistic women

At first glance, it seems like there’s a choice to be made here, between supporting autistic men who want to be valued as potential romantic and sexual partners and supporting allistic women who just want to be safe. But what I’m realizing more and more is that when there seems to be a conflict between the needs of two marginalized groups, the right choice is generally to avoid picking a side and instead find ways to support both groups. This works well, not only because both groups get what they want, but because if a side must be chosen, the people at the intersection of the two groups will lose both ways.

Autistic women bear the brunt of every part of this mess, as described in detail by Kassiane Asasumasu on her blog, Radical Neurodivergence Speaking (see  the links later in this paragraph). Because autistic men fear ableism from neurotypical women, we tend to believe that autistic women are the only partners who will accept us for who we are. As a result, autistic women report being swarmed at autism meetup groups by men looking for a girlfriend, and those men who struggle with independent living are more than willing to escape that by leaning on the patriarchal expectation that the woman does all the chores, even when she is an autistic woman who struggles with the exact same tasks. This means autistic women actually interact with sexist autistic men the most, and not only are they subject to the same toxic shit that allistic women have to deal with, but they’re also expected to “understand” these men and thus endlessly tolerate their (supposedly inevitable) shitty behavior.

V. Solutions

Fortunately, the choice between female safety and autistic desirability is not a choice we have to make, but the solutions are not as simple as members of one or the other group simply choosing to behave differently. Rather, they require the collective participation of all kinds of people.

Addressing autistic male sexism necessarily means addressing sexism. It means respecting when women say no, rather than making it an unpleasant experience they might fear to repeat. It means teaching consent in special education classrooms, so that no one can claim in good faith that an autistic boy who crosses a boundary simply doesn’t know better. It means teaching girls, as they grow into women, that they are under no obligation to tolerate sexist behavior out of sympathy for the sexist man.

But addressing sexism also means supporting boys and men as they escape the confines of conventional masculinity. It means enabling and encouraging them to have close friends of all genders. It means reminding them that they don’t need a woman, any more than a woman needs a man.

In addition to addressing sexism, we need to address the ableism that prevents autistic people from accessing not just dating but emotional closeness of all kinds. We need to stimulate autistic people’s peer relationships at all stages of life. We cannot do this if special ed teachers continue to view us as broken allistic people rather than whole autistic people, nor can we do it if they view us as incomplete adults rather than entire children. If an autistic boy is unable to learn about condoms because it offends the sensibilities of the teacher, or if he is unable to learn how to talk like a teenager because his parents would like him to learn to speak like an adult, then that autistic boy is being deprived both of autonomy and of the opportunity to learn.

Furthermore, we need to teach allistic children how to interact with their autistic peers. Autistic people need no additional incentive to learn how to interact with the societal majority who control their access to jobs, housing, healthcare, education, political representation, and much more. Allistic people can, however, choose not to bother learning how to support and include us and face almost no social consequences beyond not getting to see my cool maps. Rather than alleviating this unequal distribution of incentives, adults generally exacerbate it by focusing only on the social development of autistic children with respect to interactions with allistic people, but not on the social development of allistic children towards being able to interact with autistic people. This is because the prevailing view regarding autism is still that our modes of moving through the world are incorrect and defective, whereas allistic modes of social interaction are viewed as normal and valid even when they exclude others.

The problem of autistic male sexism is hairy and complicated, but if we take the above steps, we can solve it without further stigmatizing autism, and without victim-blaming women. We don’t have to leave anyone behind in this conversation. Rather, by fighting both for autism acceptance and consent culture, we can produce a more just world where everyone gets the love and respect that they deserve.

[namjuicyy]

The Contract - Chapter 14 [FINAL]

Masterlist | Requests are open.

Genre: Fluff, smut, angst.

Genre of this part: Angst, fluff, smut.

Word Count: 4.6k.

Summary: Your life is turned upside down when a contract is pushed your way. But what happens if you sign it?

WARNINGS: Mentions of previous threesomes, foursomes and gangbangs; semi-public sex; threesome in the kitchen; sub! Reader; dom! Jin; dom! Yoongi; oral sex (m and f receiving); degradation; orgasm denial; dark-ass fantasy confession; non-condom vaginal sex; (I say this because some people forgot that ___ was on the pill the whole time); anal sex; double penetration;

The world looked brighter whenever you woke up in the morning, especially when there was a pair of arms wrapped around you first thing. Everyone treated you like a queen when you moved back to Korea, Big Hit included, given that as soon as you entered the boy’s apartment, there was a profound letter of apology waiting for you, along with the offer of returning to your old job with more money than what you were paid before. No doubt it was them buying you off and trying to keep you quiet, but honestly you couldn’t care less. You had a job and some independence and that was what you cared about the most in terms of the company.

They had, in the same envelope, posted another contract for the eight of you to look over, amend and sign. Though no one was impressed by the timing of their company – or even their actions. Jin more so than everyone else. As soon as you announced to the apartment that you’d received a second contract, Jin stood, took it from your hands, and tore it up in front of his seven flatmates, symbolically throwing the torn sheets over his shoulder and smiling his signature grin. “This piece of shit caused enough trouble the first time.” He claimed as it snowed paper behind him. “We’re not signing it again. No one’s going to be bound by contract here; we’re going to trust each other one hundred per cent. She’s our girlfriend. No girlfriend should have to sign a contract like that. We’ll take each day as it comes, yeah?”

Though some of the members weren’t particularly happy with Jin’s gesture (given that he went ahead and did what he wanted without consulting the rest of the members – though, they would have agreed with him anyway), they all agreed immediately. It worked for Dahee and GOT7, and it would work for them – they knew it. And so, your relationship had become less of a business deal and more of a love affair, something everyone felt more at ease about.

The room you once slept in and called your own was still yours, except you were no longer allowed a bed in there anymore. It had become your closet/private sitting area, and that was that. You were, now, basically ordered to bed hop between the members, dedicating a whole night to each of them and allowing them to wake up next to you; you in their arms or them in yours. And, honestly? This was a decision you were more than happy to go along with. You were still able to keep your own space, but you’d never be sleeping alone again, something you’d become upsettingly used to in the month you’d spent without them.

Namjoon never stopped apologising to you for what he did. Though the words “I’m sorry” never left his lips since his initial apology, he tried to make it up to you in everything he did. He would try and make you breakfast in bed when it was his bed you stayed in the night before; would whisper sweet nothings in your ear whenever he was near you; would find a way to always touch you even if it was unnecessary. He held you more often than he used to and was never shy in telling you how he felt about you, especially in the little card he wrote out on the flowers he sent you regularly. He was still beating himself up about it, even a month after you’d moved back. You kept telling him that it was okay, that he needn’t act like this. But, of course, he didn’t listen to you, and continued to shower you in his affection (and the odd expensive gift) so you knew just how loved you were.

It was in Namjoon’s arms you woke one morning, feeling his large body pressed up against yours. He never used to spoon like this, but since coming back to Korea he’d been all over you like a rash. Trying to get out of his grasp first thing in the morning, however, was a task. Namjoon had a strong grip, especially when it came to you, so trying to escape him was difficult when you didn’t want him to wake up. He’d been working himself extra hard this last week. In fact, he didn’t get home until five that morning. So, you needed him to sleep in as much as he could.

The kitchen smelled wonderful that morning, and upon turning the corner you saw why. Yoongi was in there, as he usually was first thing making breakfast for the whole house. He had a few side dishes already prepared; it was just the majority he needed to make. He grinned when he saw you, his gummy smile coming out at your dishevelled appearance and your bird’s nest that you used to call hair.

“Good morning.” You greeted him.

“You look like you slept well.”

“You’re not going to tease me, are you? It’s too early for that.”

“I would never tease you. The gremlin on your head on the other hand…”

“Yoongi.”

“Seriously, it looks like it has a life of its own.”

“I’m too tired for your bullshit.”

“Yeah but,” he walked over to you and gave you a kiss on your cheek, “you love me, and you know it.”

“I don’t love anyone first thing in the morning. Wait until I’ve got some food in me then I might see how I feel about you.”

“Good morning!” Jin’s voice was bright and bubbly behind you, a refreshed look on his face as if he’d been up hours and had the chance to groom himself before. You knew different, however. Kim Seokjin was just annoyingly perfect.

“I don’t see what’s so good about it.” You grumbled, letting your head fall onto the counter in tired despair.

“Oh dear. Does the bad mood you’re in have anything to do with the monster on your head?”

“Seokjin!”

Yoongi laughed. “Looks like a gremlin.”

Jin, “It does! We should simply call it that.”

“What? Gremlin?”

“Yeah.” Jin moved forward to stroke your hair but stopped when Yoongi told him to.

“I wouldn’t, Hyung. You don’t know if it bites.”

“Who? Gremlin or ___?”

“The mood she’s in, I’d venture to say both.”

The two men laughed, making you lift your head and shoot them both a dirty look in annoyance. Jin tutted. “Oh, Angel. You know we’re only playing with you.” He walked round behind you and wrapped his arms around you, resting his head on… well, on Gremlin.

“Have we not been taking good care of you, is that it?” Yoongi asked, in the same tone as Jin. They were soft with you, but still teasing you; talking to you like you were in subspace.

“Well, she hasn’t been taking good care of me, Yoongi-ah.”

“She hasn’t?”

“Last time she touched me was two months ago. And Namjoon burst into my room before I came. I think I’m owed an orgasm, don’t you, Angel?”

His grip on your waist tightened and pulled you into his body, making you feel just how much he wanted you by the erection pressing into your back. His breathing had deepened, and his mouth was so close to your ear you could feel everything that came out of it; his words, is breath. Jin almost always woke up hard.

“I don’t owe you jack.” You let your inner brat out, curious to see how both men would react to it. Jin was a dom through and through – a soft one, but a dom, nonetheless. And Yoongi was mainly a sub, and you’d never seen him dom before, but even in his eyes you saw a flicker of something that made him want to put you in your place. All three of you knew you didn’t owe anyone anything. But it never hurt to play.

“Excuse me?”

“I think she’s talking back to you, Hyung.” Yoongi played along, stopping cooking and giving the scene his full attention.

“That just won’t do, will it?”

“No, Hyung. She needs to be punished.”

“On your knees.” You did as you were told. “Get him hard.”

Yoongi moved towards you, taking orders from Jin like the good boy you knew him to be. But he wasn’t your good boy right now. He had intentions of fucking you up, just like Jin did, and you knew it. Yoongi took his cock out of his pants, barely pushing his trousers down allowing only his cock to become exposed. He wasn’t hard, not yet. But you knew exactly which buttons to press to make sure he played to your tune. Jin disappeared, you were only aware of this due to the sounds of his footsteps disappearing. In the meantime, you focussed on the man in front of you.

Your tongue came to lick the underside of his cock, gently licking from the base to the tip, ghosting your muscle over his flesh. That earned a little groan from him. Your fingers came up to play with his balls, gently massaging them. Toying with him, teasing him was the best way to get him hard, and within seconds of barely-there touches, he was putty in your hands, bucking into your grasp and trying to get himself off using you. Of course, you couldn’t do anything as Jin had only ordered you to get him hard. He said nothing about getting him off.

Which was a good thing as when Jin came back, he began to assert his authority immediately. “Yoongi-ah, on the counter. Angel’s gonna suck you off nice and good, aren’t you, Angel?” You stood and nodded, but that didn’t seem like a good enough answer for him. He gently spanked you. “Use your words.”

“Yes, Jin.”

“Good girl. Now, put your pretty little mouth around him and suck.”

You did as you were told and took Yoongi in your mouth and sucked him like he liked, your hands coming up and wrapping around his length where your mouth wouldn’t reach. Behind you, you could feel Jin moving your pliant body to where he wanted it. He pulled your sleeping shorts off you and made your legs were spread apart as soon as your pussy was bare. He knelt behind you, and soon enough you felt his tongue ravishing your cunt, sucking on your clit and annihilating you with his plush lips and his killer tongue. His hands were on your ass, spreading it apart and giving him better access to your pussy, and sending shockwaves of pleasure throughout your body.

This was the first time since being back that you’d had anything sexual happen to you. The boys had been, once again, too busy with everything to even think about popping a boner – or if they had they just dealt with it themselves in the shower to save time. But regular one-on-one sex had become less frequent since they all shared you the first time. As you all lived in a tiny apartment, privacy was hard to come by meaning that any time someone was balls deep in you and you were both caught, you’d find yourself pleasing upwards of two cocks at any time. But you certainly couldn’t complain about being tag teamed at any point as the extra excitement meant you’d never have a monotonous, boring sex life.

You couldn’t deny how wonderful you felt in that moment, bent at the waist with Jin’s tongue on your cunt and Yoongi’s cock in your mouth. The little moans coming out of Yoongi’s mouth as you sucked him in the kitchen made you even wetter for Jin to play with. And soon enough you could feel the build-up of your orgasm – that familiar tingling in your cunt that made your hips move of their own accord. You knew Jin wouldn’t let you cum that easily – but you couldn’t help it when your hips bucked into his face, silently begging for the release you desperately needed. Though knowing what Jin was going to do, you still found yourself shocked that he went through with it; whining around Yoongi’s cock as your orgasm begins to fade away.

“Now you know how it feels, Angel.” He tells you smugly.

“I knew how it felt long before you did.” You shot back. You felt Jin’s hand come down hard on your arse, the very first time he’d done that. You moaned loudly at the sting.

“Watch your mouth.” His voice has become deep and soft but laced with a warning. You hadn’t ever seen Jin’s dark side – you were convinced that he didn’t have one. But there he was, cautioning you on your behaviour and as much as you wanted to push him, something inside you told you that it would be best not to. That he would be more dangerous than Hobi.

“Sorry, Jin.”

“Good girl. You’re going to behave yourself, aren’t you?” He asked pulling you up and away from Yoongi’s cock (with a moan from Yoongi, of course). Jin pulled the rest of your nightclothes off you leaving you fully exposed in the kitchen. He wrapped his hand around your throat and moved his lips to your ear, licking and sucking the flesh to further turn you on. Yoongi hopped off the counter and ran his fingers across your slit, feeling just how wet you were for them. His middle finger focussed on your clit, making you buck against him as Jin held you back by your throat, his second hand holding you back at the waist.

“Look at you,” Yoongi began, “bucking into my hand like the needy slut you are.” He pushed two fingers inside you. “You’re about to be fucked in the middle of the kitchen – and anyone could walk in and see you.” You clenched and he felt it. “Filthy whore.”

“She loves that idea, Yoongi-ah. She loves being used.”

“I’d love to tie her up, Hyung.”

“Yeah?”

“Mmm. Strap her arms behind her back and tie her legs wide open. Bring the members home and watch them use her until they’re done.” Once again, you clenched but this time you let out an involuntary moan. “Do you want that, baby? Yeah? You want to be used as our own fuck toy?”

“Yes.” You moaned.

“What was that, baby? I didn’t hear you.”

“Yes!”

“She loved being used last time.” Jin commented. “Remember when we all took turns on her? How much cock and cum she took?”

Yoongi, “I loved that. Loved watching her tight little cunt getting destroyed. I wanna do it again. I wanna share her with the members but have her completely helpless against us next time.”

“We could go and get them?”

“No. Let’s keep her for ourselves this time.”

All the while Yoongi still had his fingers inside you, stretching you open for him. His movements got rougher and rougher the longer the two were talking, sort of ignoring you but still playing with you at the same time. The fact that they were talking over you like you didn’t matter was, in an odd way, a turn on. You gasped when you felt Jin’s lubed finger poke at your ass, entering your second hole and surprising you. You didn’t realise that was why he left you alone with Yoongi, but it made sense when he began to stretch you open. His hands were much gentler than Yoongi’s but that was simply because he needed to be.

Yoongi had your hands digging into his shoulders at the pleasure he was giving you, his fingers working vigorously to bring you to the brink of orgasm. Like Jin, when he knew you were close, he pulled out, leaving you so empty you whimpered at the feeling. You grabbed hold of Yoongi’s hand and put his fingers in your mouth, looking him in his eyes as you sucked yourself off his hand, treating his fingers as if it was his cock, making a low groan sound from the back of his throat. Your own moan came when you felt Jin’s second finger enter your asshole, wet and feeling amazing.

“Fuck, Hyung. I can’t wait anymore.”

Yoongi lifted your leg and opened yourself up to him, keeping your hands on his shoulders to steady himself. He lined his cock up to your entrance and pushed himself inside you, gradually burying himself until he was sheathed fully. You watched his brows furrow and his teeth take his bottom lip in between them as he pushed himself all the way in, holding back those moans you know and love purely because he was focussing on not cumming straight away. Yoongi’s lips – once he was inside you – crashed onto yours, his tongue immediately finding its way inside your mouth and caging you in a heated kiss. He needed to move, he wanted to move, but he could feel you clenching around him and if he did move, he’d have blown his load all too soon. Not only could he feel you, he could feel Jin’s fingers every now and then, adding a little extra pleasure he hadn’t felt before. At this point, Jin had added his third and final finger and was gearing up to replace them with his cock. And when he did you couldn’t quite believe the stretch.

“Oh shit!” Jin moaned.

“Hyung, you’re making her tighter.”

You’d only had anal a handful of times and had only been double penetrated the once. The last time Taehyung was in your cunt and Namjoon was in your ass – two of the three biggest cocks in Bangtan ruining your body at the same time. Yoongi was big, of course, but he wasn’t the biggest in the group, meaning that feeling them both at the same time wasn’t as bad as taking both Namjoon and Yoongi. The stretches felt good - mind blowing. And the more they thrust inside you, the more you could feel your brain turning to mush. All you could think about was them, their cocks inside you, Jin’s hand playing with your clit, and the sounds of both of their groans and moans as they felt amazing.

“Jin!” You screamed as you felt him thrust harder into you. Yoongi’s thrusts getting just as rough. Each of them had worked up the perfect rhythm making you sing just the way they wanted you to. “Yoongi! Fuck. I’m… cum… please!”

“Cum for us, Angel.” Jin told you. He added more pressure onto your clit and began to rub faster. Upon the explosion of your orgasm, you leant forward, your body convulsing in on itself and forcing you to fall on top of Yoongi. Your hands moved from his shoulders (where your head had placed itself) and you wrapped your arms around him, hugging him without realising it. All the while, two of your boyfriends fucked you through your orgasm, never letting up until they were sure you had finished.

“Good girl.” Yoongi praised. “S-such a good – fuck – girl. Gonna cum inside you, yeah?” You nodded. “Gonna fill you up nicely. Fuck you full of my cum. Oh fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck!” He came hard, surprised at his legs for holding him upright like that.

Jin took the opportunity when Yoongi pulled out of you, wiping his cock quickly with the towel he brought before shoving it into your cunt and fucking into you at a faster pace than usual. You could tell he was close and soon enough he exploded inside of you, his cum mixing with Yoongi’s and dripping onto the kitchen floor especially when he pulled out of you.

By the end, all three of you were left leaning up against something in the kitchen to stop yourselves from falling over and breathing like you’d just ran a marathon. You didn’t realise just how much you needed that until after, and you were pretty sure the guys didn’t either. When some blood had returned to their brains, they moved towards you and began to press soft kisses all over your body making you giggle at the feeling of it.

“Come on, Angel. Let’s get you cleaned up.”

You left no room for refusal, ordering every single member home and to sit in the living room. They were confused and, in Yoongi’s case, massively disgruntled given that you’d disrupted his work hours. You were nervous beyond belief, shaking. You felt like walking out and not coming back but Dahee’s voice in the back of your head kept telling you to woman up and get on with it.

Namjoon, “What’s going on, baby?”

Jin, “Has something happened?”

Jungkook, “Oh God, the public don’t know we’re back together, do they?”

You, “No, no, no. Nothing like that.”

Hobi, “Well then stop pacing, baby girl, and tell us what’s wrong.”

You stopped pacing like you were told and looked at them. “There’s no easy way for me to say this. I don’t even know how to say this. I’ve never been put in this kind of position before. I don’t even know how this is going to work going forward, I mean, how would people even do this? I don’t even know if we’re going to get through this I-”

Yoongi, “___. Just tell us. Out with it.”

Jimin, “Rip the band aid off.”

You nodded. “Okay… here goes.” You let out a deep breath. “I’m pregnant.”

Hello, my lovelies!

So, that was the Contract! I’d wanted to write something like this for a while. I tried to an age ago (everyone who’s been here for a while will know an attempt was made), but I just couldn’t get it right. It seriously stressed me out and I had to quit. But then I got the inspiration for this and I had to write it, and I can’t quite believe just how much of a positive reception it’s had. I cannot thank you enough.

I also can’t thank you enough for the amount of support I’ve received since beginning this story in March! You have no idea how grateful I am for your understanding and tolerance of my unpredictable schedules and my need for you guys to like the title tweet to unlock the next chapter. (Sorry about that, but I ain’t changing.)

The next story is going to be another long one, and very interesting so please look forward to that. I’ll be sending out the announcement tweet for it very soon. I’m also going to be trying out some new things with the next story and seeing how it goes:

The first new thing I’m going to be doing is, instead of using a tag list like I normally do, I’m going to be adding everyone who wants to be notified of the updates into a group chat. Similarly to what @ratedbangtann’s been doing for the last chapter of Mafia (an amazing fic by the way, if you haven’t read it what have you been doing?)

But I’m also going to be selecting two people for a SEPARATE group chat and they’re going to be my BETA readers. These two people will be chosen at random and will be with me for the entire story to read each chapter before it’s released to help me iron out any issues I have with it. Simply because I write to much and I can’t remember what I’ve already written sometimes, what plots I’ve gone for etc. Also, to possibly help me choose where to go with the story if I’m having issues? I don’t know exactly what the BETA readers job will be, I just know that I could do with some. These will be exclusively on Twitter as that’s the main account I use, but obviously the story will be posted on my Wattpad and Tumblr as well.

I’m so thankful for everyone who’s been sharing the Contract, for everyone who’s been enjoying it and everyone who’s been supporting it. It means the world to me that you enjoy my work and I honestly could not thank you enough!

Anyway, I hope you enjoyed it and I can’t wait to see you in the next fic.

All my love,

Mel.

Xoxo

[gloriousstudentfury-love]

Bobos and Mamitas ✰

y/n’s POV

"What's up, Alvarez's." I said, walking into their apartment

"Oh, nothing other than the fact that Alex's 40 minute showers are killing the earth." Elena groaned sarcastically

"40 minutes? Wow, how are you not a raisin." I laughed, looking him up and down

"I have to use water to get ready. Every time I show up at school, there all these eyes expecting perfection." Alex said

"And you give it to them, papito." Lydia cooed, lovingly

"You don't have to lie to him." I said, making Alex glare at me

Lydia ruffled his hair, and waved my insult off.

"Easy. It's setting." He said, fixing his hair in the toaster reflection

I rolled my eyes and walked into their kitchen to get food.

"Mija, why are you in your uniform before you shower and get ready?" Lydia asked

"I am ready, Abuelita." Elena said

"That's what I was afraid of." Lydia gasped, holding her heart

"Okay, everybody. Let's go. I can't be late. We're having one of our staff meetings at work." Penelope said rushing in with all her stuff

"Aren't there only four of you?" Elena asked

"And yet we take attendance." Penelope sarcastically said

I walked away to get my backpack, and when I came back in, Elena was talking about her plans for the day.

"Ooh, I have a lot going on today, too. They're implementing my composting initiative in the cafeteria." Elena said

"I wish I could make you excited about a comb." Lydia said very seriously

"Our school's waste stream will really shrink if we let the food decompose naturally. And once I'm able to introduce worms... triple the excretions." Elena excitedly exclaimed

"You have weird goals." Alex insulted

"Hey! No, she doesn't." Penelope said, smacking his shoulder

Elena rolled her eyes at her younger brother, rolling her eyes in annoyance.

"Yes, She does, right" Penelope whispered, taking back what she said earlier

"Little one, if I convince Elena to let me do her makeup, could I straighten your hair." Lydia asked, running her fingers through my very curly and frizzy hair.

"Yeah, it'd be nice to see what my hair looks like straight." I said

She smiled and I followed Alex out.

___________

After school, Elena, Alex, Penelope, and I walked into the apartment to find Lydia and Schneider salsa dancing.

"Churning the bottle, churning the bottle. Woo, hoo, hoo. Take my leg, bruto." Lydia said

" I cannot unsee that." I groaned, as Schneider dropped Lydia's leg

"Ugh, I get it, we're Cuban!" Elena said

Schneider dipped her and Lydia cheered.

"Can you believe this living stereotype?" Elena asked

"I know, It's.. Uh oh.. what's happening. I think it's my hot Cuban blood. I must dance." Penelope said beginning dancing

Everyone one started dancing. Schneider twirled me around while I laughed, but we all stopped when Elena got mad.

"Okay, there goes my shoulder. Whatever, I needed that. I had a crazy annoying." Penelope said, rubbing her injured shoulder

"It couldn't have been as bad as mine. At lunch, no one scraped their food into the new composting bins. Even when I stood in for the of the trash cans." Elena said

"Zach Miller hit her with a hamburger." Alex laughed

"No! He threw it in the wrong bin and I deflected it...with my face. No one was listening to me!" Elena said when the adults all gasped

"So she started screaming and calling everyone, "Earth murderers." Alex said

"Look, Elena, I get it, cause it's in me, too. In five seconds, I go from nodding thoughtfully to lighting a car on fire." Penelope said

"You lit a car on fire?" I asked

"That happened only once, Okay? And it was kind of an accident. But that's why you and me, we gotta watch it. You know, like today, I barely got a word in before el bobo started interrupting me, talking over me. I couldn't even get my point across." Penelope said

"Well, that's just sexist." Elena replied

"No. He's not smacking me on the ass and going, "Oye, mamita!" Penelope argued

"Oh, That makes me miss your abuelo." Lydia sighed, lovingly

"You wanna see real sexism? Be a woman in the Army, Okay? You got a 22 year old white boy from South Carolina marching behind you going, "is it hot out here or is it you?" Of course, it was hot out there. It was a freaking desert. But you wanna know how I felt with that bobo? By being a better soldier than him. And eventually, that's how they saw me, not as women at all." Penelope said2

"I would prefer to die. Yo no entiendo cómo these men and women all want to be the same. We should celebrant our differences. I would never trade these for that." Lydia said, pointing to herself then Schneider

"Mami." Penelope groaned

"No, no, I agree with her. Everybody wants to see those. Nobody wants to see this." Schneider said

"Okay, everybody stop gesturing." Penelope said, flinging her hands around

"Mom, I'm not talking about old people sexism. It's much more subtle now. Men assert their power through microagressions and mansplaining." Elena said

"Oh, mansplaining. Is that like manscaping? I just learned that and I love it." Lydia asked

"No, mansplaining is when a—" Elena started

"It's when a man explains something to a woman...that she already knows, but acts like he's teaching her. Does that make sense?" Schneider asked, making all the girls glare at him

"What? I was just explaining what mansplaining— Oh, Wow!" He said, mimicking an explosion

"Elena, microagressions and all this little crap...if I got bent out of shape every time a man said something stupid, you wouldn't be here." Penelope said

"Mom! This is a real problem. The sexism I'm talking about is all the little disrespectful things that men do that-" Elena started

"They don't even realize." Schneider interrupted

We glared at him again

"Sorry, I cut you off. Talk as long as you want. Not that you need my permission. I'm just..You know what? I'd like to hear from the ladies. Women. Females. You guys.. not guys, humans." Schneider said

"Wow, you broke Schneider." I laughed

"Mom.. this stuff might not seem like a big deal, but it chips away at you. You gotta call Scott out." Elena said

"Why would I waste my time?" Penelope asked

"That is right. You will never win men over by confronting them. You flirt with them. You hypnotize them. And then you do whatever the hell you want. And then.. they will think they are boss, but really, you are the boss." Lydia said

"Why can they just know you're the boss?" I asked

"Oh, no, they would be upset." Lydia said

"That is horrifying." Elena said

"Oh? Well, nobody ever threw a hamburger in my face." Lydia bragged

"Man, I'm glad I'm a guy, so I don't have to think about sexism." Alex said 2

_________

Really early the next morning, Lydia came right to my house and woke me up. She told me to get my school clothes and follow her.

"But is so early." I groaned, picking up my clothes

"I'm going to do Elena's makeup and straighten your hair." She said, leading me to Elena's room.

She quietly opened the door, and we tip toed in. I sat on the ground while she opened her makeup box. She tried to put make up on the sleeping Elena, but she woke up and screamed causing me and Lydia to scream.

"What are you doing? And why do you have y/n?" Elena asked, putting on her glasses.

"I was thinking that if you wear a little makeup, you would look presentable... and maybe the people in your school would listen to your garbage ideas. Also, y/n agreed to let me straighten her hair." Lydia said

"Wake me up when it's my turn." I said, flopping on the floor and close my eyes.

___________

Later that morning, Lydia had done Elena's makeup and straightened my hair.

"Wonderful news. Elena can be in the Christmas card this year." Lydia said, turning to take pictures of Elena

"Wow." Alex said, smiling

"I know. Doesn't she look great." I said

"I meant you, but ,yeah, she looks good." He smirked

"Thanks, Alex." I said blushing and nudging his shoulder

"You look so nice." Penelope complimented, squeezing Elena's arms

"Thank you!" Lydia cheered

"I meant them two." Penelope said, pointing at us

"What? They didn't do anything." She said, offended

Alex got up close to Elena and closely inspected her face.

"What?" She asked, swatting him away

"Nothing. Just, if you get hit with a hamburger today, it's gonna stick." Alex said

Elena sighed and walked away, as I laughed and followed Alex to pack for school.

_______

After school, I followed Elena and Alex into their apartment. Elena had taken her makeup off as soon as people began to have her attention.

"What happened to your face?" Lydia asked

"Um, I took the makeup off after first period, because people were staring at me and all these boys were talking to me? which is the last thing I want." Elena said

"I wish they would talk to me." I laughed to myself

"I don't understand any words you are saying to me." Lydia said, still confused as to why she removed her makeup

"It was terrible. My friends were calling Elena and y/n names like cute and pretty. I'm the pretty one in this family." Alex said

"Wait, who called me cute? Is my real hair that bad." I asked, patting my head

Alex looked at me sadly, and flicked me in the face to make me laugh

"Yes, you are, papito. Elena, I thought you were going to listen to me." Lydia said

"I'm gonna go wash my hair." I said, still rubbing my head and walking out of the apartment

__________

"It's on! It's on! It's on!" I yelled, running through the Alvarez house.

"What are you doing?" Penelope asked, being the only one in the living room

"Is Alex in his room? Our show is on, and we're gonna miss it." I said, gripping my IPad.

"I'm his room. Go, go." She said, laughing

I ran to his room and busted through the door, making Alex screamed, also making me scream.

"What are you doing here?" He yelled

"What are you talking about? We're going to miss our show!" I said

"Supernatural is on?" He asked13

"Yes! Now scoot over." I said, pushing him so I could sit on his

As we were watching Supernatural, I decided to ask him a question.

"Alex, is my hair really that bad?" I asked, touching it

"What? No, no, it's really not. It may be a little frizzy. But I like it, it's not like all the other girls." He said1

"Then why did the guys only say I was pretty today." I asked, tugging on the finger that got stuck in a knot

"Because they're stupid." He said2

"Thanks, Alex." I said hugging him

"No problem." He smiled

We ended watching our show so late that we fell asleep hanging off different sides of the bed.

____________

Second chapter down! Also about Alex and Aria's relationship... it will be a sorta slow burn. They will have their cute moments but any relationship things won't come until later.

[alitheamateur]

Special Delivery

Warnings: Language, because well, Colton Ritter’s mouth.

Summary: Colton Ritter hates birthdays. Always has, and was determined he always would. His wife, however, cheeky with her newlywed bright ideas, makes it her mission to change his mind with a special birthday delivery.

A/N: I swear to you, the second part of The Grind-A Wedding is coming! But, sense it doesn't seem to be falling into place as quickly as I would like, I wanted to try and spread a little reward for my readers and their patience!

(gif not mine)

Colton Ritter was a bear about birthdays.

Was it the bitter swallow of becoming another year older? The fear that with age, would come the fizzle of his talents and abilities inside the cage? Was his ego simply weak to the thoughts of balding?

The reason a mystery, the fact a definitive reality regardless.

He wouldn’t eat cake because of a convenient ‘intermittent fasting’ that I wasn’t aware of until there was suddenly birthday cake involved. I tempted him with ice cream, his favorite, from the grocery store on 5th, and nothing broke his resisting stance.

This year, with a wedding, and a current pregnant under my belt, I was inflexibly determined make him appreciate the joys of a birthday. Knowing going after his sweet tooth was a bust, I let my brain storm, and mull over other ways to get him to finally smile on the 8th of September.

His belly may have been a dead end, but I knew one thirst that Colton could never truly quench.

Me.

One avenue of enjoyment that Colt always enjoyed exploring lie between my hips, and there was no amount of fight he could put up, and win, against it.

The day arrived, and I tested the waters at breakfast with a muffin and a candle for the occasion, only for it to be disregarded altogether when he strolled straight to kiss my neck as I poured his coffee. His pouty, gorilla grunts concluded his still present resentment towards the particular day of the year. I made a call-in to the bakery near the Pilot office before he woke, asking them to wait on standby with my order for a chocolate layered cake had things turned out different at this morning.

He trucked through the front door, gym clothes and a birthday card tucked away inside his duffle, not forgetting our routine morning game of ‘grab-ass’ before he left me to ready for heading into the office.

 We could argue about the singing hallmark surprise over dinner tonight. While he nagged and grumbled about the balloon I planned to pick up on my way home.

I ended the call to the delivery service as I stepped into a hot shower, reiterating that his special birthday gift would be distributed today at 11:00 sharp, right before Colton was due to begin his kickboxing class. I was feeling less than desirable these with the stretches of our baby girl spanning over my belly, and swelling my tender breasts. Newlyweds, we were. And instead of leather garter-belts, and edible underwear, poor Colt was sleeping next to an oversized, less than new t-shirt I refused to let him throw out. He’d never go a day without asserting in every way possible that no matter what condition, my body only furthermore secured my goddess-status in his opinion. The lovemaking was, is, it’s, well clearly, there aren’t enough inappropriate words to illustrate what he does to me beneath the sheets of our bed. But, if a woman doesn’t see it, feel it herself that she’s marvelous, no amount of fervent praises can suffice.

So, this year, I’d give a gift to my newly crowned husband, with every intent to reinvent a love for birthdays, and maybe remind myself that I was fierce. The fiercest in all the land, and the fiend starring Colton Ritter’s wet dreams for the next 75 years.

I twiddled through the copy of an office memo brought to my desk this morning at least 32 times, never absorbing a single line of its contents. Rattling with the clock on my desk, I fiddled with the big hand, checking that it wasn’t indeed frozen in time for the last hour of work. I couldn’t get anything done, eager and dizzy with the apprehensive exhilaration for 11 o’clock to arrive, and Colton’s gift fall into his hands. I reminded the lady from my call this morning repeatedly that only Colton Ritter be responsible, no ifs, ands, or buts.  

  Colton

I hated these fuckin’ birthdays, damn it. I didn’t have a reason. It wasn’t about some suppressed scarring from my childhood because my parents never threw parties, or got me presents. As a matter of fact, Ma went all out with the stupid streamers, and the singing middle-aged men dressed in superhero costumes smelling like vodka. Something in me just hated the reminder that my life was drawing closer to an end. Especially now, since I actually liked the one I had. The one with Livvy, and little my Livvy, due in a few months.

And of course, the evil little minx had to go and remind everyone down at 21 Punches what today was, including Mac who led the stupid birthday song before the door had even shut behind me this morning.

Liv had been a little deflated this morning when I brushed off her subtle hints that she wanted to celebrate the day for me, and the more I stewed on it, the bigger my head grew into a dick. Maybe with her at my side, now as my wife, I should give this whole thing I try? I never want to be the reason her sideways smile fades again.

Just as I was about to tuck my phone into my desk drawer after sending her an apology text for the less-than-grateful behavior earlier, someone rapped a knock on my unlatched office door. I pulled the handle to, confused at the sight of a post-man standing in waiting, and even more confused at the large package tucked under his arm.

“Hey man. You could’ve left that at the front desk, no need for you to carry this shit across the building,” I signed his chipped clipboard.

“Special orders that this be delivered solely into your possession, Mr. Ritter. Have a good one, sir.”

I felt along the hard edges of the package, gently molding my hand around its shape to make sure it wasn’t some gag from one of the fighters on roster for my birthday. There was a tag dangling off the red bow, and I pulled the paper loose, careful to close the door behind me before I opened what was inside.

Happy Birthday, old man.

You only get better with age, my love!

Just a little something for you to look at….

X

Liv

Beautiful, stubborn, and persistent, she was.

I smiled, the way I always do when Liv wrangles me by the balls and just does whatever she damn well pleases whether I like it or not. The crisp paper was neatly creased at the four corners, secured with too much scotch tape for my patience, or lack thereof. So, I simply tore through the middle, short on time, and short on amusement with whatever Liv was playing at.

The image seemed abstract, or obscured initially, but I thought somewhere hidden in the black and white mess I saw long, blonde hair… Shifting the canvas, and tossing the paper in the can of trash beside my desk, my teeth gnawed suddenly.

My eyes instantly alert, and aware at the image before me, and my cock seeming to bust up in and all out hard-on without warning. The slight haze from sunshine beating through the window she looked to, made her glow. White light snuck into every curve of her body, except for the round, need-to-be-bitten curve of her perfect backside, barely covered by the taut lace of her bodysuit lingerie. Her veil grazed the silken, flushed flesh of her arms, and her hair at perfect length hid her angelic face. I touched the picture, wishing I could brush it back and see the soft look of slight, bashful pink on her cheeks, and that heart-shaped gap between her swollen lips. She was an angel caught in front of a lens, with every intention to drag me to the sinful, tight darkness between her thighs. 

This, is how I want to always remember her. Draped in white, goosebumps mounting across her rose-smelling skin, bare. The image captured the essence of where every light in my life came from.

I was moved by the innocence of her sweet, almost timid, oblivious sexiness in front of me. But, the way she was mounted on both of her knees, eyes down like she was waiting to be taken by a dangerous, lethal storm like myself, motivated my insides to painfully pump. Refusing to turn loose of the picture, I searched blindly inside my desk for my cell.

“Hey, birthday boy…” She impishly chided. As if her intent to drive me off the fucking wall with this little delivery of hers wasn’t already clear, the way I could hear her biting her lip as she fiddled with her keyboard secured my assumptions.

“Hey yourself, you little troublemaker.”

Fuck. The giggles… Her laugh was connected with every muscle of control over my dick.

“Troublemaker? I have no absolute idea what you could possibly be referring to, husband of mine.”

“No? So, some other delicious blonde in Pittsburgh with ass for days sent over this glorious fuckin’ photo sitting on my desk right now?”

I heard her gasp as if someone could eavesdrop on the awful things I said to her.

“Okay. Maybe I had a little something to do with that.”

“Oh, I know that for certain, baby. I’ve seen those hands wrapped around me enough to recognize ‘em.”

“Colton Ritter! You know, they say the baby can hear inside the womb. Your poor daughter...” Liv squealed, words on the cusp of a whisper.

“Then I suggest we buy some ear buffs to put over your little belly tonight. I wouldn’t want our girl to hear all the awful things I’m going to have her mommy screamin’.”

“Happy birthday, you sex-crazed pig.”

“I can’t help it my wife is smokin’. And Livvy?” I questioned to her.

“Yes?”

“Thank you. This birthday thing may not be so bad after all now that you’re around.”

TAGS: @miidailyinspiration @torialeysha @mollybegger-blog @eap1935 @littleluna98

[gumnut-logic]

Fischler vs. Tracy

Title: Fischler vs. Tracy

Sequel to ‘Sleeping Wounded’

Author: Gumnut

2 – 8 Jan 2019

Fandom: Thunderbirds Are Go 2015/ Thunderbirds TOS

Rating: Teen

Summary: Scott Tracy punched Langstrom Fischler. Scott thought he deserved it, but apparently Fischler didn’t agree, and he filed assault charges.

Word count: 10,670

Spoilers & warnings: Possible spoilers up to end S2. Virgil is not healthy for most of this.

Timeline: Sequel to ‘Sleeping Wounded’.

Author’s note: This was supposed to be a short fic. It didn’t stay that way. In fact, the entire inspirational scene for the whole thing didn’t actually end up happening. It kinda did what it felt like and ended up huge. It has its moments, and I hope you enjoy them. Many thanks to @i-am-chidorixblossom for the initial prompt that sprouted all this and for her wonderful help when I nearly went crazy staring at this. And also to @scribbles97 for the reality check at crazy o’clock. You guys are wonderful and I couldn’t do this without you.

Disclaimer: Mine? You’ve got to be kidding. Money? Don’t have any, don’t bother.

-o-o-o-

The press were having a field day.

Dressed head to toe in a sleek grey suit, blue tie and his hair so soaked in product, the wind didn’t have a chance, Scott was the point of an arrowhead of Tracys. Virgil walked on his right, John on his left, and Gordon and Alan behind them respectively.

None of them had a smile on their faces, and all were similarly dressed, broad shoulders and expensive fabrics. One of the rare occasions that shouted the power they wielded and the money they owned.

Kayo strode ahead of them, similarly attired, but that didn’t stop her from asserting her security muscle as needed to move the press out of their path.

Unfortunately, they were unable to move very fast as one, as Virgil was still hampered by his injuries. It was tactical on their lawyers’ part. Show the judge exactly what injuries Fischler had been responsible for. Scott still sported his wrist brace, but had otherwise recovered. Virgil’s face still bore the yellows and greens of bruising, the damage to his forehead blatant and painful to look at, and, of course, his arm was still in a cast, but it was his ribs that were slowing them down. Movement still hurt and this was going to be a tiring day for his brother.

Not to mention having his injuries plastered all over the world’s holoprojectors.

It set Scott’s blood boiling.

“Scott Tracy! Do you have a response to Langstrom Fischler’s accusations that International Rescue are out to ruin him?” Holocams buzzed around like bees as they reached the entrance to Wellington’s District Court, and the press moved in on them.

Scott instinctively stepped in front of Virgil and out the corner of his eye he saw Gordon step up to his brother’s side.

“No comment.”

Scott was well known to the world’s media as a very private individual. The only reporter who had ever managed a decent interview was Kat Cavanaugh, and popular opinion believed she had had to break both her legs to get it.

Secretly he enjoyed the mystique that surrounded his public figure. It gave him a modicum of power and respect, and considering some of the people he had to interact with out in the field, he needed all the respect he could muster.

Kayo made her presence known and a path opened before them. Scott nudged Virgil behind him and led his brothers through the gauntlet. He registered John dropping to the back of the line, bracketing the youngest between them.

Virgil muttered something incomprehensible to himself.

And as one they entered the building.

-o-o-o-

The holographic files were beginning to blur. Scott shunted one across the desk and binned it.

Two seconds later, he realised that it was the most important report on his desk, and hurriedly dug it out again.

God, he was tired. With the trial, the lawyers, and the attack, all on top of day to day International Rescue there was nothing left.

Damn Fischler to hell.

A hand landed on his shoulder. “Time for bed.”

He didn’t even bother to look up at his brother. “No can do. Need to file these for the lawyers.”

A brown gaze lasered across the desktop. “Anything I can do?”

“No, and besides...” His brain finally caught up. “You should be resting.” The day had been hard and Virgil had suffered for it. He looked up to find his brother still pale. “Go to bed.”

“You first.”

“Can’t.”

“Okay.” And the hand vanished. Scott rubbed his eyes.

But was not surprised to hear the opening strains of one of Virgil’s piano compositions dance across the air from behind him.

“Virgil.” The man was attempting to play with a broken arm, for crying out loud.

“What?”

Scott winced as a key was missed. He didn’t need to look over his shoulder to know it was accompanied by a grimace.

“What are you doing?”

“Practising.”

Another key stumbled and this time it was Scott who grimaced. He turned to face his brother. The man was hunched over the keys, stubbornly fingering out the tune despite the fact his cast prevented him from even the mildest of finger stretches.

An off key twanged through the air once again.

“Virgil.”

“Yes, Scott?”

“Go to bed.”

“You first.” And that was a solid wince from his stubborn brother.

Scott sighed and stood up. “Fine. Move your ass.”

The music continued for just a moment before Virgil awkwardly riffed it to a close and shut the lid. Hugging his broken arm to his belly, he shuffled sideways off the piano stool and stood with a painful grunt.

“You are such an idiot.”

Tired brown eyes smirked at him. “Pot meet kettle.” He waved Scott towards the elevator. “Bedtime.”

Scott glared at him for a moment before turning towards the exit. Perhaps he could get his brother to bed and return later.

“And don’t even think about coming back in here before five am. I’ve asked Eos to alert me of your whereabouts should you stray.”

“What?”

“It’s past midnight. Bed.”

“Yes, Mom.” He rolled his eyes, but made his way to the elevator.

Virgil shuffled slowly after him.

-o-o-o-

They almost weren’t allowed into the court.

The moment Scott stepped between the detectors, alarms started screeching. Several guards jumped out of the woodwork and Scott froze, his hands up and open.

Oh, the suits weren’t normal suits. Brains had gotten his hands on them, just like he did with all their clothing. Fortunately for Scott the circuitry was finely woven into the material, virtually invisible and although the alarms complained, eventually they had to let him through or strip him naked.

Considering the case under scrutiny and the reputation of the man involved, they only stripped him of two layers of clothing and wanding him within an inch of his life before capitulating.

Then Virgil set off the alarms, and they had to go through the process all over again.

Except Virgil was injured.

The first wince set Scott on edge, by the third he was ready to punch someone.

“For crying out loud, we aren’t carrying any weaponry.”

“It is procedure, sir.”

Virgil was biting his lip as he shouldered off his jacket. They wouldn’t find anything more on Virgil than they had found on Scott, this was ridiculous.

Not to mention the press filming the entire procedure from the entrance.

Turning away he thumbed the communicator in his collar. “Eos, could you please put me in contact with Colonel Casey.”

“Yes, Scott. Putting you through now.”

Five minutes later, they resumed their stride towards the courtroom to the sound of various apologies.

Scott rested his hand gently on Virgil’s shoulder.

-o-o-o-

Virgil marched him to his bedroom and glared at him until he changed his clothes and slipped into bed.

Somehow this was all backwards.

“Shut up and go to sleep.” His brother stood just inside Scott’s bedroom door, arms wrapped around his chest, putting all his energy into his eyebrows, deploying his frown like a weapon.

Scott threw himself into bed just to shut him up. “Fine. I’m in bed, now will you go to bed?”

“Lights out.”

Scott thumbed the switch, the room falling into darkness, the starlight from the windows only slowly appearing as his eyes adjusted.

Soft. “Goodnight, Scott.”

“Goodnight, Virgil.”

A slither of hallway light and his brother was gone. Scott frowned.

What the hell was that all about?

-o-o-o-

Scott took his seat in the defendant’s position and, to his surprise, Virgil sat next to him.

“What are you doing here?”

Virgil grunted as he got as comfortable as he could in the chair. “If you think you’re going through this by yourself, dream on.” His brother straightened up and stared towards where the judge would eventually appear. “John has Gordon and Alan. I have you.”

Scott blinked and twisted in his chair. Directly behind were his three remaining brothers, lined up in the public gallery, Kayo beside them. Gordon grinned at him.

“Where is he? I know he will be here.” The whiny voice and in waltzed Fischler, a dramatic bandage across his nose. He was followed by an elegantly dressed woman, a dark-haired man with a distracted expression, and a flock of lawyers. Fischler’s half aware eyes roamed over the courtroom until they landed on Scott. They frowned and then skipped to his right and narrowed on Virgil.

Scott frowned. He couldn’t possibly...

“There he is! That’s the guy who flies the green thing. He’s the one who shot down your collectors, Perce.” The man standing next to Fischler latched his eyes onto Virgil as well. Scott had the urge to step in front of his brother yet again. Perce’s lips thinned.

Both men suddenly had their arms grabbed by the woman as their lawyers shuffled past. She dragged the both of them into the public gallery, muttering something Scott couldn’t hear. They planted themselves at the far end of the seating well away from anyone sporting the name ‘Tracy’. Kayo eyed them with a death glare.

Virgil, unable to twist around, didn’t pay them any attention. Scott forced himself to turn around and face the front.

They all stood as the judge walked in.

Scott sighed as he stuck out his arm to help his brother to his feet.

This was going to be a long day.

-o-o-o-

He was thrown out of a deep sleep by the sound of shattering glass.

The clock claimed it was just past three in the morning. Scott blinked the fog out of his brain and hurried out of bed.

The hallway outside his room was only lit by moonlight, but it was enough light for his eyes to sketch out a hunched figure leaning against the wall. A flick of the light switch revealed Virgil huddled almost in two, his face screwed up in pain. Blue glass, the remains of one of Grandma’s vases that had been sitting on the sideboard, was scattered all over the floor.

“Virgil?” The only answer was a muffled groan. Scott grabbed his slippers, threw them on, and stepped lightly over the glass. Cautiously he reached out and touched his brother’s shoulder. “Virgil?”

The man slowly unfolded, a gasping breath pushed out between his teeth. “Uh, s-sorry. Didn’t mean to wake you.” He leant his back against the wall, moving ever so slowly and hesitant. He was dressed only in his pyjama bottoms, leaving the strapping of his ribs and the green and yellow fading bruises all over his torso available to see. “Juss needed s’m medication.” He sighed and began slipping down the wall.

Scott caught him as gently as he could, but Virgil still cried out as he took his weight.

His head dropped onto Scott’s shoulder. Panting, and then an exhausted, “Ow.”

“C’mon. Let’s get you horizontal.”

It wasn’t without protest from his idiot brother, but eventually Scott managed to drag him into his own rooms, choosing the shorter distance and higher likelihood of being able to keep an eye on the man. Virgil obviously hadn’t been taking his pain medication correctly and this was the result.

By the time Scott manhandled the larger man into his bed, Virgil was as white as the bed sheets.

Just in case, Scott checked him over, but his vitals only told him the same story his eyes did. “God, you’re an idiot.”

“Had no choice.”

“That is debatable.” Scott pressed his lips together. “I’ll get your medication. Stay put.” His fingers brushed across the back of his brother’s hand.

He came back quickly, but not with the medication Virgil had expected. “Aww, c’mon, S-Scott. You know what that does to me.”

“You need rest. And you’re not going to get it while you are in pain. This will send you to sleep.”

“It will send me stupid.”

“You can’t get much more stupid than you are now. Why the hell did you skip your meds?”

“Didn’t.”

“Well, you’re obviously not suffering from pain relief. What the hell did you do?”

“Minimum dose.”

“Why?”

“Couldn’t be dopey.”

Scott’s lips thinned yet again. He fought off yet another urge to bash Fischler’s face in. Instead he held up the hypodermic. “Well, now you get to make up for it.”

-o-o-o-

Scott Tracy was guilty. He knew he was. It was on the advice of his lawyers that he pleaded the opposite. It was a matter of sentencing. If he was simply guilty, he could go to jail. That was something to be avoided at all costs. International Rescue could operate without him, but the scandal would be seriously damaging. His lawyer had frowned at him so hard, Scott was surprised he hadn’t blown a blood vessel. There was more than just Scott’s record on the line. That single moment of release, of self-imposed justice as his fist hit Fischler’s face, had put International Rescue in the spotlight and not in a good way.

So, a plea of not guilty was entered and a trial forced. The aim to expose Fischler for what he was and reduce the sentencing for Scott. Whether or not it would work remained to be seen.

By the time Fischler had finished his rambling accusation on the stand, Scott was quite ready to change his plea to guilty, just to shut him up. Either that or take another swing at him. When the man started raving about how Virgil had shot down his solar collectors yet again, a large hand landed softly on his arm and squeezed.

Fortunately, the judge drew his tirade to a halt and their defence had the opportunity to cross examine and open the case up to the events leading up the assault.

“Mr Fischler, what was the purpose of your solar collectors?” Their lawyer, Jack Dunning, was a dumpy little man, plump and somewhat balding, but it was all part of his image.

“What do you think? Are you stupid? They collect solar energy. They are called solar collectors after all.”

Dunning ignored the insult. “Then why were the devices mobbing aircraft?”

“There was a slight hitch in their collaborative programming.”

“That slight hitch in their program disabled at least two aircraft.”

“A bit of an accident, that. No one was injured.”

“Much in thanks to International Rescue, I believe.”

“International Rescue was not invited to the testing! They took it upon themselves to turn up and start destroying all my hard work. That man there!” And yes, he stood up and pointed a bony finger at Virgil. “That man took it upon himself to shoot every single collector out of the sky.”

Dunning looked bored. “Have you considered why he would do such a thing?”

“How would I know what he was thinking? There were millions of dollars at stake and he blew it all out of the sky. This could seriously damage Fischler Industries, and it is not the first time he and International Rescue have interfered. Did you know they blew up my comet? I had plans for that, too, you know.”

Scott just stared. Did the man have anything between his ears? The hand on his arm tightened its grip.

Dunning turned to the judge. “Judge, to expedite this trial I would like to request special dispensation to call an extra witness to the stand.”

The judge looked tired. “Who and why?”

“I would like to call Virgil Tracy, the pilot of Thunderbird Two, one of the planes disabled by Mr Fischler’s collectors.”

“This is an assault case, Mr Dunning. We have yet to hear from the assailant. This is not the place to discuss why these experimental devices were shot down.”

“Sir, I believe this is important evidence that will reveal the perspective and the possible reasoning behind the alleged attack.”

The judge had intelligent eyes and Scott found himself holding his breath, both wanting a positive answer and a firm denial. He didn’t want his brother up there under such scrutiny, especially in his condition and with the press foaming at the mouth in the media gallery, but at the same time, it was likely Virgil’s testimony could sway the judge.

Those eyes drifted to Fischler who was still sitting in the witness box with his arms crossed across his chest looking more like a pouting child than a professional scientist.

Scott could see the moment the decision was made. “Permission granted. Mr Fischler, you are dismissed.”

“What?”

“Please step down from the witness box, Mr Fischler.”

“Very well. The sooner this is over the better. My time is expensive, you know.” The man stood and, muttering, stalked back to his seat.

“The court calls Virgil Tracy to the stand.”

-o-o-o-

Scott took a moment to clean up the mess of glass in the corridor after administering Virgil’s medication and give his brother a chance to drop off to sleep without a witness.

He knew why Virgil had done it. He had suspected it during the day, but hadn’t had the chance to corner him and, in part, understood the necessity. But it still hurt to see his brother hurting.

His ribs were healing, but they were tender and movement remained the biggest challenge. The strain of the day and the emotional pressure on taxed resources couldn’t have helped.

All because Scott had let sense be overtaken by emotion.

He sighed as he poured glass into the rubbish.

It wasn’t the first time Virgil had had to pay for his rashness either.

Another sigh and he resisted the urge to kick the trash can.

When he returned to his room, entering quietly, Virgil was exactly where he had left him, hunched under the covers, forehead wrinkled with pain.

He crept around the bed, and gently sat down on the other side.

“I hate you.” It was quiet, muffled and slurred a little.

Scott shucked off his slippers and climbed on top of the covers, laying down beside his brother. “Somehow I doubt that.”

“These damn drugs suck.”

“Yes, Virgil.”

“Everything is wonky.”

“Yes, Virgil.”

“Your bed covers smell like you.”

“Yes, Virgil.”

“You smell like a pineapple.”

“A pineapple?”

“Yes, Scott.”

“Go to sleep, Virgil.”

“Can’t.”

“Yes, you can.”

“Hurts.”

Scott sighed, wondering if there were any studies that linked medication sensitivity with age regression.

“Give the medication time to do its job.”

“Don’t want medication. Need to be there for you.”

“You were there, Virg. It is over now. You can sleep.”

“Don’t want to sleep.”

“Why?”

“Need to be there for you.”

“You need to sleep.”

“Sleep means dreams.”

Scott’s eyes shot open and he involuntarily turned towards his brother. “What sort of dreams?”

Virgil didn’t answer.

“Virgil? What kind of dreams?”

“Don’t want to talk about it.”

Scott bit his lip. Technically this could be considered as taking advantage of Virgil’s drugged state. “Virgil?”

“Gotta be there for you.”

“You are.”

“Good.” Virgil shifted slightly and groaned through his teeth. “Can’t lose you.”

“You didn’t. I’m here.”

But the medication had taken hold properly, his brother’s voice dropping to little more than a chanted whisper. “Can’t lose you. Can’t.”

“Virgil-”

“Would rather die.”

-o-o-o-

“Mr Tracy, could you please tell us of the events that led to your arrival at the scene of the rescue.��

Virgil shifted in his seat, obviously not as comfortable as he could be, but his back was straight and he met the lawyer’s eye.

“Yes, sir. A distress call was received from Air Terranean Flight 4586 over Brazil en route to Los Angeles. They reported unidentified objects hounding their flight path. One had disabled an engine and the plane was losing height. They feared another of the objects would damage the plane further.” A pause as his brother swallowed. “As per our protocol for such an incident, both Thunderbirds One and Two were deployed. I pilot Two, while my brother Scott, pilots One. When we arrived-“

The lawyer held up a hand. “Mr Tracy, you said as per protocol. What is the protocol in this situation? Why were both ships needed?”

Virgil’s eyes skipped to Scott for a split second. None of them liked talking about operational procedures in public. “In air rescues involving a plane that has the potential to crash, if possible, at least two craft attend to maximise the chances of saving it. There have been previous situations that have proven this to be the case.”

“But why are two Thunderbirds needed?”

“One craft may need to intercept the cause of the plane’s distress to enable the other to save lives. In this case, Fischler’s devices were the cause, and I am very grateful we did deploy both craft, despite the result.”

“So, one Thunderbird is needed to defend the other?”

“Not always, but yes, it has happened before.” Again, Virgil’s eyes flickered to Scott’s. “Also, air rescue is difficult on the best of occasions. It helps to have back up.”

“What happened on this occasion?”

“When Thunderbird One arrived on the scene AT 4586 had been completely disabled and was on a glide trajectory to crash. TB1 immediately provided flight support.”

He had hit the danger zone at high speed, the yells of the falling plane becoming more and more frantic. Scott had immediately deployed his grapple, securing it to the ship’s fuselage and lifting the craft into a more stable glide, TB1’s thrusters replacing those the plane had lost.

It was at that point John had alerted him to incoming projectiles, and he had had to disengage momentarily to avoid the mob of experimental collectors attracted to his thrusters. It had taken all his skill to dive and dodge the hoard.

“When I arrived on the scene, Thunderbird One was caught between providing assistance to the passenger plane and dodging a mob of small robotic projectiles.”

“Did you know what the projectiles were?”

“By this time, Thunderbird Five had located the cause and identified Fischler.”

“Did his identification have any effect on your reaction to the situation?”

Virgil paused. “Mr Dunning, International Rescue has a long history with Fischler. The man has endangered so many lives, yet he is somehow still operating. He mentioned a comet earlier? That comet had the potential to wipe out the majority of life on Earth, and it did almost do exactly that. So, no, I can’t say it didn’t affect my reaction to the situation.”

There was muttering from the back of the room, but a stern glare from the judge silenced it.

“What did you do upon arrival?”

“Protocol dictated that Thunderbird Two should have taken the weight of the aircraft, reducing Thunderbird One to support, however the moment I entered detection range, the collectors targeted Two’s systems, abandoning One. Scott immediately resumed the rescue and I found myself in some difficulty.” His brother stopped talking a moment and shifted in his seat, the bruises on his face standing out stark against his pale skin.

“Are you okay, Mr Tracy?”

“Fine.” It was short and sharp and obviously a lie. Apparently, Virgil’s oath of truth didn’t extend to his health.

No one in the court commented.

“Why did the collectors target Thunderbird Two?”

“We are unsure.” Brains suspected it was the difference in fuel mix, but had been unable to confirm it as yet.

“What did they do?”

“They were attracted to her thrusters. I had some difficulty avoiding them.”

“Thunderbird One managed.”

“Thunderbird One is not Thunderbird Two.” It was said quite vehemently and Scott couldn’t help but smile just a little. Don’t dis his brother’s ‘bird. But, yes, in this case, TB2 had been at a greater disadvantage. The ship was built for strength, not manoeuvrability, and it had been a major problem. It had only been Virgil’s masterful flying that had prevented Thunderbird Two from being taken down immediately.

“What did you do next?”

“Leaving the danger zone was not an option. That would have left One and the failing plane vulnerable to attack once again. The only options left were to continue to provide the distraction or to remove the threat.” Virgil looked over at Fischler. “And as Fischler has mentioned on several occasions, I chose to remove the threat.”

Scott had to admit, it had been awesome to witness. Two’s laser cutter was not designed as a weapon, but his brother had played it like he played his piano. While Scott concentrated on pulling the ailing plane out of the sky and lowering it to the nearest airfield, Two had darted off into the distance over the sea of trees, her red laser striking out with precision, chunks of burnt and sliced up collector falling from the sky like rain.

“That was millions of dollars of technology you destroyed!” Fischler was standing up in the public gallery shaking his fist at Virgil.

“Mr Fischler, you will sit down and be quiet or you will be charged with contempt.” The judge’s voice cut across the courtroom like a knife.

Fischler looked to say more, but a female hand reached up from behind him and shoved him back down into his seat.

Virgil straightened in his chair and flinched. “Lives were at stake. Cost was irrelevant.”

“What do you think would have happened if you hadn’t destroyed the collectors?”

His brother turned his attention directly to their lawyer. “They would have taken out my ‘bird, my brother’s ‘bird and then moved onto whatever aircraft they could have found. People would have died.”

“So you made the decision to save lives?”

“That is what we do.”

“But you weren’t entirely successful in destroying them all.”

Virgil’s shoulders dropped. “No, one managed to reach Two’s starboard rear thruster and exploded. The thruster was damaged, taking a good percentage of flight control with it.”

“You found yourself in danger of crashing?”

His brother looked up. “Both rear thrusters and VTOL were disabled. Yes, we were going down.”

Virgil had sworn a blue streak across comms. Scott, still caught up in rescuing the airliner had been unable to respond. He had watched as his brother’s ‘bird began her plummet to Earth.

A swallow, another shift in his seat and Virgil’s face paled even further.

“Mr Tracy, if you are unwell, the trial can be postponed.”

“No, I’m fine.”

“You did just survive a plane crash.”

“I’m fine.” It was growled. Stubborn bastard. Scott raised his hand to draw the attention of Dunning, but his brother’s eyes swung around and pinned him to his seat.

Scott lowered his hand.

“I-I did everything I could to prevent my ‘bird from going down, but the explosion had taken out most of her systems. Scott flew over to assist. He took the controls - “

“Your brother boarded a crashing plane.”

Virgil faltered. “Uh, yes, I-I asked him, too.”

“What of the airliner?”

“Thunderbird Five took control of Thunderbird One.”

“Why didn’t he take control of Two?”

“Auto-relay systems were shorted. I was on manual only.”

“So, Scott boarded your plane at the risk of his own life?”

Virgil’s mouth was open, nothing was coming out.

“Mr Tracy?”

A cleared throat. “Yes, I asked him to risk his life.”

“Scott!” It was a hissed whisper from behind. John. “Sit down!” And yes, he was halfway to his feet. His butt hit the cushion and shook his teeth.

“Mr Tracy, it is the nature of your work that your lives may be risked at any time, is it not?”

“Y-Yes, sir.”

“How many times have they been risked because of idiocy?”

“Objection!” The other lawyer bounced to his feet.

The judge eyed the man a moment before sighing. “Sustained. Please, Mr Dunning, restrict yourself to the specified events.”

“Very well.” He turned back to Virgil. “Scott boarded Thunderbird Two...”

His brother blinked and straightened again. “Yes, he was able to take control of the flight while I attempted to repair ship systems to halt our descent.”

“You were not successful?”

“Unfortunately, no, though I did manage to mitigate damages by restoring two of her VTOL thrusters. They slowed us enough to stabilise the landing somewhat.”

“But there were still injuries?”

“Thunderbird Two is out of commission for the foreseeable future, Scott sustained a major concussion, and I, well...” He shrugged and winced. “...have seen better days.”

“In fact, you have a fractured skull, six broken ribs and a broken arm, do you not?”

“And assorted bruises, yes.” Virgil glared at the man, not a fan of having his vulnerabilities paraded. Scott rolled his eyes.

“All because of Fischler.”

“Objection! My client is not on trial here!”

Dunning turned around and glared. “I beg to differ. These men risk their lives to save others on a daily basis and your client continues to endanger more and more lives. This is a proven fact.”

“Nothing has been proven...”

“The comet that nearly collided with not only a space station but the planet as well was proof enough. Did you know that three of these brothers, including Virgil sitting right here, nearly died in that incident, too?”

“That is not relevant-“

“I never asked them to interfere!” And Fischler was on his feet again.

A gavel hit wood hard. “Gentlemen!”

The sudden silence in the room was only broken by a mutter from Fischler as he was once again dragged back onto his seat by the woman behind him.

“Mr Dunning, I repeat, please restrict your comments to the current incident.” The judge’s glare targeted the back of the room. “Mr Fischler, keep quiet or you will be expelled.”

Scott only had eyes for his brother. Virgil was literally sagging in his seat. Apparently, the judge had noticed. “Mr Tracy, thank you for your testimony. We will take a fifteen-minute recess. Please take a moment to rest. There is a room down the hall.” The judge waved a court officer over.

Scott was on his feet without thinking, his own court officer trailing him. “Virgil!”

Brown eyes caught his, but the hand of the court came down on his arm and he was held back.

They led Virgil away.

-o-o-o-

“Would rather die.”

The words were barely there, whispered, slurred into the pillow, but they leapt up and tore at Scott’s heart.

“Virgil, no.” He levered himself up onto his elbow, wishing his brother wasn’t turned away from him, wasn’t hidden by the darkness.

Damnit! He sat up, reached over and flicked the light switch, flooding the room with its yellow glow.

“Aah, what the hell, Scott?” His brother lifted up his wrapped arm and rolled onto his back, wincing. “Whatcha do tha’ for?” He blinked repeatedly, tired eyes in a tired, bruised face.

“You can’t mean that.”

“Mean what?” The blinking had slowed, the eyes bleary.

“That you would rather die.”

“Die? Everybody dies.”

Scott closed his eyes. What was he thinking? Virgil was off his face, this was not the time for a serious discussion.

“Everybody dies.” It was an echo, a repeat of the words he had said a moment before. “Mom. Dad. You.”

A frown. “I’m not dead, Virgil.”

“Yes, you are.”

A chill crawled up his spine. “Virgil, what do you mean?”

But his brother’s eyes were closed, his brow wrinkled. “Can’t.”

“Can’t what?”

“Would rather die.” And his brother was drifting off to sleep.

He couldn’t help himself. He knew Virgil would deny everything come the light of day. He had to know. He reached out and touched his brother’s cheek. “Virgil, why? Why would you rather die?”

Brown eyes blearily opened and stared at him. “Can’t lose you. You’re the only one left.”

Scott blinked, attempting to decipher what Virgil meant. The only one what? “Virgil?”

“Please don’t leave me, Scott. I can’t-“ And there was an edge of panic in Virgil’s voice, his injured arm reaching out to grab him.

What the hell? “Virg, it’s okay. I’m not leaving.” Was this a direct line to his brother’s insecurities? “I’m here.”  

His brother’s fingers desperately attempted to get a grip on Scott’s pyjamas, but the cast wouldn’t let him make a proper fist. “Scott, please.”

He grabbed Virgil’s hand and held it tight, reaching over to run his fingers through the man’s hair. It took a moment, but finally Virgil sagged into the bed, a shaky breath escaping between his teeth.

Scott bit his lip, but continued to comb his brother’s hair, long enough for the man to eventually slip into an uneasy sleep.

His heart was thudding hard against the inside of his chest.

When Scott turned off the light, he lay in the dark staring up at the ceiling.

Sleep would not come.

-o-o-o-

“I am Cyril Packham, Mr Tracy, the attorney for the prosecution.”

Virgil nodded. Scott resisted the urge to snort. They knew the man’s name, his history, the fact he had two children, a wife, a girlfriend and some interesting commitments in Indonesia. Penelope was quite thorough.

Gordon sat behind his older brother this time as witness support. John had sent him to Virgil during the break to check on him and the aquanaut appeared to have chained himself to the man. The glare that was emanating off Gordon in the direction of the prosecutor was enough to light Packham’s hair on fire. Scott hoped he didn’t end up having to bail his second littlest brother out of jail today.

“Your attorney appears to believe that these events have pertinence to the assault that occurred the next day at the hospital. So, let’s review those events.”

Virgil didn’t react.

Gordon upped his temperature just slightly.

“Did you at any time during these events contact Mr Fischler and advise him of the situation.”

“No, I did not.”

“Then how could you possibly blame him for a situation he was not aware of?”

“I didn’t contact him. That wasn’t my place. Thunderbird Five, my brother, John Tracy, spoke to him repeatedly. He asked him to withdraw the collectors. He asked him to turn them off. He gave him a video feed of exactly what was happening above. The man could see what was happening from where he was standing! And he didn’t do a thing!”

“I did too!”

“Mr Fischler!”

“I told them to get the hell out of my sky. They were interfering. It was their fault the collectors did what they did, and then they destroyed them! It was their fault!”

“Mr Fischler, you are in contempt!”

“Yes, I am. In contempt of these self-righteous idiots. Everyone thinks they are so wonderful. Yet how many times have they screwed up an honest man’s work? How many times-“ But a hand landed on his shoulder and he shut up suddenly, the burly court official forcing him to sit down and handcuffing him to the railing in front of him.

The judge was glaring. “You will stay there and stay silent, Mr Fischler, for the remainder of these proceedings. Another word out of you and you will be escorted to a holding cell.”

Fischler opened his mouth.

The judge raised his gavel.

Fischler closed his mouth.

Maybe he did have some kind of sense in there after all. Scott rolled his shoulders attempting to relieve the tension.

“Mr Tracy, perhaps you can clarify your decision to destroy the collectors.”

“Yes?”

“Why didn’t you just lead them away?”

“Where? Wherever I led them, they would cause havoc and endanger lives.”

“Couldn’t you have drawn them away from the airliner?”

Virgil stared at him as if he was an idiot. “I did, and, despite everything, they crippled Thunderbird Two. Do you have any concept of exactly how hard that is to do?”

“No. Please explain.”

Scott bit his lip and Virgil clammed up. “No, that is not necessary.”

“Perhaps your crash had nothing to do with the collectors, perhaps your ship malfunctioned.”

Oh, shit.

And fire lit up amongst the bruises on his brother’s face. “Are you aware of my qualifications, Mr Peckem?”

“It’s Packham. And yes, you are a graduate of Denver College of Advanced Technology, are you not?”

“I am a fully qualified engineer, pilot and the mechanic of Thunderbird Two. I know EXACTLY what my ship is capable of. I know her inside and out. I know her very soul. She did not malfunction.”

“Then why did she crash?”

The arm with the cast wrapped around it shot out, pointing in the direction of Fischler. Scott didn’t miss his brother’s flinch at the movement, but he was obviously too angry to care. “Because that man had the audacity to combine energy collecting ware, a poorly designed AI matrix with no safety overrides or shutdown codes, and explosive massive-storage. It tore off one of her rear thrusters and disabled the other, sending electrical feedback through her system that took out VTOL along with other vital systems. If she had been any other ship, she could have exploded mid-air killing me and anyone in a several hundred meter radius.”

“How do you know so much about the solar collectors?”

Virgil froze. “What?!”

“The solar collectors are proprietary designs and their specifics are not available for public information.”

“Uh...”

“Are you trying to steal information from Fischler Industries, Mr Tracy?”

Virgil stared at him for a moment, wide eyed. Then he burst out laughing. “Ow, ow, oh god.” And he was clutching his rib cage, leaning against the edge of the witness box. “Please, please don’t make me laugh. It hurts so bad.”

“It wasn’t a joke, Mr Tracy.”

“Yes, it was.” His head came up and caught the man’s eyes. “What possible reason could I have to want to steal Fischler’s inventions? They are poorly designed and, in most cases, downright dangerous.”

“But how do you know so much detail about them, Mr Tracy?”

“Because I need to know what the hell is trying to kill me. The first time we encountered Fischler, he crippled Thunderbird Two above a hurricane. It was only luck and the skill of my brother, Gordon, that saved me that time. I don’t need to be taught twice. I’ve been as prepared as possible since.”

“But how do you obtain this information?”

“Objection!” Dunning shot to his feet. “Mr Tracy is not on trial here and this is not relevant to the case.”

‘I beg to differ. Mr Tracy is on trial here and the trustworthiness of International Rescue is key to this case.”

“A petty play on words, Packham.”

“Gentlemen.” The two lawyers continued to glare at each other. “Objection overruled.” The judge turned to Virgil. “Please answer the question, Mr Tracy.”

Scott swallowed. This could get them into some serious shit.

Virgil looked up, his face calm, his tone firm. “I will do what is necessary to save a life, Mr Peckem.”

“Including breaking the law.”

“Only if necessary.”

“Is that what you did with Mr Fischler’s technology?”

“That remains to be seen.”

“What do you mean?”

“Is it within the law to launch two hundred bombs into a flight zone?”

“Excuse me?”

“You don’t really think a flying solar panel could take down a 400 tonne Thunderbird all by itself, do you? Each of those collectors had the storage capacity of a small nuclear bomb. Fortunately, when we encountered the flock, they were only partially charged, but still able to deliver a considerable payload upon ignition. They were attracted to specific types of energy sources, other than the sun. In fact, rather than an ecological energy solution, I would consider them to be more in the line of weapons development. You asked me earlier why I didn’t lead them away. Would you like me to lead them into your backyard?”

“Mr Tracy-“

“I learn what I need to know to save lives, Mr Peckem. That is all that you need to know.”

Virgil was covering for John. He was wording everything precisely, taking any and all credit or blame onto his shoulders while skimming between fact and fiction. It was a dangerous game. Scott bit his lip.

“So you refuse to answer the question.”

“I have answered as truthfully as I can.” A sharp indrawn breath.

“You look pale, Mr Tracy.”

“I have six broken ribs, Mr Peckem, would you like to count them?”

Dunning stood up. “Sir, Mr Packham is wasting time and gaining no further information, I ask that we move onto our next witness.”

The judge sat quietly for a moment, his eyes on Virgil, who by this point looked about ready to faint. For a moment, they skipped to Scott who was on the edge of his seat, then darted back to the two lawyers who remained glaring at each other.

“The witness is excused.”

Virgil sagged where he sat, Gordon hurried in to help as he struggled to his feet. To Scott’s surprise, Virgil actually leant on Gordon. Damn, the man must be hurting bad.

By the time the two of them reached Scott, Virgil was visibly trembling.

“Mr Tracy.” Five heads bobbed up. The judge didn’t quite roll his eyes. “Mr Virgil Tracy, you are excused if you need to leave the court.”

Standing beside Scott, half leaning on Gordon, his brother straightened as much as he could. “I-I need to stay, sir. I have some medication. I will be fine.”

The judge assessed him for a moment. “Very well. Proceed.”

Virgil lowered himself ever so slowly into the chair beside Scott. “Please, Virgil, you’ve done enough, go back to the hotel.” Gordon hovered until a court official directed him back to his seat in the public gallery.

“No, I’m staying here.” Virgil drew out a bottle of pills from his suit pocket. “This is more important.”

“Damnit, Virgil!”

“The court calls Scott Tracy to the stand.”

-o-o-o-

Virgil was fortunately still asleep when Scott finally cracked and climbed quietly out of bed at just after five in the morning. Grabbing his jogging gear, he took a moment to check on his brother. In the dim light he was breathing softly, once again lying on his less injured side, broken arm wrapped around his waist on top of the covers.

His hair was flopping into his eyes.

Scott sighed to himself, turned, grabbed his running shoes and slipped out of the room into the predawn. He got dressed in one of the bathrooms, and after a drink of water in the kitchen, set out on his morning run.

The sun was just beyond the horizon, reflected light the only light in the sky. He lost himself in the beat of his soles on the gravel of the path.

Thud, thud, thud.

A seabird screeched far above him.

A cool sea breeze caressed his heating skin, playing with his hair.

He tried not to think.

Tried not to think of the smug look on Fischler’s mug. The snarl of fury from Fischler’s brother. The frustration on Dunning’s face.

The pain on Virgil’s.

An exhausted huff of breath out of pace with his tread.

All because he let himself go for one moment and hit that stupid bastard.

How was it fair? He did so much for the world. Couldn’t it have forgiven him for this one mistake?

Apparently not.

It wasn’t the trial. It was what it put his brother through. And the stupid, stubborn bastard wouldn’t back down.

It was love, he knew that. He, in turn, would do anything for Virgil, or any of his brothers, but watching him push the limits...

Picking him off the floor of the corridor at three in the morning.

Damnit!

He stopped in the middle of the path overwhelmed by the urge to hit or kick something.

But then that is what had started all this.

He forced his legs to start moving again as the sun finally peeked over the horizon, catching his face in its warm embrace.

-o-o-o-

“Mr Tracy, could you please tell us what happened leading up to the incident in question.”

Scott shifted in the witness chair, now understanding why his brother had moved so often in the seat despite his injuries. “I was admitted to hospital due to my concussion-“

Mr Dunning interrupted him. “This was the concussion sustained while attempting to save your brother’s life?”

Scott’s gaze flicked to Virgil for a split second before he answered. “Yes, I received it in the crash.”

“You were knocked unconscious?”

“Yes.”

“But when your brothers found you, you and Virgil were quite a distance away from the craft weren’t you?”

Huh? How was this relevant? But Dunning’s eyes were boring into him, directing him to answer.

“Uh, Virgil pulled me out.”

“Your brother, Virgil, the one with the broken arm, broken ribs and skull fracture? Here sitting in this room?”

“Yes.”

“Objection! How is this relevant to the case?”

Dunning turned around to face Packham. “It is very relevant for us to consider the personalities involved in this case. Mr Scott Tracy was dragged from the downed plane by Mr Virgil Tracy. He was barely conscious, but despite Mr Virgil Tracy’s injuries, he still managed to drag his brother two hundred metres into the jungle.”

“I still don’t see the relevance.”

“That is obvious. These men are heroes, Packham. They make life and death decisions on a daily basis. What I am trying to demonstrate is the thought processes involved.”

“Virgil Tracy isn’t on trial here.”

The judge spoke up again. “Gentlemen, I believe the court has been very patient with these demonstrations, so please make your point Mr Dunning.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Sit down, Mr Packham.”

The lawyer returned to his assigned position, but not without a mutter.

“Mr Tracy, what happened at the hospital?”

“I was there for about twenty-four hours before I was well enough to get out of bed. Virgil and I were in separate rooms, so as soon as I could, I went to see him. I ran into Fischler in the hallway outside of Virgil’s room. He asked after my brother and made it very clear that he blamed him for the destruction of his collectors, and that he wanted to give Virgil ‘a piece of his mind’. Virgil was badly injured and it was the last thing he needed.” He swallowed. Here came the hard part. “So I stood in his way.”

“How did Mr Fischler react to you protecting your brother?”

“Not well. He became insulting.”

“How did that make you feel?”

“Not good. I was worried about my brother, and quite frustrated by the man’s attitude. After all, we had just saved his life for the fourth time.” He frowned. Or was it the fifth? “We don’t expect gratitude as operatives of International Rescue, but a little respect wouldn’t hurt.”

“Respect?! I deserve respect, you charlatan!”

“Mr Fischler!” The judge roared at the man and he shrunk back into his seat.

Dunning ignored the byplay. “You saved Mr Fischler’s life as well?”

“That airliner was projected to land on top of the man if we hadn’t intervened.”

“Did Mr Fischler reach your brother?”

Scott looked down, knowing his brother was staring at him wide-eyed. “No, he did not.”

“Why?”

“I stopped him.”

“How?”

“I hit him.”

The room fell to silence.

“Mr Tracy.” The judges’ face was grave. “Did you want to change your plea?”

Mr Dunning held up his hand. “Before he answers, sir, I would like to ask one more question.”

The judge frowned at him, but with a sigh, nodded.

“Scott, do you know why Mr Fischler was in the hospital in the first place?”

Scott blinked. It hadn’t occurred to him. “I don’t know.” But as he thought about it, his suspicions grew and his eyes widened. “He wanted to see Virgil. He was there for the sole purpose of seeing Virgil.” His eyes swung to the man at the back of the room. “What did you want with my brother?”

The man actually snarled. “I wanted him to pay for what he did.”

-o-o-o-

Virgil was gone from Scott’s rooms when he returned, his bed tidily made.

Scott sighed and threw himself into the shower, washing more than the sweat from his body. He stood in front of the bathroom mirror and wiped fog from the glass. The man who peered back at him felt older than he looked, blue eyes worried and not a little stained with guilt.

Man, he needed to talk with his brother.

He scrubbed his face with a towel.

Breakfast was Virgil-less, but that was nothing unusual, the man slept in if he could. Gordon eyed Scott as he toasted a bagel, questions in those eyes so similar to his brother’s. Scott didn’t answer any of them.

Grandma wandered past at one point, dropping her hand onto his shoulder. “Is he okay?”

“As best he can be, I guess.”

She kissed his hair. “Let me know if he needs anything.”

Scott raised an eyebrow. Grandma was never one to stand back when any of her boys needed anything, particularly Virgil. Scott wasn’t above admitting that his Grandma had a soft spot for his artistic brother, knowing that it didn’t make her care any less for her other grandsons...and it got him out of the shopping on many an occasion. Virg and his grandmother were well suited to each other and got on very well.

Why was she caring for him via Scott?

“And don’t worry about the vase. I didn’t like it anyway.”

He blinked. “Okay.”

“What vase?” Alan waltzed into the room. “Bagels again? Aww, John’s not even dirtside.”

Most of the day passed without a peep from Virgil. Scott went through the papers he needed and filed what he had to with the lawyers. Dunning’s hologram still sported a frown, this time topped off by a glare. “Hey, this time it wasn’t my fault.”

“Sure, Scott.” And the lawyer had the audacity to sign off without saying goodbye.

The commander rolled his eyes and with a flick of a finger threw the man a sizeable bonus. The note scrawled beside it said, ‘For the grey hairs, Scott’.

A note came back immediately. ‘Kind of you, but really just keep you and your brothers safe, Jack’.

Scott sighed. I’m trying, Jack, really.

And then Scott discovered the report that had come with the note.

At about five o’clock in the afternoon, a stiff and half-dressed Virgil staggered into the comms room, heading towards the kitchen.

“Hey, Virg, how you feeling?” Gordon never was one to read the warning signs. Or he did and just chose to ignore them.

Scott looked up from the desk. Virgil didn’t really acknowledge either of them, just grunted and kept moving step by step. Obviously, he hadn’t taken his morning dose yet, coffee or heavy painkillers.

The trip down the stairs must have been fun.

“Virgil, for goodness sake, sit down. I’ll go get your coffee and your pills.” Gordon said it before Scott could open his mouth.

His brother’s shoulders sagged and he let the nearest wall take his weight. Gordon was up and beside him in a flash, such a contrast to the injured man. “C’mon, Virg, no need to be the hero today. Sit down and put your feet up.”

The glare Virgil sent his younger brother was half-hearted and almost fond. He looked down at the hand on his arm and capitulated. He was surprisingly docile as Gordon led him over to the sofa. The stairs down into the sunken lounge were conquered and Virgil lowered himself slowly onto the nearest couch.

“Now was that black with six sugars or white with seven?”

“Gordon.”

“Okay, okay, just going for that smile. I guess I should know better to attempt it before your twenty-sugar coffee.”

Virgil rolled his eyes. “Gords, please.”

“I’m going, I’m going.” And he went.

Leaving Virgil staring up at Scott.

The eldest brother lifted his chin a little. “Hey.”

“Hey, yourself. I still hate you.”

“Again with the hate, Virg, really?”

“So, did you enjoy listening to me waffle about fairies and pixies? Or did I sing the entirety of Gilbert and Sullivan this time?”

“None of the above.” Scott sighed. He was doing that a lot lately. “Do you really think I care what you do when under the influence of necessary medication, Virgil? You were in pain. something you put yourself through for me, incidentally. Do you really think I would find it funny?”

Virgil looked away. “Gordon would.”

“No, he wouldn’t, and you know it.” Scott stood up and walked around the desk, stepping down into the sunken lounge to take a seat opposite his brother. “You have no reason to be embarrassed at all.”

“Easy for you to say, all you ever do is fall asleep.”

“Virgil.”

“What?”

Gordon bounded up the stairs, coffee in one hand and a bottle of pills in the other. He had a water bottle under one arm. “Here you go, oh great wounded hero.”

“Shut up, Gordon.” The coffee floated into the man’s hand like magic and was immediately being poured into his face, no doubt as black and as sugarless as it could be. “Oh, god, thank you.” The moan was almost obscene. But then Virgil’s relationship with coffee was more powerful than anything lust could provide. “Perfect.” His eyes were closed and there was an actual half-smile on the man’s face. Scott rolled his eyes towards Gordon who was sporting a goofy grin.

“Don’t forget your pills.”

“Coffee first.”

“The two of you may need to get a room.” A smirk. “And I’m not referring to Scott in this relationship.”

“Thank you, Gordon. Now leave me and my coffee in peace.”

“Yesssh, massster.”

“Oh, god.”

“I’m leaving, I’m leaving.” He eyed Scott, and for just a moment all humour vanished from his expression. He frowned, his eyes darting in Virgil’s direction. Scott acknowledged him with a twist of his lips. His brother turned and yelled towards the stairs. “Hey, Alan, I’m hungry, wanna come with me and Grandma to the mainland for some Italian?”

There was a resounding ‘yes!’ from the lower floor as Gordon waltzed out.

Virgil didn’t appear to have noticed, still worshipping his coffee.

“Aren’t you going to go with them?” Those brown eyes were questioning him. Obviously, Virgil was more aware than he appeared.

“No, they’ll bring back takeaway. Brains is still in his lab and needs to surface sometime.”

“And?”

“And what?”

“What did you want to talk about without the others around?”

Scott stared at him. “Take your medication, Virgil.”

The coffee cup was lowered to the side table quietly.

The pills were ignored.

“What’s going on, Scott?”

-o-o-o-

“Mr Tracy, you have changed your plea to guilty.”

Scott stood up and faced the judge. “Yes, sir.”

“Do you believe that you are guilty of assaulting Mr Langstrom Fischler?” The same Fischler who was now holed up in the building’s lock up.

“Yes, sir.”

“Do you believe you deserve punishment?”

In the corner of his eye, Jack Dunning shot to his feet, but he was unable to say anything procedurally.

Scott swallowed, but held his perfect military stance. “No, sir.”

“Why?”

He drew in a breath. “What I did was wrong, sir. It was a moment of emotional release that I should not have allowed myself. However, no punishment you could give me would equate to what punishment today has been.”

“Explain.”

He couldn’t help but glance in Virgil’s direction. His brother’s eyes were wide. “I have had to watch my brother suffer through his injuries today to support me. I wish no more than to protect him and never have I failed so badly. Honestly, sir, you could not do worse.”

The judge stared at him.

“I could take that as a dare, young man.” Scott’s future hung in the balance. “But I agree.” His stomach dropped. “It was a stressful situation, you were injured and little damage was done, and, I say to this court, the world was possibly improved.” There was a gasp from the back of the room.

“Mr Scott Tracy, you are ordered to pay any medical bills associated with Mr Fischler’s nose bleed and his court costs.”

There was silence.

“This case is closed.” The gavel dropped.

-o-o-o-

“They have discovered that Fischler was indeed building weapons. The GDF have moved in on several depots and seized various weapons. Langstrom and Perce are imprisoned, however his sister is missing. Apparently, she was the mastermind of it all.” Scott shrugged. “Which is not hard to believe considering the lack of mind in the rest of the family.”

“Missing? You’re kidding.”

“No, I’m afraid not. I’m sorry.” He stood and hurried over to sit beside Virgil. “You don’t need to worry. Kayo is out there already. Penny’s on it. They will find her.”

Virgil rubbed his face. “I’m not worried, Scott. I’m just tired.”

Scott sat back a little. “Understandable. Take your medication.”

“Yes, Mom.” But Virgil didn’t move. “This doesn’t affect our operations, you know.”

Scott straightened. “It should.”

“It doesn’t.”

“Virgil-“

“Scott, no one is going to die because of those bastards, you hear me?” And Virgil was in his face.

“No-one.”

-o-o-o-

The Tracys left the courthouse amongst another flock of holocams and rude questions. There was no arrowhead this time, simply a huddle of brothers around Virgil hunched in the middle. A car was ordered to the front door and Kayo stormed through the press wielding her hostile expression like a weapon.

Scott helped Virgil into the car, wincing himself at the man’s pained gasps. He set him up between himself and Gordon. John, Alan and Kayo sat opposite. By the time the car started moving, Virgil was already falling against Scott’s shoulder, taking the pressure off his injured right side.

With Scott free to go, it was decided that they would pick up their belongings and head home immediately. Scott stayed in the car with Virgil while John supervised their rooms and luggage. Fifteen to twenty minutes after arriving at the hotel, they were packed and heading to the airport and Tracy Two.

Virgil was asleep on Scott’s shoulder.

Three blocks out from the airport, a car ran a red light and barrelled into the front fender of the limo, throwing it into oncoming traffic.

-o-o-o-

“Get out of the car.”

Scott blinked, momentarily confused. What?

“I said get out of the car!”

And the screaming registered. There were people screaming. His head kicked into gear.

Emergency. Respond.

A gun was stuck through the window pointing at him. He frowned. No, pointing at Virgil.

“I said, get out of the damned car!”

His brother was moving slowly, looking as dazed as Scott felt. Scott stepped in front of him, pushing the door open and climbing out first. He shut it behind him and blocked its access, preventing his brother from emerging. The limo lay in a mess of stalled traffic, its front end mangled by a sedan.

The man holding the gun was Perce Fischler, Langstrom Fischler’s brother.

“What do you want?”

“I want your brother.” It was snarled and spat.

“Why?”

“Because of what he has done.”

“What has he done?”

“He has ruined everything.” The man shot crazed eyes at Scott. “You’ve ruined everything.” The gun rose.

And was suddenly airborne, a blur of blue grey IR uniform in its place. There was a yelp and Kayo had him on the ground, her knee in his back. She whispered in his ear. “You think my brothers caused trouble, you have no idea what I could do to you.” A couple of cable ties disabled the man and Kayo stood over him, obviously restraining herself from physically injuring him further.

Brothers? And Scott was flinging open the car door. Virgil collapsed into his arms yelling at him. John was clambering over the hood of the car, Gordon was yelling for assistance for the driver, and suddenly Alan was beside Kayo asking her if she was alright.

“Scott, are you okay?” Virgil was struggling to stand up.

“I think I hit my head again.”

“Damn. C’mere.” And Virgil was reaching for him. There were sirens, more yelling, more questions. He was so damned tired of all of it.

Virgil was yelling at someone.

He just wanted to go home.

Things became clearer as time passed. By the time Alan took the controls of Tracy Two, apparently after Virgil had yelled at enough people, reality was beginning to reassert itself.

“Is everyone okay?”

“Oh, the dazed prince awakes.”

“Shut up, Gordon.” Virgil reached over and touched his arm. “Everyone is fine. You were the only injury, bar a few bruises for the driver. How are you feeling?”

Scott blinked. “Better. Things were a little fuzzy for a bit there.”

“It’s only a mild concussion. I figured you would want to make it home tonight.”

“You figured correctly.” The plane turned and began its descent.

“Tracy Airways asks you to fasten your seatbelts for landing.” Alan’s voice was full of forced cheerfulness.

-o-o-o-

There was silence in the room for several moments.

“Are you going to take your medication?”

“Are you going to stop nagging me?”

“Only if you take your medication.”

“Fine.” Virgil poured a couple of pills into his palm and threw them into his mouth, downing them with a gulp of water. “There, done. Happy?”

“I’ll be happy when you can move without flinching.”

Virgil sighed. “I’m okay, Scott.”

“No, you’re not. Take your damned medication and keep me sane, please.”

His brother didn’t respond, but there was a touch of guilt in his eyes.

Scott’s shoulders slumped. “Hell of a day yesterday.”

Brown eyes caught his. “Yeah.”

“I’m sorry you had to go through that.”

“It was necessary.”

“No, it was stupid. If I hadn’t hit the idiot, you could have stayed in bed for the day.”

“If you hadn’t hit the idiot, he wouldn’t have gotten what was coming to him.”

Scott shrugged. “It’s just that you had to pay the price.” He looked up and caught Virgil’s eyes. “I am so sorry.”

His brother looked away a moment. “I’d do far more if necessary, Scott, you know that. What you said to the judge...I do appreciate it.” He paused. “Just one thing. Perhaps think before you act a little more in the future?” Quietly. “This isn’t the first time.”

Scott swallowed. “I know.”

Silence fell again.

“Virgil.”

His brother looked up at him in query, his brow furrowing. “Yes?”

“You said some things last night.”

“Oh, goddamnit! I knew it! Did I propose? Disclose my deepest fears? What the hell did I say this time?”

Scott swallowed. “More the second of the two.”

A blink. “I what?”

“You appeared to be afraid of losing me.”

“Oh.”

“I’m not going anywhere, you know.”

Virgil didn’t answer.

“And if I did, you would make a brilliant commander of International Rescue.”

His brother stood up with a groan and turned away. “Not going to happen.”

“What?”

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Virg-“

“No, Scott. I know the drugs give all and sundry access to both my soul and my stupidity, but that doesn’t mean I have to bare it willingly.” He slowly made his way up the steps out of the lounge.

Scott shot to his feet and followed, placing his hand on his brother’s uninjured arm. “Please, Virgil, if not to me, talk to someone.”

The injured man turned awkwardly to face him. “What the hell did I say to you?” He frowned. “You’re scared.”

“I’m worried.”

Virgil took a step towards him. “No, you’re scared, Scott. I can see it in your eyes.”

“I’m worried about you. Promise me you will talk to someone.”

“I will. You know I do.” And he did know. Virgil treated his mental health seriously, just like he did the rest of his body. Perhaps yesterday was just the result of circumstances.

Regardless, Scott gently wrapped his arms around his brother and embraced him. “Look after yourself.” He tightened his arms just slightly. “And thank you so much for being my brother.”

Virgil returned the hug awkwardly. “Scott, are you okay?”

Scott dropped his forehead onto Virgil’s shoulder, “Couldn’t be better.”

-o-o-o-

FIN.

[margarethelstone]

Once Mine: Chapter 3 - We’d Known Her First

Yes I want to grow yes I want to feel Yes I want to know show me how to heal it up Heal it up

fanfiction.net / AO3 / wattpad

The night was cool and bright. The Moon was hanging high, lightening the quiet homesteads of all the Vikings, currently preparing to sleep after the whole day of work. Pale beams disappeared in thresholds and niches, while the shadow with its distinct lines showed their edges and curves. Every now and then, silence was interrupted by dragon rumbles and not so cordial reproofs of their owners.

On the top of a platform, a still remaining relict of the past war against the dragons, a fire was set, burning with a small but steady flame. The group of young people that sat quietly around it, certainly did not intend to go back home any time soon. For the leaders of the Dragon Academy there was no such term as too late.

“I’m warning you,” Snotlout spoke, pointing at Tuffnut with his stick, on which the remains of a roasted chicken could be seen. “You’ll do something like this one more time, and I’ll personally rip your head off.”

“Yeah...” The other boy didn’t even glance at his prosecutor. “Just like yesterday.”

“And the day before that,” his sister added.

“And every other time...” Fishlegs pointed out with scepticism.

The whole gang peered at Snotlout, not even trying to conceal their amusement.

“Actually, you say that every single time you get shot," Tuff summed up. "And there is no real consequence to it."

“Exactly!” Ruffnut revolted. “You could tie him to a mast with his head down, and ship him off into the storm. Or lock him up in some dark dirty den, face to face with a Changewing, and a Changewing only. That would be something.”

“Dirty den. Brr.” Tuffnut shivered. “But I like the mast thing – put it one the list before we forget it.”

“Excuse me?” Snotlout looked around with a reproach. “Doest anyone care for what I really mean?”

“Truth is, you’ve been threatening him since forever and you have never fulfilled any of those threats. Don’t expect him to start caring for them now.” As usual, Fishlegs was answering his friend calmly, glancing at him a bit derisively. At the same time, Snotlout was far from being calm.

As usual.

“You don’t understand a thing, you mutton heads! How are we supposed to be an authority for those kids, if we’re making things hot for each other inside the team?”

The twins looked at one other, apparently enjoying themselves; Fishlegs sighed, unconvinced. Eret, who’d remained silent until now, lifted his eyes, examining the preceding speaker carefully.

“If we think of being an authority as of our main goal, Snotlout does have a point. But I’m not sure this is what it’s all about.”

“Hold on a second,” Tuffnut protested unexpectedly. “Didn’t you command this way yourself? You know, don’t mess with the leader, and stuff?"

“I did, and that’s why I know what I’m talking about.” The former Dragon Trapper had no intention of withdrawing. “That was different. My mercenaries were all adults, but I was the only one to answer before Drago. So those men really had nothing to say – about anything.”

He fell silent, pondering. “It’s not the same with those kids. They need to learn to make decisions on their own, because they’ll be the ones responsible for them.”

“And how is that connected to the authority at all?” Snotlout asked.

“Only that’s it’s not the authority we should be focusing on right now.”

Fishlegs cleared his throat. “As much as I hate to say it, I think Snotlout may be up to something. Sorry, Eret," he muttered tentatively. "Even if he's only partially right."

“Ha!” the short Viking called with a triumph in his voice. “Of course I… Wait, what?”

“It doesn’t often happen, but I have to agree. Partially," Fishlegs continued, sounding a little more assertively. “If we want our future Riders to make a tight team, they should perceive us as one; that’s the first thing to start with. And as it comes to taking the initiative, there’s no need to hurry. I don’t think we should pattern ourselves upon Drago and his soldiers -" On that point, he spoke to Eret directly. "- But you have to admit, some of his methods can actually work. Remember that those kids have just started their training; some of them have never ridden a dragon. They’re learning, Eret. From us. So, if this training is supposed to end with any good results, it’s better if they think of us as well as possible.”

“You want them to think we are free from any faults?” The Trapper slightly raised his eyebrows.

“That’s something no one could achieve. And certainly not with this squad.” Fishlegs smiled under his nose. “Besides, it would be rather dumb to pretend we have no defects, but then again, why would we give them the entire list at once? Maybe… you shouldn’t know everything about your leader, not at the beginning, at least. Keeping a proper distance can also do some good, to both of the parties.”

“Sounds awfully like Hiccup.”

There was something in Tuff’s words, that made his comment resonate with scorn – but what was really there, was a strong feeling of grudge.

Silence descended, while the Riders lowered their heads and looked away. Each and every of them tormented themselves with the matter of their young Chief, who’d seemed not to remember he’d been a member of this group himself once. As the time had gone by, they’d started to doubt if Hiccup would have even called them his friends anymore. But none of them knew what could’ve been done about it.

“I’m so sick of him!” Snotlout yelled, eventually. “So sick! He pisses me off! He always has, but what he’s doing now, tops it all. He acts like if we weren’t even here. He may be a Chief, but Odin’s beard, it’s doesn’t mean he can be a jerk now!”

Noticing, that no one’s going to respond, he went on: “You’ve all heard Valka saying what’s happening to him. How this guy is functioning – he hardly eats, hardly sleeps, and Toothless has probably forgotten, that you can go for a flight and for once, not care about what other people need. But of course, we can’t do a bloody thing, ‘cause Hiccup doesn’t wish us to.”

“Why doesn’t he let us help?” Ruffnut asked, exceptionally quiet. “Why?”

“We all know, why,” Fishlegs answered bleakly, rolling a helmet in his hands. “It’s her. All that happens, happens because she is not here.”

“But there is even more to do now, right? He could use help more than ever,” the girl didn’t want to pull back.

“It’s not that easy...” Fishlegs dispelled her hopes, as he was patting his hand on Meatlug, lounging by his side. “He wants to work, because if he does, he has no time for thinking. Maybe it’s better for him to tire in a physical way, than agonise over remembering Astrid.”

Ruff looked rather unconvinced.

“Well, it doesn’t seem to work. He thinks of her all the time anyway.”

“True.”

For a moment, they remained silent, both occupied with the same thought. Eret put his fish down; for some reason, he completely lost an appetite for it.

“Everything here reminds him of her.” The Trapper gazed at the fireplace, slowly dying in the night. “When you guys were entertaining the recruits by setting each other on fire, I had a chance to fly around the Island. I saw him. He was checking a wall near the Academy and I think he heard your screams; I could’ve sworn, he smiled sincerely, and more, it lasted. But only for a while.”

“So it doesn’t really matter if we talk about her, or not. You know, don’t you dare to mention Astrid with Hiccup in sight rule. We worry for no reason.”

“That’s another thing!” Snotlout perked up again. “Even if there is a reason, why should we care? Why can’t we speak of her? Because he’s hurt? And what about us?”

Fishlegs opened his mouth, intending to defence their Chief, but closed it a second later. As for the young Jorgenson, he was thriving.

“He cared for her more than we did. I get it. They were closer. And… And maybe Hiccup really suffers more than all of us together, but for gods’ sake, he doesn’t have an exclusivity for mourning!”

He fell on a bench, exhausted, and still furious.

His companions saw no need to hurry with an answer; they let the silence take over again.

The Moon had shifted, changing the arrangement of the shadows. Somewhere in the distance, a dragon roared; in one of the houses, situated closer to them, a man knocked a wooden bowl, making it fall down with a crash. The sea was burbling gently – it was friendly and calm. Even Barf and Belch, who’d been too busy biting one another to notice anything, lay their heads on the ground, ashamed.

“He doesn’t even let us mention her,” Snotlout’s voice sounded more like a whisper now. “Like if she was never here.”

Sniffing, he fiercely wiped away a tear that had was suddenly slipped on his cheek; and he wasn’t the one be moved easily.

“It’s not exactly like that...” Fishlegs threw in conciliately. “But you’re right. He kinda appropriated the right for a grief.”

“As for me, sometimes I think there are no good memories of Astrid,” Eret mumbled.

Tuffnut confirmed. “Soon there won’t be any.”

The rest of the gang shook their heads.

“You know we’d known her first, right?” Ruff mooted a while later “We’d known her for longer, much longer. Whatever you may say, she’d hanged out with us since we’d been kids, but she practically hadn’t noticed Hiccup until the Training.”

“When she was trying to kill him,” her brother snorted with laughter. “Oh Thor, she was mad.”

Eret raised his head and glanced and his friends’ faces. He wondered how was it possible he’d not heard that part of the story before.

“You should’ve seen it,” Snotlout spoke directly to him. “The worst Viking Berk had ever seen came to the Dragon Training and not only did he survive the first days not getting eaten, but was actually doing quite well."

“Quite well?” Fishlegs protested. “He was doing much better than quite well. We were all playing  daredevil, but no one doubted – if there was anyone to win that Training, it was Astrid. Until Hiccup appeared and made dragons do whatever he wanted them to.”

Eret still looked rather sceptical about the whole thing.

“Nothing new. It was Hiccup, after all.”

“That’s the point. Short and skinny, he couldn’t even handle his axe properly.” Fishlegs smiled, embarrassed. “To tell you the truth, none of us had treated him seriously back then, Stoick especially. Astrid wasn’t any different.”

His friend observed that the twins peeked at each other knowingly. He could bet that the blonde girl sitting in front of him had something to add. Apparently, she abandoned the idea.

Fishlegs continued, “Anyway, as you may guess, Hiccup soon went from zero to hero. He was no longer a village doormat; he was a serious rival instead.”

“And nothing made Astrid as crazy-insane as a rival nearby. Trust me.” Snotlout grinned widely, and so did the oldest Viking.

“It’s always a competition, isn’t it?”

“Always,” the whole group replied harmoniously.

“No matter how long Hiccup would tell us otherwise,” Fishlegs made it complete. “It changes nothing.”

“If only you saw her while Heather first came here,” Ruff chuckled. “It was quite a show.”

“You mean the Heather?” The trapper picked up his fish, which was still lying next to him. He was more than happy to see the surrounding warm up again.

“The Heather...” Fishlegs responded quietly; then, after getting it together, he added, “Astrid… wasn’t especially fond of her during her first visit. She didn’t trust her; and as it soon turned out, she was right.”

“Heather kidnapped Stormfly.”

“Yes. But I suppose the thing that really made Astrid sick, was Hiccup paying so much attention to our guest.”

“Another hen in the rooster house, if you know what I mean,” Tuffnut nudged his sister, smiling halfwittedly.

“Astrid was...”

“The last thing I am is jealous!” the Thorston-Jorgenson duet squealed simultaneously, imitating their friend really badly. The gang burst out laughing, including Eret. Even though he couldn’t remember the situation, the very thought of the warrior saying anything remotely like this was enough to make him accompany the group.

“You know Hiccup would kill us, if he found out how we speak of her, right?” Still unable to stop laughing, Snotlout could hardly pronounce it properly. Again, he wiped his tears, this time caused by a sudden explosion of cheerfulness. “Oh gods, we’re dead.”

“Hiccup?” Tuff asked, cackling. “Just think of what Astrid would do, if she could hear us now!”

“Farewell, my friends, as the end is near!” his Twin summed up in the most theatrical way.

Another howl of laughter ripped the air, spreading around, slowly dying in silence. None of them stopped smiling.

“And that’s the crucial difference,” watching his friends’ faces, Fishlegs sighed. “Many months will pass until Hiccup learns to treat those memories like we do. If he ever -”

His speech was interrupted by a noise coming from the ground below. Seconds later, they all heard a thud on the stairs – someone was reaching the top with an unbelievable speed. The dragons raised their heads, intrigued by the arrival of a new member of a company, while the Vikings understood they were not being visited by a representative of their own kind.

The “steps” were ringing close, and soon the Riders saw what – or better said, who – was making them. A black dragon head appeared above the edge of a platform and green eyes sparkled, reflecting the flame of a dying fire.

“Toothless?! But what are you -”

[veridium]

For part two of the story, click here.

For the Commander and the Inquisitor, passing the days since their fight has proven difficult. Cullen seeks understanding, but Amarantha is unsure of whether she can be who he wants her to be, and meet him halfway across such an intrinsic divide. He finally finds her int he Undercroft, and the fragility of the situation is finally brought to bear. 

A few days had passed since their conflict in the courtyard. While the two had remained Professional, both Josephine and Leliana noticed – not that there was tension – how hard they were trying to remain not tense, not adversarial. It concerned them, especially Leliana, for the sake of the Council, but both trusted the two to resolve the issue on their own in due time. They both trusted the Inquisitor’s and the Commander’s dispositions to not care for toil or drama.

At least, they ardently hoped.

The afternoon light caught on Amarantha’s olive skinned face for just a moment as she paced through its path on the inside of the Undercroft. She was reading logistics from Dagna’s latest experiments with spirit Runes on the Mage staffs. Perhaps it was time to move onto something more lethal and flammable, for the sake of upcoming plans for expeditions to Emprise du Lion.

Amarantha wore her resting clothes, a hunter green coat embellished with silver accents, and slacks made of a thin but sturdy hide. Perhaps Deepstalker. Her hair was down, but the strands around her face were pulled back and pinned in the back. Thoughtfully, she flipped through the pages of papers.

The Undercroft door opened, and her gaze traveled and saw a robust stature of armor and fur. It was Cullen, of course, notoriously looking as if he were a brooding romance character. Amarantha’s chest stiffened. Perhaps it would be like all their other interactions the past several days: dismissive, but efficient.

“Your Worship, what do you think?” Dagna’s voice was heard from behind Amarantha. Her mind snapped back to business and she turned around.

“I think the progress is excellent, but I fear Emprise du Lion may call for more pyro. Harding’s initial reports from outside the region talk of peaks of ice and snow from their vantage point. The Mages and I would appreciate something to counteract whatever it is that lurks there,” she explained dutifully, folding the papers and setting them on the nearest table.

“Excellent. Fire…fire works…” Dagna remarked playfully. “I’ll get on that. When I’m done, you will be able to light up the mountain top like a sparkler flare,” she grinned gleefully.

Amarantha couldn’t help but smile softly at the Archanist’s vigor. “Very good, Dagna. You’re priceless,” she affirmed. “You should go get some of the lunch rations while they’re still there. I don’t want you overworking yourself without sustenance,” she said, leaning on one hip.

Dagna smirked. “Sera’s been sending me treats for two weeks now, but sure, perhaps some meat to undercut the immense amount of cookies.”

Danga took her work gloves off and walked up the stairs towards the door. Cullen had been standing and observing, waiting for the moment to approach the Inquisitor politely.

“Commander,” Dagna greeted as she walked past him. The door opened and closed behind her, leaving the two to consort alone.

Amarantha walked towards the railing of the Undercroft window. “I see your idea of a dimly-lit private meeting has come to fruition,” she remarked, placing her hands on the stone rail.

Cullen walked down the stairs, his heavy, anxious steps almost making the rhythm of marching drums they probably have muscle memory of.

“Inquisitor, if you have a moment,” he said, walking until he was about 10ft away, interested but respectful.

Amarantha looked over her shoulder and nodded solemnly.

“I’m sure you know what I wish to discuss, but, if you could let me have the floor before you give me your verdict, I’d be most grateful,” he said, eyeing her for some semblance of softness in her attitude.

Amarantha turned around, and sitting back on the stone, she crossed her arms. “Fine,” she replied.

Cullen cleared his throat, preparing for words he had pondered for hours and hours. Some he had kept with him since the moment she crossed him, others he had to carefully craft in order to get the message across. Maker only knew how it would all sound put together.

“Your Worship, I have contemplated what you said to me in the Courtyard. I understand that you come from a precarious position, not for your own actions, but for the context in wish you live. I, too, walk a path such as this. When I say that I think you are too big of a person to confine yourself to one or two dimensions of your identity, I’m speaking to myself as much as I am speaking to you. And for that, I wish to apologize. You do not deserve to fight both our rhetorical battles.”

Amarantha’s eyes narrowed, but not with anger or defensiveness. She wondered if this could be really it: a concession, from the Commander.

“So, on that front, you definitely have me. What I am still offended by is your double-standards. You say you cannot untie yourself from the experiences in which you’ve lived, but you expect me to counteract all of mine. I did not intent for our paths to be so antagonistic in quality, but here we are. We are leading one of the most important forces for change, for peace, in this Age,” his voice began to grow more passionate, more assured.

“Reducing me to something that I have worked hard to detach from, but still remain coercively related to, is beneath someone of your integrity and stature. I say this not to demean you, but to advise you, both as a Council member and a friend. You said yourself that we share something beyond our work for this cause. Is that worth nothing to you?” he opened the floor to her, not knowing what to expect. She could grow enraged and set this whole place on fire if she wished. No, Cullen, do not reduce her to a trope, he checked himself mentally. The anxiety was still there and they both knew it.

Amarantha sighed heavily, biting the side of her lip as she thought about what to respond with. The mannerism was alluring to Cullen, at the most inconvenient time. He looked away to preserve his intent to be cordial.

Finally, she stood back upright, and looked at him.

“Cullen, you are right in many ways. I am also sorry that this happened. It was irresponsible of me to provoke such an argument. I will take care not to do so again,” she took another tense breath. “As for your point about me judging you and your past, I hope you can understand that for me, the implicit power imbalance in our life paths compel me to feel defensive of my life and the lives of Mages here. You say I judge you harshly, and you are right. I do, and a lot of it comes from a visceral sense of injustice I have scarcely dealt with. Working with so many different people, with so many different agendas, has evoked a need to stick to my own convictions for the sake of being heard and not overwhelmed,” she spoke, her tone guarded.

“As you cannot blame me for your own inner struggle, I cannot blame you for mine. But this also means that for all intents and purposes, we are incompatible,” she walked closer to him, flanking him as she eyed his facial expression shift from one of hope to one of concern.

“Inquisitor—“

“You may call me Amarantha for this conversation, Cullen,” a warm response in an otherwise bleak moment.

“Amarantha,” he breathed, rubbing the back of his head. “You won’t even try? Surely there have been connections across politics and identities before that would be more abrasive than ours.”

Every nerve in her body railed against that assertion, yet her chest fluttered with weakness. It wanted to say yes, of course, we should try. But then, the instinctive flight or fight response from her mind also came into play. Her insides felt like a mess of conflicting emotions at war with each other over the fate of her heart and soul, something she felt only once before when she was named the Herald, and then the Inquisitor.

“Just because we can, doesn’t mean that we should,” she responded distantly.

“Amarantha, do not give me that response,” he said curtly, his chin lowering, gaze piercing back at her. Another heartbeat skipped.

She rubbed her forehead and circled around where she had been standing. “Then what, Cullen? We toss this all up in the air and see what lands on the right side? You are the one person I would trust to be strategic about something such as this. Where has your mind gone?” She was now arguing with him.

Cullen scoffed. He was running out of patience, not in an angry way, but in a way where he needed to stop talking and start showing.

“It has gone. You are right. And this is where it went.”

Swiftly, he closed in on her, arms going first to her waist and cinching her upper body into his. His lips went to her unexpecting ones, closed and sweet, but nevertheless hungry. She smelled of something deep and wild, like she grew herself out of a forest somewhere untouched.

Amarantha was dumbfounded. A nerve inside her knew what he was after as soon as he started his quick approach, but she didn’t move away. Her eyes closed once his lips were on hers. He was warm, strong, somewhere she could run to. A fortress within a fortress. Her arms wrapped around his neck, and for a moment, it was this. Coming undone.

She was relinquished to it, until something began to rumble inside of her soul. She knew this feeling, but she deeply wished it would return from whence it came. She tried to override it, but it kept growing. The flashbacks, the faces, the fury in the eyes of men. Her limbs, her bones, her muscles, all sought an escape route. Then, they took hold of her mind, and memories of violence flickered like firelight.

She moaned under her breath, and while it sounded from the outsider’s ears that she was simply engrossed in the kiss, it was really her trying to let it all go. Once and for all, for herself, for this one thing.

Please, please just let it be, she said to herself. It was a war of a Mage’s soul, fighting itself, for the sake of itself.

Her body began to tense, and Cullen picked up on the change. He began to pull away, but as soon as their lips lost contact, an exasperated roar escaped from her mouth.

Then, crash.

Both of them fell backwards but managed to catch themselves before falling. A shield of ice erupted mercilessly from the floor, spikes and growths of wild, crystalline white drawing the line between them. Amarantha’s chest breathed heavily, distraught and devastated. Cullen looked at her from over the barrier with alarm. “What is the meaning of this?” he asked urgently.

Tears began to well in her ember eyes. “Cullen!” she exclaimed, her hands going to her chest in a posture of defense and insecurity.

He was so confused. Why this, if she trusted him so? Is this what a Mage’s limit is? Is this what her limit was, after all this?

She looked down at her ice wall, the wall that mimicked itself from the one around her heart. It was majestic, but terrifying, like it always had been. She had used it on enemies, both dead and alive demonic and mortal, but never once did she predict using it on a would-be lover, and a long-proven friend. Something was wrong, organically so, beyond her will.

She managed to provisionally compose herself enough to say her peace, though the tears began to fall.

“Cullen, I am sorry. I am sorry I must reject you for the crimes of lesser men,” she cried, the crying in her voice reigning supreme.

Cullen exhaled. So it was, then. He would try one last, doomed time. “Amarantha , please,” he implored softly, reaching his hand over the ice blockade that was only as tall as their torsos.

Her eyes widened a bit as she eyed his hand. There is was, the grand symbolism of it all: his hand, his heart, across the line of where her identity could ensure survival. A part of her soul detested him for even suggesting such a choice.

She breathed, hands anxiously turning into fists.

“Cullen, I can’t. This, all of this,” she motioned towards him, the mess she had made, everything.

“This will be the end of me.”

Cullen’s resolve went along with her as she hurried herself out of the Undercroft, door resolutely slamming behind her. Perhaps it was for the best. Perhaps one day they would ironically laugh about the time she stomped on his heart, and how he probably stomped on hers in return. He knew of only one sure thing: that her actions had inspired him to continue pushing for understanding, even if it didn’t win him her love. It could win him justice.

Amarantha felt like she flew across the throne steps and to the door leading to her chambers. She had barely made it to the other side of the door, shutting it just as harshly as the Undercroft door, when she slammed her back against it and slid down to the floor. Tears streamed effortlessly now, but she was otherwise quiet. She hugged her knees like a terrified child, trying to calm herself. All she could see was the shards of ice erupting first within her eyes and then before them.

The kiss’s residual vibrations still on her lips.

The look in his eyes as she left.

We were doomed, always doomed, my friend, she lamented to herself. Better this way.

[neganisking]

The satellite outpost.

Been away for a while but I thought I'd drop a new chapter. Its a two parter and a continuation from my fic 'They found her in the woods ' with a slight change in timeline.

Negan x daughter with a season 7 plotline. Canon typical violence etc etc. Hope you enjoy!

Masterlist

--------------------

“Alright boys, last game then I’m calling it a fucking night. Y’all are makin’ me feel bad for takin’ your shit.”

Grace leaned back in her chair, stretching her arms above her head. An easy grin stretching across her features in the dimly lit game room.

With a snort Travis shook his head. “That’s cause you don’t want for nothin’ girl.”

He was right, she knew it, everyone knew it. Being Negan’s daughter had plenty of perks, not that she liked to take advantage of most of them. But if they weren't prepared to lose to her then they should have never taught her how to play poker in the first place.

“Way I see it, it’s your own fault for losing.”

“Yeah yeah. Just deal the fucking cards Wade.”

The men around her laughed as the older man obliged his request and started passing out the cards. Grace took another mouthful of her beer and glanced again out towards the hallway.

“Hilltop come back yet?”

Wade glanced up to her as he finished shuffling the deck. “Nah. They will though”

Nodding, she picks at the old sticker on the bottle, tipping her head away from Tony as he blows another stream of smoke into the room. “Still think it was a fucking stupid idea to make ‘em kill Gregory.”

It still felt strange to talk like that, the assertive brash language still seemed alien to her but she was learning to trust her gut to make decisions and lead on them. This was why she was living out at the satellite outpost, so she could learn. Thankfully Wade was a good sport and Hilltop was an easy provider. Sometimes things felt almost normal.

“Don’t worry your ass. I know what I’m doing.” While the atmosphere shifts a little, the smile on his face tells her he isn't the least bit bothered about her putting her nose in. It's one of the reasons why she liked being there so much, less pressure, less consequence. Hell, he even encouraged her to challenge him sometimes. She couldn't talk to ‘Negan’ like that. Not in front of the others at least.

“Yeah whatever. I just don’t see the point in killin’ a pushover like that.”

She knew that sometimes people just had to die. She wasn't a stranger to it on either side, that was the way the world worked now, but sometimes she couldn't help but think it was wasteful. There were only so many people left in the world and while a hell of a lot of them seemed to be in this corner of the world, it didn't make sense to just kill people willy nilly like that.

Chewing on a mouthful of pretzels, Wade shrugs like it was a simple decision. “He was short on his delivery. Not for the first time either, seems to me that he’s forgotten who we are.”

“True. And I’m not sayin’ they shouldn’t pay. Better ways to resolve it than killin’ three people though. Plus that great big pussy would roll over the second you showed up.”

Their card game had slowed to a stop now, the other saviours watching the back and forth between them both. She didn't mind. Being an open book was something her dad had said was important. Besides, there was something about her that the other saviours found ‘likeable’, so she figured she was doing something right at least.

“I know that. But he knew our agreement. Can’t let them think they can just pull shit like that whenever they feel like it then say sorry and it's suddenly okay again. Besides, I’ve got all you sorry shits to provide for and I can’t do that when they ain’t giving us what we’re owed.”

Checking her cards, she shrugged her shoulders with a non committal grunt. She wasn’t convinced but time would tell.

“You watch. Next delivery will be worth it.”

Huffing lightly Grace glanced at be older man. “Uh huh.”

The card game ended in a collection of groans. Grace laughed quietly, helping herself to more pretzels. To her right, Alderman aggressively threw his cards into the pile. “I'm out. This game ain't any fun.”

Travis shoved him playfully on the shoulder. “Don't be such a sore fucking loser.”

Getting to his feet, Tony stretched his arms up high, grunting. “Callin’ it a night. We gotta go back to Hilltop in the morning if they don't deliver anyway.”

Between them all, they packed away the cards and cleared the empty bottles to be taken back to the sanctuary later. Grace hung back to get the last of the empty bottles, not above doing her fair share.

“Get your ass to bed kid.”

Turning around she spotted Wade leaning against the doorframe. Rolling her eyes she turned back, grabbing her jacket from the chair. “Fuck you Wade.”

“You wish Sweetheart.” He replied easily, the running joke making them both chuckle. While her dad was getting laid almost every hour on the hour from a multitude of different people, everyone was too afraid of Negan to go anywhere near his daughter. She was more than happy going without sex but that didn’t mean she didn’t find the irony hilarious.

“Uh huh. That reminds me - did he ever tell you when he was coming?"

“Couple of days. There’s a new group that need breaking in so he’s gathering info and shit."

Grace nodded. She had expected her dad to arrive sooner than later. The radio silence between them had gone on longer than she had thought it would. If she was being honest she missed him, even if she could only handle small does of his showman exterior. At least she knew it was nothing personal if there was another group to see to. Shit happens.

"That’s fair I guess. Gives us time to deal with hilltop."

Wade nods, walking along with her through the metal corridors towards her room. "Exactly. I want this shit show over with before he gets here. Which reminds me. Are you goin’ back with your dad or are you gonna stick it out here. The whole time agreement bullshit is up."

Negan hadn't been happy when she initially approached the idea of her leaving the sanctuary. Not one bit. It took her months of persevering to get him to even consider it. She finally got him to agree to a limited trial run, on his terms of course.

In a way she understood. He had finally got her back after years of thinking she was dead, and in the sanctuary he knew where she was and that she was safe at all times. But she had felt so claustrophobic in there after traveling outside for years. Day to day living wasn't much fun either. She had felt so afraid of opening her mouth or doing the wrong thing to threaten the image and persona that was Negan himself. She didn't know how he'd managed to keep up the pretence for so long. It was exhausting. He told her it was necessary, that it kept him and now her safe too, but she wasn't so sure.

"Yeah I’ll stay out here for a bit longer if he’ll let me. It ain’t so bad. Plus I don’t need to deal with his ‘wives’ out here."

Wade barked a laugh, tipping his head back. "I’ll tell him you said that."

"Go right a-fucking-head. He knows how I feel about it."

She was glad that her dad hadn't tried suggesting that those women were her step mothers, especially seeing as Amber was only a couple of years older than she was. The way she saw it was that it was just sex. They were getting a better life - something like that - and he was getting laid. Another status kinda bullshit thing. Some of them she didn’t mind, like Frankie, but she found it hard to be nice to them all like he had wanted.

"You’re one lucky bitch y'know that?"

She knew. How could she not know? She might not always be in his good graces, but Grace never had to worry about her life being on the line when it came to her father’s mood swings. She didn’t agree with it but a selfish part of her was glad she didn’t have to be scared for her life anymore. She had had enough of that to last her the next three lifetimes. True to his word her father kept her safe, and she wasn’t about to take that for granted.

Stopping outside the door to her bedroom, Grace sighed. “So everyone keeps telling me. Goodnight Wade."

"Night kid."

It had felt like her head had only just hit the pillow when the unmistakeable sound of gunfire jolted her awake. As she hastily pulled on her boots, Grace hoped that it was just another nightmare. Feeling sick to her stomach she grabbed her gun and unlocked her door.

Peering into the hall, Grace could tell that the sounds were coming from the corridor below. Moving quickly she made her way towards the stairwell, all too aware of the lack of saviours in the corridor with her. She decided that she must have slept through the initial fight somehow and they were down there already. She had to help them.

“Grace!”

Jumping from the sudden shock with adrenaline building up inside her, Grace span around to find Wade looking worse for wear. With blood sprayed across his previously clean shirt and across the left side of his face she could only hope that it wasn’t from someone she knew – though from the noises below she knew it was unlikely.

“The fuck is going on!?” She couldn’t keep the uncertainty and fear from her voice despite how angry and determined she felt.

Gripping her by the crook of her arm, Wade began to draw her back away from the stairwell. “Thank god you had the sense to lock your door. We’re being attacked kid, get your ass back in your room!”

Yanking her arm away from him Grace scowled, channelling as much of her father’s persona as she could muster. She needed answers and she needed a plan. “The hell I am. Where is everyone?”

Wade blinked at her, drawing himself up with a sigh before shoving hard at the door beside him. “Bastards have been killin’ us in our sleep.”

Eyes widening, Grace peered into the room as the door swung open. Alderman and Travis were still in their bunks, they would both look fast asleep if it weren’t for the crimson flowing from their ears. They were dead.

Grace’s heart sank. “What the fuck?”

“Get back in your fucking room Grace. Now.”

Dismissing his withering words Grace tried her best to work out a plan. They needed more fire power. The armoury needed protecting if it hadn’t already been taken, not to mention the medical supplies. Was this hilltop? Maybe they underestimated them after all. “No. No I need to help. You’re hurt.” She added, noticing how he had one hand clamped down on a blood soaked patch of fabric at his side.

Wade shook his head as they both flinch from what sounds like an explosion below. “None of our lives will be worth shit if you get hurt kid and you know that. You need to stay safe.”

He meant from Negan of course, and maybe he had a point, but she wasn’t about to sit this one out. Her people needed her. Wasn’t that the whole point of learning the ropes? “But -”

Cutting her off as the sound of the fighting starts to become louder, Wade grabbed her wrist and hauled her back towards her room. “-No fucking time. Move!”

Before they had chance to reach her room the shouting finally made it’s way up the stairs to their corridor, filling the air with panic and anger. Grace found herself being shoved into the next available room falling to the floor from the force of it. Springing to her feet Grace turned to protest, too late to stop the door slam shut leaving her alone in the darkened space. Standing on the tips of her toes to look out the small wired glass window, Grace snarled, yanking on the door against his grip. “Wade!”

The distinct sound of the lock was made out above the noise filling Grace with panic. “No - No no no - don’t lock it!”

She could just see enough through the window to watch the man slip the key into his shirt pocket before drawing his gun level and firing a couple of rounds to some unknown entity at the other end of the hall. “I’ll come back. I promise. Just get down and stay fucking quiet!”

Watching helplessly as he slips down towards the stairwell and out of sight Grace slams her fist against the door. “Don’t you lock me in Wade you fucking – shit!”

Coming down from the small window Grace turned to face the room. Maybe she could find something in here to get the door open or to defend herself a bit better than just a pistol and a knife if they were to get in. Whoever they were.

Her heart sank as she realised he had put her in a linen closet, full of nothing but racks of bedding and blankets. Useless.

Sliding down the door to sit against the cold floor, the echoing gunfire made her skull throb. Keeping a tight grip on her gun, Grace listened out for anything that could tell her what was going on on the other side of the door.

All she could do was wait.

[b-afterhours]

Sympathy For The Devil (part 10)

summary: Set in 1978, Bill a young yet accomplish cop takes on the crime in New York City. Nervous yet excited to take on his first big task at his new department and prove himself. He soon finds out his partner is everything he had least expected.

warnings: strong language, mentions of drugs, sexual acts

author’s note: this is it! an epilogue will be posted later! thank you so much for reading this lil story it means so much to me that you all enjoyed it! 

playlist: Hey Hey What Can I Do - Led Zeppelin, It's Too Late - Carole King and of course Sympathy for the Devil - The Rolling Stones

also if you’re seeing this for the first time you can read part one here and if you need to catch up on previous chapters go here.

tags: @kikilikes @itsbillskarsgard @imaginingyournotsolikelyfuture @billieskars @bskarsgardfilth @ambeazyyy @the-lonelyon3  @biskarsgards​

Bill turned on the radio on his nightstand in his bedroom while Star dressed down in the bathroom. He slipped under his covers after turning the overhead light off. His head was spinning a bit, he regretted overdoing it at Otto's. Just the night lamp was on which Star covered with a silk scarf creating a soft glow in the room. The gentle chords to Hey, Hey, What Can I Do by Led Zeppelin began to softly play on the radio when Star stepped out in her worn in pink nightgown that hung too low on her breasts. Bill remembered when he saw her in it the first night they spent together, how he quickly darted his eyes away. This time he didn't.

"Turn it up," she said, "this song's about me, you know."

"Oh really?" Bill lightly laughed. "You know Robert Plant? Can you introduce me?"

"Shhh," she laughed with him. "Just listen." She stood at the foot of his bed, swaying her hips with her arms above her head. The gown lifted showing off her black lace panties slightly. "Everybody's with the one they love. I walk the town, keep a-searchin' all around... Lookin' for my street corner girl!" She playfully sang with conviction and then plopped right in bed right next to Bill laughing with him. "Oh goodness..." she yawned. "I'm drunk."

"Do I need to get the bathroom bin?" He joked, reaching over to turn the volume dial down.

"I think I can hold it tonight," she threw an arm around him, snuggling into his side without reservation. The music faded to dead air on the radio. Star looked up curious about the silence at first when she noticed Bill staring right at her.

He lightly stroked her cheek with his free hand before slipping it through her hair, into the dark inch roots, pulling her lips to his. He knew it was out of line but it was what he wanted. What he needed. When he felt her kiss him back, he let himself relax. Her body molded to the side of him. So he ran his hand down her body, wrapping a hand around the back of her smooth thigh, gently pulling her on top of him. They were wrapped up in each other, feverishly kissing. Biting, sucking and licking. Bill broke off from her lips kissing along the soft skin of her neck. He lightly nipped at her skin, a low moan hummed in her throat. Her heat nimbly grinding on the erection growing in his sweats.

"Bill," she said breathlessly. She felt his hands travel along her back to softly grip her bottom. "Bill." She said snapping out of it then. She couldn't do this. "Bill, stop," she said assertively putting her hands on his chest pushing him back. "N-not like this..."

He drew his hands away from her body. "Did I do something?" He said apologetically.

"No... we, we're drunk," she said sliding off him. "I'm sorry," she bit her lip.

"No, it's my fault. I'm sorry."

"It's okay. Really..." she said trying to steady her breathing. "Let's... get some sleep," she put her arm around him, to how they originally were.

Bill took a deep breath and nodded. He reached for the lamp and the radio turning them off. "Goodnight," he said.

Star found his lips in the dark and kissed him tenderly. "Goodnight..."

Bill must have stayed up for an hour listening to Star's evening breathing as she slept. Not to be a creep but to focus on anything else that wasn't the erection he had gotten. He hadn't gotten laid in so long that it just wasn't letting down. He reached down to flip his dick into the waistband so that it was no longer tenting his sweats. It was embarrassing how juvenile it made him feel. Star was right to stop him, they were drunk, it should be done with more thought. Before he drifted to sleep he looked down at Star, just thinking how thankful he was that he had met her out of the thousands of people in the city. ...

When Bill woke up he was alone. The bathroom light shone from under the door and he figured Star was in there. He sat up, taking a cigarette out of his pack and checking the time. He lightly groaned when he saw that it was half past one in the afternoon. He never slept in this long. Setting his cigarette in the ashtray he swung his legs out of bed, lazily getting up to get coffee. He stopped right at the door noticing that Star's bags weren't there like they were before. He turned his head towards the bathroom and called her name.

"Star?" He said again knocking on the door. "Are you in there?" He twisted the doorknob and peeked his head inside. It was empty.

The whole apartment suddenly was too quiet, too cold, too lonely. He walked out of his bedroom, only to see Minx sleeping on the couch. It was just them in the apartment. In realization, his heart sank. Star was gone. He ran his hands over his face, knowing he fucked up last night. What was he thinking? He wanted to believe she was coming back by then again why would she take everything she owned with her? What was he going to do? He had no clue where to find her. He sighed in defeat when he entered the kitchen feeling like the loneliest man on earth. Underneath, the pot was a folded sheet of yellow legal paper, waiting for him. A twenty dollar bill fell out to the floor when he unfolded it. He left it by his feet to read the girly cursive font she wrote in.

"Coffee's ready to be made, just turn it on. See you around B'. And here's a twenty for the trouble of letting me stay with you. XO."

She signed the bottom of the paper with a large drawn star with A.E. written in the middle of it. And that was it...

Bill took his mug of black coffee and plopped down right next to Minx, petting her. Feeling confused and the loss setting in. He read the note over and over again. It was so short he convinced himself there was a secret code within the text. There wasn't, she said all she had to say to him. He ran a finger over her initials, A.E., Angela Esposito. She didn't allow him to call her that and he began to think maybe she really didn't find a friend in him as he did with her. Maybe... being in small confines with her over the weeks he'd just convinced himself that he liked her. He closed his eyes, resting his head back on the couch.

"Fuck me..." he sighed. ...

Bill spent his evening all day at Otto's tipping back drink after drink in the far dark corner of the bar. It's Too Late by Carole King played from the jukebox. The lyrics just depressing him further into his pathetic bender. Lloyd flashed the bar lights letting everyone know that there were 30 minutes left to drink their beers and pay up before close. Bill reached for the last smoke in his pack lighting it. He had trouble lining the flame of his zippo to the end of the cigarette, he was seeing double. Lloyd flashed him a look of concern and a frown at the young man's state. He never saw a man look so sad.

"Ay, Bill." Lloyd walked over to him. "You doin' alright, kid?"

"Yeah..." he shrugged.

"And your little lady? Take it something didn't work out?"

Bill sighed. "Who knows." He didn't want to talk about her, she was the reason he was drunk and sulking.

"Alright... uh 20 more minutes, kid." Lloyd backed off.

Bill sat there thinking about what was so wrong with him that Star had left like that? She kissed him too. There was nothing one-sided about their feelings at that moment. Sure, they were from different worlds but it didn't change what they went through together. He thought back further, about how all the men in her life hadn't been so great. Her father abandoned her, the boy she moved to New York with hit her, her pimp was her pimp but he also was unfaithful. Bill was unlike any of them yet she still left. As if he were simply nothing.

He shook his head. There had to be something wrong with him and he was getting frustrated as to what exactly. His ex did the same thing to him and those ugly wounds were stinging him again. It was best if he forgot about Star altogether. He aggressively stubbed out his cigarette before reaching for his wallet to pay for his tab. He took the 20 dollar bill Star had given him "for the trouble" and along with it came out the photo booth pictures they had taken just yesterday. When everything was still all right. He sighed. And suddenly all the trauma he had gone through in the past weeks came crashing down on him. He tried to choke down the lump in his throat with the last of his beer but it wasn't working. He tossed the twenty down on the bar and stomped out into the early dark of night. His eyes teary as he took long strides to get to his apartment close by. The cold wind felt icy on his wet cheeks as tears escaped his eyes. The flurries of New York City's first snow sticking to his face. He paused by the apartment buildings stoop angrily wiping his cheeks. In a fit, he kicked the aluminum garbage cans next to him. He huffed, he felt foolish and rejected and alone. Utterly alone. ...

Bill was back home for the holidays, he spent Christmas with his rowdy family and now he was out with old friends at a small New Years Eve party. He hadn't told anyone about his job situation when someone asked he lied about the cruiser and NYPD uniform he still didn't have. And when his friends asked about the New York City scene he didn't even bother to tell them about the crazy disco parties he'd been too. He didn't want to think about any of it, he was in Newark to forget. It was the only reason he decided to come back.

He walked out to the snowy deck for a moment to himself. It was a party but was it? Bill had gone real parties and there wasn't petty gossip and judging like he felt being here. Just fun, plain heinous fun. But he kept that to himself. Star suddenly came to mind. He'd be lying if he said she didn't cross his mind often. But he thought about her and how if she were with him at this lame party she would let them all know it. He smiled to himself as he took a deep drag of his cigarette. He hadn't seen or heard from her since they parted. He even had a cab driving around for him one night hoping to spot her walking about but he only ended up despondent and alone at Otto's again that evening. He hoped she was warm where ever she was, maybe she went to California after all? He didn't know. He didn't even know what kind of shit show station he was going back to in East Harlem. He had gotten a call from Pat right before he left for Christmas, letting him know that he was reinstated for the new year. It was good news but Bill didn't really care if he had a job or not frankly. Stan's involvement in the coke trade really shook things up. Even shook him. The income from work was good but it all felt dirty. He couldn't help but feel jaded about it all now.

When he walked back into the house to join the party he made a beeline to the kitchen for a cold beer. And he saw her. His ex-girlfriend. The ex-girlfriend that had broken his heart a year ago now. He felt sick, he wanted to flee but it was too late. She turned her head and smiled like what she did to him never happened. His stomach knotted.

"Bill! My goodness! How have you been?"

"Natalie," he gave her a curt nod. "Uh I'm just getting a beer," he said reaching inside the fridge dismissing her question. He just wanted to get the hell away from her, he didn't need the small talk. And honestly, he didn't care about what she had to say.

"Bill," she said again right before he walked out of the kitchen. "You look like you're doing good... I-I like your hair." She said nervously. Bill had kept up with the haircut Star had given him. He had grown to like it. "I heard about your new job..."

"Yeah, well thanks I guess," he took a hearty sip of his beer.

"How's New York City?" She pressed on. She could tell how uncomfortable he was as he shifted his weight between feet but she didn't care.

"Um, it's New York City, ya know?" He shrugged, his lips shaped to a hard line.

"You make friends fast there?" She swept her light brown bangs from her eyes.

God, the first time he'd seen her and she was fishing to see if he was miserable without her. He was. But it wasn't her doing. "Well, lot's of people to meet in the city. And yeah I got a friend."

"Oh..." she lightly frowned.

"What?" He narrowed his eyes.

"It's a girl isn't it? I can see it when you said you had a friend. I know that look."

Bill sighed. "What do you want from me?"

"It's just good seeing you is all? But also I wanted to say, I'm sorry, Bill. I really am."

"Sorry?" He scoffed. "Well, that's real fuckin' nice of you to say, Natalie."

"Excuse me?" She said offended by his tone.

He had no idea what came over him. He never talked to women this way, he usually didn't have it in him to do so. No matter how angry he got. "And I am doin' good too. A-and without you too." He added.

"I know you're hurt, Bill. I shouldn't have left you like that... I was really outta line-"

"It was outta line. But I'm over it. Just drop it."

"Fine... I guess I deserve that," she bit her lip. "I-is she nice?"

"Who?"

"Your friend." She accompanied her words with air quotes.

"She is... She's really nice and caring. And funny, and loud, and crazy but it all makes perfect sense to me. And she's, she's beautiful. From her scuffed up gogo boots to the very top of her little-bleached head. Everything. Everything about her, I-I love the bad just as much as I love the good things about her..." he paused in shock that he was confessing everything he'd ever thought about Star out loud. And to his ex-girlfriend in a kitchen on New Year's Eve? He couldn't believe it but it was all true. He had fallen in love with her during their time together. And it was apparent to him now how hopelessly he fell. He just hadn't quite admitted it to himself until now. Too late. Sure they kissed but since she left him hanging he chalked it up to being in the heat of things. That wasn't true though because he felt her kiss him back. He felt something there. Something he hadn't felt, not even with his ex like he thought. It was real. It was love.

"She sounds..."

"Perfect." Bill finished her sentence. But it was his sentence.

"Yeah..." Natalie nodded with glassy eyes. She picked up her beer and walked passed him with her head down.

He watched her whisper to some guy with long straight shoulder-length hair who was sitting on the couch smoking a joint. Her new guy most likely and they left. He thought how technically Star had walked out on him too in a sense but he felt a little chunk of hope telling him he'd see her again someday.

Bill stayed behind in the kitchen chugging his beer before grabbing another and joining the party. He counted down the last seconds of 1978 with his friends. Star was on his mind the whole time while everyone cheered in the new year. It was 1979 and all he wished for was that Star had finally found happiness. He hoped she was new, like she wanted. She deserved it. ...

Month's had passed and spring was on the horizon. Bill was driving his squad car in his crisp uniform. He got what he ultimately wanted when he first moved to the city. But the girl that got him there would still run through his mind. Behind the wheel of the squad car, he'd secretly hope he'd spot her while patrolling. Sometimes he'd drive by Star's old turf hoping to see her but also hoping not to either. He was always relieved to see it empty, another girl was working the corner now. Maybe she really did go to California?

"Ay, let's stop for some chop cheeses, will ya?" His partner Jason said patting his grumbling belly. "But I tell ya the bodega I go to makes 'em the best, let's go there."

"Sure," Bill said skeptically but he was open to new places.

Bill and Jason leaned on the grill of their cruiser eating their hot chopped cheeses. It was probably the best sandwich he had but he wasn't going to admit it to Jason. He was loyal to his favorite bodega. Jason was nice enough but they often struggled to find things to talk about. He was new to the station. There was a whole staff turn over after the whole Stan debacle. When the FEDs came barging in, Jerry was ultimately replaced for being incompetent and complicit. Pat filled him in on what he'd missed and even would tell Bill about murmurings of a potential promotion for him. Since Jason was new he was genuinely curious about how the station used to run. He had heard things but didn't want to be a pest by asking too much. But the conversations were getting stale, all he had to talk about were the silly things his kids would do. He figured to finally asking what had been pressing on him.

"So," Jason wiped his lips was a flimsy napkin, "is it true you busted your superior doin' undercover work?"

"Uh yeah... something like that." Bill took a sip from his glass bottle coca cola.

"Shit that's wild man."

"You tellin' me."

"Did you really go to parties and stuff with ballers? You see crazy shit or what?"

Bill chuckled. "Yeah. I mean I saw mountains of coke and naked girls in a hot tub in the middle of a fellas living room once. Is that what you want to hear?"

"Naked girls in a hot tub, huh?" He raised his brows. "Well fuck me."

"It was a trip," Bill said unbothered, taking a bite of his sandwich.

"I'm gonna go take a dump at this diner, man. Be right back," he pointed out.

Bill finished his food when he heard the diner door chime ring, he looked over watching Jason step aside to let a small girl out. She was in a waitress' uniform, lighting a cigarette, walking away from her morning shift. Bill squinted, she looked familiar... When her long dark, hair blew away from her face and she came into better view he knew it was her. Star, the Brickhouse. Star, his brown eyed girl. Bill's heart flipped and he felt his body go cold. It was like seeing a ghost. She looked the same just the bleached hair was gone and back to its original dark color.

Star was just about to pass him unknowingly. As she quickly counted her tips with her cigarette between her lips. She stuffed the dollars back in her apron, finally looking up and nearly jumped at the sight of him.

"Bill?" She plucked her cigarette from her lips and flicked it away with a big smile on her face. "Bill!" She threw her arms around him, hugging him tightly. Just having her in his arms again, he'd never felt more right than he'd been in months.

"Hey, how have you been?" He said keeping cool but on the inside, he was beyond elated. "What are you still doing here? What happened to California?"

Star let go of him and scoffed. "Oh please, you and I know that wasn't happenin'. It was motivation really. I got a real job now though, Bette's Diner!" She pointed at her name tag. Star was written in, in marker. "And look at you! In your uniform and all!" She ran her finger along his name tag next. "It looks good, Bill. You look really good. Although I told you, you're too good to be a pi-cop." She corrected herself remembering his one and only rule he had ever given her.

"Yeah, yeah." He lightly laughed. "You stayin' out of trouble? No drugs?"

She rolled her eyes. "Really? That's one of the first things you're gonna ask?"

"Sorry," he said nervously. "I just, it's, it's been a while I-"

"Relax!" She interrupted his stammering. "I'm just messin'. But Yeah..." she looked away. "No drugs, not really."

"What's, not really?" He raised a brow.

"I can't tell you, you're a cop!" She laughed.

"I can't arrest someone over words."

She playfully gasped. "So you'd arrest me? After all, we've been through?"

"Just tell me you're not hanging out with guys with interesting spellings for normal names?" He smirked.

Star laughed. He missed that laugh. "Nah, none of that. I just smoke grass every now and then. It helps calm me down you know how I can get impulsive sometimes."

"Well, I can't be mad at that. The counting to ten could only work for so long with you," he chuckled.

"But what about you? You doin' good? You look sharp!"

"Yeah, departments a lot better since we busted the place," he laughed.

"We did bust up that place pretty good, huh? Well... it was good seeing you B'." She looked right into his green eyes, she felt them pulling her back in again. But after leaving him like she did, knowing what he'd gone through with his last girl. There was no way he had any of the feelings he had for her before. She was just happy to see he'd gotten everything else he'd wanted.

"Yeah, you look like you're doin' good, too. And I like this new hair," he flicked a long lock of dark brown hair from her shoulder.

She ran her hands through the ends. "Aw yeah? I kinda had no choice. One more bleach job and I would have been bald." She laughed.

"Well... I guess I shouldn't hold you up any longer..."

"Yeah, same for you Mister Officer."

"Hey," he grabbed her wrist before she had the chance to walk away from him. His hand slid into hers and before their hands could part, Star hooked her index with his. He wasn't going to let her disappear this time. "Can I take you out? I know how things ended and I just really want to be your friend if that's all you want that's fine with me. I-I missed you."

"I missed you too, Bill." Star admitted. She was honestly shocked he still wanted to be her friend. He was a nicer man that she originally thought when she first met him.

"So, can I take you out? Please?" He was practically begging but he didn't care.

"Yeah, I would really like that." She unhooked fingers with him to hold his hand, pulling him down a bit to peck his lips. Her heart skipped, the feelings were still there and this time she wanted him to know it.

"Good." He said running his free hand through her dark locks. He never knew what he'd do if he ever saw her again but this went better than he could have imagined. "I'll pick you up and everything. I'm just, so happy I got to see you again, Star."

She shyly looked away. "It's Angela."

"Angela." A sweet smile spread across his face. "I guess, I do know you like that, huh?"

She blushed and looked up at him. "I guess you do, Bill. You do."

FIN

epilogue

[imagitory]

Star Wars Episode VIII: The Last Jedi Review [Spoilers]

Hey all! So I just got back from seeing The Last Jedi, so I can finally put my two-cents in on the newest installment of the trilogy. Before getting into spoilers, I will say this film is a worthy addition to the franchise, building upon concepts from previous movies while also creating new, creative imagery for this film that fits alongside the stuff that came before it. While I successfully guessed a few twists this film took, it also surprised me just as much, and I greatly appreciate that. It kept me on my toes the entire time. Overall, I would say every Star Wars fan will get something great out of this, even if they end up not liking the film as a whole.

Now then...spoilers ahead. Beware, all ye who enter here.

The Good!

+These action scenes...DAMN! I think they were easily some of the most creative and thrilling in the entire film series. Rose and Finn’s chase through intergalactic Las Vegas Canto Bight, the opening battle with the fighter jets, the confrontation at the rebel base, and the battle between Rey, Kylo Ren, and the First Order officers were all fantastic. The effects were spot-on, the music matched the movement perfectly, and the choreography of both the CGI and the actors was really well-done.

+Mark Hamill as Luke. I mean, yeah -- what can you say here except “duh?” Mark really went above and beyond here. Yes, I knew I was going to love seeing him as Luke again for nostalgic reasons, but what I love most is how much more depth Mark brought to the character, after all of the trials and tribulations he’s gone through between the films. He depicted a character who most would think would solely be a mentor figure, given his age and his beloved status, but who it turns out has his own learning curve to take on. He needs to acknowledge that while the Jedi were flawed, their philosophy shouldn’t just be completely thrown out and their old religion shouldn’t just be forgotten -- there are pieces that are still of use and should be passed on. It’s something Rey also realizes, and Kylo does not -- Kylo wants to burn everything down, including the past, regardless of the shreds of good there might be in that past along with the bad. And like Rey, as much as I was sad to see Luke go, I felt peace as it was happening. He is now one with the Force. Now he can guide Rey into the future and haunt Kylo for his mistakes -- both of which I will support him in wholeheartedly.

+Carrie Fisher as Leia. This truly was a shining performance -- I feel so beyond blessed that she was able to finish shooting her scenes before her sudden death, because hail to the motherfucking Queen, baby. When the Rebel bridge got blown up with Leia inside (good touch having it be Kylo’s men and not Kylo who did it, by the by), I literally felt myself stop breathing. But then she FLOATED HERSELF BACK TO THE SHIP TO SAVE HERSELF AND HOLY SHIT. It was actually eerie seeing Leia unconscious on the ship, as I couldn’t help but think of how Carrie had also been in a coma just before she passed...it was beyond merciful that Leia survived in this installment, and that she got to kick so much ass here. I do wonder how the filmmakers are going to handle her loss in the next movie...but wow, am I glad we got to see Carrie one last time on film, especially when she gave such a good performance.

+The focus on Poe. Honestly, Poe Dameron didn’t get that much attention in The Force Awakens, and I’m glad he got his proper share of spotlight here. I love the arc he went through and how he came to appreciate Vice Admiral Holdo’s leadership, even despite their differing approaches and distrust of each other. I think he’ll truly be able to step into Leia’s shoes as leader of the Rebellion in the future, now that he’s learned the value of human life over glory.

+The theme of rebellion being a symbol of hope to the oppressed, best exemplified by Rose and the other marginalized citizens of intergalactic Las Vegas Canto Bight. Yeah, I keep referencing Las Vegas when I talk about that planet, and yeah, they clearly modeled the look of the wealthy casinos and buildings off of it...but after having visited Vegas recently, and since I’m living in another wealthy tourist town myself (Anaheim), I must applaud the fact that they modeled the planet’s ugly underbelly to the same one that you can find in Vegas and cities like it, and actually took the time to discuss it. Where there is obscene wealth, there is also sickening, crippling poverty; where there is privilege, there will always be abuse. It ties back into the lesson Luke taught Rey about light and darkness -- how they constantly balance each other. But just like how Rey and Kylo mirror each other, being strong in the light and the darkness respectively, so too can rebellion become an equal to tyranny...and the end of the movie with the children likewise invigorated to take on the fight about to come left me feeling empowered.

+Finn’s arc from solely focusing on his friends and himself to seeing the Rebellion as something just as important to fight for. I’ve always seen Finn as a Hufflepuff or a Slytherin, morality-wise, in that he values his inner-circle over the whole world, but it was really neat to have him learn about how the world must be safe in order for the things he loves to be safe too.

+Kylo Ren killing Snoke. It felt in character and I think it will allow Kylo to go darker and become the real Big-Bad of the trilogy, since he won’t have to skirt around Snoke’s coattails anymore. Plus, admittedly, I always found Snoke sort of disappointing as Star Wars villains go, and I think it establishes how very treacherous the First Order is -- Kylo turned on Snoke, so who is to say Hux or any of his other subordinates won’t turn on Kylo? Unlike the Rebellion, whose bonds are strengthening, we’re already getting the hint of just how fragile the bonds binding the First Order together are...and that means Kylo has no one who he can truly rely on, unlike Rey, who of course has friends she can trust.

+I like that for all of the “mirroring” this film tried to do with Rey and Kylo, Rey still refused to follow him. She’s strong enough in herself and her moral compass to use her head and not trust him, even if he tries to lure her with knowledge of her parents and a promise of companionship. (I mean, seriously, Rey -- who gives a damn about your deadbeat parents, Finn and Poe and Chewie and BB-8 and Leia love you like few other things in this world! They’re your real family!)

+All of the actors gave very strong performances. I can honestly not pick out any weak links here -- they all gave it their all.

+The hacker character DJ I hope pops up again in the next movie. He seems like an interesting chaotic neutral character and since he didn’t get much of a resolution in this film, I look forward to what he’ll get in the next one.

+FINN KICKED CAPTAIN PHASMA’S ASS, HELLZ YEAH, THAT’S MY BOY. (Also, good to see Phasma having more screen time than in the last movie, even if it still wasn’t that much.)

The Not-So-Good...

+All the Reylo shipper fuel. *dodges knives* OKAY -- LISTEN. I do not support Rey/Kylo, and I probably never will, but shipping aside, here’s my problem with it -- the film did not properly convey why Rey has forgiven Kylo enough to let him into her mind. I’m sorry, it just didn’t. Kylo killed his father -- Rey’s mentor -- one of the first three protagonists that we all fell in love with in the original trilogy -- who went to bring his son back to the Light, only to get stabbed through the chest for his trouble. I just didn’t feel anything close to what Rey did when she started going, “Why? Why did you do it?” and questioning why Kylo destroyed the Jedi Temple -- I’m sorry, all I saw from Kylo in this film is that he was conflicted, not that he was sorry or had any interest in fixing his mistakes. It doesn’t matter if killing his father was painful for him -- it should be. He committed first-degree patricide. Feeling bad for your actions alone is not enough -- you then have to do something about it -- and Kylo did not do that. It felt like in some ways they were trying to parallel Padme and Anakin, where Padme likewise fruitlessly implores Anakin to come back to the Light Side even though it’s too late -- but there are a million and one differences between Anakin and Kylo, most relevant in this case being that Anakin’s reason to not turn back was out of misguided love for Padme (and later because he had no choice, since he’d alienated all of his allies and his suit basically left him tethered to Darth Sidious and the Empire), and that Kylo’s was to assert his loyalty to Snoke (and later to take vengeance against those who wronged him and assert his power). Anakin was trying to protect one of the people that meant the world to him after having known so little love in his life, while Kylo had a family who supported him, taught him, and trained him and he decided that Snoke’s approval and his own pride were more important than that. Anakin was raised to think that he was nothing -- a worthless slave -- while Kylo knew likely from the time he was very little that he was special and decided to act out because of it. Anakin’s initial fall was out of ignorance and a selfish kind of love, but Kylo’s was out of active vengeance, teenage angst, privileged frustration, and a toxic need to dominate and control. Snoke was right when he said that Kylo was no Vader, and that he instead was just a child -- he’s too immature to even acknowledge that his rationale for falling to the Dark Side and doing what he did was WRONG AND EVIL AND STUPID. That’s why I still don’t forgive Kylo Ren, that’s why I don’t think Rey should’ve been as open to him as she was, and that’s why I was satisfied by the ending where Kylo proved himself to be just as vile as I always thought he was, by blaming Snoke’s death on Rey so he can take over the First Order himself and go about terrorizing the galaxy. Someone who was truly sorry for what he’d done and had the capacity to change would’ve at the very least taken the “Zuko Alone” route and tried to recollect himself and redefine a new moral code that he can follow. As of now, the way things are now, I hope that in the final movie Kylo Ren burns, leaving nothing behind but a pile of ash, same as the Jedi Temple he burned to the ground.

+Rose/Finn. I know a few other people have said this, but...yeah. It was WAY too rushed. Honestly, the only thing I can hope for is that in the next film, Finn has to politely turn Rose’s feelings down, because honestly there was just not enough romantic chemistry built up between the two characters. I’m not a rabid Poe/Finn or Finn/Rey shipper, but I still think either of those couples had much more behind them than what this film gave Finn/Rose. Maybe this couple could’ve been written better, maybe it couldn’t have been, but regardless, it was a misstep for this film, the way it was handled.

+C3PO and R2D2 were pretty much dead weight in this movie. BB-8 remained relevant and necessary throughout the runtime, but our old veterans were basically props. They didn’t even really get that many laughs.

+Porgs may be cute, but...wow, were they oddly forgettable. I liked the crystal foxes (Vulptex?) much better.

I definitely look forward to seeing how this new trilogy ends. The messages and action of this movie definitely make me eager to see how the filmmakers will follow it up, and I hope that the few problems I did have are properly addressed. The new Star Wars trilogy is truly exciting...the possibility and potential for the next one truly are limitless, as far as I can see.

Overall Grade: B

[man-creates-dinosaurs]

As promised back in July when the first trailer for THE SHAPE OF WATER (Dir. Guillermo del Toro) dropped my hope for some time now has been to put together a series of posts dealing with this film leading up to its release which I have now come to understand will be Dec. 8th in NYC/LA and most likely Dec. 15th everywhere else. I wanted to do this because as I asserted in my original post, SHAPE is clearly a homage to Universal Studio’s classic monster movie THE CREATURE FROM THE BLACK LAGOON (1954, Dir. Jack Arnold) which, though perhaps not widely recognized as such, is a work of paleo-fiction as its entire premise revolves around a paleontological expedition to the Amazon to look for fossils after a single skeletal humanoid forelimb dating to the Devonian period is found. Of course once our explorers reach the fabled Black Lagoon they quickly discover more than just fossils.

Since that time writer/director Guillermo del Toro has openly confirmed that CREATURE was, in fact, the principal inspiration for SHAPE based largely on his rather unorthodox reaction to viewing the film when he was six…

LAT: Going back to the beginning, what was the initial germ of this movie?

GDT: I’ve had this movie in my head since I was 6, not as a story but  as   an idea. When I saw the creature swimming under Julie Adams [in 1954’s “Creature From the Black Lagoon”], I thought three things: I thought, “Hubba-hubba.” I thought, “This is the most poetic thing I’ll ever see.” I was overwhelmed by the beauty. And the third thing I thought is, “I hope they end up together.”

LAT: I kind of doubt that’s what most 6-year-olds were thinking.

GDT: No, I’m a weird one. [Source]

Now my original intention was to put together a kind of historical overview of the literary and cinematic elements which both connect Universal’s CREATURE to del Toro’s SHAPE as well as those which predate CREATURE. Alas once I actually began researching the matter I quickly realized that I had resigned myself to an abyss of unfathomable depth which I have neither the time nor resources to adequately explore at this current phase. This does not mean that I am abandoning my original plan however. Instead what will follow from this point forth will be a highly abridged, limited and non-comprehensive overview of this subject. In other words, I’m going to be leaving a lot of stuff out and I’m going to be doing so intentionally. Nevertheless I feel strongly that what I do have to present will still be of interest to followers of this blog. We’re going to be churning the depths, plunging back in time to locate the very origins of the creature at the heart of THE SHAPE OF WATER.

TAKING SHAPE: PALEONTOLOGICAL ORIGINS When thinking about where to begin with a series dealing with the history of amphibious humanoids the first thought which crossed my mind was that we would need to start with the mermen and mermaids of myth and legend. This would take us back to the very beginnings of human civilization as depictions of mermen can be found carved on the stone walls of the Assyrian city of Dur-Sharrukin which dates back as far as 706 BCE. However upon further consideration it occurred to me that such a trip back to hoary antiquity seemed entirely unnecessary. Why? Because the amphibious humanoids featured in both del Toro’s THE SHAPE OF WATER and Universal’s THE CREATURE FROM THE BLACK LAGOON are not mermen. They’re Gill-men.

Now before anyone says anything I am well aware that everyone from Guillermo del Toro on down has been calling the creature in SHAPE a merman. That’s fine. I’m not about to fault anyone for the use of familiar nomenclature, especially when trying to sale/explain a concept as admittedly offbeat as the one which comprises the narrative core of SHAPE. That said I am going to make a distinction here, because while mermen/mermaids are certainly kith and kin to gill-men/gill-women they are nevertheless not the same. This is not merely an issue of semantics but rather one of taxonomy. There are a number of fundamental differences between mermen and gill-men and the first, and perhaps most important, is present right in their very names.

Gill-men have gills. Mermen don’t.

Naturally a lack of gills on your average fairy-tale merman/mermaid should raise the serious question of how exactly it is possible for such a creature to live under the water. But before one starts to concoct wild and elaborate theories about the respirational capabilities of Disney’s Ariel, perhaps we should acknowledge the most simple and straightforward answer to such a query: magic. Yes, magic. And what this tells us is that mermen and mermaids are the providence of fantasy. Their very existence, from their lack of gills to the fact that they are literally half-a-person and half-a-fish stuck together in the middle, is the product of a complete and unadulterated imagination unconcerned with questions of biological probability. To question how it is that a merman/mermaid is able to breath underwater is to utterly miss the point of such a creature.

So then what of our gill-man? The presence of gills, not to mention the fact that gill-men tend to be imagined not as fish-human chimeras but rather as more fully integrated creatures with scales and fins covering their whole body, tells us that they are not to be understood as a product of imaginative magical whimsy. The gill-man is a creature of science-fiction, not fantasy. The gills are there to help us suspend our disbelief and concede that – just maybe – such a being is possible and could exist in our world alongside us.

This also means that the gill-man is of a much more recent vintage then the merman, being the product of a modern scientifically minded age. More specifically I would argue that the notion of a gill-man could not exist prior to the advent of the science of paleontology during the latter half of the 18th-Century and the beginning of the 19th-Century in Western Europe.

In 1798, French zoologist George Cuvier – remembered today as the “Father of Paleontology” – formulates what will become known as the Principle of the Correlation of Parts, which states that all organs in an animal’s body are deeply interdependent and never mismatched. This is an important argument for the future of paleontology as it explains why it is possible for a paleontologist to extrapolate what an animal may have looked like in life even while working form only a handful of fragmented bones. The Principle of the Correlation of Parts tells us that certain types of bones will only ever belong to certain animals, thereby negating the possibility of creatures with mismatched parts; such as the body of a lion and the head and wings of an eagle or the head of a horse and the body of a fish.  Because of this Cuvier likewise declares that mythological chimeras such as mermen/mermaids are scientifically untenable in principal.

However as science historian Brian Regal has argued, even while men like Cuvier were busy banishing mythological monsters back to the mists from which they came, the rise of Darwinian evolutionary theory helped to give birth to brand new ones. Fantasy fusions of man and beast like the merman might not exist, but scientists like Charles Lyell said there were ‘Missing Links’ out there, creatures which represented the transitional stage between man and animal. Today such transitional fossils are generally understood to be of a human-simian nature but this was not always the case.

The year 1844 saw the publication of what might be described as the first ‘best-selling’ book for a popular audience on the subject of paleontology: Vestiges of the Natural History of Creation (1st Ed. Oct. ‘44) by Robert Chambers. Chambers was not a paleontologist – or any kind of scientist – but rather a journalist with a strong interest in science, specifically geology and evolutionary theory. This is not intended as a slight against Chambers. Science has always needed popularizers who are capable of making complex ideas accessible to the public and paleontology has been fortunate enough to have a quite a few such as John Noble Wilford [The Riddle of the Dinosaur, 1985] and Brian Switek [My Beloved Brontosaurus, 2013]. Chambers, in this regard, was the first great popularizer of paleontology. However Chambers didn’t always get everything right. Case in point: Just a decade prior to the publication of Vestiges, paleontologists had discovered a set of fossilized track ways in Lower Triassic sandstone in Thuringia, Germany. These tracks bared an uncanny semblance to human handprints or possibly primate footprints and the initially thinking among many scientists was that they were just that. As a result the track maker was dubbed Chirotherium (“hand-beast”) and presumed to possibly be amongst our oldest ancestors. Then two years before the publication of Vestiges, British paleontologist Richard Owen – the man who coined the word “Dinosaur” – suggested that the tracks were made not by a primitive primate – which by all accounts had not yet evolved by the time of the Triassic – but rather by a labyrinthodont amphibian.[1] As a result of what can only be assumed to be a serve case of misunderstanding Chambers, apparently thinking about the Chirotherium tracks and the two conflicting interpretations of them, put forth the, in hindsight, admittedly bizarre suggestion in Vestiges that mankind had evolved from an extinct species of giant amphibian.

This then is the paleontological origin of our modern-day gill-man. A missing link between the sea and land. Between fish and mankind. And while such a creature never really existed the underlying assertion is not untenable. After all, as paleontologist Neil Shubin taught us back in 2008 with his highly publicized book on the history of human evolution, we all have an ‘Inner Fish.’ IMAGE: Elisa (Sally Hawkins) meets THE SHAPE OF WATER’s gill-man (Doug Jones) with his gills prominently displayed. _________________________________________    

[1] To this day paleontologists have yet to identify the actual track maker, but most now suspect that it was some sort of primitive archosaur.