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marjansmarwani · 4 years ago

Text

maybe, I’m afraid

3.8k || ao3

Episode 2x06, but with Carlos (as it should have been)

Just me here again to give Carlos the screen time he should have had.

A little late to the party maybe (I have no idea how you all manage to get fics up within 24 hours of the episode, I am in awe of that ability) but I still felt the need to make my contribution.

--------

Most days Carlos was pretty sure that after 7 years on the force he had seen everything there was to see.

Other days he got a call to respond to two teenagers trapped in a homemade minefield and he was forced to reevaluate that sentiment.

It doesn’t take long to figure out all there is to know, including just how bad it really is, and by the time the familiar ladder truck pulled up (because of course it was the 126) he was waiting outside the passenger door to give Owen the rundown.

“Officer Reyes,” he greeted when he saw him, “I’m surprised to see you. I thought this would be a little out of your jurisdiction.”

Carlos shook his head, “Just barely within it, another half-mile and the sheriffs would be handling the call.”

“But you managed to snag it, lucky you.”

“Can’t say I would have been too upset if I had missed out on this one,” Carlos agreed drily.

Owen hummed in agreement as he surveyed the scene, “What are we looking at, exactly?”

It was a bleak picture: two brothers, trapped. One injured, both scared and stuck in an active minefield without a map. And the bomb squad was at least 40 minutes out. He saw his concern reflected on Owen’s face as he considered the situation and all the implications. If they waited, the boy would die. If they went in, he would be possibly sending some of his people to die too.

And yet Carlos knew what choice he was going to make before he even opened his mouth. He had learned so many things during his time with TK, and one of them was that in so many ways he and his dad were a lot alike. If it were his call, TK wouldn’t have been able to leave those boys in there either. So when the instruction came, he wasn’t surprised.

“We’re going to need the heaviest duffel we can find and spray paint - the brighter the better.”

Carlos locked eyes with TK briefly as he and the rest of his team turned to start gathering supplies, giving him a smile and hoping that it conveyed everything he wanted him to know: it would be alright, no matter what.

He almost believed it too.

All was calm at the start, the 126 functioning like the well-oiled machine they were. In no time they were prepped and Owen was striding back towards the ambulance, asking the new guy if he was ready to go. The discussion quickly transformed into an argument and Carlos couldn’t help but glance back over at the minefield and the brothers. Every moment they argued was one less moment these boys had. Carlos was considering stepping in when a new voice entered the discussion, effectively bringing the escalating argument to a halt.

“I’ll go.”

And Carlos froze because he knew that voice. He would know it anywhere, it drew him like a moth to a flame in any room. He turned slowly to find TK standing slightly apart from his crew, stance relaxed but jaw set in determination.

“I was a dual function FD medic in New York,” he explained, voice calm and firm, “all my certifications are up to date. I can do this.”

Carlos didn’t need to be looking at him, didn’t need to see where his gaze shifted to know that those last words were directed at his dad. The knowledge made Carlos’s heart ache. The fact that his boyfriend still felt the need to prove himself to his dad after all this time and all he had accomplished killed him, but the thought of TK willingly walking into the minefield killed him even more.

But it wasn’t his choice to make and when Owen nodded, he felt a cold dread spread throughout his body. This wasn’t how today was supposed to go. Today was not supposed to be the day he watched his boyfriend walk into an active minefield. That day was never supposed to come, and yet here it was.

He walked over to where TK was switching out his gear, struggling with a strap that was twisting over his shoulder. He reached out for the strap without a word, smoothing it out and snapping it in place. They didn’t speak as Carlos stepped back, surveying the harness and gear for any other twists or issues.

“It’s going to be fine, Carlos.”

TK’s voice, soft and reassuring, broke the silence and Carlos met his eyes sharply. He wanted so desperately to believe him, but there was a field filled with explosives that had already claimed one life today behind them and he was finding it hard to be optimistic.

“Are you sure about this?” he asked instead.

TK pulled his helmet on, his steady gaze never leaving Carlos, “Of course I’m sure, the kid’s going to die if we don’t go out there, Carlos. I need to help if I can.”

Carlos reached down to grab his medical bag and held it out to him. He didn’t like the thought of the man he loved purposefully putting himself in harm’s way, but he also knew TK. As much as he might hate it sometimes, this was TK: always ready to help, always willing to put himself at risk if it meant saving someone else, and there was nothing Carlos could do to change that. And he wouldn’t want to - it was a part of TK that made him who he was: someone that Carlos loved with all his heart.

When TK reached out to take the bag from him, he didn’t release it immediately. He let his grip linger for an extra moment as he studied TK, his heart pounding in his chest.

“Just, be careful,” he told him softly. TK gave him a small smile, and Carlos released his grip on the bag, allowing TK to walk away, towards the minefield. He was still watching as he ascended the ladder that would drop him out onto the minefield when he felt the presence of others appearing at his side.

“He’ll be okay kid,” Judd said quietly, eyes never leaving the sight of the two Strands climbing to the end of the ladder.

“You don’t know that Judd,” Carlos responded just as quietly, already feeling his fingernails digging into his palm as he clenched his hands at his side.

“No,” the older man agreed softly, “I don’t. But I do know they’ll be as careful as they can.”

Carlos nodded, eyes tracking every movement desperately. They had reached the edge of the ladder now and he watched as Owen tossed down the duffel, as they both reeled back in preparation for an explosion. He could feel his heart skip a beat and his breath catch in his throat as they waited, but there was only silence and after a moment, he allowed himself to breathe again.

“I don’t know if my heart can take this,” Paul lamented from his left, “that was nerve-wracking and they still have a long way to go.”

Carlos nodded wearily, but caught his retort before it slipped out of his mouth: if they made it that far. He didn’t need to release that idea into the universe and the others didn’t need to hear it. So he swallowed it and continued watching. Each and every movement they made was agonizing to watch, but each and every thud of them landing unharmed gave him a moment to catch his breath, a brief reprieve for his heart to beat normally. They had settled into a rhythm, and everything was going smoothly.

Until it wasn’t.

The sound of the mine exploding filled the air around them and worked its way into Carlos’s soul. It sent shockwaves through his body as he watched, desperately trying to see through the haze of smoke and debris. He couldn’t see him, he didn’t know if he was okay.

That fact was more than enough to bring on the fear. It attacked him with a vengeance, freezing him to the spot. He felt as if the whole world froze in that moment; suspending him in the terror of not knowing, trapping him with doubt and fear.

And then he heard TK’s voice, and he could breathe again. It might just be the most wonderful thing he had ever heard.

When Owen’s voice sounded across the radios, confirming that they were both in one piece, time picked back up at its usual pace. He felt himself sag in relief, grateful for the knowing and supportive hand on his shoulder from Judd. He spared a glance at the others, seeing his relief reflected on their faces and in their stances.

Marjan let out a long breath, “That was…”

“Intense,” Paul agreed grimly, “let’s never do that again.”

They all nodded, and Carlos couldn’t agree more.

If there was an upside to that moment it was that the path forward was now clear and the two Strands made quick work of the rest of the journey, closing the distance between them and the boys in seconds. Carlos watched in awe as TK slipped into medic mode the moment he reached the boys’ sides, calmly managing the scene and taking care of the patient. It was a wonder to watch. He handled it all with focus and compassion, quietly reassuring the boys even as he gave instructions to his dad and administered care. He was cool and steady even as he delivered the lifesaving compressions, forcing the teen’s blood to pump through his veins with his own hands. It was only minutes before his voice sounded over the radio, announcing that the injured boy was stable and no amount of fear or worry could have stopped the intense pride Carlos felt in that moment.

“Kid’s got some skills,” Judd observed with a fond smile and Carlos could only grin.

Paul nodded, “Looks like someone’s been holding out on us, that was pretty impressive I must admit.”

“Badass is more like it!” Mateo exclaimed and Marjan, standing next to him, laughed even as she placed a hand on his arm.

“Steady Probie,” she reminded him, “they still have to get out of there. Let’s not jinx anything.”

Her words tempered the celebratory mood of the group, but even though Carlos had never let go of that fear (he knew he wouldn’t until TK was out of the minefield and at least 2 miles away) it felt different from before. It was wrapped in that pride now, and even as Carlos watched them prep to move and the bomb squad moved out to locate and detonate any mines along the path, he couldn’t shake that. It was almost stronger than the fear now, this pride he felt for TK. That was his boyfriend; the person who had just saved two young brothers in the middle of a minefield was the man he loved. Just when he thought that he had come to know every bit of his body and soul, he managed to surprise him all over again.

It took every ounce of restraint and professionalism Carlos had to not rush over to TK the moment he cleared the edge of the minefield. He forced himself to wait, focusing on his own job while keeping a watchful eye on TK as he reported back to Captain Vega, as he got an exam from the new paramedic. It wasn’t until he headed back to the ladder truck that Carlos broke away from the crowd, meeting him at the side of the engine. TK looked up as he approached, a smile on his face and a greeting on his lips, but Carlos pulled him into his arms before he even had a chance to speak.

He held him tightly, savoring the feeling of his breath on his collar and the faint sound of the beating of his heart. His familiar scent filled Carlos’s head with each breath and he closed his eyes. He would have been happy to stand there forever, feeling this and just being them and while he knew they couldn’t, he was determined to have at least a few moments more before the world interrupted. If nothing else, the universe at least owed him this.

“I’m okay Carlos,” TK said evenly, his voice muffled against Carlos’s shoulder.

But you almost weren’t. The words rang through his head, but he didn’t speak them. Instead he pulled away just enough to see TK’s face as he asked, “Are you sure?”

“Yes,” TK assured him firmly, placing a steady hand on his chest, “the new medic looked me over but I could have told you anyway, I’m fine. Not injured, my dad and I both made it out and so did the boys. This was a win Carlos, I’m more than okay.”

And he was, Carlos saw as he studied him. He was beaming; enthusiasm pouring out of him. His eyes were alight with something Carlos couldn’t name and he was practically vibrating. Despite everything, Carlos couldn’t help but smile at the sight. He was still worried, still terrified by all the ‘what ifs,” but seeing TK like this gave him a lightness he couldn’t have imagined feeling even a few minutes before.

He shook his head, trying to mask his smile with little success, “I am glad you’re so pleased with yourself, considering you almost gave the rest of us a heart attack.”

He had been going for a joke but he instantly regretted it when TK dimmed, “I’m sorry,” he told him sincerely, “I didn’t mean to scare you guys, especially you. I just knew I could help…”

Carlos interrupted him, moving his hands so they were on each of TK’s shoulders, “You have nothing to apologize for Ty,” he assured him firmly, “you did the right thing. You saved a kid’s life and you did amazing. I am so proud of you.”

TK’s smile returned, softer than before but still glowing with pride, “You are, are you?”

Carlos leaned down to place a soft and tender kiss on his forehead, “I am. So incredibly proud. You’re a pretty impressive guy, you know that?”

TK’s smile could have lit up the world and Carlos would have been happy to let it. But they were both still on the job and decidedly not alone, as they were suddenly reminded when Paul peaked around the side of the engine. He smirked at them before calling over his shoulder, “Yeah, they’re decent back here, you guys can come around.”

Carlos rolled his eyes at his friend while TK casually flipped him off. Paul crossed towards them, completely unfazed before reaching out and pulling TK into a hug of his own. “You can’t keep scaring me like that man,” he told TK when they pulled apart, “I’m getting too old for that crap.”

TK rolled his eyes at his teammate and Carlos chuckled. He looked behind him to see the rest of the team materializing.

“That’s my cue,” he told TK, “I need to get back to work and get this scene wrapped up anyways. I’ll see you at home later?”

TK nodded, reaching out to squeeze his hand, “I’ll be there right after my shift.”

“Think you can make it until then without nearly dying on me again?”

“I’ll do my best,” TK assured him and Carlos smiled.

“That’s all I ask,” he responded, “I love you.”

“Love you too, Carlos.”

Carlos smiled at that, the warmth he felt every time he heard those words from TK rushing through him. With one last squeeze of the hand holding his own, he stepped away, letting TK’s team get in their time. As he reached the corner of the engine he looked back, still feeling the whirlwind of emotions deep in his chest.

But TK was safe and happy - he couldn’t ask for anything more. So he turned the corner and returned to the task at hand.

----------

“You know, that call today? It felt good, really good.”

Carlos looked up from his dinner sharply to see TK idly playing with his, his focus clearly elsewhere. “Please don’t tell me this means you have decided to become a real-life minesweeper, I am going to have some objections to that,” Carlos deadpanned.

TK laughed lightly, shaking his head, “No, not quite.”

“Thank god, I don’t think my heart could handle that.”

TK shook his head fondly at Carlos before his expression grew more pensive, “I didn’t mean the minefield, or even the danger or adrenaline. I meant the saving the boy part. I know I do that all the time as a firefighter, but there’s something different about doing it as a medic. I haven’t had the chance to really do any medical calls since moving to Austin, with the way the department is structured.”

“You’ve never really talked about it before,” Carlos noted, “I’ve seen you do medical stuff in the field, but before today I didn’t even know you were dual certified.”

TK shrugged, “It just never really came up, I guess. It’s pretty typical in New York, but their firehouses are structured differently. I guess once I made my peace with being down here I never really thought about it again. It’s not like I could do both the same way I used to.”

His tone was almost wistful as he turned his gaze down to his plate, but Carlos had a feeling he wasn’t really seeing the food on it. “Sounds like you miss it,” he ventured after a few more moments of silence.

“Sometimes I do.”

“So why not go for it?”

TK looked at him sharply, but Carlos just shrugged, “What? You’ve spent most of the past hour talking about it and you mentioned how the new guy quit and there’s an opening on the paramedic team within your first 10 minutes of showing up tonight. I know you and I know you’re already thinking about it, so why not try it?”

“Even if I applied, there are so many other candidates. There’s no saying she’d pick me.”

“I wouldn’t be too sure about that. She knows you and how dedicated you are to your job. She saw you in action today, willing to take the risk that someone else wasn’t in order to save a patient. You did the job well and you did it under insane pressure after months of not doing it. If I were her, I’d be wondering what you’d be capable of on an average day.”

TK looked startled at the efficient takedown of his doubts, but Carlos just raised an eyebrow, “Next?”

He would dismantle his boyfriend’s doubts with logic one by one if need be. Whatever it took for him to start believing in himself the way Carlos did.

“I’d have to leave the team,” he said softly, “I wouldn’t be working with them anymore. We’re like a family, I can’t just leave them.”

Carlos reached across the table to take TK’s hand in his own, “It’s not like you’d be leaving the station,” he reminded him, “you’d still be in the same building and on the same schedule. And they’re not going to feel like you abandoned them, Ty, they’ll still be right there. And right here,” he added with a laugh, gesturing towards his living room, “we’ve fed them, I don’t think we are ever going to get rid of them now.”

That pulled a smile out of TK, but there was still so much doubt in his eyes that it hurt Carlos to see it.

“What do you think they would say, if you told them it was something you wanted?” he asked instead, “Do you think they would tell you to forget about it? To stay with them because it was more comfortable?”

“No,” TK said quickly, “of course they wouldn’t.”

“So why are you worried about them? They want what’s best for you and they always will. Unless,” he hedged when TK’s expression didn’t clear, “they’re not the ones you’re worried about.” TK pulled his gaze up from the table and Carlos saw all the confirmation in them that he needed, “Your dad?”

TK nodded, and Carlos sighed. “TK…”

“It would be a big change Carlos,” he said softly. “Except for my probationary period, I have always worked with my dad. I don’t want him to take it personally.”

“But it is a little personal, isn’t it?”

He was careful to keep his tone even, non-judgemental and he watched TK closely, waiting for his response.

“Maybe a little, yeah,” TK admitted. “I feel like this would be a way for me to really see who I am without him right there. It’s not like this is a reaction to him or any news he may have shared recently,” he added hastily, “I would hope I’m past the ‘blowing my life up to piss off my dad’ point, but it is something to consider. And…”

He trailed off, but Carlos had a feeling he knew what was going to come next, “And you’re worried he might take it personally?” he suggested.

TK nodded and Carlos sighed and set down his fork, reaching across the table again to pull both of TK’s hands into his own, “Look,” he began, “what’s important is why you’re thinking about this. So, what is it? Why are you thinking about becoming a paramedic?”

“Because I think I’d love it,” TK said without any hesitation, “because I feel like it’s the best way I can help people.”

Carlos smiled at him, squeezing the hands in his grasp softly, “Then I think you have your answer. You should do this because it is what you want and because it is right for you. That’s all that matters. Everything else - and everyone else - will fall into place.”

“And if they don’t?” TK asked softly, and Carlos felt a pang in his heart at the sound of so much doubt in the other man’s voice.

“They will,” Carlos assured him. “Nothing ever stays the same, remember? And your dad knows that. We all know that. And,” he added, leaning forward in his seat to close some of the distance between them, “I will be here for you, every step of the way. No matter what.”

The smile TK gave him warmed every inch of his body. They sat in companionable silence for a while, intertwined hands connecting them across the table until TK spoke again.

“If you really mean that,” he began with a grin, “I could probably use some help with my resume.”

“Anything for you,” Carlos quipped back, but even as he said the words he squeezed their clasped hands. He meant that, in every way possible. He would be here for resumes and job interviews and everything in between, as long as TK wanted him to be.

Judging by the way TK met his eyes, and the soft ‘thank you’ that fell from his lips, he had a feeling he felt the same way too.

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dinosaurtsukki · 4 years ago

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salty french fries | a tsukishima x f!reader fic

pairing: diner employee!tsukishima x f!reader

word count: 2.2k words

contains: fluff, the slightest of angsts, late-night diner talks, insomniac!reader, puzzles, tsukishima being a softie, salty french fries in case you couldn’t tell

summary: tsukishima works the graveyard shift at a diner near his campus to help pay the bills and ends up noticing you, a regular customer who comes in every night to order the same french fries because you can’t sleep

a/n: i can’t believe it took me this long to write a full-length one-shot for tsukki as a self-proclaimed tsukki fangirl. this is inspired by me having trouble sleeping and wishing i had tsukki to eat fries at a diner with

knowing that he was attending university on scholarship, tsukishima fully expected having to work in some shitty, part-time job to help pay the bills and earn some money for allowance. he just didn’t quite expect that he’d be working the graveyard shift at a diner just a few blocks away from campus.

tsukishima didn’t want to take on a job that was too much of a hassle and by hassle, he meant having to interact with customers. so, even though his sleep schedule was kind of fucked with him sleeping at four in the afternoon to go to work at midnight before heading straight to class, tsukishima was still okay with his job. he didn’t really care about the whole ‘night time is sleep time’ idea and the lack of customers during the graveyard shift gave him more than enough time to work on assignments.

during his shift, he’d deal with the usual late-night customers: fellow students who stayed up too late partying or purposely stayed up late to pull all-nighters, truck drivers and fellow late-shift employees hoping to grab a bite before going to work or going home, and the less favorable drunk men who passed out cold on the tables only for tsukishima to have to wake up in the morning.

with the few customers that tsukishima had to encounter, of course he’d notice someone who regularly came during his shift. and that someone was you.

tsukishima first noticed you a few months into his work at the diner. in fact, you were his only customer on the first night when you came in and you stayed for three hours, eating just a plate of french fries, before leaving at five in the morning. the next night, you did the same thing, and the next, and the next. the thing tsukishima noticed about late-night customers was that there was always a noticeable purpose to their visit: a way to socialize, a place to hang out in the unholy hours of the night, even just getting a bite to eat. however, tsukishima couldn’t for the life of him figure out what your purpose was.

from behind the counter, he couldn’t help but watch as you’d absentmindedly pour ketchup on the side of your plate, dip your fries in one by one, and chew slowly while staring at the wall. it was as if you were just there to pass the time.

...

your visits ended up being frequent enough to finally pique tsukishima’s curiosity and cause him to actually initiate conversation.

“the usual, right?” he asked, taking your order as you sat at the counter.

“you got it,” you smiled up at him. tsukishima noticed that you always wore the same ratty, dark green coat over what appeared to be your pajamas.

“you must love these fries,” tsukishima said sarcastically, arising a chuckle from you.

“would you feel bad if i said i think they’re not exactly great?” you cocked your head at him.

“as long as you don’t tell my manager who never comes in at this time,” tsukishima smirked, handing you your change.

“your secret is safe with me,” you mimed zipping your lips shut and throwing away the key. that one managed to get a laugh out of tsukishima as he strolled over to the kitchen to make your fries.

“one order of shitty french fries,” he said, coming back a few minutes later. “and ketchup, of course.”

“hey, i didn’t say they were shitty,” you picked up a fry and wagged it at him. “just, kind of soggy and salty and... actuallly yeah, it is kind of shitty,” you giggled, dipping the fry and eating it.

“i can’t believe you thought soggy and salty would be euphemisms,” tsukishima shook his head.

“well, sorry for my brain not being in peak condition at three a.m. enough to read...” you paused and leaned over the counter to look at the book that tsukishima had been reading for class. “...Plato’s ‘The Republic.’”

“i actually don’t read anything, i just highlight stuff to feel good about myself,” tsukishima shrugged.

“that’s a mood right there,” you smirked at him. “so, you must be wondering why i come here all the time.”

“mmm, mostly i was wondering about the fries part but that’s a close second.”

you rolled your eyes at him. “well if you must know, i come here because i can’t sleep.”

tsukishima blinked and realized, for the first time, how dark your under-eyes were, how weak and almost raspy your voice sounded, and how you always seemed to be vacantly staring at the same wall whenever you came in.

“actually, i do sleep but at most it’s just two hours before i wake up again and decide to come here,” you added. “sometimes i take a twenty-minute nap before studying, but that’s about it.”

“sounds... rough,” tsukishima said, very much aware that there were a million other better things to say. instead, you just smiled and nodded at that.

“pretty much.”

“well, you’re lucky. the other diner serves shittier fries.”

tsukishima couldn’t help but smile at the look of incredulity on your face before bursting out laughing. for some reason, it felt like an accomplishment. he couldn’t help but feel as if he should help you with your insomnia but the thought of ‘what can you actually do about it?’ overcame him first.

but ever since then, tsukishima did make an effort to make his fries less shitty.

...

it was safe to say that tsukishima did end up enjoying your company. at first, he was worried that it would be a distraction from his work but you always managed to give pretty good insights on any texts he was reading or papers he had to write. you had a sharp tongue and always managed to keep up with tsukishima’s jokes or have him keep up with you.

but he noticed you kept coming earlier and earlier, sometimes even before tsukishima’s shift began, and he could tell you were sleeping even less. the voice in his head saying that it wasn’t any of his business steadily grew quieter with that progression.

“wanna try this out?” tsukishima asked, one night. you snapped out of your usual staring-blankly-at-the-wall activity and looked down to find tsukishima pushing what appeared to be a puzzle set towards you.

aside from greasy food, the diner tsukishima worked at had shelves full of board games and puzzle sets. ‘to entertain the student crowd,’ his manager reasoned. tsukishima didn’t know if the day customers actually used them but he’d always been curious about playing with some of the games.

“‘Vincent Van Gogh ‘Cafe Terrace at Night’ puzzle set, one-thousand pieces,” you read. “it’s, a thousand pieces.”

“we could use a puzzle board for it to save progress,” tsukishima shrugged. “only if you want to,” he added, starting to feel nervous that you’d be put off by his suggestion. ‘i could have chosen a one-hundred piece puzzle instead this was dumb of me,’ he couldn’t help but think. instead, you laughed and nodded your head.

“where’s that puzzle board?”

...

“oh my god, why the fuck did you make me agree to this? they’re all the same shades of blue!!” you exclaimed, holding up two puzzle pieces that had the same color but frustratingly didn’t join together.

“i thought it was a good idea at first,” tsukishima muttered, squinting at the mess of puzzle pieces before him. he was trying to put together the cafe part of the puzzle. “wait! i got it!” he suddenly exclaimed, picking a puzzle piece and joining it together with a small clump he had already formed.

“now, i have five pieces together,” he gloated, showing you the part.

“great. now we have nine-thousand, nine-hundred, and ninety-five pieces to go,” you laughed tiredly. the two of you were occupying one of the tables closest to the counter which was now covered with the puzzle board and puzzle pieces.

when you first decided to visit the nearby diner after another sleepless night, you didn’t expect to befriend the tall, blonde boy who ran the graveyard shift and cooked shitty, but now slightly better, french fries. you didn’t really expect that tsukishima kei also liked to make himself milkshakes with strawberry ice cream or that he got unusually invested in puzzles, or that he looked cute whenever he was excited at joining pieces together.

“ah! i did it! i got a match!” you suddenly exclaimed, grinning and showing tsukishima the two identically colored pieces you managed to join together.

“finally, you managed to get one,” he smirked at you.

“mean! do you know how hard it is to sift through all of this?” you gestured at the huge sea of blue in front of you.

tsukishima cocked his head. “are you sure those actually fit right?”

“what do you mean? i just fit it together?”

“nah, i think it doesn’t work. give it here,” he grinned, snatching it out of your hand.

“give it back!” you pouted. “tsukishima!”

...

“tsukishima, it’s been half a month and we’re exactly halfway,” you deadpanned, looking at the puzzle before you that already had clumps of van gogh’s iconic painting formed.

“i don’t know if i should be happy about this or just depressed,” tsukishima sighed.

“celebratory french fry?” you suggested, picking a fry off the plate.

“celebratory french fry,” tsukishima chuckled, mimicking your action. the two of your crossed your french fries together before eating them.

“i don’t know if you know this, but this is my favorite part of my day,” you smiled.

“working on a thousand-piece puzzle with a diner employee?” tsukishima snorted.

“yeah, sad right?” you laughed. “sometimes i just get excited about going to sleep just so that i could wake up and come here.”

“funny enough you have been coming later,” tsukishima pointed out. not that he really thought it was a bad thing because it meant you’ve been sleeping just a bit more.

“thanks to the puzzle, i’ve actually been able to sleep once i get home,” you added, somewhat excitedly. “and, i don’t know, that makes facing the day less worse.”

“is that why you can’t sleep?” tsukishima asked.

“pretty much,” you shrugged, taking another fry from the plate. “somehow, being in my own bed in my room gets claustrophobic and i just can’t help but worry about things i should be doing or haven’t done. you know, usual twenty-something problems.”

“well, there is something to look forward to after all that,” tsukishima crossed his arms. you glanced up at him. “climate change.”

you threw a fry at him. “i hate you.”

“it’s the truth!” tsukishima protested. “also, is that any way to talk to someone who’s been trying to help you out?”

“awww, you’ve been trying to help me out all this time?” you gushed, despite the flutter in your chest at having your suspicions finally confirmed.

“i-i mean,” tsukishima stammered, trying to save himself from his slip-up. “well, you just looked so pitiful coming in every night and just eating shitty fries and staring at the wall.”

“that’s true,” you laughed. “but, thanks, i guess. for helping me out in your own salty way.”

“you’re welcome.”

your smile at tsukishima’s response turned into a yawn. “is me boring you to death adding to you feeling sleepy because i guess i’m doing a pretty good job,” he said.

“haha, very funny tsukishima,” you yawned again. “well, let’s hope i’m still sleepy when i get home.”

“if you want,” tsukishima rubbed the back of his head. “the staff room is actually pretty okay-looking. there’s a couch and everything so...”

“are you inviting me to sleep in the staff room?”

“well, if you make it sound that way--”

you interrupted him by standing up. “that better be a comfortable couch then.”

...

tsukishima really didn’t want to be like edward ‘sparkle vampire’ cullen and be a creep who watches you sleep but he just couldn’t help it. at first, he thought it would take you quite a while to even close your eyes but you fell asleep as soon as your head hit the couch. the way you were curled up on one side using your hands as a cushion reminded tsukishima of a sleeping cat and he had subconsciously stopped breathing in fear that he would wake you up.

when he first signed up for a job manning the graveyard shift at a diner, tsukishima never expected he would meet a girl who came in every night because she couldn’t sleep and eat fries at two in the morning. neither did he expect he would fall in love with her.

carefully, tsukishima set down your puzzle board on the coffee table, wincing slightly when he made a noise but you were still deep asleep. he looked down at the partially finished puzzle before methodically picking up pieces and joining them effortlessly together. after all, it was his own puzzle set.

tsukishima finished just in time for the employee in charge of the next shift to come in for the morning rush. usually, he’d just be in a hurry to leave to try snatch a few hours of sleep for his class. but right now, it was a trivial thing compared to the fact that you were peacefully asleep.

half an hour later, tsukishima would gently shake you awake because another employee was coming in. you would see the finished puzzle on the table and ironically piece everything together. like tsukishima, the thought of leaving the diner wouldn’t even cross your mind.

even though eating fries at three a.m. with you wasn’t like anything tsukishima would ever experience, he wanted nothing more than to have breakfast with you.

***********************************************

taglist (still open to anyone who wants in!): @montys-chaos @miyumtwins @strawberriimilkshake @pocubo @sugawara-sweetheart @akaashisbabydoll @laure-chan@therainroguefanfiction @atetiffdoesart @stephdaninja @oikaw-ugh@charliefredb @dramaqueenweeb1469 @tremblinghearts @applepienation @doodleniella @haikyuu-my-love @tpwkatsumu @waitforitillwritemywayout

#haikyuu!!#hq!! x reader #hq x reader #tsukishima kei #tsukishima x reader #tsukishima kei x reader #haikyuu!! x reader #haikyuu!! fluff #hq!! fluff #hq fluff #haikyuu!! fanfics #hq!! fanfics #hq fanfiction #haikyuu!! one-shots #hq!! one-shots #hq one-shot #tsukishima x reader fluff #tsukishima x reader fanfic #tsukishima x reader one-shot

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itsclydebitches · 4 years ago

Note

Is it weird I'm just kind of not into Pride? I'm a non binary pan person who lives with a conservatives family with no chance of actually being able to be open. Seeing corporations support Pride here in America where it's safe, but still do business with countries that hate us all. That would kill us even. I'm not able to be out and proud. This month sucks if you don't live in a big city that accepts you. Can't wait to hear about how the (insert f slur) are ruining this country in my area.

Let me start off by saying that I'm so sorry you're dealing with that, anon. I can't personally speak to being in a position where it would be impossible/dangerous for me to come out (at least, I hope not), though I do know the feeling of people just... ignoring it? The liberal acceptance of, "We won't actively harm you, but we're also not going to acknowledge this part of your identity in any way. Everything's fine provided you don't bring it up ever again :)" sort of deal. There are many different ways - many different reasons - for being in the closet and all of them are valid, from the horrific "I will literally not be safe" to simply "I'm not ready to come out yet. Maybe I never will be. That's for me to decide." Despite the strides we've made, I think it's worth acknowledging that this progress - acceptance in some places, some queer couples in media, the pressure for corporations to at least pretend like they don't hate us, etc. - comes with a newfound pressure to be out and to be out in a particular way. We're loud, we're proud, and we're going to risk it all to be ourselves! ... which means that when someone can't risk everything, or simply won't, there's this idea that you're doing queerness wrong. I'm not risking alienating my family to push for more acceptance. I don't currently have the means to get myself to protests or parades. My ability to support queer movements depends a lot on funds that I also don't have. In some respects, Pride (month) has been simplified down into this sterilized, celebratory narrative that can, paradoxically, make a lot of people feel unwelcome. What if it's not safe for me to walk out bedazzled in rainbows? What if I don't want to be grateful to these corporations using my identity for clout? What if even my own community still doesn't think I exist? What if, while social media is bombarded with everyone celebrating themselves, the most I can do is air grievances anonymously?

That's okay. Far more than being okay, that's a part of Pride. Pride isn't just a celebration, Pride is a battle. An ongoing one, despite what some would have us believe. We're all allowed to be angry during Pride. Disappointed. Frustrated. Scared. Just plain, fucking tired. That pressure to not just be out, but to be out "correctly" and to be out loudly can become its own kind of exhausting performance. Hell, I'm about to get my hair cut soon and I honest to god was worrying about whether I could get something that "looks queer" because right now I "look too straight" and that's apparently a problem because I've internalized a bunch of nonsense about how we do and do not perform queerness, especially during the month of June. That's obviously an incredibly minor non-problem compared to what others are going through, though the point I'm trying to make through my own, subjective experiences is that none of us need to pretend to be 100% ecstatic about queer politics for the next 28 days. Because it does suck when you don't feel like you have a reason or a means to celebrate, but those feelings themselves are an important part of Pride; one of the reasons that battle exists. It doesn't alienate you from the community (despite how much it might feel that way at times), but rather makes you a crucial part of it.

Idk, I apologize if this response is rambling and too "me" centric. I have trouble working through such complex, delicate subjects, especially during a time when I'm already overthinking them 24/7. I guess what I'm trying to say is that, in as much as our personal situations may differ, I understand those feelings. As much as I'm actually full of pride during Pride, reblogging all the queer memes and sending rainbows to my friends, I'm still equally scared, furious, and disheartened by how far we still have to go and sometimes that translates into just... not wanting to celebrate. None of these feeling are necessarily independent of each other. We can take pride in our identities while also, simultaneously going, "Yeah, this stuff still really sucks." We wouldn't be fighting if it didn't.

#queer

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sweetest-honeybee · 5 years ago

Text

“Wow, Logic really threw you out the window, Roman!”

Fic inspired by @5am-the-foxing-hour ‘s post about Roman attempting to fight with each of the other Sides :)

TW: Fighting obvs and a bit of blood mention (Logan bouta kick Roman’s ass) and Remus and Deceit are in this so read at your own risk if you’re not one for kinda violent themes and brief mentions of bugs. This is kinda angsty but it ends with a logicality hug :)

Characters: All the sides are at least mentioned in some way (But Logan and Roman are mains)

Summary: After fighting with Patton, Roman decides to try to fight Logan. Logan takes up his offer and despite early failures and probably some broken ribs, the teacher gives the cocky prince what he deserves.....one hell of a violent tantrum and a broken nose.

Enjoy!

————————————

“Patton you can’t just hug people mid battle! It’s distracting!”

“Oh...but isn’t that kinda of the point? Don’t I win?”

With the fourth round ending, Roman simply sighed through his nose. Patton looked up at him with an oddly curious gaze but it was the puppy eyes nonetheless. Roman couldn’t tell him he had basically lost for the past four rounds by hugging Roman while his fists were visible.

He could admit that Patton’s little tactic would be a bit useful in some kind of hand-to-hand combat. He had a hug strong enough to pin your arms to your chest and keep you form moving despite his small size. Roman wondered for a second of the father figure kept a layer of muscle under the chubbiness of his cookie-filled body.

“Yes, Patton, you win,” Roman decided. Patton’s eyes lit up and a grin spread across his face. He clapped happily and cheered for himself.

“Yay!”

Roman ruffled his hair and brough them both back to the living room where Logan resided.

“Logan, I won!”

“You did? Oh- I mean of course you did. Roman isn’t one for tactics anyway, I’m not very surprised.” Roman eyed Logan with a glare.

“Well actually, Logan-“

“Yeesh, why were you fighting Patton?”

Everyone’s attention was brought to the grumbly voice on the stairs. Turning to it, Virgil sat slouched on last step. “I mean, it’s no surprise to me either that he won. Roman’s an idiot.”

“Hey!”

Virgil shrugged, Patton took off for a celebratory cookie, Logan simply continued drafting the schedule he was working on.

“Well if you’re so high and mighty, I propose that we fight as well. What could you possibly be good at?”

Virgil chuckled. “I’m fight or flight. Besides, don’t forget that I lived with your brother for years.”

Roman’s eyes widened. Either Virgil would be smart since Deceit also had his own ways with combat or Virgil could murder him in a heartbeat because of Remus. The Duke had no sign of any kind of thought process in a fight since he’d usually ran at Roman screaming at the top of his lungs and swinging his morning star frantically at the Prince’s face.

And besides, Roman already fought Deceit both for practice and other personal reasons. Virgil was practically Deceit’s spitting image from time to time. A fight with Virgil would only end in inevitable predictability much to what he couldn’t decide if it was his advantage or dismay.

Roman huffed. “Right, I’ll....pass thank you. Besides, you have your creepy magical spider legs, so you’d probably use it to your unfair advantage anyways.”

Virgil scoffed and smirked. “Sure.” The trait pulled out his phone and began scrolling.

Roman pouted at the new lack of attention and looked around the room briefly. His eyes landed on a Logan who sat, still scribbling in notes on each date. He didn’t need to even look up to know that Roman was staring right at him with a sudden grin on his face. An obvious idea came to the Teacher’s mind.

“I’m not going to fight you, Roman.”

Roman gasped in mock offense, groaned, and flailed his arms like a toddler. “Why not?! It’d not like it would be a slow fight, I’d kick your ass within the first ten seconds!”

Logan raised a single brow and glanced at the Prince. “Right,” he replied sarcastically. He continued to write in more and more dates onto the calendar.

The Prince then had another idea. “What, you don’t believe me?”

“No.”

“You wanna bet?”

“No.”

“Bet you can’t even hold a sword correctly.”

Virgil and Patton both chuckled at Roman’s attempts. But even they knew where this was going to go. And they knew that Logan couldn’t stand to be incorrect. He always had to go and prove himself.

Logan sighed through his nose. “I can hold one correctly, actually.”

“Right right, suuurree, but you’d still lose anyways. You’re a teacher! What kind of teacher knows how to fight! You’d be too weak for me to feel a punch.”

“Roman, I’m not fighting. Also there’s plenty of teachers who know how to fight.”

“I dunno Logan. If you don’t do it, Roman will ultimately be correct and you will not. Besides, how cool would it be to see you kick his ass,” added Virgil.

“Yeah what Virgil said minus the profanity!” also added Patton

Logan thought for a second and groaned loudly. “Fine,” he decided. “We will fight under one condition.”

Roman grinned and became giddy. “Anything.”

“I win and I get your entire sector of control for a week.”

“Psh, alright its a deal. Okay so, we’re gonna do hand to hand like I did with Patton. All fighting styles are permitted but I will go with my own tactics.”

“Hand to hand won’t include pulling a dagger out of your pocket.”

“I....will use my other tactics but considering your height, weight, and general lack of a drive to do more than read books, I might just go easy on you.”

“Sure.”

“But uh...you might want to change into something more comfortable.” Logan rolled his eyes and the two, along with Patton and Virgil as their audience, sunk down and reappeared in the Imagination. Around them was a large open warehouse with several mats covering the floor. Weapons of all kinds lined the walls.

“Watch out, DeeDee!”

......Conveniently, both Remus and Janus were there, too.

“Yeesh, when were you into being here, Jan? Thought sweat and blood wasn’t classy enough for your taste,” asked Virgil.

“Hardy har har,” Janus replied in a monotone voice. He ducked from another ninja star just a rely missing his hair. “Remus didn’t want some practice.”

“Mhm, sure. Logan is gonna kick Roman’s ass in a fight.” Remus and Janus stopped their activities to listen with a sudden curiosity.

“Oh?” Janus glanced at Roman and Logan with a raised brow. “Is that so.” He practically scanned the teacher up and down. “I totally couldn’t see that happening.”

Roman scoffed. “Wow, okay, and how would you know that?”

“I have my ways. But at least he reads up on it. Being ‘Light’ Creativity doesn’t take away the fact that you’re all brawn and no brain, sweetie.”

“Uh hellooooo, I don’t need a brain to fight. As long as I’m stronger than him, I’ll beat him.”

“Tell that to the girls taking defense classes to beat up rapists...” Remus muttered. “Anyways! I wanna see this. I always beat Roman in a fight too and I’m shorter than he is. My money is on Teach.”

Roman rolled his eyes. “Sure, anyone else wanna place their bets while we’re all here shitting on my fighting skills?”

“Logan.”

“Logan~”

“Logan!”

“Certainly Roman.”

“I’m certain I will probably win.”

Roman just stared at the teacher. “You can’t place a bet on yourself, also HEY! I want some support too!”

“Room for one more?” The group turned and stared at the familiar voice. There stood Thomas.

“What? Why are you here?” asked Roman. “I mean, feel free to stay but don’t you have things to do?”

“I just told them I wasn’t feeling good so I went and took a nap.”

Janus chuckled. “Wow, a lie? I’m surprised.”

Thomas glared at the liar but continued. “All I keep thinking about all day is fighting people so I wanted to see what was up with all of you.”

“Roman fought Patton and decided he was gonna try to deck Logan. But Logan is gonna kick his ass!” Remus explained enthusiastically.

“Awe, hush now, Remus, Roman is clearly confident in himself,” replied Janus sarcastically.

“And I will! You guys will see!”

Thomas snorted and shook his head. “Don’t worry, Roman, I’m rooting for you. No offense to Logan.”

“None taken.”

“Alright, is anyone else joining us before we start?” The group shook their heads in unison. “Good.”

With the snap of his fingers, the pair were clothed in T-shirts and basketball shorts along with Logan’s glasses now replaced with contacts. Behind them along the wall appear a small set of bleachers for their audience to watch from. Roman and Logan walked towards the center of the taped down circle in the mat’s center and the rest of them waited patiently.

After a bit, the fighting pair crouched slightly and prepared to fight with Thomas’s cue being their start. With the sound of the Host’s voice, Roman and Logan ran towards each other.

.....And within three seconds, Roman had the teacher pinned to the floor with the wind knocked out of him and a bunch of faces full of concern from their crowd. A classic tackle on the first round, but Roman proved his size advantage.

“Ow....”

“Point for me! Prepare for round two, Lo.”

Slowly, Logan pulled himself from the floor. The two crouched once more and waited for Thomas’s signal.

“I think I already taste blood.”

“All part of fighting!”

“Go!”

The fight was a bit longer this time. It took at least twenty seconds for Roman to, once more, get Logan to the floor. And once again, using his size. At first Logan tried to punch him in the throat, a common tactic. But inevitably, Roman blocked the hit, grabbed his arms, and in one spin threw the teacher with brute force out of the taped circle and off of the mat onto the concrete.

“Oh...that really looked like it hurt...” hissed Patton.

Logan only groaned in response and writhed on the floor. “Ngh....I need a break, Roman...”

“No breaks in a fight, Lo-“

“Oh please, let the kid get some water,“ Virgil interrupted. “You threw him onto concrete, and at this rate, he won’t be breathing by round four.”

Logan sat up. “There will be a round four....?”

Roman smirked devilishly, and nodded almost too happily at Logan’s question that Remus found himself a little surprised at Roman’s minimal sadism. Patton moved to get the teacher water and the rest of them started contemplating whether or not they really believed that Logan would win in a fight against Roman. The Prince strutted over to the group with the grin still on his face.

“Told you I’d win!”

“Can’t believe I of all people am saying this but go easy on him, Ro,” Remus said. “You’re going to kill him and that’s kinda my job, dude. You kill monsters, not teachers.”

“Yeah, I’m with Remus on this one I’ll admit. I didn’t think you’d go so hard on him...” added Thomas.

Roman huffed. “He should’ve expected it.”

“Yeah, but he’s not a paper plane, hun, we don’t throw people,” replied Janus. “We’re trying to avoid concussions and paperwork.”

“But you’re not....nevermind. What Janus said. At least let him live,” muttered Virgil.

“Sure sure, but I’m not giving him my sector for a week so he’ll have to try harder.” The three grimaced at Roman’s naivety and sudden arrogance but let it go on nonetheless; Logan was resilient after all. While Roman could certainly even stab him in the throat, the object impermanence would only land Logan with nothing more than the faintest scar.

“I’m ready.” The boys perked up at Logan’s admittedly spotless body. Where once bruises were forming on his cheeks and elbows were just minor red marks. “Shall we start?”

“Cocky, are we?”

“Hehe....cock-y...”

Roman rolled his eyes at his brother and lead Logan to the mat once more. This time, Logan seemed more concentrated, yet a bit irritated, for lack of a better word. For good reason, Roman was sure. They crouched and Thomas cued their fight again.

Round three ended with a strong kick to Logan’s ribs.

Round four ended with three of Logan’s lost teeth.

Round five called another break for Logan’s now broken finger. The prince only grinned at his violent accomplishment and this time, Janus smacked him over the head to tell him that he’s an idiot.

“Keep this up and I’ll fight you myself, you hear me? Break another bone on his body and so help me, I will strangle you to death and that is not an exaggeration.”

“Sure, Jan.” Janus glared intensely at Roman after his basic comeback. A reference, of course.

”Oh he’s not exaggerating, he did it to me once because I put a sacks worth of centipedes and maggots in his bed once.” Roman snorted at Remus’s addition but gulped thickly.

“Logan- Logan, wait, I haven’t wrapped your finger yet-!”

The three turned their attention to a very angry looking, quite possibly furious, Logan stalking towards them. Patton and Virgil trailed behind quickly with worried expressions. Thomas simply watched and made direct eye contact with Roman. He mouthed a few words and sunk out to the real world.

You’re done for.

Romans eyes widened as the teacher took his shirt by the collar and dragged him to the circle.

“Logan- Logan, wait, let’s talk about this-“

“Fight. Now.”

Ready for a cue, Logan crouched and this time...he may kill Roman. Even Remus recognized that murderous glare emitting from Logan’s eyes and he smiled. Grinned, even. He knew what was coming for Roman and he was going to enjoy every second of it.

“Logan, go easy on him, bud. I know you’re probably mad-“

“Just make the call, Patton. I know what I’m doing, now.” Patton gulped.

“Alright, if you say so,” the father figure flinched at the word that left his mouth. “Go!”

A few steps forward from Logan and Patton couldn’t bare to watch. He covered his eyes and turned away, hiding from the sudden screech escaping Roman’s lips and ducking into Janus’s back, startling the other.

It happened for about a minute, but everyone would swear that the sixteen punches and three kicks delivered to various areas of Roman’s body happened in a single second. By the end of it when Patton came out from behind the snake faced side, he could only gasp at the sight.

Admittedly, Remus chuckled both because of the pair’s current position but also that Roman was cupping his nose with scrunched eyes.

Logan straddled the prince’s waist and he held himself up with his arms on Roman’s chest. Blood seeped out of his lips and he hung his head low, panting with shallow breaths. Not a hit seemed to have been laid on him, besides his mouth. He lifted his head slightly and took a glance at Roman, still on the floor holding his nose. Quiet cries escaped the prince and Logan’s eyes widened.

“Oh dear god, I’m sorry Roman, I don’t- I don’t know what happened-“ the logical facet moved quickly off of Roman and the prince sucked in a well needed breath. He pulled Roman from the floor into a sitting position. “Are you alright?”

Roman took his hands away from his face. Logan, and the others who slowly walked closer to the pair, gasped. Blood practically poured in buckets from his nose and mouth. His eyes were puffy and red, his nose a bit crooked, and his face wet with painful tears.

“I’m sorry.”

“You’re sorry?!” Doman winced at the shouting. “Roman, I broke your nose! I can heal from these things in seconds and you can’t, what on earth are you apologizing for?!”

“For being a dick, Logan! I don’t care how much you can heal from that kinda stuff, it’s kind of an asshole thing to to do beat the shit out of your friends for fun!” Roman huffed and pouted. “I was being rude to you and I hurt you.”

“Wow, and it took you a broken nose to realize that?” Remus scoffed. “Dumbass. Get up, I know a witch that can help.”

“No, I deserve it. I have to live with the injuries.” Remus rolled his eyes.

“Oh don’t be so fucking dramatic. That’s Janus’s job-“ Janus squinted at Remus “-Besides, not everyone is very comforted with you enduring weeks of nose repair and I’m not gonna listen to you whine every day so come on.” Remus took Roman by the sleeve and sunk out with him. Roman only spared a sympathetic frown at Logan before doing so.

“What even was that, Logan?” Logan winced at Virgil’s question.

“I don’t know, but I have to make up for it. Italian is romans favorite meals, I’m sure he’d like that.”

“Don’t avoid the question-“

“Look, Virgil, I don’t know what happened. I don’t hardly even recall half of it at the moment.”

“You were angry, weren’t you. Because he kept winning?” Logan looked up at a teary eyed Patton. “I know he was mean but he didn’t deserve that.”

“I know he didn’t. I don’t believe he did, not...ever, really. Just adrenaline I guess. And it wasn’t because he was winning. I couldn’t care less if he won, to be honest. But like I said, I need to make it up to him.” Logan stood from his crouched position. “It’ll be alright, I’m sure he’ll be fine, Patton.”

Patton sniffled and looked down to the floor. “Right...”

Logan cleared his throat. “Um, if it’s any consolation, his healing only takes two or three weeks.”

Patton still stared downwards. Virgil and Janus shared worried expressions.

Logan sighed. “I um- I may be the last person right now for you to want this from to feel free to say no but, while I’m not one for empathy and affection would....would you like a hug? I’ve read that hugs can increase dopamine levels.”

Patton snorted. Wordlessly, he wrapped his arms around the logical side’s waist. Logan quite firmly hugged him back but at least it was some form of comfort.

Virgil and Janus both chuckled at the two but it was cute nonetheless. They both sunk out, leaving Logan and Patton alone.

“I promise, Patton, Roman will be perfectly fine. I’m not great with sympathy or empathy but I can ‘up his spirits’ by.....a Disney movie marathon I suppose.”

“And spaghetti.”

Logan chuckled. “And spaghetti, I’ll make a note of it.”

#thomas sanders #thatsthat24 #sanders sides #janus sanders #logan sanders #roman sanders #virgil sanders #remus sanders #patton sanders #fic #my fic #violence tw #blood tw #insect mention

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tamatoashiny123 · 4 years ago

Text

The Paris Pilfered Identity Case

This is a story I wrote a few months ago. I hope you like it!!! :)

Boasting an annual 9.6 million viewers, the Louvre is the world’s largest art museum, located in Paris, France. Not only did the museum hold 38,000 historic artifacts and art pieces, its glass pyramid exterior was considered to be a work of art all by itself.

One of the pieces of art located in the museum was the Seated Scribe sculpture. An ancient Egyptian work of art discovered in 1850 by Auguste Marriete, it depicted a scribe at work while in a seated position. And tonight, it was the target of Carmen Sandiego’s latest caper.

Using her wrist-mounted grappling hook, the thief zipped up to the pyramid’s top point. “I’m in position,” she told Player (her hacker accomplice) through the communicators in her earrings. “Are the security systems and cameras deactivated yet?”

“They’re offline,” Player reported. “Considering how many valuables are in there, you’d figure their security systems would be a bit harder to turn off.”

“But I’m only after one thing: the Seated Scribe,” she reminded him.

“Yep. Steal it and replace it with the phony sculpture before V.I.L.E. can get their hands on it and add it to Countess Cleo’s collection. Then, after V.I.L.E. takes the bait, you stealthily give back the real one to the proper authorities.”

As Carmen leaped to the section of the roof under the museum’s Egyptian Department, a car pulled up. It wasn’t a getaway car operated by Zack and Ivy, however (Carmen decided to take this as a solo mission while the pair stayed behind to fix up their base in San Diego along with Shadowsan). It was the car piloted by A.C.M.E agents Chase Devineaux and Julia Argent.

“If La Femme Rouge thinks zat she can waltz into my home territory of France and steal ANYTHING, she has another thing coming,” Chase told his partner as he popped a mint into his mouth. “Tonight is ze night zat Carmen Sandiego's career as a no-good thief comes to a decisive end!”

“Well, maybe she’s acting preemptively in order to protect the object she’s stealing. There’s been a rash of Egyptian artifacts from museums all over the world recently,” Julia reminded her partner. “And it appears Carmen Sandiego is heading towards the Egyptian section of the museum right now.”

“No doubt Miss Sandiego was ze mastermind of zose other objects' disappearances as well.”

“But the few eyewitnesses we’ve gotten have all reported seeing men speeding away from the crime scenes. No girls.”

“Have you forgotten? Our little thief is a master of disguise. No doubt she posed as a man during zese crimes to throw us off her scent. But it'll take far more zan such acts of cross-dressing to shake ME off her trail. Now, let’s catch ourselves a thief!” he shouted, exiting the car and running towards the entrance.

“But shouldn’t we wait for backup?” Julia shouted to deaf ears. Frustrated, Julia looked up towards the roof, where she saw the thief cut a hole in the roof and slipped inside. Thinking, she grabbed her own A.C.M.E.-issued grappling hook and ran towards the roof.

oOo

Removing the glass case off of the statue, Carmen removed the decoy statue from her coat’s inside pocket. With precision (as to not activate the pressure plate the artifact was no doubt placed on top of), she took the real Seated Scribe and immediately replaced it with the sham sculpture. As she deposited it into her coat pocket, Chase entered, his gas gun deployed.

"Hands where I can see zem, Miss Sandiego," he ordered.

She did as instructed. “As you wish, Inspector,” she sarcastically responded before lunging forwards and kicking the gas gun out of his hands, causing a small cloud of knockout gas to puff out.

As Chase covered his mouth and nose with his jacket to avoid inhaling the gas, Carmen used her grappling hook to zip up through the hole she had come through. But waiting a foot away from the hole when she came up was Agent Argent, pointing her stun-laser pistol at the thief (Chief only gave Julia the laser pistol out of the pair as to minimize the damage Chase caused).

“Agent Argent,” Carmen casually greeted Julia, seemingly unfazed at the weapon being pointed at her.

“Miss Sandiego, I trust you have a valid reason for your thievery of this artifact.”

“Of course I do: steal it before V.I.L.E can, then return it when their attention moves elsewhere.”

Julia smiled. “As I suspected. And I can confirm that you weren’t behind the recent global robberies of Egyptian artifacts?”

“Couldn’t stop them in time,” she explained. “So I decided to stop here to make sure V.I.L.E. couldn’t add this one to their list. So, now that I’ve fully explained my actions, I can take off now, right?”

“Miss Sandiego, you know I want to let you run off into the night, but...my job.”

“I get it. Your ‘job’: to catch thieves like me, per order of the Chief.”

“Well, yes-”

“But I’m a thief who works for the force of good! Doesn't the Chief know that?”

“I’ve tried to convince her of that so many times, but-”

“She doesn’t believe you.”

“It’s just given all the evidence-”

“I get it. Really, Julia, I do. But I won’t let you, your snooty partner, or any other A.C.M.E. agent get me-AUGH!”

Neither girls had noticed Chase climbing up onto the rooftop with his own grappling hook, sneak behind the thief, and jab her in the spine with his taser, causing her to collapse.

“Excellent work, Agent Argent,” he congratulated his partner as he ingested a celebratory mint. "Distracting her while I sneak up from behind and finish her off once and for all!"

“But sir,” Julia argued with her, “I was just talking to her. She was explaining to me that-”

“All lies she was spouting, I'm sure,” Chase cut her off. “Now zen, let's strip her of all her gadgets and get her into ze car. Ze Chief is going to get a little surprise tonight...

oOo

As luck (or quite the opposite of luck for Carmen) would have it, the Chief was in town to review evidence for a separate crime V.I.L.E. had committed. In his infinite wisdom (which drowned out Julia’s legitimate wisdom), instead of calling her to pick up Carmen from the museum, he decided to drive the thief to the police station the Chief was at the time, which was a few miles away.

Carmen was disarmed of all her tech (grappling hook, earring communicators, all the small gadgets that lined her coat pockets) as well as the Seated Scribe (nestled safely in the car’s glove box). Her arms were handcuffed behind her back and (on the orders of Chase) she was gagged with a white handkerchief between her teeth.

“I will not let ziss thief try to use her charming words to get out of ziss one,” Chase bragged. “You are getting brought to A.C.M.E. custody whether you want to go or not.”

“Nuh-guh oww-zee ee-eck-ib,” the thief muttered into the cloth gag.

Chase sat up front while Julia sat in the back next to Carmen in order to keep an eye on her. As the car sped off towards the police station, Julia gave Carmen a sympathetic look.

“I’m so sorry it had to come to this,” Julia told the thief. “I hope Chase’s taser didn’t sting you too badly.”

“Do not apologize to ze criminal!” Chase chastised her. “She deserved ze voltage of my taser after all of the ze times she humiliated me! And no one humiliates Chase Deni Devineaux without suffering ze consequences!”

In response, Carmen delivered a hard kick to the back of his seat. Chase gave a dirty look to Julia, who reluctantly drew her taser and held out in an act of warning to the prisoner.

“So sorry,” Julia whispered.

“‘t’s ah-kah,” Carmen whispered back.

Chase then drove in silence for a bit, humming La Marseillaise under his breath. As he did, Carmen looked for a way out of her predicament. Spotting the remote for the electronic handcuffs in Julia’s suit pocket, Carmen slowly leaned in towards the agent to try to get it. Seeing it in time, Julia grabbed the thief’s wandering fingers, stretched them out (hard enough for it to hurt in the moment, but no further than that), and shoved Carmen back upright. The red coat-wearer let out a soft growl into her gag while Julia flashed a tiny smile.

“Yur ood,” the thief softly admitted.

Julia beamed at the mumbled compliment. “I know,” she jokingly bragged.

Carmen kept thinking about ways to escape. She had come up with a few ideas, but all of them risked harming Julia. As much as she wanted to rough Chase up, she couldn’t say the same thing about his partner, one of the only people in the world who truly understood her life’s goal: to steal with only good intentions in mind. As much as she hated to admit it, it looked like she’d have to find some way to escape from A.C.M.E. custody…

But suddenly, a miracle (of sorts) occurred: when Chase went to pop another mint into his mouth, he found the container to be empty. Grunting, he pulled into the parking lot of a convenience store, a mere mile away from the police.

“Sir, can’t you just wait until after Carmen has been handed over to the proper authorities to get more breath mints?” an incredulous Julia asked.

“And risk having a smelly breath while gifting La Femme Rouge over to ze Chief? No way!” he barked back, stepping out of the car. “I'll be just two minutes. Keep an eye on our little thief while I'm gone!”

Chase ran inside the store. As soon as he was gone, Julia took the gag out of Carmen's mouth. “I apologize about the gag, Miss Sandiego. It was Chase’s idea, not mine.”

“I know. How unfair it is, though, considering he’s the most deserving one in this car deserving of a gag.”

Julia giggled in agreement. “I just can’t believe that man stopped for breath mints in the middle of transporting a master thief. He’s practically addicted to those things.”

“You think I’m a ‘master’?” Carmen smirked. “Thanks for such a glowing compliment, Agent Argent.”

The two sat in silence for a moment, waiting for Chase’s return. Right before Julia was about to say something else to her prisoner when both ladies could hear the French agent shout from inside the store, “I DEMAND YOU LET ME IN FRONT OF ZE LINE! ZISS IS A MATTER OF POLICE URGENCY!”

Startled, Julia turned her body, causing the remote to fall out of her pocket. Seizing her moment, Carmen grabbed the remote and pressed the button, releasing her from the cuffs. Realizing what happened, Julia grabbed her taser, but Carmen grabbed her wrist and used her other hand to pry Julia’s fingers from the weapon, causing it to fall onto the ground.

Realizing that she wouldn’t be winning this conflict, Julia tried exiting the car to contact Chase or any other A.C.M.E. agent, but it was too late; Carmen now had the taser. She grabbed the agent by her suit jacket and dragged her as far away from the car door as possible while pointing the taser at Julia’s spine.

“Looks like the shoe is on the other foot now,” Carmen said with a warm smirk.

“N-now now, M-miss Sandieg-go,” a fearful Julia stammered out. “Let’s not do anything hasty.”

“Well, your partner thinks I am a ‘no-good creeminahl’. Maybe I should help to bolster his claims by giving you a nice little shock,” the thief half-joked.

“But I know your style: you never hurt the innocent; only the criminals.”

“100% right again, Agent Argent. But I would still not try to wrestle this taser out of my hands. After all, it might accidentally slip from my hands and nick you.”

Looking back towards the convenience store, both ladies could still hear Chase creating a ruckus inside.

“How much longer do you think it’ll take for him to come back from his breath mint run?” Carmen asked.

“I really shouldn’t be giving away such information-”

‘Remind me again: who has the taser here?”

Julia sighed. “Forty seconds until he realizes in his haste that he picked up fruit mints...which he hates, thirty seconds to find the peppermint-flavored mints he prefers, and two more minutes to shout his way back to the front of the line and come back here.”

“Excellent. I think that gives me enough time to make a little switch.”

“What type of ‘switch’?”

Not answering Julia’s question, Carmen gently grabbed the sleeve of the agent’s suit jacket and ran her fingers against it.

“Do you know my favorite thing about you, Julia, besides your brains? Even though I’m a whole five inches taller than you, your clothes should still be able to fit me just fine.”

oOo

Exactly three minutes and ten seconds later (just as Julia has predicted), Chase returned, three new containers of mints in hand. As he stepped back into the car, he briefly looked over his shoulder to make sure everything was as he had left it: both his pantsuit-wearing partner and the red coat and fedora-wearing thief bound and gagged next to her were both still sitting in the backseat. Satisfied, Chase started the car back up and sped off to the police station. As he drove, he noticed that Carmen was making far more noise into her gag than she had been before.

“Save your voice, Carmen,” the French agent advised his prisoner. “I'm sure ze Chief will have a lot of questions for you to answer once she gets a hold of you.”

“I completely agree with you, Chase,” Julia said. “You need to stop, Carmen, before I whip out the taser again.”

Chase furrowed his brow as he cracked open one of the new containers. “Miss Argent, are you ok? You sound a bit different. And even more peculiar, you are AGREEING with me for once!”

“I’m perfectly fine, Agent Devineaux. I was just thinking: maybe you were right this whole time. Maybe Carmen Sandiego IS a no-good hoodlum that deserves to be brought to A.C.M.E. in cuffs.”

Over Carmen’s growls of anger, Chase smirked. “Miss Argent, I'm so happy you are starting to see things my way.”

Carmen could only roll her eyes at this point.

oOo

Minutes later, the car pulled up to the police station. Julia was the first to step out of the car.

“I’ll alert the Chief of our arrival,” she told her partner, whose mind was on all of the praise that’d surely be coming his way in the near future. “Why don’t you take hold of the prisoner? That way, you can be the one to present her.”

“A fine idea, Miss Argent,” Chase said with a smile as he opened the car door. As he did, the Chief walked out of the police station with several other A.C.M.E. agents in tow.

“Agent Devineaux,” she greeted him. “To what do I owe this visit?”

“Chief, Agent Argent and I were called in on a robbery to ze Louvre-”

He looked around to find his partner, only for her to have seemingly vanished into thin air.

“Huh, she just went out looking for you,” he mused. “Oh well. I'm sure she'll be back any second. Anyways, we responded to ze robbery call and you'll never guess who we captured while we were zere.”

Proudly, he pulled the thief out by her coat and presented her to his boss. The Chief’s look of interest quickly turned into a scowl.

“Agent Devineaux,” she addressed him sharply, “is this some kind of joke?”

"What do you mean ‘joke’?" he asked. “It is she, ze one who we've been trying to capture for months: Carmen Sand-what ze?"

Upon actually looking at the person he had brought in, he realized that this wasn’t Carmen Sandiego; it was his partner, Julia, who was dressed in the thief’s signature red coat and fedora while also wearing the handcuffs and gag.

“Zat's impossible! I tasered her, placed her in ze car, and I checked zat she was still zere after I stopped for zose mints-"

“Let me get this straight,” the Chief questioned him. “You were transporting our most wanted target, and you stopped for BREATH MINTS?!”

As Chase continued to sputter out an excuse and while the Chief mentally questioned her decision to hire him in the first place, both didn’t Julia blush through all of this, as well as the note that fell from the red coat’s pocket.

oOo

From a nearby rooftop, Carmen (still wearing her Julia ‘cosplay’) watched the scene unfold with a smirk, gently tossing the Seated Scribe (stolen back during the switch) between her hands.

“I gotta say, Red,” Player complimented her, “you look pretty fly in a pantsuit.”

“It’s a pretty snug fit, though,” Carmen noted, tugging at the sleeves. “Why couldn’t Chase partner with a girl my height?”

“Well, all’s right with the world again: the Seated Scribe is back in your possession, and Chase is in ‘le doghouse’ with the Chief. But I do feel a little bad for Julia, having to do her dirty like that.”

“Both of us girls won,” the thief assured her. “She didn’t have to catch me and I got away. And I think the note I left with her will make her day a bit brighter.”

“What note?”

“I scribbled it a block before we got to the station. It reads, You can keep this jacket too. I hope we can do this again sometime...but maybe without Chase.”

“What a cute love letter,” Player teased.

Carmen scoffed. “It wasn’t a love letter…”

“Well, I think you should know that I ship you with Julia. ‘Jules-Thief’, I call the ship.”

“Send me the fanfiction I’m sure you have featuring us girls later. Anyways, you have the hotel room ready for me?”

“A five star suite, courtesy of V.I.L.E.’s funds, is waiting for you, Red. Sending the coordinates now.”

As Carmen shot her grappling hook out and swung away, she could hear the familiar cry of “LA FEMME ROUGE!” echo through the streets of Paris.

#carmen sandeigo netflix #carmen sandeigo 2019 #carmen x jules #julesthief #chase devineaux #juletheif #julia argent #acme

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nerdygaymormon · 5 years ago

Note

As a straight member of the church who genuinely wants to understand better, what changes would you like to see in the church to better accommodate and support the lgbt community and lgbt members of the church?

This is an interesting question that I’ve never been asked. I’ve put a lot of thought into this over the past week.

I don’t know the end destination of the Church on these matters, but I do know it needs to go on a journey. There is a long ways to go to become a Church that is inclusive, celebratory and an advocate for its LGBTQ+ members

—————————————————————

Jesus begins his public ministry by announcing what He’s come to do (Luke 4:17-21)

to bring good news to poor people

to set prisoners free

to give sight to the blind

to liberate the oppressed

and to usher in God’s abundance

How does the Church’s treatment of LGBTQ+ members fit with what Jesus came to do? Does it liberate the oppressed? Does it help LGBTQ+ members feel God’s abundance? Is it good news?

Did you know that LGBTQ+ members who stay active in the Church have worse mental health compared to those who leave? They have a lower quality of life and lower self-esteem. They have higher rates of depression, sexual identity crisis & internalized homophobia. 89% have PTSD symptoms. Is this what you’d want for your child? Do you think it’s what Heavenly Parents want for theirs?

Change is needed

—————————————————————

Church leaders used to teach that gay attractions were a result of addiction, masturbation, pornography, family dysfunction, smothering mother, distant or weak father, sexual abuse, selfishness, speaking about it, gender non-conforming dress or behavior or a confusion over gender identity or gender roles.

Church leaders also were clear that this is not inborn and people can change their orientation. Essentially, there are no gay people, there’s just straight people who need to have faith to change and be healed.

This would explain why there was such an insistence for people to not use gay, bi, or lesbian to describe themselves, because to Church leaders it was seen as giving in to a lie rather than working to overcome these “tendencies.”

It is also why the Church used to encourage (and many local leaders still do) gay people to seek a mixed-orientation marriage.

Can you understand how much damage it does to our psyches & spirits to be taught from the time we are young that a core part of our nature is essentially a defect?

Beliefs are worth reexamining, especially when there is new information or they trouble you & your moral compass. Facts beat beliefs. We have facts and need to adjust our beliefs to account for them.

As recent as 2010, Boyd K. Packer taught that since God’s Plan is for men & women to have sex with each other in a marriage, God wouldn’t give people same-sex attractions without a way to change these while also prohibiting them from being able to act on these attractions. Since he believed God’s Plan only allows sex in a marriage between a man & a woman, he dismisses the idea that gay attractions can’t be fixed. “Why would our Heavenly Father do that to anyone?”

That is a good question. It’d be terribly cruel for God to have people be queer but to require they forever deny their very nature. It just doesn’t square.

Even in the 1970’s the evidence was clear that these attractions are biological and can’t be made to change, and it’s my opinion that one reason the Church would not accept these facts is it did not have openly LGBTQ+ people in leadership who could share their viewpoint and lived experience.

It took until 2006 for the Church to give up on all the various reasons it has stated over the decades to explain why people experience same-sex attractions. Yet rather than accept this is biology, the Church now says it has no position on the causes of same sex attraction.

It took another decade for the Church to say in 2016 that it no longer supports reparative therapy or other sexual orientation change efforts.

So going back to Elder Packer’s teachings that God wouldn’t give these attractions to people without a way to change them and without a way to express them–since they aren’t changeable, it’s imperative for the Church leaders to answer when it’s acceptable for people to act on their same-sex romantic & sexual attractions.

—————————————————————

Studies about LGBTQ+ people finds these are some key factors in their ability to thrive:

Accept biology as the cause of same-sex attractions

A sense of being accepted by family, peers and the larger community

Access to LGBTQ+ affirmative support and services

Optimism about the future and ability to live a happy life as an “out” LGBTQ+ person

Sex & Marriage

Connection to a welcoming religious or spiritual community

How do we incorporate these things into the The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints?

For starters, we need to answer “What is God’s Plan is for LGBTQ+ people?” “What is the purpose of our life?”

Currently the Church not only doesn’t know the answer to those questions, but it actively cuts LGBTQ+ people off from God’s blessings by keeping many of the best parts of the gospel exclusively for straight, cisgender people. This position is based on past understandings that same-sex attractions & gender identities are changeable and caused by sin, trauma or some outside force in the person’s life. As this is not true, the Church needs to rethink its current teachings and policies.

In a church that’s all about being together forever with the people we love and who are most important to us, LGBTQ+ people are told those blessings aren’t for us. Take away all the blessings about family and relationships, would Church still look attractive to you?

A hard stumbling block for the Church will be gender. Gender is complex, science has found there’s several ways to biologically determine someone’s gender and these can contradict each other. Transgender, nonbinary and genderfluid folks don’t fit with the Church’s view on gender even though science confirms that biology underlies these identities.

The Church is very invested in gender roles but these are changeable, no one behaves completely like the gender stereotypes, and that’s why the Church has to teach and enforce them. Gender roles limit our potential as children of God. Gay couples violate gender roles because who’s going to take the male and who’s gonna take the female roles? Gay couples have to collaborate together to figure out who is going to have which responsibilities in their relationship.

—————————————————————

Nothing in this church is set in stone. We have a living God who directs this Church and we do not know all God yet will reveal. The Church will continue to grow and develop under His hands and it is foolishness to limit and claim to know the mind of God fully.

Do we believe that a person will be barred from eternal happiness because they spent their life devoted to a different religion? Or if they didn’t marry? Were Black people any less worthy of the priesthood before 1978? Will someone who lived an honorable life and who had compassion for their fellow humans be denied eternal opportunities because of earthly ritual or policy? Are the family bonds of a loving couple who built a life together not worth perpetuating if they’re gay?

—————————————————————

In 2019 the Church began a path that is likely to lead to major change. The Church proclaimed that:

Same-sex marriages are no longer apostasy.

Children of a gay couple will not be discriminated against by the Church.

Immoral conduct in heterosexual or homosexual relationships will be treated the same way.

I would argue that this is a first step towards tolerance and more change needs to be done to meet these stated goals.

But going beyond mere tolerance, what are some changes the Church could make to accommodate and support LGBTQ+ members? (your original question)

What follows are some ideas.

LANGUAGE

The words used when talking about LGBTQ+ issues matters. Saying things like “she struggles with same sex attraction” or “he suffers from gender confusion” reduces a core part of ourselves to being like a disease or an addiction.

Language needs to reflect the diversity of LGBTQ+ people. Our church is especially gendered, we call everyone “brother” or “sister” which assumes a gender binary. Can we come up with more inclusive titles?

Leaders should show by words & actions that they regard all people as equally loved and worthy of God’s blessings. I’ve heard many talks about LGBTQ+ people but rarely heard love and admiration expressed for LGBTQ+ members, especially in General Conference.

Use inclusive language to talk about families, for example, not just husband & wife. In our church we have many single-parent families and kids being raised by grandparents, yet we have them sing songs about having a mom & dad.

GENDER

We need easily accessible gender-neutral bathrooms in all our buildings and at our activities.

We can put our preferred name on our membership records as though it’s a nickname. Let us also put our pronouns on Church records. How about if we legally change our name or get the gender on our government identification changed, we should also be allowed to change it on our Church membership.

There are gender non-conforming people in the Bible. We should hear their stories taught in classrooms and from the pulpit. We can point out that Jesus broke many of the male gender norms of His time.

Gender-specific groups should be open to ALL people who identify with that gender, and/or start new groups that are not gender specific

We have a tradition of giving babies “a name & a blessing.” It’d be great if we had some sort of observance and/or rituals for transition: name change blessing, perhaps even rebaptism using their new name

Let people dress however they are comfortable. The new Handbook contains restrictions on people who don’t dress according to the gender on their Church membership. Are we really not letting people go to the temple because they prefer pants and a bow tie instead of a skirt?

We should work hard to have gender neutral spaces. At youth conference, housing & sleeping arrangements should be done so the youth are safe & comfortable (having male-only and female-only arrangements can be unsafe for LGBTQ+ youth). The adults are responsible to supervise and keep everyone safe.

Issues of gender and sexuality are important to everyone, not just LGBTQ+ people. For example, we’ve known there’s a problem with how modesty is taught at church. Males & Females get very different lessons. We should make these teachings gender neutral, everyone gets the same standards.

Do we talk about women as doing domestic duties & being nurturers and men as the breadwinner & the person who fixes things? Most women today work, and men should be encouraged to be nurturing of their children. We could emphasize that a married couple are partners and collaborate together. And think of a single parent, they do it all, how insulting to say they’re only capable of half.

Let’s learn more about Heavenly Mother. What is her role? When we think of Heavenly Father, it seems His primary job is looking after the kids. What is Heavenly Mother doing?

TRAINING

Since people come to their bishop and other leaders with tough situations, including LGBTQ+ topics, there should be some sensitivity training and on when to refer them for counseling/therapy.

People who are called to work with children & youth now have to take the online safety training and never be the lone adult with children (unless it’s their own child). That’s a good start and that change was long overdue. The training should include sensitivity training that includes “what if one of their youth comes out to them, how can they help that youth feel respected and celebrated?”

Adults assigned to work with youth should learn warning signs of suicide and how to speak to a youth they’re concerned about. LGBTQ+ youth experience suicidality at rates many times higher than the general population, but this training will benefit all youth.

Language specifically about not bullying or discriminating and how to deal with it needs to be added to our lessons. In the United States, no other group is bullied or the victims of violence more than LGBTQ+ people. This training will help everyone, not just those who are LGBTQ+.

INCLUSION & REPRESENTATION

In recent years our Church has gotten much better at including people of color & different nationalities in its publications and videos. How about we include all the different kinds of families, too?

LGBTQ+ as identity categories didn’t exist in Jesus’ time, but when it comes to non-heterosexual and non-cisgender people, Jesus was remarkably inclusive. It’s important to acknowledge that even before our modern labels, a variety of loves, relationship configurations and gender representation were present in the Bible. Their stories should be included in our lessons and spoken of at the pulpit

Include more women in leadership. They should be in the room where decisions and policies are being made. We have many Biblical examples of female leaders: Miriam, Deborah, Huldah, Esther, Mary of Bethany, Mary Magdelene, Lydia, Phoebe & Priscilla. Joel 2:28 foretells of a time when “Your sons and daughters will prophesy.” We could have women prophets!

Openly LGBTQ+ people need to be part of the leadership. Besides myself (I currently serve as a stake executive secretary), the only other openly gay man I’ve heard of in leadership is Mitch Mayne, who was a ward executive secretary. Representation matters, having our perspective in the room makes a difference. How are LGBTQ+ youth supposed to see a place for them in the Church if they never see LGBTQ+ adults at church?

Much of the teachings of Paul is how to integrate Jewish & Gentile people into the faith. There’s lots of questions about who’s in and who is out, if God favors one ethnic group over another, what rituals are necessary and which aren’t. There’s a lot about inclusivity and appreciation of diversity and not favoring one group at the expense of another. Paul still has lessons for us on how to be more inclusive (hint, pay special attention to the things that hinder the minority from integrating).

LAW OF CHASTITY

The Bible is inconsistent in what it teaches about gender and sexuality. Add in our other scriptures and it’s even more confused. In the time of the Bible, same-sex behavior was widely considered to be a vice of excess that might tempt anyone, like gluttony or getting drunk. It was not understood as the sexual orientation of a minority of people. Affirming LGBTQ+ people does not overturn the scriptures. The few Bible passages that people like to point to on these topics are typically banning same-sex activities used in idol worship or forbidding pederasty & exploitation, which today we’d probably call pedophilia or rape. Our church can still prohibit those things.

Celibacy cannot be a mandate for a whole class of people. Paul said that celibacy is a gift that few have, and to require it of everyone would cause them to sin.

Apply the law of chastity equally to all members regardless of sexual orientation. Stop teaching that queer members “acting” on their feelings is a sin, but that straight members acting on their feelings is a holy endeavor that gets them to the highest of heavens. Treat it as equal.

NO MORE ASTERISKS

The exclusion of LGBTQ individuals from the gospel does not fit with God being no respecter of people and all being alike unto God. Stop teaching gospel principles & blessings and then excluding LGBT people. “It’s not good for man to be alone…except if you’re LGBTQ+.” “The sex drive is God-given and God-ordained and is properly expressed within the bonds of marriage…unless you’re gay.”

Race, wealth, gender, and nationality are all irrelevant to the Lord. We should value the experiences of all people in this church from all demographic groups. When we stop excluding people & truly believe that God is no respecter of persons, we will want to have a Zion community where all of God’s ordinances are available to all of God’s children.

MARRIAGE & FAMILY

I’ve heard many people talk about gender complementarity as why it must be a man & a woman in a marriage, but that’s not a scriptural teaching.

The Bible also doesn’t say that marriage requires procreation. Heck, the scriptures teach that males created the first humans, no women were involved.

Love and faithfulness are the scriptural foundations of a marriage and that is something gay couples are capable of. Marriage can be understood as a commitment, or covenant, to our spouse, regardless of gender.

We have widowed people sealed to their deceased spouse who choose to get married again but for this life only, their marriages are recognized and celebrated even if they won’t be “eternal.” Even if not sealed in the temple, can we bless & celebrate same-sex marriages? If marriage between 2 gay people won’t continue on into the eternities, can they at least get to be married in this life? “Man is that he might have joy,” love & companionship is a major source of joy in this life.

The Church used to be more creative in how it used the sealing power. It sealed men to men as brothers even if they weren’t related. It even sealed Jane Manning James as a servant to Joseph Smith. With permission from President Kimball, a trans woman was sealed to her husband. How can we say two men or two women cannot be sealed to each other when we have examples from the past? And is there no way to seal a child to a single parent?

If you’re going to talk about defending the family, you’d better be talking about all families, not just the ones with cis-gendered, heterosexual parents who are married and who have children born in the covenant. Regardless of how they are configured, families are a social unit of support and love, and are worth defending.

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eat-the-richard · 4 years ago

Text

Sonic’s 30th: What it could be and what it won’t be

Well folks, it's about that time again. Our beloved Sonic thee Hedgehog is turning the big three-oh this year.

I say that time “again” because, y’know, it seems like we just went through this. The last mainline Sonic releases, Sonic Mania and Sonic Forces, were both revealed as part of Sonic’s 25th anniversary. In a sense, that’s all us fans really have to look forward to anymore. Waiting for about five-or-so rotations around the sun to pass until SEGA can slap that big number next to Sonic’s mug to usher out as much celebratory marketing material as they can, all for the chance to get a smidgen of new video games to get our hands on.

This anniversary feels... different, though. Last anniversary SEGA had an absolute winner on their hands in Sonic Mania. There was no way the team behind that one could possibly mess up. And even if Sonic Forces turned out like... that, it at least made sense from SEGA’s perspective to greenlight a game like it during that time. But the five years since those games were announced have done little to assuage my worries about what exactly is planned for this year’s big game.

You see, Sonic has kind of vanished. He’s lost. M.I.A.. Which feels strange. Even during the supposed “dark age” of Sonic, he never really went anywhere. New games were still being produced like clockwork for a whole host of gaming systems. From mainline titles to spinoffs, dedicated Sonic fans had a lot to sink their teeth into back then. Since the release of Forces, all we really have to show for ourselves is a (personally) insignificant expansion to Sonic Mania and a new racing title which, frankly, didn’t set the world on fire when it was released. I suppose there’s a whole host of mobile titles that I didn’t mention but it’s difficult to get excited over yet another Sonic auto-runner. Perhaps most bafflingly, there haven’t even been many ports of older Sonic titles to modern hardware. If the mid-2000s were the dark ages of Sonic, perhaps right now we’re living in the “silent age,” where basically nothing is even happening and the franchise is at an eternal standstill.

The sole exception to this self-titled silent era was the Sonic movie, which I don’t think anyone anticipated being as big of a success as it was. Including the studio behind it. And especially including SEGA. It was utterly baffling to me that, upon the film’s release, there was nothing in the way of a tie-in game. Nothing directly associated with the movie. Nothing separate to release alongside the movie. Nothing. Some have speculated that SEGA was supremely unconfident in the film and it's hard to argue otherwise. It seems that, in a sense, the movie was a success in spite of the company the IP is linked with.

That’s why this anniversary feels more peculiar than the last one. At least Sonic was doing something in the early 2010s. Perhaps nothing groundbreaking, but he was at least around. If it hadn’t been for the movie, how in the world would the series be attracting new fans? This anniversary needs to be big. It needs to be the explosive re-emergence of Sonic to not only please the jaded oldies but the next generation of kids. And… I just don’t anticipate anything of the sort.

To me, Sonic Team has about four directions they could take the 30th anniversary game. Here they are, listed in descending order of likelihood.

4. A new “boost” game. Sonic Team ain’t opening that can of worms again.

3. A new “classic Sonic” game. While Christian Whitehead’s new studio has been deafeningly silent since forming, I believe that we’d have a bit more information about a Sonic Mania sequel by now if that was indeed in development.

2. Something entirely different.

1. Sonic Adventure 3 (or comparable analog).

Now, your reaction to that list may differ depending on your preferences and the year you were born. To me, something evoking nostalgia to the two Sonic Adventures is the safest and most likely choice for SEGA and Sonic Team. Just as classic nostalgia permeated through the 2010s, Adventure nostalgia will trailblaze full force through the 2020s. There are a lot of people whose only exposure to Sonic at all is playing Sonic Adventure 2 Battle on their GameCube. And the only way those people could potentially get funneled back into the series is through a proper Sonic Adventure 3, or at least something like it.

This, of course, says nothing about the overall quality of what this new Adventure title would be. And really, this is my main concern with the 30th anniversary. Can I even trust Sonic Team anymore to put out a good game?

Regardless of style, I’m unconfident to say the least. The staff that worked on the Adventure titles are not at SEGA anymore. The staff that spearheaded the “boost trilogy” of Unleashed, Colors, and Generations are not at SEGA anymore. And modern-day Sonic Team’s idea of something entirely different is, well, unappealing. Sonic Lost World proved that trying to change the core of the series for its own sake leads to a bland and uninspiring experience. And Forces? Oh… Forces.

Really, Forces is the main reason why I’m so disillusioned. Maybe it was that I was excited for the grand return of the boost. Maybe it was that I loved Generations so much that a proper sequel to it couldn’t possibly be bad. Instead of being a sequel to Generations, though, it tries to be everything at once. A game to appeal to the classic fans, the Adventure fans, the boost fans, those whole love complicated narratives, those who love the many characters this series has, and, obviously, the Original Character Artists™. Jack of all trades, master of nothing. A directionless, soulless game that in some instances is seemingly artificially-generated.

If this spectacular 30th anniversary Sonic game is something entirely different, it had to break an astounding amount of new ground. It had to rethink and reshape the series so drastically that, honestly, I don’t think it's very likely. I don’t think Sonic Team has even the slightest clue about what makes their flagship IP so appealing to so many people. If the nostalgia-fueled 2010s are any indication, SEGA only understands what makes Sonic so popular on a superficial level.

They know we liked the 2D games, so now EVERY game has 2D in it! Oh, they didn’t like that Sonic has green eyes. Well, let’s bring back the CLASSIC version of Sonic. Let’s actually make him his own character who will also appear in every game!

New zone ideas? LMAO how about we reuse the same set of classic levels over and over! Green Hill? YES! Chemical Plant? Of course! Let’s make an entire game that has both Sonics running around in a bunch of old zones. Wait, didn’t we just do that idea last year for Sonic 4 Episode 1? And aren’t we going to do that idea NEXT year for Sonic 4 Episode 2? WAIT DID SOMEONE SAY CHECKERBOARD PATTERNS IN WINDY HILL ZONE!???!!!!

Oh wait, Christian Whitehead just pitched to us a brand new 2D Sonic game with classic physics and new levels? We’ll let him do it, but ONLY if it is ANOTHER nostalgia game that reuses old zones!

Let’s inundate our fans with the same images of their childhood to activate their dopamine receptors!

I can hardly wait for what this team’s idea of Sonic Adventure nostalgia looks like. Hope you really like City Escape.

Really, while such appeals to nostalgia are welcome the first few times, after a while it starts to get grating. Sonic Team leaning so hard into it during the 2010s reeks to me of desperation. As if the constant callbacks are the only thing the team knows how to do to link new games with the rest of the series.

In actuality, fans don’t like Sonic because of the classic design or 2D-platforming or Green Hill Zone. They may like those things, but it isn’t why they continue to support the series. Fans love Sonic so fervently because, when he hits on all cylinders, he really hits. His games play in a supremely rewarding way where skill mastery is key. The better you are at Sonic, the better you feel while playing it. The personalities and designs of all of the different characters, from Sonic to Tails to Vector the freakin’ Crocodile, are not only distinct from each other but bleed through into gameplay in the way that they control and in how they are animated. Sonic’s best stories are ones that people can really relate to, dealing with a whole host of themes such as environmentalism, resisting fascism, surpassing expectations, and even the concept of free will among nonhuman entities. Not especially deep, but certainly thought provoking, especially for kids. All tied together with top notch visual and audio design that will stand the test of time. I’d posit that, while people like Sonic for a whole host of reasons, their starting point lies somewhere in the above explanation.

Hopefully, Sonic Team has realized by now that nostalgia will only get them so far. While a Sonic Adventure 3 would turn heads, it wouldn’t push the series forward. While a proper sequel to Sonic Mania would be a critical darling, it would continue to keep Sonic’s feet firmly planted in 1991. Sonic needs to evolve. He needs to change. And it seems like a change is happening. Roger Craig Smith, the voice of Sonic for the last 10 years, is no longer working with the series. The new TV series, Sonic Prime, is set to take place in a “strange new multiverse.” Even the Sonic movie refuses to lean on nostalgia too hard.

So maybe the future will be set in unfamiliar waters. But if this is the case, I don’t want SEGA to half ass it. I want them to boldly step into that abyss with a vision of Sonic that appeals to the heart of the fandom. Because, even if it's been down recently, that heart is still beating, and after the abuse it's already taken, it’s going to take a hell of a lot to get it to stop. And if SEGA can get this heart pumping to its full extreme as it had in years past, we may have something legendary to look forward to.

They could also just release a bunch of old Sonic games on Switch. I’d like that too.

#sonic #sonic 30th #essay #sonic team

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michaelbranch · 4 years ago

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A Brief Summary of Ideas: The Madness of Crowds

*These summaries are kept intentionally very brief, just hitting what I consider some of the important/interesting takeaways, most word-for-word or paraphrased. My goal is also to stick to ideas/principals that might guide others (or my future self) in deciding the value of a read (or re-reading). T = takeaway, Q = Question

The Madness of Crowds: Gender, Race, and Identity

Author: Douglas Murray

Assumption that a heightened moral knowledge comes with being an oppressed/minority group. "Speaking as a ..."

All these causes started as legitimate human rights campaigns.

Gay

Can't award yourself the right to attribute motives to others that you can't see but which you suspect. Prerequisite for avoiding perpetual confrontation is an ability to listen to people's words and hold some trust in them.

Problem of changing societal positions so swiftly is that unexplored issues and arguments are left behind in the wake.

We still don't have much idea as to why some people are gay.

Hardware = something people can't change (and thus shouldn't be judged on). Software = can be changed (and thus may be available for judgement). Inevitably there will be a push to make some software issues into hardware.

LGBT groupings composition is unsustainable and contradictory. Internal frictions and contradictions even within groupings.

Some heterosexuals are genuinely disturbed by gay people. Plenty of stages between absolute equanimity and ease around people and a desire to violently attack them.

Marxist Foundations

See society not as an infinitely complex system of trust and traditions evolved over time, but solely through the prism of power.

Anyone who questions an "ism" finds themselves accused. Easy weapons to wield with no price to pay for wielding them unfairly.

When it is nearly impossible to tell what is being said, almost anything can be said, and exceptionally dishonest arguments can be smuggled in under the guise of complexity. T= be weary of arguments that can't be presented simply.

Women

Society has doubled down on the belief that biological difference can be denied or ignored.

T= When people make exaggerated claims about what someone else said, its likely an example of people deliberately and lazily adopting simplified misrepresentations of the argument in order to avoid the difficult discussion that would otherwise have to take place.

Contradictory statement = possible to be sexy without being sexualized

Presumption that almost all relationships in the workplace and elsewhere are centered around the exercise of power. Various types of power; many parties can hold different ones.

Privilege is unbelievably hard to define or quantify. How can strata be arranged to be flexible enough to include everyone but consider various comparative changes throughout life. Also, easier to see in others but more difficult to see in ourselves.

Intersectionality is not a fully worked out science.

Concept of the patriarchy has become so ingrained its rarely disputed.

Impact of Tech

If we are running in the wrong direction; tech helps us run faster.

Internet has allowed new forms of activism and bullying. To find people accused of "wrong thing" works because it rewards the bully.

"The one thing we can say with certainty about the advent of new technologies is that people overestimate their impact in the short term and underestimate their impact over the long term." -Variously attributed.

What we say in one place may be posted in another, not just for the whole world but for all time. Having to find a way to speak and act as though it may be in front of everyone. To speak in public is now to have to find a way to address or keep in mind every possible variety of person.

T= Don't sacrifice truth in the pursuit of a political goal.

Race

Some portion of black studies started attacking non blacks. Growth of "whiteness studies" w/ aim of disrupting racism by problematizing "whiteness". Displaces celebratory nature of many race studies to with problematizing others.

Catastrophizing has become one of the distinctive attitudes of the era.

Q= Should we seek color blindness (get beyond race to individual judgement, making skin color effectively an unimportant aspect of a person's identity)?

An idea that since everything was set up by a structure of white hegemony everything is laced with racism and therefore everything must be done away with.

If people got things so wrong in the past, how can you be sure you are acting appropriately today?

Important in crowd maddening mechanism: person who professes themselves most aggrieved gets the most attention. Rewards outrage over sanguinity.

Politicizing issues such that the speaker and their innate characteristics don't matter. What matters is the speech and ideas they give voice to.

Easy(er) to slip up not on an issue of motive but, especially when no other evidence is available, a crime of language.

Social media age has brought us opportunity to publish uncharitable and disingenuous interpretations of what other people have said.

Equality of opportunity AND outcome almost certainly impossible.

Forgiveness

T= Context collapse: conversation/act taken out of context and used to create a simplified version of a person or their beliefs.

Q= How, if ever, is our age able to forgive? Since everybody errs during their life there must be - in any healthy person or society - some capacity to be forgiven. Part of forgiveness is the ability to forget. The internet will never forget.

Actions have consequences that are unbounded and limitless. Constantly acting in a web of relationships in which every action starts a chain reaction. A single word or deed could change everything.

Without being forgiven we would remain the victim of the consequences forever.

T= Historically perpetrators and offended both die out and the grievance fades over time. Internet leaves a permanent record.

Internet helps people approach the past from an all-knowing angle. Retributive instinct of our time that suggests we know ourselves to be better than people in history because we know how they behaved and how we "would have" behaved.

To view the past with some degree of forgiveness is among other things an early request to be forgiven in return.

Trans

Every age before this one has performed or permitted acts that to us are morally stupefying.

A considerable range of cultures has adapted to the idea that some people may be born in one body but desire to live in another.

For intersex people, the question of what medical intervention might be suitable and when is a matter of serious contention.

Very hard to know how to navigate the leap beyond biology into testimony.

Still almost nowhere near understanding trans; including how common it is.

Autogynephilia: arousal that comes from imagining yourself in the role of the opposite sex.

Q= whether what one person believes to be true about themselves has to be accepted as true by other people?

Questions about the age at which people who believe they are in the wrong body should be allowed to access drugs and surgery are worth considering.

Q= What do you need to do to be content with your body, not change it?

Seems we're running to quickly on the trans issue, scared to be on the wrong side of history.

Some contention between trans and feminist ideas.

T= little contention that equal rights should be given. Issue is preconceptions and assumptions about how to go about tackling the issue.

Q=Claims of human rights violations are inversely proportionate to the number of violations in a country. -Daniel Patrick Moynihan. Only a very free society would permit (or encourage) claims about its own inequities.

T= when people attempt to sum up our societies in terms of simplistic structures ask, "compared to what". Not to say elements of our society can't be improved.

The victim is not always right, nice, deserves no praise, and may not be a victim.

Incline towards generosity when interpreting others words/acts.

-People are wiling to interpret remarks from their own tribe in a generous light while reading opposing ones in as negative a light as possible.

To assume that sex, sexuality, and skin color mean nothing would be ridiculous. To assume that they mean everything would be fatal.

The madness we are living through is an over-reaction to past injustice. Belief is that the fastest and best way to address this is to over-compensate.

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wevegottogetaway · 4 years ago

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Whirlwind Part IV - Khamseen

DAY14

The energy shrouding the air of Godspeed’s is much different from what it was for Induction Rave a couple weeks ago. The place is still one of high spirit but the loud euphoria that permeated each of its nook and cranny in celebratory cheers, is now replaced with liquor-prompted laughters and light conversation melting into a mellow background noise. The music seems to have taken the same cue, its lowered volume simply adding to the mesh of sounds of the bar and no longer pulsing baselines into the heart of its patrons. Even the number of clean tables surpasses that of sticky ones for once; a rather improbable phenomenon for such an establishment.

Sitting in a corner booth as he nurses a bourbon in his hands and a scowl on his face, Harry is the embodiment of sulkiness. Feeling drained despite having the rare day off, his shoulders are stuck in a permanent hunch. They bear the pressures of being in the most competitive Navy pilot program in the world only to be met with disillusion once partnered up with someone who traded trust for contempt wherever he was concerned. Not to forget, he is still grieving the loss of his best friend. The sharp memories of the accident have yet to depart his mind whenever he closes his eyes or sits in a cockpit alongside a certain daredevil lady. A lady who haunts his nights by dragging him out of whatever peaceful place he’s escaped to, her crestfallen face appearing just as Morpheus’ arms reach out to him. And Aella always wins his attention no matter the weariness in his bones or how appealing a good night sleep might be.

Entranced in a meticulous reenactment of their last mission, involving pistachios as makeshift aircrafts, Dazzler and Tigger are seating across their subdued friend. They brushed off Harry’s taciturn disposition as they’ve come to be familiar with it, and instead proceed to do as usually ever since the accident: offer friendly companionship whether he decides to actively partake or silently tag along. He’ll start sharing again when he’s ready, they figure. No use in prying and pocking; any person who’s ever been around Harry would know. A closed book he may not be, but rather, he remains selective as to who can leaf through his essence and more importantly, what they may uncover as well as when they get to do so.

"Need a refill?" Dazzler asks Harry as he comes to a standing position hovering over the table, two beer-less pints in hand. The person of interest looks down at the drink cajoled in his hold, a couple sips away from dryness. A nod and a soft ‘please’ is all he offers his friend before returning his focus on the glass in his hands.

As Dazzler approaches the bar effectively out of earshot, Tigger turns to the laconic man seating as his table. For once, his instinct tells him to candidly check on his mate, the absence of Dazzler’s overjoyed nature perhaps giving the moment a tone better suited for confidence. "Got a lot on your mind Styles?" He asks as softly as his voice will let him.

Harry’s eyes lift from their aimless target on a crack of the table to finally land on Tigger’s inquisitive face. They remain unwavering for a second too long as if gauging whether now was the time to exteriorize some of his sorrows. Wasn’t the headache throbbing hard enough already? Didn’t he reach his last thread when Aella and him both shot their last chance at a peaceful partnership? Be that as it may, there is so little space left in Harry’s brain for pondering purposes, he’s just desperate to get some sort of leeway.

"You could say that, yeah" he says to his bourbon with a humorless chuckle.

"Anything involving a certain someone?" Tigger tentatively inquires whilst inconspicuously fiddling with the nutshells scattered across the table. They both know the identity behind the certain someone, and the mere mention is apparently enough for Harry to warrant another mouthful of inebriant. The gesture effectively empties what was left of the liquor, but it’s all the troubled pilot needs to open the floodgates of his censored mind.

"She’s driving me nuts, Tigger. We can barely stand to be in the same room, how are we supposed to fly together?" The piercing green eyes always had this magnetic pool to them. In friendly conversation, they were meant to make the narrator feel like the center of the universe. But right now, under the bar’s dim lights, their glow is shaded by an unhinged quality as if this time their owner was looking at the sun because his world had fallen off its axis and needed fixing.

"Maybe…I don’t know…have you guys tried talking about it?" Tigger doesn’t have much faith in the anticipated answer, but he’s a firm believer that communication can resolve anything. Proper communication, that is.

"Right." Harry looks at his poised friend unimpressed. "All the ‘talks’ we’ve had end in the same way. We scream at each other till we’re blue in the face and we say stuff that leaves us worse off than how we were." His mind takes him back to their last squabble 3 days ago, the way they had completely blown off at each other’s scowling face with crude words escaping their mouth. Like a reflex, he reaches for his drink in a vain attempt to erase the taste of malice still lingering on his lips, only to be met with a teasing drop idling around the rim.

"That doesn’t sound like talking Harry." Tigger retorts with a pointed look. His friend his better than that. Better than the excuse no doubt about to come is way if Dazzler wasn’t making a reappearance with two foamy pints and a bourbon.

"Oi, what’s the chitchat about?" He asks with a beaming smile at the idea that his tortured soul of a friend is finally coming out of limbo, or - at least - back to his talking self. The grin is enough to reprieve Harry from his tiresome thoughts for a second as he looks up to Dazzler and thanks him for the amber liquid placed in front of him. He’s always thought that Dean earned his callsign because of that particular smile: all around contagious, and well, nothing short of dazzling…

He is quickly brought back to the matter at hand by Tigger though. "Just talking about Harry and Aella’s inability to hold a civil conversation together and their propensity to rip each other’s head off." He says, not beating around the bush whilst watching with a raised brow as the seemingly defeated man across from him promptly indulges in his replenished drink.

"Right Styles, what’s got you so riled up about our lovely Aella anyway?" Dazzler bluntly asks once he’s comfortably back in his seat. The term of endearment is not lost on Harry’s ears, however, and the reminder furrows his brow some more.

"Fuck, I forgot you lot were friends with her." He sighs. How is he supposed to vent to his friends about another friend of theirs without coming off has an asshole? He’s positive that ship has already sailed though, without much to be done about it. "Look I’m not saying she’s a bad person, but you guys don’t have to work with her." He tries to soften the blow with a subtle deflection but in his defense, he says it all genuinely so.

Harry doesn’t really know Aella. Doesn’t know what kind of friend she is, how caring she might be with those she cares for, or how witty her words become when prodded by the right person. He does know, however, that any compatibility they may have ends at the gate of any Navy base. He knows she’s more daring than she ought to be when she’s high above the clouds and high on adrenaline. And he knows she can be downright contentious, not to say bitchy when she doesn’t get her way. So no, Harry doesn’t consider Aella to be a particularly good pilot, at least not in a tandem set up. She’s too quick to set his nerves on fire like she does everything else, to make him think otherwise.

"Damn straight I don’t work with her! Coz Tigger’s stuck with my annoying ass until the day it’s too flabby to sit in a Tomcat. But I still don’t get it, man. From what I’ve seen, she seems pretty fucking brilliant to me." Dazzler once again shows his luminous colors as he senses the conversation is about to get much somber.

"Completely reckless you mean. Half the time she’s suggesting moves that’ll send us crashing faster than I can say emergency ejection." Harry has abandoned any cushioning tactic at this point. His resentment has taken control of his speech and his body tightens in accordance: jaw so defined, the contracting motion could be spotted from across the bar, his shoulders stiffen underneath a slightly oversized shirt and his knuckles turn a few shades whiter at the pressure exerted around his already half-empty glass.

The look his two comrades share across the table in silent conversation does nothing to alleviate his frustration. Instead, it makes him feel like a kid about to be given a talk by his parents. And the way Tigger hesitantly speaks up next, voice as easeful as he can muster, makes Harry think he’s not so far off the truth.

"Harry, do you think you might still be processing what happened with Fox?"

The mention of his deceased best friend sends a shiver down Harry’s spine, an indescribable coldness seizing his body that no alcohol could shake off. On the defensive, his guard soars up and the same chilling tone is now clouding his words.

"And what’s your point exactly?"

Dazzler is quick to elaborate on his friend’s suggestion as tactfully as one Dean Marshall is capable of. Subtlety was never his strong suit. "Come on, mate. It’s kinda common knowledge that Fox was a bit of a stuntman himself. But that’s what made him such a great pilot, Harry."

"It’s what got him killed." The retort comes harsh, triggered by an array of emotions still festering in every far enough corner of his being, because he can’t quite fathom how to face them yet. It’s an out-of-body experience in a way, a disconnection between body and mind, that makes him a mere bystander of his knee-jerk reactions. Surely the words are not his. Surely some kind of demon is hijacking the headquarters of his mind and turning him into a sourpuss who can’t reign in his spreading misery. Pretty ironic for someone who used to spread kindness every time he was given the chance.

"Now, you know that’s not the whole truth." Dazzler tries to reason, admittedly slightly shocked by his friend’s outburst. The things grief can do to one’s temper…

"Whatever. She’s still impulsive and she doesn’t know how to fly with a partner." Harry’s quick to dismiss the subject of Fox, he’d rather have a slumber party with his new nemesis before reminiscing the circumstances of his friend’s premature death.

"That’s probably because she’s used to flying solo." Tigger rightfully points out. "See, you’d know that if you two talked like decent human beings."

"Well, she doesn’t have to be a bitch about it." Somewhere, a muted part his brain is considering Tigger’s statement, but it’s not enough to sweeten his bitter thoughts. It’s not pride getting in the way; Harry’s not a prideful person, or at least not in the ways that would blind him from admitting any wrongdoings. His mind is just too fuzzy to reason from both exhaustion and the booze he’s been continuously sipping on this evening. The mockery seems to be the last straw for Dazzler, however, and for once the wrinkles on the usually chirpy lad’s forehead are not caused by laughter.

"Jesus Harry! I love you mate, you know that. But stop acting like a prick, it doesn’t suit you." Green eyes immediately widen at the admonition, and before he can even think of defending himself, he’s being told off some more. "And before you say anything, no I’m not on her side. I just want to help you. Both of you. And believe me, she’s been given the same speech a handful of times, but I’ll be damned if one of you listened for once."

"Daz, you’re getting carried away." Tigger says, once again acting as his partner’s counterbalancing act. He also doesn’t want to end the night with a fall-out. Losing another friend is the last thing Harry needs.

"Damn right I am." Dazzler quips back, his index finger pressing on the table. "I’m tired of your childish antics. Fuck! Since when am I the most grown up of the bunch?" He asks in disbelief, not able to resist throwing humor in an otherwise tense conversation. "I’m your friend Harry, and sometimes friends are here to kick your butt when you’re acting like one." He gets up from his seat before opening his arms wide in a taunting gesture. "So watch me Styles. This is me kicking your goddamn butt. Now, if you’ll excuse me, we’re out of pistachios." And just like that, he’s off on his new quest for a fresh bowl of snacks. They all know it was more so a way of withdrawing from the conversation before it got too heated. And perhaps to prevent Harry from having a chance at a comeback, but he wouldn’t admit that anyway…

"He’s right you know." Tigger softly breaks the silence that had filled the space. "You two need to sort your shit out because we’ve still got 3 weeks left and I know for a fact you’re not a quitter. Besides, TopGun is not the kind of program you can just give up on. You can still make it, Harry."

He can’t quite figure out if his hopefulness has reached the moping man on his left, especially when all he gets in a response is one more bourbon sent down the drain, followed by a "fuck, need anothe’."

DAY 15

Leonie Forbs was born to teach a group of overzealous navy pilots about the riveting matter of astrophysics; or so is Aella convinced. She is poised, calmer than the sea before the storm, yet when a bunch of bullheaded students does storm in her class, her collected and no-taking-shit nature still prevails. Quite the paradox for such a frail looking woman, but she’s made it clear since their first session that her place at TopGun was not to be questioned and that she could not only handle herself but also the 16 adrenaline-driven aerialists sitting in front of her. Aella admires that a lot; she can only dream of receiving the same kind of respect around base these days.

Even more baffling to her, is how Leonie still inspires kindness and confidence within her students. Mastering the rules of the universe in no cakewalk, but with every explanation and encouraging word she provides, Dr Forbs has managed to make it that little bit easier on them. Come to think of it, she somewhat reminds Aella of Berks and his fatherly yet firm lead. The way they both seem hellbent on making her feel welcomed without giving her any free pass either, is enough of a sliver of hope to outweigh all the anguish Rex’s clique has been giving her since she joined the program.

She doesn’t know if it can counterbalance her own partner’s though.

"Last point we need to discuss before your test today comes from the Pentagon itself," Leonie declares as she leans back against her desk, arms casually crossed around her middle. "Intelligence services have discerned a flaw in the Russians’ new MIG 22 flight tanks system. Their negative G push overs are out, so they operate zero to one G only." She scans the room, watching as they all process the new information.

"What happens if they don’t?" One of the students Mason Homes - or Ace, as commonly called around base - bluntly asks.

A pregnant pause ensues before Aella promptly answers her fellow comrade in a bored tone. "They risk flaming out."

"That is correct." Leonie interjects with a quick glance toward her star pupil, before turning her face back to Ace. "Even below one G, the internal fuel tanks are placed too far off ahead the plane’s center of gravity to keep it stable." The explanation immediately falls out of her lips, concise and simple to comprehend, before her attention extends to the whole class. "Now that this precious intel has been handed to us, we need to exploit it. So what’s your take on it?"

Harry is the first one to speak up as everybody seems to mull over the enigma formulated by their professor. His voice is poised, the answer definite and confident. "Concentrate on low altitude, push boosters to +3.5Gs and negative Gs alternatively."

"Very good." Dr Forbs praises in a smile, uncrossing her arms for her hands to hold onto the desk behind her. "Much like their predecessor, MIG 22 have excellent fast-climbing interceptors, so keeping it low will put their tanks at high pressure. Their endurance is very limited, so you would also be right to keep them on their toes and make them really work for it. Chances are they won’t be able to pace up or they’ll run out of fuel."

"What about using after-burning turbojets in inverted thrusts?" Aella challenges. While she doesn’t deny Harry’s tactic would prove adequate, she thought of a different way around the puzzle. Once again, the conventional route didn’t cut it in her opinion. It was too predictable, something she makes sure to always stay clear of.

"I guess it could work on paper, but your range and scope would be infinitesimal." Leonie responds truthfully after giving the proposition a thought. In the past couple weeks she has come to understand and appreciate Aella’s unorthodox thinking. She knows it comes from a knowledgeable place as opposed to one of attention-seeking. Aella doesn’t defy the MOs of traditional naval aviation to drop jaws or get a round of applause. She’s simply driven by her own curiosity and in all straightforwardness, it’s just the way her brain operates. Conjures up the unexpected first like some kind of survival instinct, but in her book, predictability is the first step towards failure. And in her profession, failure usually means death.

"Not if you push the compression to 50%, then their scope is smaller than yours, and that’s enough to put you on their six." Once again, Aella made the laws of science her greatest ally. The plan may be venturesome but her calculations make it also airtight.

"Very avant-garde of you, Lieutenant Lonethorne, I shouldn’t be surprised." The professor admits with a knowing smile and glowing eyes. "If well-executed then yes, the maneuver would prove successful. However, Lieutenant Styles’ approach is just as valid and much less risky." She adds for good measure. Even though she values Aella’s mind dexterity, her purpose is not to bring this groundbreaking side out of her students. Harry’s answer is the one she had expected all things considered.

"But more time-consuming." Aella retorts to drive her point home. She doesn’t think outside the box for the hell of it. There’s always a reason, a worthy advantage that her partner always seems to overpass because of the riskiness of it all.

"I won’t deny that. Both tactics are absolutely potent in their own way; what matters is the situation in which they come to play. And that’s your job to determine." Dr Forbs reminds her fervent student that being a navy pilot can be a long list of pros and cons at times. What maneuver will result in what outcome and for what gamble. Knowing all the possibilities at any given moment is a great skill to have, one that Aella seems to have down to a T. But the real excellence of a pilot shows in the way they can make the right choice out of those possibilities.

"Alright, I’m gonna pass these exam sheets around. Once you’ve been handed yours, you have two hours to complete them. Please don’t forget to provide explanations to your calculations, this is not a math test." Leonie explains with a pointed look before sharing an encouraging smile. "Good luck to you all."

The next two hours are then filled with the sound of pencils scratching paper and frustrated sighs that only increase in volume as the clock ticks closer to the impending time allotment. As there is only two remaining questions waiting to be completed on his exam paper, Harry breathes deeply and takes a look around the room. Most of his fellow classmates are immersed in deep reflection, various level of frowns hardening their face depending on their advancement on the test. His green eyes then settle upon his co-pilot. She’s scribbling furiously on her paper as though her fingers are straining to put her racing thoughts to ink. Whirlwind on paper, is what he thinks.

His musings are further strayed away from applied physics as Harry recalls his conversation with Dazzler and Tigger the night prior. He certainly did a lot of thinking since then, but his mind is still fuzzy when it comes to Aella. He’s been juggling with the thought of giving her a chance, talking things out as Tigger suggested, but for some reason the idea has him terrified. Certainly a repeat of history would crush him for good, but at the same time he knows he’ll never be the pilot he longs to be again if he keeps being the person he is with Aella. They decidedly need to find a way to be at their best together, because this bringing-out-the-worst-of-the-other business is not doing them any favor.

Harry is about to refocus on the problem at hand when Aella suddenly stands up, all 6 papers of her exam gathered in her hands in a neat pile. She cooly makes her way to Dr Forbs as quietly as she can, as to not disturbed her class, before handing her work to the teacher. Their exchange remains silent but Harry doesn’t miss Leonie’s small head gesture and yet another smile she addresses his partner. It’s not the first time he’s noticed one of his superiors showing that kind of recognition for her work. Time is running against him though, so he shoves the note in a far corner of his mind and goes back to the task at hand. Partner differences is a can of worms that will have to wait to be opened.

The ocean has almost entirely enveloped the setting sun as Harry wanders along San Diego’s Crystal pier. Few people decided to roam the promenade, probably too busy on this brisk and not to mention, week night. Harry is just glad the urge to come here wasn’t sprung on him on a Saturday evening. The experience would have included much more elbowing and people dodging than tolerated for reflective purposes. But as his feet tread the wooden structure, gaze glowing over the breath-taking view, his mind feels clearer than it has been in weeks.

He’s let it go too far. The angst, the animosity, this bottomless gap edged between Aella and him, as well as between his truthful self and the bad-tempered doppelgänger that seems to have replaced him. He’s become almost desensitized to it, too riddled with grief to really care, but the way Dazzler put him in his place the night before served as a good wake-up call. This petulant and dismissive person isn’t him, or as his friend no-so-gently worded it, he is better than that.

He can’t ignore the pit forming in his stomach though. Can’t blindly hand over his trust, forget about his doubts, and relinquish the reins to the woman that put said doubts in his mind in the first place. And that leaves him one only option really: talk to her about it. But while Harry’s never been one to shy from divulging his feelings, usually the person at the receiving end of his disclosures is already part of his trusted cycle.

Just as a runner passes him on the side, he lets out a long sigh at the prospect of such a heavy conversation. How is one meant to deliver the most vulnerable parcels of their character on a silver platter to the person they are the most scared of? Harry can’t help to see it as yet another test the universe is kindly throwing his way. The only thing stopping him for cowering away is the fact that she might have to shared equally vulnerable parts of her in the process. Perhaps it’s the only way they may align to finally be a working team: weaknesses and susceptibilities all out in the open.

The end of the pier is slowly coming to view, a couple of benches providing the perfect front row seat to the Pacific’s show. The sun has now completely gone MIA, faint lanterns scattered along the path dispersing small beacons of light that pale in comparison to their predecessor, but it’s enough for Harry to notice a silhouette standing ahead. Based on their movements, they seem to be caught up in a yoga or stretching session, one foot placed upon the wood railing as their upper body folds over the extended limb. Harry distractingly takes note of their suppleness but as he finally reaches the end of the dock and the mysterious athlete stands back up, he quickly realizes the soul he’s sharing the pier with tonight, is not so mysterious.

The uniform has been traded for a light hoodie, combat boots for a pair of neon trainers and long legs usually hidden under protective layers are now bare to any curious eyes as the only piece of cloth ‘covering' them up is a pair of light running shorts. Harry comes to a sudden halt as he realizes the very reason of his torments and spontaneous walk is now standing a few feet away from him. He finds himself at a bit of a crossroad: he can either stay and get on with what feels more and more like the only option he has, or turn around and delay the inevitable for one extra night. The choice is stripped from him anyway when Aella turns around as though guided by a sixth sense and her eyes cross his in confusion.

"What are you doing here?" She can’t help but ask.

Harry is at lost as to what to say, he didn’t expect to confront her so soon after deciding confrontation was their only saving grace. All he can do, is look at her questioning eyes that for once, are void of any hurt or resentment. He’d like to keep it that way if possible, no matter how unlikely it might be.

"Just walkin’, enjoyin’ the sights I guess," it almost comes out as a question.

"Oh. Well, I was just gonna go so…bye" She has trouble meeting his eyes as she nervously readjust her running attire and prepares for a quick escape.

"Wait!" She’s interrupted by Harry’s voice and her whole attention is brought to his tall figure awkwardly standing in front of her, hands stuffed in the pockets of his jacket. She raises a brow when he takes too much time elaborating on his request for her presence. "I just…thought we could…talk, you know? Like, we kinda need it, don’t we?" His stance is not the only thing manifesting awkwardly it seems.

"Um, right now?" Aella suspiciously inquires, her eyes swiftly bouncing to the sea on her right and back to Harry.

"’S good time as any, innit?" Is all Harry says in response.

Aella seems to gauge him for a second as if becoming aware of the meaning of this upcoming conversation. She knows it might be a tipping point in their partnership; if they want to make it work, that is. And the moment took her by surprise sure, but will there ever be a right time? There usually isn’t, after all. "Right then" she agrees with a quick tilt of her head towards the benches as an invitation to sit. For a minute or so they remain silent while they try to figure out a way to start the conversation.

"I’m not the sexist prick you think I am." Harry eventually says, looking at his hand on his lap.

"Right." She answers not convinced. He certainly didn’t go out of his way to make her think otherwise.

"I’m not, I swear." He briefly looks at her before settling back on the lathes paving the pier. "I know I haven’t given you much reasons to think so, but I don’t have anything against you as a woman."

"Ah my bad. You just think I’m a worthless co-pilot then." Aella spits out as she stands up, ready to run back to the safe space of her home. This was a terrible idea…

"You remind me of him." The words immediately bring her to a halt, half because she’s intrigued by their meaning, and half because of Harry’s searing pain obviously laced through their utterance. She turns around and looks at his hunched body, elbows now resting on his knees, glossy eyes still fixed on the ground. "You remind me of them both."

Aella swallows the lump in her throat before hesitantly asking "and who would they be?"

At that, Harry looks up and painfully answers,"my dad and Fox."

Taking her time with the new information Aella takes a deep breath, drawing strength from the two blue immensities surrounding her. Slowly, she goes back to her seat next to Harry, though she leaves a decent space between the two of them. "How come?" She encourages.

"Fox was my partner before you came into the picture. But he was also my best friend." He starts explaining without losing an inch of his composure much to his surprise.

"I know about Jonathan." Aella softly answers and Harry momentarily looks sideways at her from his bent position.

"You know of him, but you don’t know what kind of person he was." He argues with a shake of his head, short curls fluttering on top. "Fox was passionate. He was the strongest force to be reckoned with and he was fearless. And he was my best friend, but one day he took it too far and we got into an accident." Pause. "I survived, he didn’t." It surely is a condensed version of the whole story but that’s all she needs to know at the moment.

Aella is slightly taken aback by the confession. She knows lieutenant Evans lost his life as a pilot, but she didn’t think Harry had been part of the equation, picking himself up as he watched his best friend stay down. She can’t really fathom the trauma that comes with such an incident, having flown in tandem for a very short period of time and with someone she isn’t particularly sympathetic with. Until tonight maybe.

"Harry, I’m sorry about what happened…but I’m not him." She tries to reason.

"I know, I know." He is quick to acknowledge, taking his face in his hands before brushing them through is hair. "But the way you fly, or want me to fly is just…" He struggles to find the right words. "Look, I let him take all the risks when we were partners and he died for it. I’m not about to let that happen again. To you, me or anyone that sits in the same airplane I do," is what he settles for.

Aella doesn’t know what to say. Her brain is the one running now, faster than she ever has, as it pieces together the puzzle that is Harry Styles. She doesn’t necessarily approve of his conduct but she understands it better now. Understands the moody attitude and the resentment at her expend. Most of all, she is relieved that his supposed hatred for her has nothing to do with her gender nor her person and everything to do with his troubled past. It makes it somehow easier to stomach though she’s not about to mold herself up to his safety-appreciative standards.

"What about your dad?" She asks instead, redirecting the subject at hand. Once again, the inquiry has Harry looking back at her. Except this time, he unfolds his torso to let it lean against the backrest of the bench, crossing his arms instead. Aella tries to overlook the way his biceps seem to pop out underneath the sun kissed flesh. She’s positively compelled away when he lets out a long sigh and dives back into the night’s confidences.

"I actually don’t know much about my dad," he starts with a humorless chuckle. "He was a Navy pilot too, gone most of the time, but he was a hero at home. He died a hero too. Left for a mission one day and never came back. I was 12." He pauses, needing a break and when he turns back to assess the weight of his words on her face, he’s only met with compassion and her undivided attention. "And all I’ve ever from anyone the wiser, is that he went into an ambush, knowingly, because he thought he could save a comrade. See the pattern?" He asks bitterly before he can help himself, but Aella knows it’s not really aimed at her.

"I get it Harry. You’ve been through some trauma, and I’m just a breathing reminder of it. But I know what I’m doing." She says its conviction as her eyes cling onto his emerald versions. "I would never suggest something that would put you in danger; not matter how much I want to kill you most of the time." That earns them both a chuckle, and the weight on Aella’s heart is alleviated some, upon the realization that this is it, this is their turning point. The moment that can break or make their duo, seal their fate and pave their path. And by the sound of it, the future looks promising finally. "I know it looks like I’m crossing the line at times, but I spent the last 10 years of my life up to my neck in books. I never got to do the fun stuff during Navy School. The parties, the raves, the bonding… I was just the girl deluding herself into thinking she could make it, stealing a perfect spot from a more adequate man to take. And since it was just me, I studied all I could, and then when I run out of books to read I studied some more anyway." It’s now her turn to gaze at the ground while Harry listens carefully. "My choices up there, they’re not a way for me to prove myself. They’re just the possibilities I got from all the things I’ve missed out on since I enlisted because of who I am. And that’s fine. I’ve always been fine with that. But now, I have a partner and I can’t do my job properly if he doesn’t accept the possibilities he doesn’t see yet."

They both look at each other then, letting the words resonated into the night, in tune with the sounds of the crashing waves. The cards have changed, weakest ones at last laid out on the table whilst they still hold onto their kings and aces. But their fate is yet to be determined. Letting go of their blatantly mutual distaste might bring them one step closer to being a unit but they’re still ways from flying as one.

Rome wasn’t built in a day though, and Aella still has half a run to complete. She figures it’s best not to push whatever progress they made that night, so she calmly stands up, about to resume her training when Harry softly calls out to her.

"See you tomorrow partner." It’s faint and simple, but Aella understand every ounce of its meaning.

It’s a peace offering, an olive branch shyly extended from the tip of his fingers; a vow to try and figure this all thing out not as co-pilots but as equals. And that’s all the promises Aella needs to mutter back a ‘goodnight Harry’ and run back to her place in record-breaking time with a smile etched upon her face.

Tomorrows have finally regained their wonder.

#harry styles writing #harry styles fic #harry styles series #enemies to lovers #pilot!harry #Whirlwind #part4 #ofc #Khamseen #creative writing #harry writing #TopGun!Harry

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lcsflcurs · 4 years ago

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hello, friends! since the halloween event is over, i’m looking to find non-event plots for seojun, considering he needs more connections (especially since the random influx of new muses/people). as i don’t really have a plot page for him ( i feel like it’s too late at this point ), below are a few plots i’ve thought about and would love to rp with new/familiar faces!

a more personal? plot that i’d love to see people hop in on. seojun is starting up his own app— basically the wizard equivalent of grubhub/uber eats/postmates, which he is ( more than likely ) going to call accigo. any marketing, communication, or compsci majors are free to help bring success to the app! he’d also accept anyone who is good with graphic design ( graphic design is my passion ;)!!! ), as he sucks at art to begin with, and would like some help on the creative/artistic aspect of his app making.

he’s always down for a hook up, so hit him up ahahah...

as we near exam season, seojun is looking for a pal or two...or more.. to be his study buddy. doesn’t matter the major, seojun just wants someone who will study in solidarity. fair warning, he will procrastinate and try and distract your muse as well ( the codes get to him sometimes ), whether his annoying antics work or not.. who knows!

he is always...ALWAYS down for someone to play video games with. lately, he has been trying out the newer, more popular games like genshin impact and valorant!

speaking of games, seojun loves ddr ( dance dance revolution ) and also occasionally holds just dance nights! anyone willing to be seojun’s dance partner and boogie to some promiscuous on the nintendo switch would be greatly appreciated.

“Want to see me run to that mountain and back? [doesn't move] You want to see me do it again?” someone broom race with him around campus PLEASE! he’s honestly so cocky, and will use any excuse to broom race anyone because he thinks he’s the fastest. whether that is true or not... who knows! but seojun will bother your muse about it until your muse finally caves in and races him.

any VOLLEYBALLERS in the chat? i have yet to plot this activity yet with seojun.

anyone down for a good prank, whether that be helping seojun prank another or being pranked

seojun has a pretty annoying personality (sometimes), that do be true. if he finds your muse raving over something that, he either believes is bs or just disagrees with, he will bicker with them until he wins. though, he’ll do this sometimes with people he has a disliking toward as well, just to get under their skin, so if anyone wants to plot that type of relationship, here’s your chance!

any stoners, party goers, etc. seojun is looking for a saturday night with the fellas, ladies, or nb folk.

anyone in the astrology/divination clubs/major? please give seojun a reading. he’s super skeptical about the whole thing, but maybe your muse can convince him that it’s legit? side note: if convinced, he’s probably the type to stress about it for a week like “my tarot card spread said i’m not gonna do so good this week, so i’m not going outside:)”

after taking a long break from playing quidditch, seojun is finally back in! his love for the sport began at hogwarts, but was soon thrown to the side due to the complications it brought between his relationship with his father. after the saturday game, he’s feeling golden, even after geum lost! he’s down for a celebratory ‘yay for rebelling against my father’ night out. that, or, if anyone would like to rp quidditch practices or just locker room shenanigans... hit me up!

i’m sure these are all relatively lame and dry plots, so if anyone would like a more in depth plot or has a better plot idea they’d like to involve seojun in, please feel free to reach out either here or discord.

#this is my sad excuse of a plot call #im begging #( ooc. )#( i.ksj )

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hookedonapirate · 5 years ago

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We Own the Night

Summary: It’s a shame she’s so bloody beautiful in her low cut, curve-hugging red dress and black high heels, her green eyes glinting with mischief and her golden hair cascading over her shoulders as she leans into him. It’s a shame how sexy she is while she flirts with him and how adorable she is when she giggles and whispers in his ear, almost marking him with her red lipstick as her hand gently caresses his bicep, the warm breath against his skin making his heart race. In ordinary circumstances, they’d be engaging in more enjoyable activities, but unfortunately, he has to arrest her.

A/N: Wow, I can't believe I wrote the first part of this story in September! I'm sorry it took so long to update. Thank you @onceuponaprincessworld for letting me share ideas with her and for constantly being a cheerleader. This part has not been beta'd, only self-edited so feel free to let me know if I overlooked any mistakes. Hope you enjoy!

Also Available on: AO3 l FF.N

Rated: Explicit for crude language and multiple mentions of prostitution.

Read: Part One

Part Two/Two

“I hope you don’t mind, I invited someone to join us.”

Liam cuts Killian a sideways glance, his brows climbing to his forehead as they make their way up the walkway of the bistro. “No, not at all, but when we talked over the phone, I thought it was just going to be us brothers celebrating over rum and wings at our favorite pub.”

“Well, make no mistake,” Killian says, clapping his hand on Liam's shoulder, “we will be celebrating and there will be rum, but I thought we could splurge and come here where we can get an actual drink. There is someone who I would very much like for you to meet, and I think the top shelf rum is better suited for the occasion instead of the cheap stuff. But don’t worry, I’m paying,” Killian assures him, in case the cost is what he's worried about.

Liam waves off his words as they reach the entrance and wait outside. “Nonsense, little brother. We’re here to celebrate your victory, so I think I can foot the bill.”

Before Killian can demur, he turns his head to see a gorgeous blonde in a radiant blue dress as she makes her toward them, her high heels clicking against the sidewalk and long loose hair bouncing around her shoulders in golden silk waves that he itches to run his fingers through. His gaze travels down her form, appreciating every curve and every inch of exposed porcelain skin, before returning to her face.

“So, who is this person joining us?” Liam asks curiously before he turns his head to see what Killian is gaping so shamelessly at. Or rather who. “Oh.”

Killian can hear the smirk in his brother's tone, but he's too fixated on those beautiful emerald orbs glinting in the soft outdoor lighting, and that great big smile which shows off her pearly white teeth, and can't seem to tear his eyes away from her to catch the expression on Liam's face.

“Hi, babe,” she says, kissing Killian’s cheek in greeting.

Placing his hand on the small of her back, a low groan bubbles in his throat when he can feel her smooth, silken skin under his palm and realizes her dress is backless. “Hi, love,” he murmurs in her ear and lifts her hand with his free one, brushing his lips over her knuckles. “You look stunning.” He places a soft kiss to her delicate, supple skin as he takes in the sweet, lovely scent of her perfume.

“Thank you.” She giggles when his prickly scruff tickles her skin, and her laughter warms his heart. “You’re not so bad yourself.”

A big grin takes over his face. “Thank you, love.” He releases her hand so he can wrap his arm around her hourglass figure and pull her against him. As he eyes her luscious lips and darts his tongue to lick his own, he has to refrain from kissing her senseless while they're in his brother’s presence.

Right. His brother's here.

Reminding himself he's not alone with his lovely Swan, he turns his head to Liam, who is standing there awkwardly with his arms crossed, waiting for them to finish groping each other, or so Killian assumes. “Liam, I would like you to meet Emma. Emma. this is my brother, Liam.”

It’s funny because Killian has never introduced him to her before; he hasn’t so much as shown his brother a picture of Emma because, based on his own experience, photographs don’t do her a bit of justice. And yet Liam’s eyes widen with recognition and he’s standing there staring at her for longer than what is appropriate and necessary.

Killian clears his throat to gain his brother’s attention as he tilts his head toward her.

It doesn’t take Liam long to understand what Killian is trying to tell him. He quickly amends his behavior and shoots out his hand, offering it to her. “Apologies, lass. Where are my manners? It’s very nice to meet you.”

She doesn't seem to take offense as she shakes his hand. “Likewise.”

Liam is still gawking and scrunching his eyebrows at her, and Killian’s afraid he’s making her uncomfortable, even though she doesn't appear to be.

When Liam doesn't release her hand in a timely manner, Killian gives him a nudge in the ribs. Is he seriously checking out his brother’s girlfriend?

“Ow, what in the bloody hell did you jab me in the ribs for?” Liam grumbles as he lets go of Emma’s hand to rub his ribs.

“I was gently persuading you not to ogle my girlfriend,” he teases, though his tone is void of any humor and is loaded with sarcasm.

“I wasn’t ogling your girlfriend, Killian. It’s just…” Liam scratches his head and seems to scrutinize every detail of her face.

She arches a brow, waiting for him to explain himself. “Just what?”

“Have we met before?” he finally asks her.

Emma purses her lips and pinches her brows together in assessment for a moment, then she shakes her head. “I don’t believe so. I’m not from around here.”

Liam lifts his hand, rubbing his chin in contemplation. “Hm, you look very familiar but I don’t know where I’ve seen you before.”

“Maybe from a picture?” Emma guesses, looking at Killian for answers.

“No, that’s not it. Killian never showed me a picture of you.”

“Aye, photographs don’t do you justice, love,” Killian says, winking at his lovely girlfriend.

A pretty, pink blush paints her cheeks and she smiles at him. She leans into him, wrapping an arm around his back as he snakes his arm around her shoulders and kisses her temple.

Liam narrows his eyes at Killian. “Come to think of it, you haven’t even told me about her. Why is that, little brother?”

Emma glances at Killian, equally curious about the question. “Yeah, why is that?”

“First of all, it’s younger brother,” Killian corrects Liam before his eyes move to Emma, “and secondly, I didn’t mention you because I wanted it to be a surprise.” Killian balls his fingers into a fist and points his thumb in Liam’s direction. “Do you know how long this ponce has been nagging me about finding a proper girlfriend after the last one ripped my heart out?” He shivers at the mention of his ex. He’d told Emma about her, and the gory details, but didn’t wish to bring it up again, especially tonight because it's supposed to be a celebratory one.

Liam frowns. “Oi, I haven’t nagged you about it, I gently persuaded you to get over her,” he says, mocking Killian’s earlier words.

Killian rolls his eyes. “Uh-huh. Gently persuaded my arse.”

Emma laughs and shakes her head at the two bickering brothers and loops her arm through Killian’s. The three of them head inside where the hostess seats them at a booth and passes out menus. Killian slides in next to Emma, wrapping his arm around her shoulders and caresses the warm, bare skin at his fingertips as they get comfortable in the booth. Emma molds into him and rests her hand on his knee underneath the table.

When their waitress arrives to take their drink orders, the guys order Bicardi Superior and Emma orders a Rum and Coke.

“A lass who enjoys her liquor, I like her already,” Liam teases Emma, “even though you're ruining your rum by adding soda to it. I’ll let it slide, though.”

Killian leans over to kiss her cheek. “I happen to like her too.”

The waitress returns with their drinks and leaves when they’re not ready to order their food yet.

While they’re browsing the menus and chatting about what to eat for dinner, Liam keeps staring at Emma every now and then, as if he knows her. “I swear I’ve seen you before, I just can't figure out where,” he says before taking a sip of his rum.

Killian sighs, and Emma shrugs.

“Sorry, I’m not sure. I’d remember a face like yours.”

Liam grins. “Oh, really?”

“Yeah, I mean even though you bear a slight resemblance to Killian, you have one of those unique faces. I, on the other hand, have a familiar face.”

“I tend to disagree, love. While you do have a friendly face, your beauty is far from common.”

Emma blushes crimson and moves her hand to his thigh, squeezing him gently as she leans in to whisper in his ear. “You’re asking for it, aren't you?”

“And what exactly am I asking for, darling?” he murmurs quietly so Liam can’t hear.

“As if you don't know.”

The clearing of Liam’s throat indicates they weren’t quiet enough or maybe they’re sitting too close and practically pawing each other on the other side of the table. Or maybe they both share that look—a look that says they’re going to rip each other’s clothes off and fuck each other’s brains out once they’re alone in her cozy hotel room.

When Killian returned to his hometown to visit his brother, he’d invited her to stay with him at Liam’s but she didn’t wish to invade Liam’s space, especially since she hadn’t met yet. So Killian paid for a hotel room for the night in hopes she would come around after getting to know Liam a bit and be comfortable enough to stay at his place. But with the way Liam is creepily staring at her, Killian doubts she will warm up to him anytime soon.

“Alright, get a room, you two,” Liam grumbles and returns his eyes to the menu in his hands.

“We have one,” Killian says to his brother, “and believe me, we’re dying to use it.” He winks at Emma, and sees her blushing and smiling from ear to ear. She is bloody adorable when she blushes.

“You got a room for the night?” Liam asks Emma curiously. “You could’ve stayed at my place. If my knucklehead of a brother told me about you, you wouldn't have had to pay for a hotel.”

“That’s okay. I’m used to staying in hotels for work.”

Liam sets down the menu and curls his hand around his tumbler. “Say that again?” he asks before draining his drink.

“I’m used to staying in hotels. I get around a lot for my job.”

Liam spits out the expensive rum, spraying it over the table.

“What in the blazes, Liam?!” Killian yells at him as he looks at Emma to make sure the rum didn’t get on her.

She quickly reaches for some napkins and wipes off the table. Luckily the rum only splattered the table and menus.

“Sorry, lass,” Liam says while grabbing some napkins and frantically trying to clean up his mess.

Killian notices a change in his brother’s behavior. He seems nervous about something, but he's not sure why.

“Are you two ready to order? I’m ready,” Liam says frantically and turns his head, seeking the waitress before Killian and Emma can reply. He raises his hand to summon her over.

“I guess we’re ready,” Emma says with a laugh and glances at her menu once more before handing it to Killian.

The waitress takes their orders and menus before leaving the table.

“So, do you want to explain to me what your problem is, brother?” Killian asks in irritation as he glares daggers at him.

“Nothing, I… I’m sorry, the rum just went down the wrong pipe is all.”

“I’m not talking about that specifically. You’ve been acting strange all night,” Killian chastises.

“It’s nothing. I’m fine really.” His eyes move to Emma. “I just realized where I know you from. I saw your picture online. While you were working.”

“Oh god,” Emma groans, “I look terrible in that photo. I had pulled an all-nighter right before that picture was taken.

“I disagree, love, you looked beautiful. You always do.” Killian grins at her, remembering that photo very well. He and Emma had busted an organized crime ring that trafficked women into the local sex trade, and it was plastered all over the news. The photograph of them making several arrests had been taken for a local newspaper, but he’s not sure how Liam had seen it since he doesn’t even live in Washington.

Liam’s face pales as he glares at Emma with disdain.

Killian scowls at him. He will have a little chit chat with his brother later on about displaying proper manners around his girlfriend.

“So, tell me, Emma, how do you like your profession?” Liam asks, his expressions steely as he observes her pointedly.

“Oh, well, it's very challenging at times, but at the end of the day, it’s very rewarding knowing I’m making a big difference on the streets. The day that photo was taken, I single-handedly took on fifty guys at the brothel. I was so exhausted if you can even imagine.” She sighs as though experiencing that same exhaustion she had felt that day. There was so much paperwork from all the arrests they had made.

“You were brilliant, love,” he compliments, leaning in to kiss her cheek. He was so proud of her that day. But for some reason, he can feel the burn of Liam’s stare which feels nothing like pride. He tilts his head to see him glowering conspicuously at him, appearing to be both mystified and disappointed. And Killian doesn’t understand why.

“So you're okay with her occupation?”

What in the bloody hell? Here, Killian thought his brother would be happy he found someone as amazing as Emma, especially since Liam had been encouraging him to get back in the saddle after Milah broke his heart.

“Of course I am. Why wouldn't I be?” he asks, irritated by his brother’s crude behavior. “I'd be a hypocrite if I weren't okay with it, don't you think?”

He can feel his lovely Swan stiffen at the topic, her jaw tight as she glares at Liam. “Excuse me, but even if he weren’t okay with it, no one's going to tell me what I can or cannot do for a living. Believe me, my brother has been trying since I was nine,” she says bitterly before sipping her rum and coke through a straw.

Liam’s eyes pop out of his skull, shock washing over his features, and if Killian’s not mistaken, a hint of pity. But he has no bloody clue why. “Nine?! Wow, that's young.”

“Well, obviously it was only a dream of mine at the time. I wanted to follow in my adoptive mother's footsteps.”

“Your mother was one too?” Liam asks, completely appalled. “No wonder you took to this lifestyle.”

“Oh yeah, and thanks to her talking some sense into my brother, he came around to the idea, and now I work for him.”

Liam claps his palm on the top of his curly-haired head. “You work for him?!”

Emma furrows her brows at him from across the table, not sure why what's so shocking about growing up around people who were in the police force, but thankfully she doesn’t take offense, and seems okay about being hammered with so many questions. Killian supposes it’s because she was nervous about meeting Liam and was worried about whether he would like her. Killian had been quick to assure her he would absolutely love her, but now he’s thinking maybe he didn’t know his brother as well as he thought he did.

“Yeah, but believe me, he shows me no nepotism; he rides me hard all day, every day. In fact, he's down my throat more than anyone else,” she says, rolling her eyes at David’s constant need to dictate and tell her how to perform her job.

Killian can actually hear his brother gasp as he slaps his hands over his cheeks. “Oh my God, your own brother?!” he blurts out, loud enough to gain the attention of other diners. “That's bloody appalling!”

Emma wrinkles her nose and narrows her eyes at Liam’s response. He seems to take everything she says way out of proportion. “Look I know it's a dangerous job, but I'm just as qualified as any man in my field.”

Killian agrees with a nod and strokes her back as he regards her with genuine pride. “Aye, she's a feisty lass. She has no problem taking on a heavy load.”

“Lass, I didn't say you weren't qualified, I mean you're very… attractive—”

“Wait, you think I got this job because of my looks?!” she demands, cutting him off. She’s clearly pissed. For good reason.

Liam shrugs, not seeing what the big deal is. “Well, yeah. I mean I assume you get work based on your body, not your brains.”

Emma audibly gasps, her eyes popping out of her skull. “Excuse me?!”

Liam raises his hands in defense and speaks casually, as though it's a typical Tuesday and he's not being a misogynistic tosser to the woman his brother loves and adores. “Well don't get me wrong, lass, I'm sure you give fantastic beejers too. Any man would be happy to have you.”

"What the bloody fuck did you just say?!" Killian demands hoarsely. He's completely aghast, and he can see the rage spiraling through his girlfriend, he can feel her anger as she taps his shoulder, urging him to move. He feels his own anger bubbling up inside of him. He clenches his jaw as he glares at Liam, letting him know he’s not happy. Why the fuck is Liam speaking to her like she’s a prostitute? What's worse is he doesn't even appear to be apologetic.

“Can you let me out, please?” she asks Killian in a cold, rigid tone.

In other circumstances, he would’ve attempted to defend Liam despite his childish behavior, he would've begged Emma to say, but what his scoundrel of a brother had said was not okay—not even close. Killian slides out of the booth and steps aside so Emma can leave. Once she slides out of the booth and stands up, she goes over to the other side of the table and smacks Liam hard in the face.

It’s not until he feels the sting of her slap when he appears to be apologetic. As he lifts his hand to soothe his cheek, she picks up his drink and throws it at him.

“Oh whoops, it looks like I ruined your rum by adding a big sexist pig to it!” The bite of her tone and sting of her slap (based on how loud it sounded) are much stronger and bitter than the cheap rum at the pub. She bolts away from the table as Liam wipes off the cocktail from his face with a napkin and sighs.

Apparently they've gained an audience because all the female customers and servers are glaring daggers at Liam, all of them ready to kick his arse. And despite being a cop, Killian wouldn't bother to stop them. Not after the way Liam spoke to his Swan.

“What the fuck is your problem?!” Killian barks out, but doesn’t stick around long enough to hear the answer, and instead follows Emma out the door. “Emma, wait,” he calls after her as she heads to her car. “Please…” His voice is cracked with worry. He hates that she’s so upset and hurt. Even worse, he hates that his brother is the culprit.

She stops and turns around, and his heart clenches when he sees tears sliding down her cheeks. He just wants to hold her in his arms and make everything better. His jaw twitches as he lifts a hand to wipe the tears from her face. “I will kick his bloody arse for talking to you that way. I am so sorry, baby. He’s not normally like that.”

“It’s not your fault, Killian. I just don’t understand how he’s your brother,” she says, pointing at the building in the direction he’s probably still sitting in the booth. “He’s nothing like you.”

Killian cups her cheeks in hands and speaks softly. “Please, just let me talk some sense into him.”

“You can do whatever you want.” Her voice cracks as she wipes at her glistening eyes. “I’m going back to the hotel.”

Killian nods and raises his hand to swipe some stray locks of hair behind her shoulder before wrapping his arms around her. “Can I come by later?”

Relaxing in his hold, she rests her forehead against his, allowing a small smile to tilt the corners of her mouth. “You better.”

“Of course I will,” he reassures, kissing her forehead before lowering his gaze to hers. “I love you,” he whispers.

“I love you, too.” Fisting her hands around the collar of his shirt, she brings her lips to his.

His arms tighten around her, both hands resting on her back, pulling her flush against him as his tongue parts her lips and they lose themselves in each other. His heartbeat quickens as he thinks back to their first kiss when he was posing as a john and she a prostitute. The kiss was intense, fierce. Full of heat and raw lust. But this one is so much different. It’s passionate, slow, tender. Full of love. He combs a hand through her hair and takes his time, enjoying the hint of alcohol and soda coating her mouth. The combination is sweet and smooth against the heat of her breath, and he savors every second of her.

Though Emma had said she didn’t date colleagues, they both had chemistry neither of them could deny. They plotted strategies together, and how they would bring down the biggest crime ring the county had ever seen. They had met for coffees and lunches for a few months before he finally gathered the courage to ask her out on a real date. She was so relieved and said she was tired of them dancing around their feelings for each other. They went out to dinner and talked for four hours, and then he brought her home and they talked all night, just curled up in her bed holding each other and talking. That was one of the best nights of his life, and every time he’s with her gets better and better.

When she pulls away, he does his best to keep her there for a few more precious seconds. He knows she’s ready to get away from his brother as far and fast as she possibly can. As her mouth closes, he bites down gently and drags his teeth over her perfectly pink bottom lip. A soft moan escapes her mouth, and he smiles and slowly releases her from his hold as he licks his lips.

He walks Emma to her yellow bug and kisses her one more time before she gets in her car and drives away. Now that she’s gone, he can focus on the matter at hand—figuring out what crawled up his brother’s arse and died. Anger surges through him and he clenches his fists as he marches back inside the bistro. His heart is racing again, but for different reasons. He’s not a violent person but he feels his brother deserves a good ass-kicking. That is if he hasn't received one already from the other patrons who witnessed such an atrocity. He finds their waitress and tells her to box up his and Emma’s food and he pays for their drinks and dinner entrees, but not Liam’s. Then he storms into the dining area and is shocked to find Liam in one piece. He's working on his third glass of rum, not including the one Emma threw in his face, his hair and clothes still damp with soda and alcohol.

Killian slides into the booth across from him and gives him a deadly stare. “So, you wanna tell me why in the bloody hell you’re being a fucking wanker?”

Liam sets down his drink and sighs slowly and deeply before lifting his eyes to Killian and crossing his arms on the table. “Why don’t you tell me why you felt the need to pay a hooker to be your girlfriend? So I wouldn’t harp on you anymore, is that it?”

Um, what?! Killian's temper spikes again, and he has to refrain from throwing his drink in Liam’s face. Or throwing a punch. Emma was far too kind to him. “Excuse me, what the fuck did you just say?”

Liam reaches into his pocket and pulls out his phone. “You heard me.”

“Emma is not a hooker,” Killian snarls. He’s vibrating with rage as he stands from the booth with clenched fists.

“Oh, really?” Liam pulls up something on his phone and shows it to him. “Then how do you explain this, brother?”

Killian grabs the phone from his hand and has to rip his angry glare from his brother to study the photo.

Oh.

Liam had snapped a photo of Killian’s computer as it displayed Emma’s picture and fake ad from the Cinderella Escorts website. The website solely designed to lure men who were looking to buy sex. Confusion washes over Killian’s face. Was his brother looking to pay for a prostitute? Please tell me I don’t have to arrest my own brother. On second thought, with the way Liam behaved to Emma, he'd be happy to throw him behind bars for a night or two. “How did you find this website?” he demands through gritted teeth as he lifts his eyes from the phone to look at Liam. The man he thought was honorable. But there’s nothing honorable about buying sex.

“I should ask you that. That is your computer, Killian. It was in your browser history. I just found it and snapped the photo.”

“Why were you snooping around on my computer?” he asks angrily, although he should be relieved this was just a huge misunderstanding. But he’s kind of bummed he doesn’t get to arrest him.

“I wasn’t snooping,” Liam claims as he snatches his phone back and tucks it into his pocket. “You had left for work and I was bored so I got on your computer and found it by accident.” Liam looks him in the eye, his features softening. “Look, Killian, I know it must be lonely being away from home all the time, but a hooker?” he asks, his nose scrunched up in disgust. “I thought you were better than that.”

Killian’s jaw clenches as he stares hard at his brother, then slaps him upside the head. “Emma is not a prostitute. She’s a cop, you prat.”

Liam’s face pales, his mouth falling open. “She’s a what?”

“You heard me. She’s not a prostitute, she'd been going undercover posing as one.”

Killian sees the transformation in Liam’s expression. He sees him processing and putting all the pieces together. He sees Liam going through his conversation with Emma in his head, and it’s now clicking with him that she was referring to arresting johns for buying sex, not sleeping with them. She was referring to her job as a cop, not a prostitute.

Killian sighs and reclaims his seat in the booth. “We wanted to tell you we met while going undercover. She was posing as a prostitute and I was posing as a john, so when I met her at the hotel and pretended to pay her, we tried to arrest each other.”

Liam stares vacantly across the diner in pure and utter shame. “Wow, that’s hilarious,” he says, but there’s no amusement in his tone, his face pale with humiliation. “That would’ve been a great story to tell.”

“I know, that’s why we wanted to tell you, but then you started asking her ridiculous questions. That night we decided to team up. We worked together to take down the biggest organized crime ring in King County, and that is why I invited her to celebrate with us.” She and Killian had celebrated in Seattle with all the officers involved in the operation, and of course, the man pulling all the strings, Emma’s brother (he was amused upon learning how they met, but far from it when he found out they were dating. He slowly came around to the idea though). Being a thousand miles away, Liam wasn’t able to attend at the time, so Killian and Emma had planned to have a small celebration of their own where she would finally get to meet his brother. And Killian had been ecstatic at the idea of introducing his brother to the woman he’s been doting on for months. But of course, Liam ruined that when he spoke to Emma the way he did.

“Think about it, Liam, I’m responsible for taking down a huge sex operation, saving hundreds of women from human trafficking and getting them into programs so they can live a better life, so why on bloody earth would I be paying one to date me?”

“In my defense, you never told me what kind of operation you were involved in. You just said you took down a big crime ring, you didn’t mention what crime.”

“Does it matter? I’m still a cop, an honorable one at that. And so is Emma. We both work for her brother, who is the Sheriff of King County.”

“Oh, boy.” Liam scratches his head and suddenly goes into panic mode, realization finally sinking in. “I accused her of getting work because of her body, not her brains.” His eyes snap to Killian’s. “I thought her brother was a pimp?!”

“Aye.”

He buries his face in his hands, mumbling into his palms. “Bloody fucking hell, I am so sorry.”

“No need to apologize to me, I’m not the one you thought was a hooker.”

He lifts his head and nods. “Right. I need to apologize to her. Did she leave?”

“She went back to her hotel room.”

“Take me there, please?”

Killian shakes his head. “Liam, I don’t think she wants to speak to you right now.”

“Please, I need to explain myself to her. She needs to know this was a big misunderstanding.”

Killian shoots him a warning glare. “Okay, I will, but you better be prepared to do some serious groveling.”

Liam nods furiously. “I will.” He reaches into his pocket and pulls out his wallet. “I’ll pay for your meals and have them boxed up.”

“I already paid for mine and Emma’s.”

“Okay. How much was it?” he asks, digging out his card.

“Liam, it’s fine.”

“How much?” he repeats.

Killian sighs in defeat and tells him the amount. He supposes Liam deserves to pay since he’s the reason Emma stormed away.

~*~

Emma is beyond fucking furious at the audacity of Killian’s brother! He accused her of becoming a police officer because she gives good blowjobs! Emma had worked hard to get where she is. And she didn’t gain the respect of her fellow officers because her brother is King County Sheriff either. No in fact, at first they treated her like his kid sister. It took time and dedication to gain the same respect and trust they had for David. So to have someone accuse her of becoming a cop based on the way she looks or the outrageous idea that she performs sexual favors is a crock of shit! And here she was so excited to meet the reputable brother Killian always goes on about. She had no idea he was a chauvinist pig!

Emma’s blood sizzles under her skin as she unzips her dress and pulls it off. She can’t believe the things he'd said! And to think she had bought this perfectly nice dress to wear tonight, one that was, of course, approved by Ruby.

Oh well, she’ll just have to wear it again when she goes out with Killian. He doesn't think she’s just a piece of ass. He loves her for her mind and for who she is as a person, and she loves him for that. She still can’t believe he’s related to that fucking douchebag.

She changes into her pjs and grabs her phone to text Killian and invite him over. After that parting kiss, she needs him, and after that terrible dinner with his jackass brother, she needs to feel her boyfriend’s warm arms wrapped around her. Emma places her hand on her stomach when it growls mercilessly. Thanks to Liam, she didn’t eat, and now she’s starving. She wonders what the restaurant downstairs has. She grabs the menu and plops down on the bed to scan it over. She had ordered ravioli at the Bistro, and that's not an option at the restaurant downstairs, but she could really go for a burger right now.

She picks up her phone to ask Killian if he ate yet. She’s hoping he didn't stay and have dinner with his brother, because that would feel much like betrayal. She begins typing out the text but is interrupted when there’s a knock on the door. Raising a brow, she stands from the bed and strides over to the door. It must be Killian. Just in case it’s not, she peers through the peephole, but she doesn't see anyone on the other side. Her instincts as a cop tell her to grab her gun, but she can’t help it. She’s encountered many creeps while posing as a hooker, and her vigilant attitude was kicked into high gear when there was a knock on her hotel door while she’s staying in an unfamiliar city, and no one appears to be at the door. Emma grabs the gun from her bag and returns to the door, keeping the weapon at her side just in case.

She cautiously cracks it open, and can’t believe her eyes.

Kneeling on the floor in front of her is Killian’s sorry excuse of a brother holding a bouquet of buttercups, his face etched with shame and apology. Oh, and there's a sign on his forehead that says I’m a donkey in black marker. In other circumstances, Emma would’ve laughed, but the sight of him fills her with rage and she slams the door in his face. She marches away when she hears him yelling through the door.

“Emma, wait! I can explain! You’re really gonna laugh when I tell you this. Maybe not right away but someday.”

She scoffs and replaces the gun in her bag before making her way to the bathroom where she’ll be able to tune him out.

“I didn’t know you were a cop, I thought you were a prostitute.”

She stops in her tracks and waits for him to continue.

He pauses for a beat and speaks in a quieter voice, his words laced with apology. “I was using Killian’s computer the night you met him and saw your photo on a website on Cinderella Escorts.”

She contemplates opening the door to hear more of what he has to say. She did post her picture on a fake escort website after all.

“Emma, I cannot tell you how sorry I am.”

Emma turns around and slowly walks over to the door, hauling it open and placing her hand on her hip as the other one lingers on the doorknob. Her face remains steely though as she looks down at him. “A pig is more accurate,” she remarks, referring to the sign on his forehead.

“You’re absolutely right, lass.” He pulls out a black marker from his pocket, removes the sign and scribbles out the word donkey and writes pig above it before replacing it on his forehead.

She allows a small laugh to escape her throat, which ignites a hopeful glint in his eyes as he looks up at her again. And damn, she really wishes he didn’t have the same sea-blue eyes Killian does. Because then she might find it easier to slam the door in his face again. “Get up. You’re making a fool out of yourself.”

“I've already done that and then some,” he says solemnly.

“You’re not wrong about that,” Emma remarks in a sassy tone.

Liam gulps and pushes himself up off the floor. “I’m not actually like that—I don’t view women that way, I really don’t.”

“So you only view me like a piece of ass?” Emma says with a nod. “Good to know.”

“No, lass, you see I was just looking out for my brother because I thought he had paid you to be his date since all I do is harp on him about not dating.”

“Really?” she says sarcastically. “Why would Killian pay someone to be his girlfriend? He can get any woman he wants.”

Liam’s lips twitch into a small smile. “Aye, and that’s what I told him… after you left… before I knew you were a cop.”

Emma sighs and purses her lips as she leans against the doorframe. She doesn't know if she should accept his apology or not. She supposes he has a valid reason for acting the way he did. She would be concerned too if she thought someone close to her, say her brother, had paid a prostitute. Emma certainly wouldn't stand for that, but she doesn't have to worry about that, considering he's the one who started the Women’s Justice Program and is leading the initiative to reduce prostitution and human trafficking in the county. Plus he’s happily married and constantly reminds Emma of how much in love with Mary Margaret he is. He’s the last man who would seek out the company of a prostitute. Well, he and Killian of course. A thought suddenly occurs to her, and she scowls at Liam, fighting off the urge to slap him again. “Wait, you thought my brother was my pimp?!”

“Aye.” He hangs his head in shame. “Look, I don’t expect you to forgive my behavior, but I want you to know I am truly sorry.” Liam bends over and, with his free hand, he picks up two bags he had brought with him. “I brought your dinner and ordered you dessert. Killian told me you like Tiramisu.” He hands her the bag from the bistro and Emma accepts it, peering inside. She does love Tiramisu. And she’s completely famished, so she’s not about to turn down free food. Though it wasn’t exactly free; she paid the price when she was accused of being a hooker. Liam holds up the other bag. “I also got you a bottle of Bacardi Superior and a two-liter of Coca Cola.”

Her lips tilt into a small smile. “Thanks.”

He shakes his head, looking down in shame. “Please don’t thank me, Emma. I really don't deserve it.”

The expression on his face almost makes her heart hurt. Almost. She steps back inside and opens the door wider to let him in. She goes over and places the bag on the table as he does the same and hands her the bouquet he’s still holding.

“I’m guessing you don’t have a vase to put these in?”

Emma brings the flowers to her nose and inhales their fresh scent. “No, I don’t even have a vase at home.”

“That’s okay. If you like I can keep these at my place and you can stay there for the remainder of your week here in town. I’ll make you and Killian breakfast every morning, I'll even escort you to wherever you need to go.” As soon as those words leave his mouth, his eyes squeeze shut, his features twisting with regret. He claps his hand over his forehead, where he's still wearing that ridiculous sign, which wrinkles under his palm. “Sorry, poor choice of words,” he sighs, opening his eyes again and dropping his hand.

Emma folds her lips in to keep from laughing. In all honesty, though, she can see the sincere apology in his eyes. She reaches over and pulls the sign off his forehead with her free hand, crumpling it up into a ball and throws it in a nearby trash can.

“What do you say, lass, can you give this pig a second chance? Can we start over?”

Emma mulls it over for a moment. She supposes giving him a second chance wouldn’t hurt. She sighs and points a warning finger at him. “Okay, but that’s all you get—one shot to redeem yourself, got it?

“That’s all I need,” he says, a grin lighting up his face as he sticks out his hand. “I’m Liam.”

Emma dons a smile and switches the bouquet to her other arm so she can shake his hand. “Hi, Liam, I'm Emm. It's nice to meet you.”

“Likewise. I can’t wait to get to know the woman my brother is madly in love with.” He raises her hand and plants a chaste kiss on the back of it before encasing her hand with his other one.

Emma smirks, blush warming her cheeks. Now this is how a lady should be treated.

As if on cue, there’s a knock on the door, she opens it to let Killian in after she sees him through the peephole and greets him with a sweet kiss on the lips. He's carrying a bag of what she assumes is his and Liam's dinner after he informs her they didn’t eat at the restaurant. Instead, Killian drove his brother to her hotel hoping she would be willing to hear him out.

Killian curls his free hand around her hip and turns his head to look at Liam. “I just wanted to make sure my girlfriend didn’t murder you,” he chuckles.

“What if I did? Would you arrest me?” Emma challenges, placing her free hand on his warm chest.

The corner of his mouth tips into a smirk as he looks at her. “No, I’d help you bury the body.”

“Oi,” Lima frowns at him. “I said I was sorry.”

“I know,” Emma smiles sheepishly.

She invites them to stay for a movie, and after the three of them nuke their dinners in the microwave, she and Killian eat in the king-size bed, leaning against the headboard as Liam sits in the chair. After the movie is over, she decides to sleep there for the night, and Killian stays with her. Liam does make good on his promise though and makes her and Killian breakfast every day she’s in town.

When she gets to know Liam more, she finds out he's not so bad after all. In fact, she’s able to look back at that night and laugh hysterically.

~*~

One year later...

“That, ladies and gents, is how my brother met the woman of his dreams.” Liam glances over at the happy newlyweds, pointing his champagne flute in Emma’s direction, “and how I thought this lovely cop was a prostitute.”

The crowd laughs softly as the best man takes his seat.

Killian leans over to speak into the mic in Liam's hand, “And how the best man lived to tell our story.”

David, who is sitting next to Liam, rips the microphone from his hand, scowling at him as he adds, “And how he thought I was a pimp.”

Another roar of laughter fills the banquet hall, this time louder and more prolonged; even David's wife, Mary Margaret who's heard the story a dozen times, is cackling hysterically. David, however, is still unamused.

Emma is usually able to laugh about, but not on her wedding day, even though she knew it was coming. She blushes deeply, burying her face in her hands as Killian leans over and wraps his arm around his bride, kissing her temple. She’s going to kill her brother and brother-in-law once she and her husband return from their honeymoon.

“It may have not been the best of beginnings but I wouldn’t trade meeting you for anything,” Killian whispers in her ear, instantly calming her.

She lifts her head, smiling at him as she rests her forehead against his. “Me neither.” She takes the ends of his undone bowtie in her hands and pulls him to her, capturing his lips and wrapping her arms around the back of his neck, eliciting an eruption of cheers and whistles from the guests and wedding party.

When they break the kiss, she tips her champagne flute toward her husband. “Here’s to our happy beginning.”

Killian clinks his glass against hers. “To our happy beginning.”

They drink to that, looking forward to their future together as husband and wife.

A/N: This was inspired by a post on Tumblr about an undercover cop posing as a john. He arrested someone for prostitution who turned out to be another undercover cop. Legend has it they got married a year later. When I heard about this post, I just had to write it for cs. Thanks for reading!

#cs ff #cs ff au #undercover cop au #deals with prostitution #crude language #misunderstandings #we own the night #my fic

43 notes · View notes

hollygoeslightly · 5 years ago

Note

1. I couldn't help but find Sydney's actions at the end to be very deceitful. As much as it's framed as a tragic choice where he comes out a bruised victim unintentionally hurting Charlotte, I feel that his choice is quite like Ms Champion's and he and the audience cannot actually claim that the exact same thing is any better than her cruel choice years ago. They both left their betrothed for money and we have no idea whether her circumstances were dire or not, yet she was painted as a villain.

2. And as much as I fell in love with Charlotte and Sydney, Sydney's actions at the end when it came to his treatment of her, were deplorable. Even Lord Babbington didn't kiss nor touch Ester in that society until he proposed, even when it seemed a sure thing. He respected her dignity in society and understood what it meant to take advantage of a woman before truly providing for her or making a promise. Thus when they finally kissed, it was celebratory.

3. I had a feeling when Sydney kissed Charlotte before asking for her hand, in a sense rewarding the audience prematurely, that it wouldn't happen. Simply because in that society and context, he knowingly skipped the steps of honoring a woman rightfully rather than using her. He made no promises before they kissed. He didn't propose. Also, speaking to Charlotte about marriage is too important to delay for a week later. The fact that he didn't spare a minute to finish their convo spoke ill.

4. All of these little things at the end of the season, the last episode, left a bad taste in my mouth and gave me the sense that it would end badly. Because as much as we know that Sydney loves Charlotte dearly, his actions were irresponsible and spoke otherwise. Even with money, there are many possibilities for something to come through. You don't barter with a person though, risk hurting someone you love especially after promising them a life, or leading them.The irresponsibility is likeOtis!

5. I know that in that society, Sydney is smart enough to know how much his actions would have consequences on a vulnerable young woman who doesn't even have money to her name. He knows that it's important to have promised marriage before touching her. He knows that making such a promise, he mustn't break it, because she will make arrangements pertaining to her entire life and wellbeing, resting on him. He's also experienced the same vile taste of that happening to him! What do you think?

6. Also just to be clear, I don't want to demand anything of you and I don't want to be negative. I love your meta and I put weight on your interpretations which is why I'm asking. I also love the character of Sydney, which is why I'm deeply disgruntled by this. Not the end, bc I saw that coming, but what the last few incidents mean for his character. I trusted that he'd understand his impact; all the parallels to scoundrels, the context of society, and the contradiction to Babbington is not good.

Hey!

Thanks for the question. I hope you don’t mind, but I’m going to break down your question into parts in order to ensure my answer will make some semblance of sense.

Real Life and Reel Life

I’ve spoken about this before, but it bears repeating as it has a significant impact on how I interpret the show – I am not an Austen purist, nor am I a stickler for complete historical accuracy when it comes to my enjoyment of a particular movie or TV show. For instance, I know some people were frustrated by the historical inaccuracy of Charlotte wearing her hair down, but Charlotte’s modern hairstyle was never something that bothered me. Everyone’s mileage varies of course, but as long as the characterisation is cohesive and interesting and the creators have managed to convey the overall spirit of the period of time the story is set, I’m happy.

It’s also worth noting that while Jane Austen was a fairly historically accurate author, her body of work had a very narrow focus – middle class and upper class families in country villages in southern England. And while her body of work is historically accurate, it’s also intentionally sanitised. Regency and Victorian England was a time of significant social, political and economic change – beneath the shiny veneer of tea rooms and good manners was an underbelly of sex, drugs and gambling.

Why am I mentioning this? Because Sanditon was Andrew Davies’ attempt at expanding Austen’s focus – placing Austen’s signature study of manners against the backdrop of a fairly chaotic period in time. Personally, I loved this aspect of the show. Not only did Davies force the audience to confront their preconceived ideas of what a typical Austen character actually is, but it allowed the characters to push against issues outside of love and marriage. Don’t get me wrong, I swoon every time Darcy helps Elizabeth into the carriage after the ball at Pemberley or Anne reads Wentworth’s letter, but it was nice to have a slightly different interpretation of Austen’s work.

Finally, I firmly believe that part of the agreement you undertake when interacting with any form of entertainment is the suspension of some degree of reality. The amount of suspension is dependent on the work of course, but even true stories require some form of suspension (e.g. the amalgamation of characters, timelines sped up) to be entertaining. In the case of Sanditon, the characters inhabit a close approximation of Regency England, but not an exact copy (e.g. Charlotte wears her hair down, clothing is not always period appropriate). This is also the case when it comes to characters breaking a few of the social conventions that Austen routinely explored. For example, while Sidney kissing Charlotte prior to proposing to her in 1x08 would have been frowned upon in the real world, in Davies’ version of Regency England, Sidney kissing Charlotte is not a poor reflection of his character nor does it indicate that he knowingly took advantage of her – it’s simply a way to drive the narrative forward and create an entertaining story. This is supported by the fact that Charlotte’s reputation remains in good standing despite spending time alone with both Sidney and Young Stringer and that Esther faces no consequences for the exposure of her romantic/abusive relationship with her brother in 1x08. So while I understand that for you, Davies’ choice to overlook certain social conventions is frustrating, I think it’s important to acknowledge that the world Sanditon presents us is not 100% historically accurate, and for the purposes of entertainment, I don’t think it can be.

Sidney, Eliza and Otis

Following the fire in the new terrace apartments in 1x08, Sidney is forced to make a choice between love and money – his love for Charlotte and his desire to save his brother (The Worst) from debtor’s prison. Sidney is faced with an impossible choice and in the end chooses to sacrifice his own happiness (I think Sidney believes that Charlotte will be able to move on and find happiness again) for the well being of Tom, Mary and the children. As you’ve pointed out, this is a direct parallel to Eliza choosing money over her love of Sidney. However, I don’t think it’s accurate to claim that both decisions are equal in cruelty – doing so removes all nuance from the situation.

While I understand why some members of the fandom believe that Eliza could have had a valid reason for choosing money over love, I don’t believe the narrative supports that argument (whether this would have changed in S2, I’m not sure). Eliza is described by Tom (1x06) and Arthur (1x07) as intentionally betraying Sidney’s trust, choosing the safety of wealth over love.

Arthur – “Do you know, for years all I knew about my brother, Sidney, was that he was driven to the West Indies with a broken heart.”

Sidney – “And what’s your point Arthur?”

Arthur – “I admire your spirit of forgiveness that is all. If it were me, I do not think I could bring myself to trust her again.”

Arthur speaks of a betrayal of trust that he does not believe he could ever get past, a betrayal he is surprised that his own brother is willing to forgive. The reason Sidney is so damaged by Eliza’s betrayal is not because she was forced by circumstance to marry for money (if that was the case, it would be presented as two lovers torn apart by outside influences e.g. Sidney and Charlotte), but because by choosing to marry for money, she publically declared that Sidney was not enough. The love and future he could offer her was not enough. Eliza’s choice is so cruel, because her decision is so mercenary in nature – it’s a decision made out of choice, not necessity. She made the decision knowing what it would cost and she deemed that cost (Sidney’s self-worth) worthwhile.

This is also the case when it comes to Otis’ treatment of Georgiana. Otis made an active choice to barter with Georgiana’s name in order to extend credit for his gambling debts. He had multiple options available to him, number one being to stop gambling, but he made a decision where he would benefit and Georgiana would be placed at risk. On the other hand, the audience is made aware that Sidney is forced into a position where there are no right choices. Regardless of the decision he makes, someone will be hurt. He is the only one in the position to find the money to keep his brother out of debtor’s prison and as a result, Tom’s failure to insure Sanditon costs Sidney his future with Charlotte. Intention matters. Yes, all decisions lead to people being hurt, but Sidney is the only one who also suffers as a result of the decision he made.

While I understand the audience was upset by Sidney’s decision (I didn’t like it either), I also think an ending where Sidney and Charlotte marry while Tom is sent to debtor’s prison (most likely for the rest of his life) and Mary and the children are made homeless and shunned by society for Tom’s misdeeds, would have also been incredibly unpopular.

Sidney and Lord Babington

On the surface, I can understand why you’ve compared Sidney and Lord Babington. Both fall in love with feisty women and both intend to propose marriage to said feisty women – it’s an easy connection to make. However, I don’t think it’s accurate to say that Sidney’s actions are wholly bad and Lord Babington’s actions are wholly good simply because Lord Babington’s proposal ended in a marriage.

Let me give you another interpretation of Lord Babington and Esther’s relationship (not one I subscribe to, but one that can be drawn based on the narrative). Taken by Esther’s honesty and derision, Lord Babington makes Esther aware that he has feelings for her. Esther in turn rejects Lord Babington and tells him all further attempts on his part would be futile. Despite this, Lord Babington continues to pursue her, writing letters which she never answers – another clear indication that she is not interested. Lord Babington visits Sanditon with the express purpose of seeing Esther (1x05) and requests a private walk without a chaperone where he proposes marriage. Esther rejects his proposal. After hearing Edward speak badly of his sister, Lord Babington visits Esther in private, again without a chaperone present. Following Lady Denham’s recovery he once again goes on an outing with Esther without a chaperone. After discovering that Esther had a romantic relationship with Edward and Esther telling him that she doesn’t love him, Lord Babington proposes marriage for the second time and Esther finally accepts. They marry.

If S2 had gone ahead, I’m fairly sure Esther’s love for Edward and her lack of love for her husband would have been a major plot point. And while I think it would have all worked out in the end, that Esther would have realised she loves Lord Babington, what if it hadn’t? Esther may have come to resent her husband, trapped in a marriage by a husband who knows his wife does not love him, still pining for the one man she couldn’t have because of circumstances out of her control.

Again, I understand why the choice to ignore some social conventions may be frustrating, however in Davies’ version of Regency England, breaking these conventions do not have the consequences they would have had in real life. By judging the actions of the characters by real life rules, you are assigning intention and consequence where there are none.

I think it’s also worth noting, that apart from Sidney and Charlotte themselves, nobody knows that they kissed and only Alison, Mary, Georgiana and Young Stringer are aware that Sidney was intending to propose marriage. Charlotte’s heart may be badly bruised, but her reputation is still intact.

Charlotte’s Agency

Perhaps it’s because Charlotte’s agency is more quietly expressed than other characters, but I think the argument that Charlotte became passive in the final two episodes, overlooks the very active choices Charlotte makes in regards to her feelings for Sidney. Passiveness suggests inaction, and in 1x08 Charlotte chooses to act – she asks Sidney whether she can join him on his walk into town. This may seem inconsequential, but it is anything but. Because Charlotte is not only choosing to trust in her feelings for Sidney and in his feelings for her, but she is telling Sidney his feelings are reciprocated and those feelings are strong enough that they need time alone to discuss their possible future together. The agency lies with Charlotte the whole time.

We began with the scene with a rather inane discussion about the weather and Charlotte’s family – Sidney is both desperate to discuss their conversation from the previous night, but patiently waiting for Charlotte to indicate that this is something she wishes to do. She does, telling him she would rather continue their walk together than return to town for her dress fitting.

Charlotte – “We seem not to be walking into town?”

Sidney – “Ah, yes, your dress fitting. Forgive me, what a fool I am. Should we head back, perhaps?”

Charlotte – “No, there is absolutely no urgency about my dress fitting. A walk along the clifftops is much more to my taste.”

Sidney – “Good. My thoughts exactly.”

Sidney is willing to end their walk and the possibility of discussing their feelings at the slightest hint that this may not be something Charlotte desires. However, following Charlotte’s lead, Sidney admits that he wished to find time alone with her to discuss their conversation while glancing at her mouth every five seconds, and of course they kiss. What is important to note is that Sidney continues to check in with Charlotte at every point in the lead up to that moment. Charlotte only had to say no or ask to return to town for Sidney not to proceed, something she is well aware of and actively chooses not to do. Responding positively to Sidney’s actions is not the same as passiveness. You only have to watch as Charlotte stares longing at Sidney to know that she desired the kiss just as much as he did.

Why am I mentioning all this? Because in your question, you talk quite a bit about Sidney’s choices and actions, and the consequences they may have for Charlotte, without acknowledging that Charlotte is an active participant. Do I think that means she could have somehow prevented what occurred? No, but nor do I think it’s fair to remove Charlotte’s participation from her own storyline. She may be a victim of incredibly poor circumstances, but I don’t think it’s fair to say she is a victim of Sidney’s poor behaviour. Sidney and Charlotte not ending the season married does not cancel out Charlotte’s agency in choosing to pursue her relationship with Sidney.

Thanks for the question, I hope I made sense!

#askbox #sanditon #jane austen #sidney parker #charlotte heywood #lord babington #esther denham #sanditon meta #mine

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