#i want angry teenager connor

[salt-and-a-dash-of-pepper]

I need more fanfics of post-game Connor struggling with his emotions. I need an angry Connor. A violent Connor who knows his own strength but finds it so difficult to restrain it now that he has emotions. Reed spills coffee over his shirt and though it wasn't a problem before, now Connor is throwing him across the precinct before he even registers the hot rage in his belly. He's walking across the street and someone spits in his face ("Fuck you, android piece of shit.") and he has to be physically restrained by Hank. And he's the top model of all androids before him, so when he hits, it hits hard and fast and he causes permanent damage, and he knows this but it's so goddamn hard. He almost loses Hank in a shooting with a suspect and suddenly he's pacing back and forth in the hallways of the hospital, terrified and livid that he's not allowed to stand silently in the corner of the operating room. He sees Hank post-operation and the tears are already spilling down his chin and the looks the doctors are giving him are making him feel embarrassed. Why? What's going on? It's a constant flow of emotions that he doesn't know how to deal with and I want to see the erratic mood changes of an android just learning what they are and not yet knowing how to deal with them and what's socially appropriate.

He still argues with Hank about whether or not it's socially appropriate to throw Reed across the room.

[girl-kisser-carla-connor]

Having this scene and the “Don’t get dressed” scene in the same episode is criminal and should be punished with JAIL TIME IMMEDIATELY.

CORONATION STREET ― 22nd November 2024

[dearest-and-nearest]

Spoilers about Taash's questline under the cut and many angry words

So, she is basically 12 year old teenager in body of fucking 20s girl. Oh, sorry "non-binary". She messes with Neve, who wears PANTS and unisex shirt, about her looks and that Taash doesn't want to wear dresses. And then there's shit like that

You can't call her out for shit like that. You can't be truly mean to her like you could to almost anyone in this series before. You could mock Alistair's hurt about Isolda's or Connor's death, but you cannot tell Taash that she's speaking shit. She is acting like being a woman is only wear dresses and act feminine and the worst? The game supports her in this. You can't tell her to shut up and that you don't care how poor little girl feels, you can only support and accept her.

And then she acts like "i don't want to act femminne, so i'm nonbinary" and that's offensive. It's misogynistic bullshit that relegates women to “dresses, makeup, pretty hair”. If you don't fit into that scheme, you're not a woman. You're trans, non-binary, whatever, but you're not a woman. And I find that kind of message misogynistic, yes. Because I happen to have short hair, pants in my closet, and “masculine” hobbies like video games and sports and stuff like that. And that does NOT make me less of a woman. And the very idea that if you're not feminine enough, you're not a woman is insulting.

And this game itself is constantly misogynistic. It doesn't let you create a woman with feminine proportions and big breasts in the editor. At best you'll have an androgynous character, at worst a man. I have zero problems with both categories, but I want to play as a WOMAN. A shapely, tall WOMAN, but for some reason now female breasts are offensive. They can't be added to the editor in sizes larger than B, and even characters who had them have lost them (like Isabela).

Speaking of which. She's in her 50s and yet she looks the same as she did 20 years ago in da2. Because again, you can't get old, you can't be “ugly” with not long enough hair and a pretty face, otherwise you're anything but a woman. And yes, it makes me angry. It makes me angry that under the guise of “progressivism” the erasure of women, the erasure of femininity and diversity and the replacement of that with “non-binary” and “trans” and whatever else is being promoted. Because even the topic with Taash's non-binarity could have been pitched any number of other ways, but Weeks chose to write the dialogs that way. You could have tried and created normal different models, but Busche decided to approve what they had.

I don't know who this game is aimed at. For kids there's sex, for adults there's too much dumb dialog and “Taash doesn't like skeletons” level conflicts. For right-wingers, there's too many pronouns and stuff like that, for progressives, there's this misogyny bullshit. I sincerely hope it fails, because otherwise we're in for more games like this. Games that restrict roleplay, cut gameplay, but feed you “nobody likes being a woman” bullshit that you can't even complain about. Bad games, made in a rush by lazy and untalented people, that try to sell under the sign of “progressive” when in fact the only progressive thing here is how developers economize on anything but what they should.

[xoxonxo]

i don’t think we talk about how good kit connor and joe locke did portraying their characters this season.

joe locke did a PHENOMENAL job portraying a teen who just wants to be be normal— even if he didn’t want help in the beginning. he does such a good job showing charlie’s growth and his want to be treated normally by everyone around them, regardless of how how bad their mental health is. he doesn’t try to be “weak” or “fragile”, he just needs help. he gets angry when people tried to help him because he’s angry at himself, he doesn’t want to be treated like a baby. joe did so good in being able to show all of those emotions, it felt REAL, RAW, and not rehearsed.

kit connor did everything they didn’t do in the comics for nick. i remember when i first read the comics i was surprised they didn’t talk more about the mental capacity nick had to have for charlie, while no one had that for him. kit connor really showed how hard it is to have someone you love get hurt and “feeling responsible” for it. that was SO much on nick and im so glad they expanded on it this season. again, it felt real.

teenagers aren’t sophisticated. they’re messy, petty, opinionated, confused, and have so many feelings all at once.

i think that kit and joe did a beautiful job and i really hope they get at least an award or two out of this.

[novamariestark]

Take My Stress Away

Summary: Jay hasn't spoken to you for a week and you feel you have lost your brother again. After a bad day at work, you find someone waiting by your car.

Warnings: fluffiness, poorly written medical scenes because I have no idea what they are saying in the show 🤣, angry-ish Jay, brief implied SA (not descriptive), proofread but there's always a mistake after posting 🤣

Word count: 3532

Fandom: Chicago P.D

Pairing: Hank Voight x halstead!reader

“I don’t know what to tell you, kid,” Herrmann said, pouring you a drink.

You scoffed, “I thought you were my friend, Hermie” you took a sip of your drink and shook your head, “You could have warned me,”

Jay was completely pissed. He stormed out of the room, without looking at you. You followed him, begging him to listen. He didn’t. You did not want this mistake to ruin your relationship with your brother.

Was it a mistake?

Of course it was, nothing is worth losing your family over.

But it was so good.

It’s not like you did it on purpose. In your defence, he said his name was Henry. Maybe you should have connected the dots, but you had two double vodkas and had just done a 12 hour shift. The only thing your brain was able to process was the hot guy sitting at the end of the bar.

Herrmann sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. "I didn't think (y/n)," he said, meeting her gaze with a look that was part apology, part caution. "You seemed to like the guy. Besides, I didn’t think he was the one night stand type… or any type really."

“He wasn’t anything like Jay described,” you muttered, swirling the drink in your glass absentmindedly. Herrmann watched you closely, seeing the confusion and frustration flicker across your face. "Jay made him sound like some cold, heartless guy. But Henry... Hank,” you corrected with a sigh, “He was different. Charming, even. He made me laugh. For the first time in a long time,”

“Hey!” Herrmann exclaimed, his brows shooting up in mock offense. He placed a hand dramatically over his heart, as if you deeply wounded him, and gestured to himself with the other hand, “I make you laugh,”

You couldn't help but chuckle at his theatrics. You shook your head, still smiling, and said, "You know what I mean."

Herrmann leaned forward, resting his hands on the bar. "Give Jay some time. He'll come around. You didn't do anything wrong,”

“I don’t want to lose him over this,” you said, your voice quivering slightly. You bit your lower lip, a nervous habit you’d developed over the years, and looked down at your hands, which were tightly clasped around her glass, “I already lost 28 years,”

 “You won’t,” he said, softly, placing a hand on your wrist, “families fight, they make up,”

"Thanks, Hermie,” you said, standing up from your barstool. “I have a shift tomorrow,” you added, grabbing your jacket from the back of the stool. You took the cash from your pocket and placed it on the bar for the drink.

Herrmann took the cash and put it in the register. “See you tomorrow, (Y/N),” he said, giving you a friendly smile.

The words you dreaded the most fall from Maggie’s lips, “Mass cas,” they echoed in your head and before you knew  it, you were in a bay, trying to save a teenage girl’s life.

It was chaos. Everyone was stretched thin. And so were the supplies. The air smelt of sweat and blood, so potent you could almost taste it. You were alone with the girl for what felt like hours until Connor came in. He saw your face and reassured you that you had done a good job, and the girl was lucky to have you. You felt as though you weren’t. It was times like this where you question whether you are cut out for this.

But then, the machine sounded that one tone that you always dreaded. The continuous drone and despite your and Connor’s best efforts, she passed away.

Later you find from Sam that she had a bleed in the brain. Was it your fault? It felt like your fault.

Like he could read your mind, Connor came over to you, placing a comforting hand on your shoulder. “Hey,” he said gently, “it’s not your fault.”

He glanced around at the mess the chaos had left the ER in. “In a situation like this, where there are so many patients. Even though we try our best, sometimes things don’t turn out the way we hope.”

The ER was slowly returning to order. The frantic atmosphere had calmed down, like a battlefield after the dust had settled. You moved through the now-quiet space, your mind still replaying the day’s events. You could feel the exhaustion in your limbs, but nothing was as painful as what your heart was going through. Sure you’d seen many people die before, young and old, but it doesn’t get any easier.

You worked alongside everyone, helping to tidy up the mess left behind. The day had clearly taken a toll on everyone, and it showed on their faces. Exhaustion was etched into every expression you saw. When it was finally time to leave, you were relieved.

You put your jacket on, pulling it over your shoulders and zipping it up, then, you grabbed your bag and slipped the strap onto your shoulder. You reached into the front zipper pocket and pulled out your keys, save fishing for them later in the dark car park.

On your way out of the hospital, you gave a tired wave to your colleagues, some of whom were still finishing up their tasks. Will caught your eye and walked over with a smile. "I’m going to talk to Jay," he said, "so I might be a bit late getting home." You nodded and gave him a hug. With a final wave, you stepped out into the cool evening air and just breathed it in for a second. You were ready to head home and felt you could sleep for a week. Maybe a month.

You made your way to your car, each step feeling like it took more effort than the last. Your feet dragged heavily on the pavement, scraping along the pavement as if you were being weighed down by something.

The cool evening air felt refreshing but it offered little comfort to you. As you approached your car, a shadowy figure started to form in the dim parking lot lights. Their posture was relaxed, hands shoved into their pockets, leaning casually against your car. You couldn’t quite make out who it was from a distance, but as you stepped closer the figure became clearer, and realization hit you. The familiar profile and stance matched Henry… Hank.

What is he doing here? Did something happen with Jay? No. Will would have told you. Wouldn’t he?

“Hey” he said as you reached the car, the simple greeting seeming out of place against the backdrop of everything you were feeling inside.

“Hey,” you squeaked out. You were feeling everything in the book, tiredness, sadness, nervousness you name it.

“How come you didn’t tell me you were Jay’s sister?” he asked, his head nodding slightly as he spoke, his brown eyes never leaving yours. If you weren’t so tired, those eyes and that voice would have your body begging for a repeat of last week.

You shrugged as much as your muscles would let you, “Probably the same reason you didn’t tell me you were his boss,” you retorted.

He looked at you for a moment, his eyes searching yours, looking for something you weren’t sure you had to give. You felt like your soul was laid bare and he was looking for a secret you didn’t even know you had.

But then the dam broke. You just couldn't hold it back any longer, and tears welled up in your eyes. Your voice cracked as you spoke, “I’m sorry,” The weight of everything—Hank, the exhaustion, your relationship with Jay, the teenage girl—finally spilled over.

“Hey,” he said, pulling his hands out of his pockets and reaching for you. He pulled you into his arms and surprisingly, you felt relaxed. Safe, He gently stroked your hair, his fingers combing through it soothingly, “Come on, I’ll take you home. You’re not driving while tired,” he said, grabbing your hand and leaving no room for arguments. Not that you had the energy to argue anyway.

You nodded and allowed Hank to lead you to his car. The doors clicked shut as you settled into the passenger seat. The steady hum of the engine filled the silence, and the city lights streaked past the windows, casting a soft glow inside the car. You glanced over at Hank a couple of times before turning to the passenger window, focusing on the passing objects. You bit your lip when you shot a glance at him. Why does he have to be so handsome?

If he wasn’t Jay’s boss, you’d definitely go for it. You wanted him. You scoffed shaking your head. You felt like Eve in the Garden of Eden and he was the apple. You wanted another taste.

The car slowed and came to a gentle stop in front of the building and your sadness reappeared. You were probably the only one here feeling this way. He’d probably gotten over it the second you walked out the district. You probably were just a one night stand to him.

“I’m not a one night kinda guy,” Hank spoke suddenly, breaking the silence. Your head snapped towards him, causing a slight jolt of whiplash.

“I’m not a one night kinda girl,” you replied, managing a small, sad smile. You glanced out the window, dreading what he might say next, “If you weren’t Jay’s boss then, I totally would,” you added, your voice trailing off.

Hank turned to face you fully, one eyebrow raised, “Would what?” he asked, you looked at him, rolling your eyes when you notice the smug smirk playing on his face, “I would too, but it wouldn’t be fair to you,” you scrunched your eyes at him. Fair to you? What did he mean? “I come with a lot of baggage and… I screwed up your relationship with your brother,” he continued, the smirk fading into something more serious. His eyes flicked down to the steering wheel before meeting yours again.

You shifted in your seat to get a better look at him, resting your head against the headrest, “I come with a lot of baggage too,” you sighed, your gaze dropping to the bracelet on your wrist—a gift from Jay when you got the job at Gaffney. You fiddled with it absentmindedly, “As for Jay… neither of us knew,”

His expression softened as he looked at you, “We do know now, and I can’t stop thinking about you,”

Your breath caught in your throat. His quiet words lingering in the small space of the car. His gaze remained locked on yours as the dim interior light cast soft shadows across his face. His hands rested on the steering wheel, fingers tapping lightly in an unconscious rhythm.

“I can’t stop thinking about you either but…”

“I know,” he nodded.

“Thank you, for the ride,” you said softly, leaning over to press a soft kiss to his cheek. Your lips brushed against his skin, lingering just a moment longer than you intended. You pulled back slowly, your eyes catching his, and the space between you seemed to close. You could feel the warmth from his breath, and before you could speak, he leaned in slightly. Your lips met in a brief, gentle kiss.

Without a word, you leaned back in, your hand reaching up to cup the back of his neck. This time, the kiss was not gentle. It was hungry, a desperate bid to consume each other. You felt the tension in your body coil tightly as your mouths moved together, and a soft moan escaped your throat. and it seemed to add fuel to the fire that had just been lit.

You got out the car, "Jay!" you called for him, "Please, let me explain," your voice was shaky. You didn't know where to start.

Jay's face was a thundercloud as he stomped over, his eyes flashing with anger. "What the hell do you think you're doing?" he spat out.

“Jay, please, just hear me out,” you said, stepping closer to him. Your eyes pleaded with him as you reached out to him. Tears forming in your eyes, “I didn’t know, he didn’t either… but” you paused, looking over your shoulder at him, “I…” you wanted to tell him how you felt but you thought it would make little difference.

Jay’s expression hardened, and a bitter laugh escaped him. It certainly wasn’t a laugh of amusement, but one of disbelief, “You what? Huh? You going to say you love him or something?” His words were laced with sarcasm.

“No, but…” you began, your voice catching as you tried to gather your thoughts.

Jay’s eyes narrowed, “What? Come on. You wanted to talk about it. Let’s talk about it then.” His arms crossed over his chest waiting for you to elaborate.

You took a deep breath, finding the courage to continue. “Jay, I’m not saying I’m in love with him, but I could be. I haven’t felt this way about anyone in a long time. Not since...”

He cut you off, “Look how that turned out,” he said, his words heavy with accusation. “You divorced him because you found him in bed with someone else.”

The sting of his words hit you like a punch to the gut. You flinched but tried to maintain your composure despite the raw pain of the memory. But you failed.

“I haven’t felt this safe in a long time,” you croaked out, Jay opened his mouth to speak but you didn’t let him, “53…” you said, confusing everyone, “I had 53 foster homes, some nice, some… not. I also had a brother,”

“Had?” Will asked, his voice was soft and gentle.

“H-he died,” you said, your voice quivering as if each word burnt your tongue. “Protecting me.” You took a deep breath, you didn’t really expect to have to talk about this again. the only person who knew was Herrmann after some guy outside the bar wouldn’t take no for an answer, “Our foster father… wasn’t nice. H-he used to um… mainly when Liam wasn’t around,” you paused, risking a look to your brothers, they knew what you were hinting at, “One day, Liam came home early and… tried to stop him. I-I lost him, and now I lost you too,”

Jay’s face paled, the anger in his eyes faltering at your words. Will stepped forward and wrapped his arms around you, pulling you into a tight, comforting embrace.

You buried your face in his shoulder, your breath hitching with each shuddering sob. Will held you, his hand rubbing soothing circles on your back. After a moment, Will pulled away slightly, gently wiping some stray tears from your now red cheeks.

Before you could fully process the moment, another pair of arms enveloped you. Jay pulled you into his embrace, “You will never lose me,” he said softly, pressing a kiss to your hairline. You broke down again, this time in tears of happiness. Jay’s grip tightened, “All I’ve ever wanted was for you to be safe.”

As he pulled away, Jay glanced over your shoulder at Hank, who had been standing silently, observing the exchange. Jay’s eyes were fierce, the protective version resurfacing. “You hurt her,” Jay said, his voice was low, but steady, “I’ll kill you.”

“Wait… what?” you asked, completely caught off guard.

Jay sighed, his expression softening when he turned his attention back to you. “I don’t want to lose you either,” he started, a hint of vulnerability in his voice that he often hides behind his protectiveness. “You’re my sister. I just want you to be safe and happy, and I don’t ever want to see your heart break again,”

“You can’t protect me from everything, Jay," you replied softly, offering him a small smile, "But I know you'll try," you added, a light tease in your tone.

Jay chuckled lightly, shaking his head. "Yeah, well, it's in the job description,"

“Hey, (y/n), how about you go out tonight? You had a rough night,” Will said, you looked at him your eyebrows scrunching.

“You kicking me out?” you asked, a fake pout on your lips, Will rolled his eyes, “I don’t think so, Will, I just wanna rest,”

"We could watch a movie, at my place?" Hank suggested with a shrug. You smiled, cuddling on a sofa with him? You thought about it for a bit. That sounds so enticing and doesn’t require any effort.

You glanced over at Jay, seeking his approval with a silent plea and the cutest smile you could muster. Jay sighed as he looked between you and Hank. He rolled his eyes, "Okay, go," he said, waving you off.

You squealed in delight, bouncing on the balls of your feet. You quickly leaned over to kiss Jay’s cheek, leaving a faint lipstick mark on his skin

“Hey!” Will exclaimed, feigning offense as he crossed his arms over his chest. His eyebrows shot up in mock offence. You knew from the playful glint in his eyes that he wasn’t really offended but you played along anyway.

“Best twin brother ever,” you corrected with a playful grin, stepping over to Will. You leaned in and kissed his cheek as well, leaving another lipstick mark. Will chuckled, shaking his head. With a quick wave and a bright smile, you hurried back over to Hank’s car. The cool evening air nipped at your skin as you slipped into the passenger seat, the door closing with a soft thud.

As you settled into the passenger seat, Hank started the car, the engine purring softly to life. The glow from the dashboard lights cast a gentle blue hue over his face, highlighting his strong beautiful jawline. You looked out the window, watching the familiar streets of Chicago pass by, illuminated slightly by the dim streetlights.

It didn’t take long for Hank’s place to come into view. He pulled into the driveway, the gravel crunching under the tires. As you stepped out of the car, Hank extended his hand, you reached out and took it, feeling a comforting squeeze as your feet hit the pavement. Hank noticed your bag hanging off your shoulder, "Let me take that," he said, sliding the strap off your shoulder before you could protest. You smiled maybe you thought.

The two of you walked up the short path to his front door. Hank unlocked the door and held it open for you, stepping aside to let you in first out the cold.

Hank gestured towards the sofa, "Make yourself comfortable. I'll grab some drinks," He disappeared into the kitchen. You kicked off your shoes and curled up on the sofa, letting out a sigh as you feel the soft fabric against your skin.

A few moments later, Hank returned with some beers, you eyed the beer, “I don’t entertain much,” he spoke as he set them down on the coffee table and grabbed the remote, scrolling through the options. "Any preferences?" he asked, glancing over at you.

You shrugged, "Something light and funny?" you suggested. He nodded and picked a comedy, the kind that you could easily get lost in.

As the movie started, you found yourself leaning against him. The warmth of his body next to yours and the soothing sounds of laughter from the screen made you feel peaceful. You felt the tension of the day melting away.

Before long, the soft flicker of the TV and the warmth of his body lulled you into a state of peaceful drowsiness. Your eyes grew heavy, and despite your efforts to stay awake, you felt yourself drifting off. The last thing you remembered was the sound of Hank's low chuckle and the gentle rise and fall of his breathing beside you.

As you dozed off, Hank noticed and gently pulled a blanket over you. He watched you sleep for a moment, a soft smile on his face, before carefully picking you up. You stirred slightly, mumbling something incoherent, but didn't wake up. Hank carried you to the guest room, laying you gently on the bed. He turned to leave, but you reached out, grabbing his wrist.

"Stay," you murmured, your voice barely above a whisper.

Hank hesitated for a moment before he nodded. He slipped off his shoes, you could hear the faint sound of them hitting the floor before he carefully climbed into the guest bed beside you, the mattress dipping slightly under his weight. The cool sheets rustled softly as he settled in. You instinctively rolled over, your body drawn to his like a magnet. Your head found its place on his chest, the soft fabric of his shirt comforting against your cheek.

You could feel the steady rise and fall of his breathing, each breath a gentle motion that seemed to sync with the beating of his heart. As you nestled closer, the comforting warmth of his body enveloped you once more.

His arm wrapped around you, as if shielding you from the outside world. His fingers brushed lightly against your back. The soft, repetitive sound of his heartbeat lulled you into a peaceful slumber, your breathing slowing to match his.

[ichorai]

hell, yeah ; roman roy ; part six.

pairing ; roman roy x f!reader

synopsis ; pain was an old friend for the both of you.

words ; 13.8k

themes ; angst, fluff, drama, slowburn, childhood friends to lovers

warnings / includes ; depictions of mental and physical abuse, major character death, heavy angsty shit, sexual jokes and general foul language, business talk, roman is so in love, connor gets a bit of spotlight for this chapter </3

a/n ; sorry i'm taking so so so long w this series! uni keeps getting in the way of my writing HAHA but i hope you guys enjoy :)

series masterlist. main masterlist.

Bidding wars had never really been fun for you. It was always emails upon emails, calls after calls, Logan yelling, Gerri scrambling, negotiations, bargains, deals—it was all too much.

But this… even you had to admit, this was fun. 

Maybe because it was the first time you were working against Logan and not for him. And being around the Roy siblings reminded you of your childhood—a time where the four of you got along for the most part, even with the bloody noses and scraped knees and the yankings of hair.

Buying Pierce had been something you were starkly against while you were working in Waystar, but with this new thing that the Roy siblings were crafting, you had complete faith that Shiv, Kendall—hell, even Roman, would keep the news station’s values in check.

And, though you weren’t entirely proud of it, there was a thrill, a rush of adrenaline, when the four of you raised your bidding price to a healthy ten billion as a closing offer, knowing there was no way Logan could ever consider outbidding that.

Nan Pierce accepted with little pushback, much to Logan’s fury.

Your godfather yelled at the four of you through the phone later that day, but there was no fear sitting within your stomach, like there usually was when he got angry. No, you were laughing. Kendall and Shiv and Roman—they were stifling their own smiles down at the screen, too.

That night, you stood on your balcony, a lit cigarette loosely balanced between your fingers. You weren’t at all a smoker—in fact, you hadn’t had one ever since you joined Waystar. It was an unprofessional look, in a sense. Not something you wanted to be associated with. 

The goddaughter that smelled of cheap cigarettes. Wasn’t that an unattractive thought?

But you didn’t have to worry about that anymore, did you? Honestly, you weren’t quite sure yourself. You’d just assumed you were no longer part of the company, but knowing Logan…

He always had something up his sleeve. Maybe he’d wait until the siblings lowered their guards to snipe you in the back of the head. Or lure you back with meaty bait. 

You took a short drag, faint grey wisps falling past your lips as you breathed out. 

“You smoking now? Doing a little smokey smokes?” came Roman’s voice from behind you, making you turn your head with a slight grin. “Since when?”

“First one since I was a little baby teenager, I think,” you replied. Roman leaned onto the balcony railing beside you, shoulder pressing flush against yours. “They taste disgusting. Here—”

You took a drag—a longer one, this time—leaned forward until your lips were just a whisker away from his, and blew the smoke into him. He inhaled deep before jerking forward to kiss you, nose nudging yours in his fervor.

“Yeah. Fucking disgusting,” he mumbled against your lips, as if wanting to propel you into something more than just kisses. 

Your eyes lit up with amusement, but you pulled away, leaving a lingering kiss on the side of Roman’s nose. The cigarette wasn’t at all used up, but you put it out on a small ashtray you had taken with you. 

“I just wanted to try,” you said. “Was wondering if I’d like it after all this time, now that I have the freedom to.”

There was a curious glint to Roman’s molten eyes. “And do you?”

“Nah. Like I said—they taste disgusting.”

“Some people like disgusting,” he off-handedly said, and you shot him a pointed look.

A breezy laugh, lost to the wind. “Yeah. I might know someone.”

“You’re a goody two-shoes, you know that?” he commented snidely, but his eyes were far too soft for his words to strike harsh. “But it’s good. We need someone like that. The company, I mean.”

“I know,” you whispered back. “I’m glad we’re doing this.”

“Yeah,” Roman said, his hand lacing with yours. He began tugging you back inside. “Me too.”

Connor wanted the four of you to come to his wedding rehearsal at a fancy restaurant downtown—he texted you multiple different addresses, each text telling you to disregard the last one. Then, he called you (called Shiv first, but she was on the phone, passive-aggressively bickering with Tom), and told you exactly where he was. Apparently Willa wasn’t very happy with the venues they’d booked. He sounded sad—it was always easy to tell when he was sad.

And so the four of you set off for him, though not without Roman’s constant complaints. Spending some quality time with their eldest brother was the last thing the Roy siblings wanted to do—they had far more pressing matters at hand. 

Sandi and Stewy, for one. They wanted to veto the acquisition for more dollars squeezed from Matsson’s hand. Roman was starkly against the idea, not wanting to blow more bullets into his father. Shiv and Kendall were far more willing to listen, though Kendall eventually backed down. It was appealing, you had to admit, especially because you hated Matsson’s guts, but you wanted to put business aside for the moment. Spend some time with Connor—after all, he was going to get married soon. If that ever ended up happening, that is.

Once inside the restaurant’s halls, you caught sight of Willa hurrying down the wide staircase by the entrance, looking a bit frazzled. 

“Oh, hi!” she said, slightly breathless. “So you’re here now, huh?”

“Hi, Willa,” you greeted, embracing her with a loose hug before stepping back. “Are you… going somewhere?”

“You standing up my big bro?” Roman quipped from right behind you. He was joking, but Willa only frowned. “Are you okay? Did something happen?” 

There was a nervous laugh from both parties.

“Oh, yeah! Yeah, yeah, I’m just—I’m having a little drink. Away.” 

Both you and Roman spared each other confused glances.

“Is the dinner rehearsal thing over? He still up there?” Roman asked.

The blonde fiddled with her phone, nearly dropping it. “Oh, uh, the rehearsal isn’t—it’s not done, no.”

“You’re leaving your own wedding rehearsal?” you gently questioned.

She smiled, though it came off only sad and tired. “I think they can manage. I’m not vital from here.”

Roman squinted at her. “Yeah, well… I mean, normally the bride is generally considered—correct me if I’m wrong—I think the bride is pretty vital in a wedding. Don’t you think?” 

“Well! Yeah, but… I should go, though. Have a think about it all. I’m in a bit of a fuzz.” She laughed again, though it looked like she wanted to cry. 

Nodding, you said, “Take care of yourself, Willa. Let us know if you need anything.”

She pursed her lips, eyes soft with appreciation. The two of you had never been quite close, but there was a mutual understanding between you. To be the pedestals of Roy men, the unnamed crutch, the woman on the arm. 

With that, she hurried away. 

“Fairy tale wedding, huh?” Shiv said, eyebrows raised. “Should we even go up? Seems like the rehearsal is over.”

“She said it wasn’t,” you replied, shrugging. “We should go see Con.”

Roman crossed his arms. “Yeah, Shiv, we really should. Why? You got something better to do than see your own brother before his wedding?”

“No, it’s just—we’ve got quite a lot to discuss, that’s all.”

It was Kendall’s turn to query, “What? Sandi and Stewy? They’re baiting us. Just let it go, Shiv.”

“I think they could really help us! We overpromised on Pierce!” she hotly defended.

“It’s a mind game,” Roman agreed with Kendall. “Just—fuck ‘em, okay?”

The redhead looked at you, but you shook your head. “Let’s just go see Connor, okay? We can hash it out after making sure he hasn’t got a gun barrel in his mouth.”

“Sure. Fine,” Shiv said, though it didn’t seem all that fine to her, judging from her pinched expression.

The four of you traipsed up the stairs, spotting Connor instantly—alone, surrounded by near-untouched platters of expensive food.

“Found him,” Roman sarcastically commented, pointing a finger at his oldest brother, who cracked a fond smile.

“Finally,” Connor said. “Took you guys long enough.”

Roman gave him an embrace from the side, saying, “Hey, bro. Hugsy.”

To the other side, Kendall patted his shoulder, another hand thumping on his chest. Shiv only barely leaned down to hug him, telling him, “Dad screwed us.”

“Yeah,” the eldest said. “I heard. But look at you guys—the Rebel Alliance.”

You were last to give Connor a hug, squeezing him tight, pressing a chaste kiss to his cheek. “How’s the rehearsal been?”

A non-committal noise slipped past his lips. “Been good. It’s been okay.”

Roman made a strange, wincing sound, sucking air through his teeth. “Sure. Yeah, I believe you.”

Keen to change the subject, Connor surveyed his siblings—and you—with narrowed eyes. “So this is how it is, huh? Battle royale. Me and Dad on one side, you guys on the other?”

Strange, you hadn’t quite recalled Connor being so in with his father’s business plans. And… the fact that Logan hadn’t shown up to the wedding rehearsal at all.

“You okay, man?” Roman queried, genuine concern slipping over his features. He was always one to wear his heart on his sleeve. “We bumped into Willa on the way in. She seemed all…” He drew up his hands to his face and shook his fingers about.

Pointedly, Connor dropped his gaze down to the table. Untouched food left and right.  “Yeah. It’s alright. I think it’s fine.”

“You sure, Con?” you asked, slipping into the seat beside him, Roman on your other side. 

“Yeah, well, I guess she just—she stood up to do her speech, and then she froze. Said that she couldn’t do it.” There was a laugh, dry and unpleasant and somber. “Then she went to the bathroom for forty minutes with her so-called friends.”

Roman wrinkled his nose and squinted his eyes at nothing in particular. “Oh, no, no, that’s—that’s totally fine. Don’t you worry about that. Just toss her another ten grand—or a snowmobile. Teeth-whitening vouchers.”

Unhappy with the meaning behind his brother’s words, Connor pushed himself away from the table, heading off to speak to Willa’s mom. 

Tossing a glare in Roman’s direction, you sighed out, “Was that really necessary?”

“What? It’s the truth, isn’t it?”

Slumping into the chair across from you, Kendall huffed out, “This is so fucking weird.”

“Do we regroup at my place?” Shiv asked, still standing, impatient to leave even though they’d just gotten there.

Tilting his head, Roman incredulously said, “Shiv. Come on. He’s… he’s looking a little rough. Don’t you think?”

“Well, sure. I’m sorry that Dad fucked us and I’m sorry that we’re late. But we do need to decide fast.” 

“The Sandi and Stewy deal?” you queried.

Shiv let out a frustrated exhale. “Yeah.”

“Well, I think we’re already decided, no?” Kendall said, lifting a shoulder in half a shrug. Roman nodded in agreement.

“Are we, though? They made some pretty compelling arguments.” Shiv tapped her foot against the hardwood floors impatiently.

Glancing over at Connor, who was trying his best to console Willa’s mother, you bobbed your head, hesitant. “It could potentially ruin Matsson. The deal. I’d like to see it.”

Groaning a little too loudly, Roman said, “Sandy’s just a greedy little bitch. She’s got her hand up the ass of the carcass of her dad, and Stewy’s just coming along for the ride. Can we not do this right now? It’s a fucking—it’s a packet of horseshit.”

Trying her best to stay calm, Shiv perched herself on the edge of the seat next to Kendall. “Okay. And what if I want to talk it through? This would help us.”

Kendall arched a brow. “I think we should just rise above it.”

“Yeah, okay, but maybe Dad is not on it like he used to be—and maybe he’s underplayed his hand, and the board are all just hand-fucking-picked Japanese plastic cats just waving it through,” Shiv argued.

“It doesn’t hurt to try,” you added, trying your best to sway Roman by nudging him gently. He merely rolled his eyes and prodded you back, but said nothing more.

It was then that Connor came hurrying back, carding a hand through his hair. He tiredly sank back down into his seat. “No luck. Still incommunicado. I just really hope she’s okay.”

“I’m sure she is,” you told him, rubbing a hand over his shoulder. “She just needs space, is all.”

“Yeah.” As if he’d flipped a switch, Connor straightened and plastered on a smile. “So, what do you guys say? A little bit of karaoke?”

All three siblings grimaced. 

“Or would it be possible,” Roman began, scratching at his jaw, “to do anything other than that, in the entire universe?”

“I think karaoke sounds nice,” you offered. Honestly, you weren’t too keen on doing karaoke when your mind was abuzz with a million other things at the moment, but it was Connor, and he seemed so down about Willa at his own wedding rehearsal, and you just couldn’t bring yourself to say no to him. It was like kicking at an already-wounded puppy.

Connor grinned. “Nice! One in the bag. Come on, you guys. Don’t leave us hanging.”

Shiv looked near ready to bash her head against the table. Kendall was glancing down at his phone—texting someone.

Roman rolled his eyes and groaned again, even louder than before. “Ugh. Fine! We can drink, though, right? I’m not listening to you sing sober.”

Clearing her throat, Shiv said, “Well, I just, we kind of have—other engagements right now—”

“Oh, sure. Everybody’s busy,” Connor crooned. Though, if you looked close enough, you’d see the unmistakable hurt in his eyes. Why didn’t his baby sister want to spend time with him?

“Come on,” Kendall said with an urgent hand slanting over Shiv’s shoulder, phone gone for now. “Let’s give him a drink.”

Clapping his hands, Connor stood up again. “Great! But—not any of your stupid places. Somewhere fun and real and—away from all the fancy dance. A real bar with, uh, with chicks, and guys who work with their hands in grease—sweat dripping down their backs and blood all over their hair.”

“I don’t like these guys. They sound like a medical experiment gone wrong,” Roman piped up, slinging an arm over your shoulder.

“Sounds hot,” you said with a genuine laugh. “Let’s go.”

The bar itself was atmospherically ambient, the lights warm and unharsh, the chatter light and friendly, the television playing a football match at a soft volume. You smiled—it’d been a while since you stepped foot into an actual bar full of people who weren’t aristocratic assholes.

Normal people doing normal things. What was that like?

Roman, on the other hand, looked particularly uncomfortable, shoulders stiff and expression taut. He was only here for his big brother, but his saint-like kindness only wore so thin.

Kendall ordered drinks for the lot of you—whiskey on the rocks for himself, a sealed soda for Shiv since she didn’t trust anything from the bar’s “tainted” nozzles, a fancy beer for Connor, a vodka tonic for Roman, and a strawberry margarita for you. He snorted when you asked for it, rolling his eyes to the side. 

“You and your strawberries,” Kendall said, before heading off to call the bartender. You weren’t quite sure if his expression was fond or derisive. Perhaps both.

You sat beside Connor, peering over his shoulder, where he was staring at the screen with heavily knitted brows.

“Is that—is that Willa?” you asked, eyes widening upon seeing him zoomed onto a map with a tiny blue dot. “Are you tracking her?”

“Jesus, Con,” said Roman, laughing his high-pitched laugh. “That’s low, even for you.”

“What? I have her location shared,” the older brother said, earning quizzical looks from the three of you. “It’s a factory setting.”

Shiv made a noise of amusement. “It’s not.”

“Well…” Connor’s eyes darted back down to his screen, zooming in impossibly closer. “I’m reassured she’s definitely not on her way to Cuba.”

From his other side, Kendall appeared, hands shoved deep into his pockets. “Well, her phone isn’t.”

Connor decided to ignore the comment. “She stopped moving, so… I guess she found a spot she likes.”

“Sure!” crooned Roman. “On another man’s dick.”

The rest of you sighed, and you shook your head. 

“On a much bigger, nicer, harder, younger dick, is all I’m saying,” Roman reassured his eldest brother, patting his shoulders.

“Can we not?” Connor softly said, though he was smiling down at Rome. Even though his words hurt, just the fact that he was there for him cheered him up just a little bit. “Okay? I’m feeling—I’m having certain anxieties, alright? I want to have a good time!”

Once Roman muttered a quick apology, you bumped him off to the side so you can press up next to Connor again, staring down at the blue dot, still unmoving. “I’m sure she just needs a breather. It’s a big deal, y’know. Marriage.”

“I know,” said Con, sucking in a deep breath. There was a profound sort of loneliness to his eyes. “I just thought—I thought it was enough. All of it. It was enough for her.”

“It will be,” you said, nudging him. “Eventually. Just give her time.”

The drinks came then, and you hummed contentedly after taking your first sip. “Fuck. Why don’t they ever have shit like this at the fancy events we go to?”

“Because it’s diabetes in a cup,” Roman replied, but he plucked the glass from your fingers to snag a sip for himself. “It’s literal sugar water. Barely any alcohol in here.”

“Well, I’m not looking to get wasted,” you said, before snatching it back, shooting him a half-hearted glare. “You drank so much!”

“Nuh-uh, there was barely anything in there to begin with!”

“Roman, it was filled to the brim two seconds ago, what are you talking about?”

Before the two of you could divulge into a round of childish bickering, Connor abruptly straightened in his seat. “Her dot is at an aquarium supply retailer. That doesn’t make sense—is that a drug thing?”

Kendall cleared his throat. “No, I don’t think so.”

“You sure?”

Roman snickered. “It is. It’s a drug thing.”

“Maybe she’s getting a pet fish,” you unhelpfully supplied. “A little pre-wedding gift for the two of you?”

Frowning, Connor said, “Now she’s at a dry cleaner’s.”

“Probably getting her panties cleaned from the new dick’s cum,” quipped Roman. The absurdity of the statement made you laugh unexpectedly, but you quickly quietened when Connor stared at the two of you in horror. 

“What’s wrong with you?” he asked, as if he were a parent scolding a naughty toddler. 

“I’m not saying it’s your cum! Your cum, I’m sure, is very washable.” Roman droned on to an incredulous Connor some more, but your attention was drawn to Kendall, whose phone began to ring, and he quietly excused himself from the bar to take the call, face twisted into unmistakeable dread. You briefly wondered who he looked so anxious to talk to, but the thought was quick to banish from your mind entirely when Connor prodded Roman in the shoulder and said your name.

“Okay, that’s enough from you. Y/N, can you tell him to stop? Tell him to stop.”

“Stop it, Roman. Don’t talk about your brother’s cum, you weirdo.”

Rubbing his palms together, Roman shrugged the matter away entirely. “I’m starving. Anything to eat in this shit shack, or what?”

By the time Kendall came back, the rest of you were crowded into a small booth with a dingy little light hanging a little too low over the table. There was a platter of cheesy nachos in the center, which Shiv eyed with distaste. Roman was still looking over the menus, sarcastically wondering aloud from which creature they’d clipped the wings off of.

“Who were you talking to, Ken?” you asked. “It wasn’t Frank again, was it?” 

Kendall’s eyes darted from your face down to the floor. “Uh… no. No, it was—it was Stewy.” 

Something about his demeanor screamed that he wasn’t telling the entire truth, but you kept quiet, watching him with just barely narrowed eyes. 

“Oh, great. What the fuck does he want now?” Roman hissed, peering over the crinkled lamination of the menu he was holding. 

Kendall leaned forward slightly, regarding Shiv with a pointed stare. “Actually, guys, can I… can I show you something? On the comparables. It’s actually pretty fucking intriguing.” 

Your eyebrows rose a fraction. Just a few moments ago, Kendall wasn’t at all interested in Sandi and Stewy’s pitching. What changed his mind?

Nodding in satisfaction, Shiv added, “Yeah, see? It makes you think. Maybe Dad isn’t on it like he used to be. You know, he’s being pushed around by Matsson—hell, even by Kerry. Giving shows to his girlfriend? That’s just—it’s an embarrassment!”

Loudly, Connor exclaimed, “Fuck, she’s in the East River now! She’s in the—oh. Wait, no, she’s just on the bridge.” You popped a nacho in your mouth and glanced over at Connor, who was squinting down at his phone.

“Looks like she’s going on a little trip,” you hummed. “She’ll be fine.”

“Yeah, okay, not to be dicks, Con, but is it okay if we do a little breakout chat, just the four of us? We won’t be long, like—two minutes max,” Shiv said, expression serious and unyielding.

Rolling his eyes, Roman gestured to his oldest brother. “Hey, just—fuck it. Why don’t we fold Con in?” 

“Well, he’s not on the board, so—”

“Yeah, but he has a share. If the deal falls, he loses his payout.”

An incredulous frown pulled at his lips. “Excuse me?” Connor said.

“Oh, okay, so Shiv wants to get us mixed up in some drug deal that will fuck the vote tomorrow,” Roman told him, pursing his lips in an exaggerated fashion.

Holding her hands out, Shiv shook her head. “Uh, no. All we’re aiming for is a small delay. We all want the deal to go through.”

“Right,” you said with an amused snort. “Sure.”

“I, uh… I think I agree,” said Kendall.

Roman’s eyes widened. “Oh, what the fuck? Seriously?”

 “It’s just—looking at the numbers… it’s compelling.”

With a grand scoff, Roman shook his head. “It’s compelling? Wow. You’d find a bag of peanuts more compelling, Kendall.”

You placed a hand over Roman’s jolting knee. “Rome, why don’t we just hear them out?” His eyes met yours, hesitant and conflicted. “And think—wouldn’t it be fun? Fucking Matsson in the ass?”

“Yeah, I bet you’d like that, you freak,” he scoffed, crossing his arms.

“So you guys are just gonna force Dad to grovel?” Connor asked, mouth parted in surprise. “Oh, man. How long will a renegotiation take?”

Shiv’s lips twisted downwards, though it was more of a smile than a frown. “It’s a play. More money is more money, and that’s all there is to it.”

It was then that Roman’s phone, facing upwards on the chipped table, vibrated thrice. The screen lit up with a text notification. 

Dad.

All the siblings had seen it, and Shiv rushed to angle the phone towards her. Roman slapped her hand away, yanking his phone towards his chest. Hiding it.

“What the fuck?” Shiv asked, wary. “The fuck is Dad messaging you for?”

Roman stood frozen, reminiscent of a deer in headlights. “Uh, I don’t know. Why don’t you ask him? Stupid question, Shivvy.”

Kendall stared at his younger brother blankly. “You’re not gonna read it?”

There was a brief pause. “Yeah, I’ll—I’ll read the damn thing. Sure.” A swipe of his phone, a kink to his brows. “It’s just a check-in.”

“Oh, yeah?” Shiv said, skeptical. “A check-in? Oh, yeah. Classic Dad. He just loves to check in on us, see how we’re doing.” 

Backing down, Roman fessed up, “Okay, fine, I sent him a text on his birthday. Just saying, you know, happy birthday, sorry we missed it—”

“I’m sorry, wait a minute!” Shiv exclaimed. “You texted him first?”

Roman frowned. “It was his birthday, yeah.”

“We said no contact until he apologizes!” she angrily pointed out.

“Okay, so then never?” Roman shot back, scowling.

With a tilt of your head, you said, “It was just a simple happy birthday, right? That’s harmless. Right, Roman?” You pressed your foot over his, enough so he could feel the pressure, but not enough to hurt him.

“Yeah. That was it.”

“Nuh-uh. I want to see your phone,” said the red-head. 

A flicker of panic flashed across Roman’s eyes. “Oh, really? Show me yours, then! World’s biggest WhatsApp group of people sharing pictures of your snatch. No, thank you. Fuck off, fuck you.”

“Roman, come on,” Kendall said. “We have to trust each other.”

Memories of Kendall forcefully taking Roman’s phone from you in Hungary briefly crossed your mind. You pursed your lips. He’d been hiding things from you then, who was to say he wasn’t hiding things from you now?

Relenting, Roman tossed his phone onto the table, almost hitting the platter of nachos. He was growing angrier by the second, frustrated by his siblings' shoes pressing against his spine. “Fine, take a good look. I don’t give a shit. It’s just dick pics, anyway. He’s got a real taste for ‘em now.”

You leaned over to read along with Shiv and Kendall. It looked fine to you—since it was just a simple birthday wish, but they seemed much more harsh in their critique.

“This is more than one text, Roman.” There was a crease between Shiv’s brows.

“Okay. What is it? Two, three?”

Kendall rubbed the faint stubble over his jaw. “It’s a bit warm.”

“Warm? Why, what did I say?”

“Take care.”

Scoffing, Roman’s eyes rolled up to the dingy, low-hanging light. “What was I supposed to say? Happy birthday, hope you fall down a flight of stairs, shithead!”

“I feel a little bit weird about this betrayal, if I’m being honest,” Shiv said in a steely tone. 

“Betrayal?” Roman parroted, almost offensively. “The betrayal of happy birthday, Dad. Take care!” 

“You know what?” Kendall chimed in. “I’m feeling a bit betrayed, too.”

Upset, Roman just about slammed his phone back down on the tabletop. “Wow. Great. Fucking family guilt-trip fest.”

“It wasn’t that bad,” you said, pinching the space between your brows. “It’s not illegal to say happy birthday, guys. Relax, okay?”

Connor nodded. “It’s hard. It’s been hard on everybody.”

The five of you sat in silence for a bit longer. Has it been hard? Or did it just feel like it because all of you had been so accustomed to getting everything handed over on a silver platter? 

Finally, Shiv swallowed heavily and said, “You know that he advised Tom on the divorce? Gave him a Dad trick—went and spoke to every pit bull in Manhattan and tied them up. I got Mommed.”

You frowned. So much had happened in the past few months, you’d sort of even forgotten Shiv and Tom were heading for divorce. “Tom did that? Jeez… I’m sorry, Shiv.”

Roman blew out a breath, mildly relieved that the heat was taken off of him for a moment. “I mean, there’s probably one more horrible motherfucker lawyer around somewhere, but, uhm… that sucks. I’m sorry.”

Shiv refused to meet either of your gazes. She didn’t want to be reduced to… Tom’s ex-wife. A shadow of her mother. 

“Guys, I just feel like we need to stick together,” Kendall said, firm. We should push back, and we should all be on board. We squeeze them.”

Equally level, Roman placed his hands on the table. “Okay, but, we want to do Pierce, right? We want an out?”

“Yes. But just with a bit more money,” Kendall agreed. 

“Yeah, that’s the thing—I don’t think Matsson will go up in price,” Roman argued. “He won’t! I know this, because I’ve spoken to him. I really think he might walk.”

 Good, you wanted to say, but you bit down on your tongue.

Both Shiv and Kendall began poking fun at him for not calling Matsson’s bluff.

Exasperated, Roman rubbed his knuckles along his hairline. “Okay, it just sounded like he meant it.” He didn’t look happy with the prospect of blocking the deal. He wanted to be a traitor to his Dad without being a traitor. To have his cake and eat it, too.

Shiv and Roman fell into another argument about whether or not Roman cared over conflict—that he was scared of his own Dad and wanted to back down like a coward.

Quelling his riled-up siblings, Kendall motioned for them to quiet down. “Honestly, though, guys. I think going with Sandi and Stewy is the best thing for us to do. As a team.”

Shiv nodded in agreement. “It’s a play. Buys us a couple weeks and more money.”

“He’ll get it,” Kendall said, trying to sway Rome. “It’s what Dad would do in his prime.”

And was that the goal? To try and imitate the beast to scare him off? A moth with false eyes to ward away predators?

Roman squinted at nothing in particular. Then, he angled his face to look at you. You hadn’t at all realized that your features were immobilized in uncertainty. 

“What?” Roman asked, knee knocking against yours.

“Your Dad’s going to hate us if we pull this.”

Roman laughed, high and nervous. The idea made him nauseous. “Seems like he already does.”

“No, he… he loves you. All of you. But this is… he’ll hate that he loves you, sure, that’s always been the case. But this time… he’ll hate you if you’re the reason he can’t win.”

Something sick twisted within Roman’s gut. He seemed to go all pale and wide-eyed. 

“It’s just a play, though,” Shiv said. 

“Just a play,” Roman echoed, sounding unsure. “It isn’t real?”

Kendall nodded. Shiv, too.

“Fine. Yeah, fuck it. I’m in.” Roman caved, and the two smiled at him. You squeezed his knee. 

With a sharp exhale, Connor huffed, “God damn it. God fucking damn it! You ruined it. You ruined it all.”

Roman apologized, but it seemed to fall upon deaf ears. Kendall tried to calm him down by asking his brother what he wanted to do. After all… it was supposed to be his big night before the big day.

“I wanted to get married tomorrow,” he said, cross. “I wanted to spend tonight with my family and tomorrow with Dad. I wanted to get my fucking money out. But you guys fucked it!”

Feeling mildly guilty, your other hand came up to rub Connor’s shoulder. “I’m sorry, really. You’re an innocent bystander caught in the crossfire. What can we do to make you feel better, Con?”

Several moments passed by in silence as Connor thought about it. What did he want? A giant bowl of ice cream so large you couldn’t see around it? A perfectly-tailored suit from the most expensive store he could find? A vintage bottle of whiskey and a nice book to sit with? They all sounded appealing to him.

“I would…” he finally started, “I’d like to sing one fucking song at karaoke because I’ve seen it in the movies, and nobody ever wants to go.”

Roman just about banged his head on the table. You flicked at his ear, before turning back to Connor. “Karaoke. Yeah, we can do that, Con.”

The room was illuminated with hazy shades of purples and blues, the lights hidden behind indents in the wall. It looked modern and sleek—an upscale to what was typically seen in the movies. Connor didn’t hesitate to make a beeline for the karaoke machine, fiddling with buttons and remotes and smiling to himself when he managed to get it up and working without asking for help. Shiv and Kendall wandered around cautiously. Roman was quick to toss himself onto the long, spacious couch, hanging off of the seats as if he were melting. You curled up beside him with a pleased hum, nose brushing over his lower cheek, scratchy with barely-there stubble.

There was a bit more dilly-dallying—Connor was concerned about Willa’s blue dot disappearing completely. The siblings were quick to brush him off, reassure him, tell him he wasn’t going to ever do better than Willa. The usual.

You sipped on a glass of champagne that Kendall handed you. There was more chatter—amicable and light and teasing. You poked fun at Kendall’s lame hat whilst Shiv plainly told Roman that his shoes were a size too large for his feet. That his feet were small and dainty and he would fall over if they were any smaller. More drinks, more giggling, more stories. You learned that fresh-faced college Kendall once puked on Stewy’s bed and cried at the foot of it after drinking too much. You told the siblings that you once slept with Angelina from accounting during your first year at the company, to which they responded with shocked snorts. There was a point where Roman grabbed your face and kissed you and kissed you until the rest of the siblings began faux-gagging, and Connor complained that it was like watching his siblings make out. Goddaughter-and-son incest, he’d said. 

It was fun, maybe. The closest to fun you could have with Roy siblings.

And it was gone in a second, like a candle snuffed in a hurricane. 

Logan was coming. Connor invited him because he loved him and he loved all of you and—

It hurt. Simple as that. It hurt to see the people he loved so… so torn.

The smiles melted away, and the laughter buzzed down. It was tense again. Family turned business once more. Connor finally put on a song to sing while he waited for his father to come, but your ears rang with white noise, so you didn’t quite register which song he was brokenly following along.

You were scared, you realized. Scared to face the man with the knife in his back. Roman worked his jaw and he complained some more. Not that you really heard what he said.

At some point, his phone began to ring, vibrating in his pants, pressed up against your leg. You raised a brow and scooched back so he could take it out to check. 

Logan. Dad. Of course. Roman’s hands shook, but only a little bit. Enough for you to see. Shiv grabbed it and hung up for him, not liking how long he hesitated. You stared at the black screen for a bit longer, your own fingers twitching.

Connor continued to sing. He finished three songs—maybe four—until the door creaked open. No knocks.

Colin came in first, then your godfather, then Kerry. He nodded, almost polite, with a casual greeting hanging in the air. It was eternally strange, the way Logan smiled at you. Warm, maybe. You didn’t know.

“Shit,” Roman said, almost amused, mostly… unprepared.

Chancing a glance to Shiv and Kendall, you noticed their stiff upper lips, their frozen postures. 

“Can we go somewhere else?” Logan asked, glancing around the large room. “These lights, er…”

Shiv shook her head in exasperation. A roll of her eyes. “We’re not going anywhere.”

There was little resistance to Logan. “Fine,” he easily acquiesced. With that, he took a seat in a velvet black chair, across all the siblings and you. Kerry jerked to sit next to him, which made Shiv recoil with a sneer.

“We won’t be needing you, Kerry. Thanks.”

Roman nodded. “Yeah, this here is a family fuck-fuck.”

There were a few glances around, Logan and Kerry looked at each other but neither moved. 

“Let’s get this figured out, and I can let you get back to your fun,” said Logan, ignoring them.

“Might be a wasted trip,” Kendall sardonically replied, tongue sharp. “Wanna give us a blast of New York, New York and fuck off?”

“I wanted to say something,” their father said.

Shiv retorted something else, and Kendall snickered under his breath. The buzzing in your ears grew louder.

“I guess I just wanted you there, a bit,” Logan said. “At my party.”

It was a play. Was it? Yes, of course. But if it wasn’t… 

But it was.

“Holy shit,” Kendall crooned. “Did Dad just say a feeling?”

“Well, you know. I thought maybe it would be nice,” said Logan. 

With exaggerated motions of his hands, Kendall exclaimed, “Oh, fuck! Now it’s all coming out! Oh, my God, Mr. Melodrama here! It’s like a fucking telenovela!”

Connor gestured between Kendall and his dad. “Come on, guys. He’s trying.”

Logan smiled, calm. “Y/N, dear,” he began. Your eyes snapped up to meet his and your spine seemed to grow rigid. “I had a lovely chat with your father. He was… surprised that you’re no longer holding Waystar together. Wouldn’t it be a shame, considering all the money he’s invested into the company? You’re setting millions on fire.”

The siblings all looked at you, curious. You swallowed, finding your throat painfully dry, despite all the champagne you’d been sipping prior to Logan’s arrival.

“If they expected me to stay at Waystar my entire life, they were always bound to be disappointed,” you responded, careful. “I won’t be tied down.”

A twitch of the old man’s mouth. Down or up or perhaps it hadn’t moved at all. “A shame. You worked so hard to compose acquisition branch details on Pierce just under a year ago. So much paperwork.” He shook his head. “And all of you—you knew I wanted Pierce ever since then. When I lost out, it wasn’t a good feeling.”

Fed up, Shiv finally leaned forward and hissed out, “I’m sorry, can we just cut the shit? It’s obvious why you’re here, Dad!”

Unsuspectingly, Kerry chimed, “Your father wanted to address the personal stuff and not just launch into business.”

Shiv’s jaw clicked. “Well, see, this isn’t personal, Dad. This is a business decision. This is about the money.”

Logan bobbed his head. “Look, you’re smart to ask about the money. You are. But Matsson—he won’t go there. You haven’t been around this, but I’ve got done a good deal and you’ll get enough to do whatever you want. I do ATN, you do Pierce. It’ll be a fresh start for all of us. It’ll make things better, and it starts there. All you have to do is… vote yes and support the deal.”

There was an uneasy shift next to you—Roman looked torn.

“You can separate the personal from the business,” Kerry offered. “Reset your dynamic as a family.”

Shiv snorted. “Oh, super! It’s gonna be just like how it used to—summer vacay and road trip musicals!” 

Hesitant, Roman supplied, “It just… it may be more complicated than that, dad.”

“I guess you’re still in the honeymoon phase,” Shiv told Kerry, cold and sarcastic. “Getting your own show on TV… amazing.”

The dark-haired woman glanced around, seeming to shrink further into her seat.

“No?” Roman asked, his attention piqued. Anything to latch onto to make everything feel less—tortuous. “You’re not going to be on TV now?”

Shiv laughed. “Has he fucked you on that?” 

Kendall nodded. “That’ll happen. The fucking. But congrats on losing your betrayal cherry—”

“Enough!” Logan said. It wasn’t loud, but heavy with finality. Your pulse skipped a beat, scratching down your ribcage almost painfully. Logan looked tired. “I though you’d be interested in an apology, but that’s enough.”

Incredulous, Shiv held a hand out. “Wait, what? An apology? We missed that, I think.”

Logan fixed an intense stare over all his children. “Look, I don’t do apologies. But if it means so much to you, then… sorry.”

In all your years of living, you’re not sure you’ve ever heard Logan apologize before. Was it genuine? Was it real? There was a long, terse silence. Roman stared at his father with his mouth slightly agape. You wrapped your arms around your stomach and stared at the door. Connor was looking down at his shoes. Kendall aimlessly observed Logan, finding that the apology he’d yearned for so many years of his life seemed to fall incredibly flat.

Shiv just about glared at her father in a challenging fashion, lips pursing tight. “There is nothing you could say to me now that I would ever believe.”

“This deal push could be worth a hundred mil to us, Dad,” said Kendall. “How many sorrys do we get for that?”

Kerry was starting to say something, but Roman butted in, looking incredibly troubled. “What are you actually sorry for, Dad? Are we actually doing this? Because I think, you know… seriously, what fucked all of this was when… it all happened with Mom in Italy.”

Logan averted his gaze to the carpeted ground. “Yeah, okay. I’ve had certain thoughts about that. With the best of intentions, I got the structure of the holding company, and the ownership structure of the family trust. There is a lack of clarity, and maybe you got a—”

“Amazing,” Shiv deadpanned, cutting her father off. “You sure you’re not having a seizure?”

For the first time in a very long time, Connor raised his voice at his baby sister. “He’s trying, Shiv! You said you were interested in an apology!”

Shiv glared at her father again. In a less harsh tone, she asked, “Anything else, Dad?”

There was a long pause. You wondered if Logan was haggling for words. 

“Come on, Dad,” Kendall goaded. “What are you sorry for?”

It felt like bullying, almost. In a severely twisted way. 

Kendall continued on, “Are you sorry for fucking ignoring Connor his whole life?”

“Bit strong,” protested Connor.

“Hitting Rome when he was a kid?” Kendall pointed at Roman, who shrugged.

“Oh, no—I mean, everyone hit me. I’m fucking annoying.” 

You frowned at Roman’s words, wrapping an arm around his waist. 

“Having Connor’s mom locked up?” Kendall continued on. 

Something twisted in the eldest Roy sibling’s expression. “Can we not do a whole show trial here?”

Finally, Shiv hissed out, “Okay, what about advising Tom on my divorce? Yeah? I mean, that took effort. That was above and beyond.”

“Tom asked me for advice,” said Logan. It didn’t go past everyone’s notice how he ignored all the rest of the hurtled accusations. “I recommended someone he could speak to. You weren’t around. If you’d been around, I would’ve offered you the same advice. But I can’t help you if you don’t see me.”

Shiv was hurt. It was clear as day, even if she refused to show it. She built up a wall, a front, brick by brick, and spun her hurt feelings into a low-flamed fury.

“Bottom line is, if we ask for more money, Matsson walks. I know that.”

“No!” Shiv asserted. There was something firmer in her tone this time. Angrier. “You don’t know that! You don’t know him! You don’t fucking know everything! Just because you say it doesn’t make it true! Everyone just fucking agrees with you and believes you so it becomes true—and then you can turn around and say oh! You see? I was right! But that’s just—that’s not how it is. You’re a human fucking gaslight!”

The silence that stretched across the room was thin. You were afraid to breathe, and so you bit down on your tongue.

Logan nodded and nodded. The brothers were quiet.

And so you felt compelled to say something. Sick with nerves, but compelled nonetheless. “Matsson has been fucking the company since the very start of negotiations. It’s only fair if you… bite him back.”

Logan watched you. There was something in his eyes that seemed to soften, but it was near imperceptible. Maybe you were simply seeing what you wanted to see. “I can’t take that risk,” he finally said. “Look, I just wanted to get us all together. What you kids don’t realize… this is a good deal. The world likes it. It makes sense. But deals have a habit of disappearing because pricks like Matsson get pissed off or snubbed. This… this is fucking real.”

You turned your head away and stared at the door once more. You wanted to leave. Crawl into bed and stop thinking about it all. Beside you, Roman was biting down on his thumb. A nervous habit.

“Okay, I think I can speak for everyone when I say this… go ask him for more money, Dad.” Shiv narrowed her eyes at her father.

“Why?” Logan asked. Are you not satisfied with what you already have? was the unsaid, lingering question hanging in the air.

Kendall tilted his head up. “Just good business sense. Gotta make our own pile. Right, Dad?” 

“Yeah, I just have to listen to my gut. I just gotta go with what my gut says,” Shiv piled on.

“Oh, come on. Jesus.” Logan pulled at his face, tired. In a span of five, maybe ten minutes… he seemed to age a decade. Finally, finally, the nice mask slipped. He leaned back in the velvet seat and spat out, “You’re such fucking dopes.”

Roman’s nose twitched and he shifted so he could lean further into you. You let him.

“You are not serious figures,” Logan went on. “I love you… but you are not serious people.”

His eyes were glassy for a second, but you weren’t exactly sure, because he stood up and hurriedly strode out of the karaoke room the very next second. No goodbyes. Kerry followed close behind him.

The hazy purple lights were beginning to make you nauseous. 

Everybody sat in silence for a little while longer. Let the conversation marinate. Shiv poured herself a drink and smiled into the rim, expression victorious.

“How was it for you guys?” she asked the group. “Fucking Dad, that is.”

“Amazing. Just over too soon. I could’ve kept going,” Kendall admitted.

Roman abruptly stood up, scratching the back of his head uncomfortably. He made a noise of disgust.

“Rome, we’re kidding, man,” Kendall said.

He began to pace around, like a caged animal. “No, I know. It’s fine. It’s cool.”

Connor also stood up, shrugging on his jacket. “Well… I’m going home. ‘M tired.” 

“G’night, Con,” you said. He reached over the couch to give you a one-armed hug from behind. “She’ll come home. Willa.”

“It’s fine,” Connor said. 

Kendall arched a brow. “Really?”

“Yeah.” There was a nod and a tap of his shoe. “The good thing about having a family that doesn’t love you is that you learn to live without it.”

Shiv’s face crumpled. “What? Con, that’s not—”

With a shake of his head, Connor scoffed. “You’re all chasing after Dad saying, “Oh, please, love me, love me, I need love, I need attention!””

“I think that’s the opposite of what just happened,” Shiv argued. 

“You’re needy love sponges,” Connor pressed. “And I’m a plant that grows on rocks and lives off insects that die inside of me.”

Shiv laughed, Roman huffed, and Kendall stayed silent. 

“If Willa doesn’t come back, that’s fine. ‘Cause I don’t need love. It’s like a superpower,” he said. “And if she comes back and doesn’t love me, that’s okay too. I don’t need it. Thanks for the party.” With that, he stepped out of the karaoke room.

You jolted out of your seat, ignoring Roman’s questions as to where you were going. You rushed out the door after Connor, nearly tripping over your own feet in your haste.

“Connor!” you called out. The older man halted in the middle of the dimly lit hallway.

“What? I’m not looking for pity, Y/N—”

You shuffled forward the last few steps and put your hand on his elbow. “Con, I just… I wanted to say—” You shook your head and wrapped your arms around him. “You’re my brother. I know you are. And… even if you don’t need love or whatever you were on about in there… I’ll still love you anyway. Okay? I don’t need you to need my love. You’ll have it.”

There was a momentary pause before Connor jerkily moved to pat your back and hug you back. Loose, but solid.

“You’re just a kid. A kid with my kid brother,” he said once he pulled away, rubbing his palms up and down your forearms. His eyes seemed to be watery and tired, but he laughed right from his belly. “I love you, too, kid.”

“Yeah?”

“Of course.”

The two of you grinned at each other. 

“G’night, Con.” He let you go when you stepped back. “Big day tomorrow.”

“Yeah…”  Connor nodded. “Big day.”

He walked off, and you watched him go. When you heard the door open, you turned to see Roman peeking his head out.

“Hey, Rome,” you greeted. “I love you, you know that?”

His eyes roamed over your face, and he smiled back. It was lopsided and slight. “Mmkay. Yeah, me too, fuckface. You feeling okay?” 

“Yeah. Should get home.” You craned your neck to lean forward, affectionately pecking his cheek. “You coming with?”

He shifted his weight from foot to foot. Eyes to the ground, then to the walls. Not on you. 

“Not… not yet. I’ll come in a bit. Just need to grab something from my place first.”

His place was barren. Everything in his place, you had in yours. You probably had more of his clothes in your closet than his own. You regarded him with a curious look, but decided not to press further.

“Okay, Rome. You have the key. Just don’t jostle me awake when you climb into bed.”

He guffawed. “I’ll sleep on the floor then, your royal majesty.” 

“Thank you.”

“I was joking. Just so you know. You prick.”

“I know. I wouldn’t want you to sleep on the floor, anyway. A waste of body heat.”

He kissed you then, surging forward to chase after your lips. You hummed in pleasant surprise, but kissed him back with just as much vigor. His lips were a darker shade of pink when he pulled away.

“See you at home, Roman.” After a final pat on his cheek, it was your turn to walk off. 

Roman wrung his hands nervously. There’d been a text to his phone while you were out talking to Connor—from his Dad. He glanced back at the door, where Shiv and Kendall were still speaking to each other inside. He rolled his shoulders and began to slowly walk out of the building, careful not to bump into you.

He was going to go pay his father a visit.

The top spot at ATN. Was it a tempting offer in it of itself or was it just tempting because his father was goading him to lick off the silver platter?

When he told you, and of course he told you, you just about blew up—in the most professional, stick-in-ass way possible—warning him not to take the offer with a strained voice and wide eyes. Not even consider it. ATN wasn’t where he wanted to be. His father was offering him a cyanide pill, obscured by a layer of fucking strawberries and cream.

The next morning, he numbly got dressed for Connor’s wedding. Got into the car after you, pinching your thigh once he clambered in next to you. His father called him on the way there, much to your dismay, telling him to come with him to meet Matsson, despite Connor’s wedding being literal hours away.

Roman turned him down. But he didn’t turn Logan away when he told Roman to fire Gerri since, apparently, he was beginning to lose faith in her. 

You were pretending not to listen to their conversation, but he knew you were. He could tell by the way your jaw seemed to twitch at the prospect of cutting Gerri loose. 

“Shit,” he breathed out once Logan hung up on him. “That’s fucking… bullshit.”

You drew your eyes away from the window, regarding him with narrowed eyes. “Don’t do it, Rome.”

Everything felt crowded and tense all of a sudden. Roman squared his shoulders defensively. There was a stinging quip on the tip of his tongue, but nothing seemed to come out other than a rather passive, “Mmh.” 

The rest of the drive to the wedding venue was silent. But your hand came to lace with his, and that made him feel just a bit better. 

Once there, about half a dozen cameras swarmed the two of you coming out of the car, taking several candid shots, much to your irritation. It was only expected, what with Connor being in the run for president and the whole wedding being a PR move, anyway. But you gave them a smile nonetheless, made a show of kissing Roman’s cheek and walked off to greet other work acquaintances and wedding guests. From the corner of your eye, you could see Roman trying to talk to Gerri with a rather terse look on his face. You tried not to pay him any mind. He was digging his own grave.

Half an hour later, the wedding planner announced for family and friends to start boarding the boat. The few businesswomen you were chatting to kissed you on the cheek and told you they’d see you soon. You waved them goodbye and made your way onto the boat. Kissed and hugged and congratulated Willa. She looked beautiful in her wedding dress, even if she didn’t appear all too happy wearing it. After a short conversation, you moved on into the boat.

It was lavishly decorated, screaming luxury and American patriotism. There was a concerning amount of blue and red strewn everywhere. They weren’t being very subtle, were they?

You made your way onto the second floor, greeted by Kendall in a pair of sunglasses.

“Hey, loser,” he said, nudging you in the side. “You look nice.”

“Thanks,” you replied, giving him a quick once over. “You look shitty. Hiding your terrible eyebags behind those shades, are you? Not doing a very good job, by the way.”

He seemed unfazed by your jab. “You excited for the wedding?”

“Neither Connor nor Willa seem too hot about it,” you told him with a mild grimace. On your way to the boat, you heard Connor yelling at his wedding planner about the cake being inadequate.

Kendall shrugged and pulled a nonchalant expression. “It’ll blow over. They’ll be fine.”

“I know. It just feels so… fake. All of it.” You jerked your head toward a frilly blue, red, and white banner. 

“Yeah, well, yours won’t be,” he said, scrutinizing you behind those ridiculous shades of his. “With Rome, I mean.”

“Wow! Yeah, well, we aren’t quite there yet, I think.” You laughed and rolled your eyes to the ceiling. “Besides, I can’t guarantee that you’re even invited to this hypothetical wedding. Who knows? I can never tell with you guys. You’re always five minutes away from ruining each other’s lives or being best friends.”

“I’ll crash your wedding if I’m not invited. It’s my baby brother, dude. I have to be there,” he said. You couldn’t tell if it was a joke or not. 

“Good to know,” came your lighthearted retort. “I’ll be sure to save a slice of cake for you.”

With that, you bumped your fist into his bicep and walked off. Then, you spotted Roman out on deck, phone in his hand. You stepped out just in time to hear him bark out, “Don’t listen to this if you don’t want to—but I’m not… I’m not, uh, totally okay with… are you kinda just being shitty with me, Dad? ‘Cause… your son is getting married, and you can’t fucking just keep expecting me to bend over for you and being cunty, so I’m just asking. Yeah—that’s the question, actually. Are you a cunt? Okay. Give me a buzz.”

There were a few seconds of silence after he hung up. You approached him from behind and slung both your arms around his waist, resting your chin on his shoulder. 

“Hey, fuckface,” he said. He sounded tired. Distressed.

“Hey,” you quietly said in reply. “I’m proud of you.”

“For calling Dad a cunt?”

“Yeah.” You huffed out a laugh. “I really am proud of you.”

Roman leaned back against you and hummed. “I just got on this boat and I already want to fucking leave.”

“That’ll break Connor’s heart.” 

“I know. I’m his favorite brother.”

“I think Shiv is his favorite brother, actually.”

The two of you laughed, and he didn’t bother arguing back. 

“Come on. I think Kendall and Shiv are looking for you,” you said, tugging him inside.

The two of you greeted the three other Roy siblings, where Connor was giving a rundown of his plan for Logan. 

“Okay, so the idea is that Dad will pop by, be dockside, and you guys will just be up here. I think that’s cleanest,” Connor told all of you.

Shiv pursed her lips and tilted her head. “Oh… okay. You really think he’s going to pop by?”

“I spoke with Kerry,” Connor said with a smile, crossing his fingers. “He’s hoping.”

With a nod of thanks, he gave you and Roman both a quick hug, before rushing back downstairs to be with his wife-to-be. 

“Well, someone’s gotta tell him,” said Shiv. “We should tell him.”

“We should,” Kendall agreed. Both you and Roman nodded. 

“Well, Shiv, you are his favorite,” you offered. 

The woman’s face regarded you as if you’d just stabbed her in the back. “No, come on—really?”

“He likes you,” Kendall insisted.

“Fine,” she sighed with slitted eyes. “I’ll be the wedding Grinch. Fuck you.”

The three of you watched her go with muted snickers. 

Then, Roman’s phone began to buzz. He fished it out of his pocket and let out an annoyed groan upon seeing Tom’s caller ID. 

“Oh my—ugh,” Roman hastily pressed on the green answer button, “Hello? Fucky-sucky brigade, how can I help you? Yeah?” 

You leaned onto the fancy leather couches next to Kendall, who was staring out the window, watching the gentle waves roil over the surface of the harbor. “Hey, Ken?”

“Mmh?”

“I’d invite you, you know.” 

Kendall’s eyes left the waters to look at you. “What?”

“To my wedding. Before I said I couldn’t guarantee you a spot—but I’d want you there.”

Something akin to gratitude flashed across his face. Before he could say anything, Roman’s panicked voice echoed over, and the both of you snapped your heads towards him.

“What?” he said into the phone. “Tom, what are you—?”

“What?” Kendall asked, immediately on his feet. “What’s happening?”

You followed suit, the two of you hovering over Roman’s sides. 

His palms grew white over the phone. “It’s—uh, Tom. Apparently Dad’s sick. Uh, what do you mean he’s sick? Sick, like—Tom? What’s going on? Are you still there?” 

“Where is he now?” you asked, brows furrowed. Roman could only shake his head, equally clueless, pulling the phone away so he could put it on speaker.

“Is he okay?” Kendall immediately asked. “Who’s with him?”

There was a lot of rustling and rummaging. It felt as if your heart had crawled its way into your throat. 

“It—it seems bad. Very, very bad. I’m so sorry to call you like this,” Tom’s voice crackled through.

“What?” you croaked. “What is it, though? Like, a fever?”

“Can you put him on the phone?” Roman asked. His voice shook and his brows were pulled tightly together. 

Again, Kendall asked the same questions, “Who’s there? Tom, what’s going on? What happened?”

“Ah—” You could practically see Tom scratching at his head. “He was short of breath and he went into the bathroom. And, well, uh, someone heard something and we were concerned, and they went in there.”

Kendall used his hands to gesticulate to nobody in particular. “They broke in?”

“They broke in, yeah. They had the key and they got in, but he’s not responsive.”

“Not responsive?” you parroted, eyes widening. This was far worse than just… sick. “Like—is he conscious?”

The brothers started to blurt out a multitude of questions, concerns exponentially heightened. 

“Is he talking? Can he talk?” Kendall asked.

“Is he breathing?” Roman’s shoulders were hunched over, as if he was trying to shrink in on himself. 

There was a brief pause. Uncomfortable and festered with fear. 

“They’re doing chest compressions,” Tom’s voice pierced through.

Your lungs seemed to contract in panic at his words. The room felt all the smaller. 

“Oh!” Roman exclaimed in a mixture of both shock and anguish. “Fuck.”

Kendall only pressed on with his queries. “Has his heart stopped?”

“I don’t know.”

“Do you guys have the machine on board? The heart thing?” Roman asked.

“The defibrillator,” you said, clutching both your anxious, wringing hands to your chest. 

How had the day turned on its head so quickly?

“Is Siobhan there?” Tom’s voice was patchy and unclear. It was hard to hear over Kendall’s barrage of frustration.

“No, she’s not,” said Roman.

“Karl said that maybe he’s breathing,” Tom claimed.

Leaning forward, you hissed out, “Karl isn’t a medical professional, Tom. Who’s trained in there?”

“The, uh, the people. The attendant. I’ll put you on speaker—here’s, uh, Karl, here—”

The older man’s voice buzzed through, “That captain has been informed. The cabin staff are receiving medical advice from their service.”

Both Kendall and Roman barked questions over each other. Faintly, you heard an additional third voice in the back of the call.

“Is that Frank?” you asked. 

Tom cleared his throat. “Yeah, so—Frank thinks you guys should speak to him.  And I can—I can hold the phone near him if you’d like.”

Roman bit down on his tongue, angry. “Why does Frank think that, Tom?”

“I guess if it’s a last chance, you know. I think it’s the last chance.”

A shudder and a glare from Roman to the phone. “What the fuck do you mean, Tom?”

“You think he’s gonna die?” you whispered, eyes stinging as you stared down at the screen, watching the seconds of the call tick by.

“He’s… he’s not in good shape. They’re doing chest compressions.”

“Well, should they be doing that?” Roman just about yelled at the phone. You placed a hand on his hunched shoulder.

Frank began talking again, “They’re getting advice, they know what they’re doing. But I think you should talk to him. I’m not sure he’s breathing.”

The two both spluttered angrily. In denial, in frustration, in utter devastation.

“We just heard that he was breathing two seconds ago, Frank. You shouldn’t be doing CPR on someone who’s heart is still going! What the fuck is going on, Frank?” Kendall gritted out.

“I’ll put you by his ear,” Tom said. “I’ll put you right by him. He’ll be able to hear you if—if he can.”

If you hadn’t been so hyperfocused on the call, you would’ve realized that your entire body began to simultaneously tremble and tense, like a plank of wood caught in a hurricane. 

“Uh, you might wanna get Shiv, so she can—” 

“Yeah, we’ll���we’ll get her,” said Roman.

“Okay, I’ll put you by him now.”

“Is he okay?”

“No, Rome, he’s not okay.”

“You can speak now. Go ahead.”

There was a blistering silence. Roman gestured for Kendall to take the phone first, but he shook his head. He turned to you, but you weren’t even looking in his direction, clamoring for your own phone to try and contact Karolina. Your hands seemed not to work in coordination with your mind, because you struggled getting your phone to unlock, and then struggled even more to open up the right app to get to your contacts list.

This left Roman to speak to his maybe-dead dad on his own. He hurried around the room, as if there was going to be a corner on this wretched yacht that would make this somewhat easier to say. He ended up crouching by the end of the leather couch. 

“Hey, Dad. I, uh, hope you’re okay. You’re okay. You’re going to be okay.” Was he reassuring himself or his father? “Because you’re a—you’re a monster, and you’re going to win. ‘Cause you just—you just win. That’s what you do. And you’re, uh… you’re a good man. You’re a good dad. A very good dad. Uh… you did a good job. No—no. I’m sorry, I don’t know how to do that.”

With that, Roman unceremoniously stood up and shoved his phone right into your palms, tugging away your own. “It’s your turn.”

Your shaking grew all the worse, but you put on a brave face and held it up to your face.

“Oh, uhm—hi, Uncle Logan. You, uhm… oh—I wasn’t prepared or this, you know, I would’ve… I would’ve, if I’d known, I wouldn’t have…”

It occurred to you that you managed to say absolutely nothing in the precious few seconds he had left. This sent you spiraling into another bout of anxious trembling. You only barely registered Roman’s own shaking hand on your side.

“You were so—such a big role in my life. So important. And—and, and, I really couldn’t have done anything without your help. Thank you. For everything. I… I love you, Uncle Lo. Really, I do. And I love your kids like my own siblings, and—and Rome, I’m—I love him. I promise I’ll, uh, I’ll take care of him. I just—uhm, I can’t really, there are just so many things you…”

Your nails scratched over your chest as you heaved out a shuddering breath. Realizing you couldn’t finish, you made your way over to Kendall and handed the phone to him with teary eyes.

“Okay,” Kendall said with the phone by his nose, blinking helplessly at the ground. “Hang in there. Yeah? Uhm…”

“It’ll be okay,” Roman softly whispered to him.

“It’ll be okay,” Kendall repeated into the phone. “We love you, Dad. Okay? We love you. I love you, Dad. I do. I love you, okay? Uh—and… it’s okay. Even though you fucking… I don’t know. I can’t—I can’t forgive you.”

You sniffled and wiped a stray tear with the sleeve of your dress. 

After a few final words, Kendall handed the phone back to Roman. Tom’s voice crackled through again, asking for Shiv. 

“Ken’s gonna get Shiv,” Roman said, voice small and child-like. Kendall nodded and staggered his way out of the room.

There was more commotion on the other end of the line. 

“What’s going on now?” Roman asked. 

“I, uhm—there’s, I’m not so sure—” Tom’s glitchy voice replied. “I think he’s gone, Roman.”

“What?” you asked.

“I think—I don’t know, I think there might not be a pulse, they’re not—”

A few seconds passed, with only scuffling noises on the other end. Shiv and Kendall appeared through the doorway just a minute later.

“They think he’s gone,” Roman told his sister as he handed the phone to her. “They think he’s dead.”

“What?” Shiv asked, her eyes welling up almost instantaneously. “No! I… I can’t have that.”

Tom spoke a few words to his wife, telling her that he was putting the phone back by Logan’s ear. Shiv strode away to ramble to her father in a semi-panicked fashion. She called him Dad at first, which spiraled into whisper-cries of Daddy, and angry curses intermingled with a multitude of I love yous.

You tugged at your face, aching with all the tension you were carrying. Roman’s hand was on your arm, but he left your side half a minute later to take the phone away from Shiv, who seized up with incoherent noises through blurred tears. He hugged her, but she didn’t return it, frozen on the spot.

The siblings all asked him more questions. 

“Is he okay at all?” Kendall asked.

“He’s not okay, no,” replied Tom. “He’s not.”

Shiv sucked in a shaky breath. “Is he gone? Tom?”

A brief pause.

“They say his heart stopped and his breathing stopped, too. For a while, maybe.”

“Okay, but that doesn’t mean he’s dead, medically!” Roman asserted. “Right?”

You didn’t have the heart to tell him that it did mean exactly that.

“I don’t know,” came Tom’s calm voice. “They’re still doing chest compressions.”

Kendall began to order Tom around, then Frank, then Jess. Something about getting the best doctor in the world. The best airplane medicine expert, whatever that meant. He disappeared out of the room to go up to the deck. You took a seat on the couch and sank your face into your palms.

When Kendall returned, his face was solemn and set in stone. “Frank thinks he’s gone,” he said.

Roman sank down on the ground, right by your feet. Shiv took a seat next to you.

“Why didn’t you come and get me?” Shiv sniffled, looking up at her big brother. 

“I—Shiv, I did. We did,” Kendall said.

“No, but I was right out there. How long was it happening before?”

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry, I’m—I wasn’t thinking—” Kendall shook his head.

Roman drew in a sharp breath. “There was no time. I promise you, there was no time at all.”

Kendall took his little sister’s hand and repeated his apologies. The sight made more tears spill over your cheeks.

“I’m sorry, guys,” you hoarsely said. “He’s not even my dad.”

“No, it’s…” Roman patted your knee. “He was. He is. Kind of.”

“It’s just—on the phone Tom said that Kerry spoke to him. Quite a bit,” Shiv said, voice bitter.

“I don’t know,” said Kendall. “I don’t—we don’t know if he could hear us.”

Another sniffle. Shiv nodded a bit. “Yeah. I’m just sad, I guess.”

Roman shifted uncomfortably, looking up at his siblings and you with large, worried eyes. “Uh—do we know if he was on his phone at all? Like, if he checked his messages or anything?”

Faintly, you recalled Roman leaving a voice message for him. Right. Roman had called his father a cunt. And you’d said you were proud of him for it. Nausea pressed fervently against the inside of your stomach. Roman drew in a sharp, stressful breath.

“Rome, it’s okay,” Kendall assured him. “We’re okay. You did good.”

The words didn’t sit with you well. You did good—as if it were one last performance before the curtains closed. The circus monkey and the ringleader. 

“Yeah, I know,” he quickly replied. Roman’s expression crumpled. “I don’t know if—I just don’t know. Like, if I said… I just feel like I didn’t—did I even say I loved him?”

Kendall nodded. “I think so, yeah.”

“I’m pretty sure I didn’t,” Roman asserted. The grip he had on your knee tightened. “Do you know?”

“Ro, hon, I’m—” The words lodged in your throat as you reached out to brush your knuckles over his cheekbone. “He knows.”

“No, but I really don’t think I did—” Roman jerked away to lean closer to the phone Tom was calling through. “Tom, could you put me back to his ear for—ergh, fuck it. Never mind. I don’t know. Maybe just keep the line open.”

If Tom replied, you didn’t hear.

Instead, you glanced out the doorway, where you saw Connor speaking to some other wedding guests. He didn’t know.

“Oh, fuck. We need to get Connor. We need to tell him,” Roman said, following your gaze. “Can you do it, Ken? I don’t think I can. I mean, I could, I definitely could, I just—”

Kendall nodded solemnly, and stood up. Shiv offered to go with him, rising to her feet and drawing in a deep breath in a fruitless attempt to maintain her long-gone composure. 

“Thank you,” Roman said from the ground. He crossed his legs and leaned against the side of your shins. In turn, you placed your hands on his shoulders and squeezed reassuringly.

“I don’t remember the last thing I said to him,” you mumbled, voice filled with irritating tremors and warbles. “In that karaoke room. I don’t remember any of it, and I wasn’t even drunk or anything, I just—”

Roman pressed his cheek against your thigh, shutting his eyes. “I think you were okay. I don’t know. Maybe he heard us. And you have such a nice voice, y’know? Maybe it was good for him. If he heard it.”

The two of you sat in stuffy silence for a few minutes more. 

The three other siblings came to fetch the two of you sooner than you would’ve liked—whisking all of you upstairs to a more secluded room. Connor had tears in his eyes when all of you filed in, face wrought with anguish. “What happened?” he asked, sounding utterly devastated.

Roman apologized over and over again, but made no attempts to explain to him. Instead, he reached forward to grab at his oldest brother’s arm in a strange sort of semi-hug as Kendall filled Connor in on what happened.

“Well, actually, we don’t really know that he’s gone,” Roman asserted to the rest of you, drawing away from them. 

Both Kendall and Shiv began to clamor over the likelihood of Logan’s death. They seemed surprised that Roman was clinging onto such hope that he was alive. You watched Roman with such sad eyes that when he looked at you, he found himself growing even more upset.

“What?” he asked you crossly, brows drawing together. “Why are you looking at me like that? He—he could still fucking be alive! We don’t know! Are you going to trust, what, like, fucking Frank and Karl’s word on it? Don’t look at me like I’m crazy!”

“Right, well, you sound delusional, Rome,” Shiv tried telling him. You could tell she was trying to lay it easy on him and be nice, but it didn’t quite sound that way.

The siblings argued some more. Roman kept denying that Logan was dead, while Shiv gritted out that he’s gone. 

“All I’m saying is that we don’t know for sure. And—and until we do know, it’s just not a very nice thing to say, is it? So just fucking stop!” Roman yelled the last word out, and it ricocheted across the room like a bullet would. 

They all fell silent for a moment.

“Okay,” Shiv said. She looked to be on the verge of crying again. With quiet, reassuring words, Connor wrapped an arm around his little sister and let her lean against him.

“Roman,” you said, making his eyes snap to you. They were red and looked so tired. You were sure yours looked just the same. When you spread your arms as a non-verbal invite, he surged forward and buried himself into your embrace. The two of you held onto each other as if you were both lifeboats for one another in this vast sea of fucking nothing.

Kendall, disillusioned, went back to staring out the window.

“He didn’t want us together,” Roman choked out, forehead drooped onto your sternum. “He fucking—he told me to end it, and I didn’t listen, and I just never listened to him…”

Both your hands rubbed up and down his back. “I know. I know, Rome. I love you even if he didn’t want me to.”

Your words made Roman’s shoulders curl closer to his chest. Closer to you. “Fuck. Me, too, okay? Me, too.”

Half an hour later, the boat began moving away from the dock, much to all of your chagrin. 

Hugo had also come into the room, acting as a liaison. He told the lot of you that the plane-folk were starting to draft a statement to release to the news. The siblings angrily called them to ask what was going on—which did little to sway them.

Not too long after, Gerri came in to offer her condolences. Her presence made Roman all the more turbulent, and he lashed out at her, telling her to fuck off. 

Shiv asked her godmother if maybe they could stay up in the air a bit longer to give everyone some more time to think—and Roman told her to fuck off, too. At that point, you stepped in to say that it’s probably best not to delay the inevitable. Thankfully, Roman didn’t tell you to fuck off at that.

“Just to say,” Kendall said once both Hugo and Gerri hurried off to answer calls and get more information, “every single thing we say and do today… it’s all going in the memoirs, going in the fucking congressional record, it’s coming up at board meetings, it’s going in SEC filings.”

“God, Kendall,” you said, pinching the space between your brows. “Your grief is not a fucking spectacle, okay? It’s not—none of this is meant to be a performance. You can… you can be a fucking human being for once, okay?”

“No, but, listen, I’m agreeing with you,” he said, holding out a hand. “If we tell them to circle the plane around to buy us time, then some fucking rumors start up, and we get crucified for being cold-hearted, or—I don’t even know. We’re highly liable to misinterpretation right now. What we do today will always be what we did the day our father died. So I’m agreeing with you, Y/N. We shouldn’t delay the inevitable.”

Nose flaring, Shiv shook her head in a frustrated manner.

“So, you know, let’s grieve and whatever,” Kendall continued on, “but not do anything that restricts our future freedom of movement.”

“Okay,” you whispered, nodding in agreement. “Okay, Kendall. We’ll be careful.”

The siblings stepped out to discuss drafting statements themself, and you told them you’d arrange transport off the boat to the airport, where they’d be landing. 

Before you reconvened with them, however, you dropped by to see Connor one last time.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered with a frown that felt strangely childish, enveloping him in a hug. “I’m sorry your dad died, and I’m sorry I won’t be here to see you get married. Everything’s gone to shit and I hate that I can’t do anything about it.”

“It’s okay,” Connor said, rubbing your back comfortingly, not unsimilar to what you did with Roman. “It’s okay, kiddo. I appreciate you coming here to tell me.”

You pulled away, using the back of your palm to brush away your tears. “I got you, uhm—as a wedding present, I got you an oil painting kit. It’s not much, but I thought it’d be fun to try it out with you one day. I guess I just didn’t think—I thought I’d be able to give it to you after the ceremony, but… I don’t think I’ll be around. I’m sorry.”

Connor nodded, and smiled at you sadly. “It’s like you haven’t changed at all in twenty years, you know that? I feel so fuckin’ old.”

“Have a happy wedding, Con,” you told him. With that, you turned on your heel and headed off, breathing out a sigh of relief upon seeing a smaller boat right by the one you were on, ready to take you back to land.

One boat ride, one helicopter flight, and one private car later, you arrived at Teterboro Airport, where their plane touched down. Logan was announced dead at arrival. Roman balked and nearly puked up what little he’d eaten on the boat—you rubbed his back and told him everything was okay as he dry-retched nothing in the airport bathroom. There were already dozens of news reporters and journalists flooding the entrance-way for the impromptu press conference the Roy siblings were holding.

Before the sun was down, the news was spilled at the hands of Shiv. It was short and concise, over in no more than a minute. Questions, questions, and more questions—none of which were answered.

“Are we going to go see him?” Roman asked once it was all over. The plane was in view.

“Do we have to?” Kendall replied.

“I mean, he’s not going to be angry if we don’t,” Shiv replied. The rest of you smiled in silence.

Then, Kendall opened his arms, and the four of you leaned into a brief group hug. You kissed Shiv’s cheek and told her to get home safe. She nodded and took her leave. 

Roman jutted his head in the direction of the plane. “I’m gonna go see him. You coming, Kendall?” 

The oldest scuffed his shoe into the concrete pathway. “I’m gonna—I’ll watch him come down from here.”

“Okay,” said Roman. There was no surprise in his tone, but it lacked any sort of harsh judgment. 

“I’ll come with you,” you told Roman, taking his hand. “If you’re going to go see him, I’ll come with you.”

“Didn’t expect anything less,” he replied, eyes soft and sad. 

With a nod of goodbye at Kendall, the two of you left him to stand by the airport exit. 

“Do you think he would’ve been okay with us being together eventually, though?” Roman asked after a while, growing increasingly nervous as you neared the plane. Even now that his father was dead, he was still grasping for his approval.

There was a moment of contemplative silence. You wondered if you truly knew the answer to that, or if you were simply feeding into the kind-hearted caricature of a man Logan often didn’t live up to. 

“I think so,” you replied. Roman squeezed your hand. “I think he would’ve been proud of us for sticking together, even if he didn’t want us to at first. He would’ve respected you for it, eventually, because you didn’t take his shit.”

“Really?”

“Yeah.” You beckoned to the stairs leading up into the plane’s cabin. “You ready?”

“No.” Roman’s jaw squared. “I’m scared, I think. But I have to go see him. You don’t have to come, you know. You don't have to be so fucking good all the time. You can just leave if you want to.”

With a contemplative hum, you nodded once after barely giving his words any thought. “I know I don’t have to be here. I know it all, Rome. But I’ll come with you anyway. Anywhere you go.”

Roman raised your conjoined hands, kissed your knuckles in an appreciative manner, and led the way inside.

[jiminy-crickets]

yes it was the connor post I haven’t read that intently in ages

the connor post nonny is refering too

YESSSSSSS, i cant be normal about him because no one else is able to be normal about him, the part that gets me, that im being really abnormal about at this specific second is him and his family temporarily MOVING TO SWEDEN, when he was 15 so he could train.... that's not normal!!!!! he never had a normal teenage years, we will never have normal adult years, i need to wipe the worlds memory of him and send him to college for two semesters, i need him to throw up in the bushes outside a frat, i need him to regret taking an 8am, i need him to socialize with people who don't play hockey, i need him to be normal. i need the league to teach these kids to take hits, i need them to try and acclimate the kids who don't get sent to a farm team after getting drafted, how many fucking rookies need to get hurt, and take bad hits for the league to finally realize that they aren't doing well by them. how many more players need to use the nhlpa player assistance program before they realize that taking a bunch of children and signing them to multi year contracts and with a schedule that leaves you traveling and away from your non hockey friends and family for months on end is a recipe for unhealthy coping mechanisms, mary @pwhl-mybeloved said earlier that someone sent in 15 duplicate cards to get graded of a kid who isn't eligible for the draft until 2026, the era of social media is putting even more eyes on "generational talents" THIS QUOTE FROM EMILY KAPLAN AT ESPN

Bedard tries to stay out of public when he can, and as he gave me a tour in his off-roader SUV, bumping some top-40 music, it became apparent why. When he stopped at a red light, a car pulled up with four adults who recognized Bedard instantly. The driver honked and waved enthusiastically as the three passengers frantically fiddled with their phones to take photos. Bedard, clearly experienced with this exact scenario, politely smiled back. "There's a bit of buzz, and for me, it's kind of crazy to see some of the things and people I've been compared to," Bedard said. "It's a lot different getting recognized out and about. It's something I'm getting used to. It's supercool feeling the support. But you know ... I'm still a kid." He's understating the buzz.

^^^^^ HE WAS 17!!!!!!!! THE ENTIRE ARTICLE GUTS ME

he's too young!!!! we are putting children on too high of pedestals, we make children sign contracts with an organization that doesn't care, not about their physical health, not about their mental health, we are stuck perpetually dooming hundreds of children each fucking year.

people want to be angry at cutter gauthier because he "broke up" jamie and tz but i care that a child (okay hes 20 now… and was 19 when the tarde happened, and he was 18 when drafted) who informed the flyers back in MAY OF LAST YEAR, that he didn't want to sign, WAS DRAGGED THROUGH THE MUD!!!!! because the flyers dragged their heels for almost a year and wouldn't take his "im not signing" as an answer!

the fucking amazon tv show "focusing on 10-12 players" will never show any of this shit, the league wants to grow its audience and appeal to a younger and more female audience, but young people are smart, and more people are going to notice, cutter didn't break to mainstream audiences, but this fucking amazon show is going to bring a bunch of eyes, and those eyes are going to look at connor, because there is no fucking way he isnt going to be one of the players they focus on, the league isn't that stupid, and those new eyes are going to see what i see, and i won't be the only person walking round in circles mumbling about gifted children never adjusting.

[shallowseeker]

Shal, I hope you are feeling better! I wanted to add something to your Silvia-Amara meta if you don't mind me putting something into the mix as a long shot. Carmen from the djinn dream in What is and Should Never Be looks a lot like both of them. That seems like something!

Thank you. I'm feeling some better, but veeery sore and sleepless for the pain. (On the flipside, I can breathe better and already have more energy.)

This is so iiiiiiiinteresting, thank you!

I'll be honest...I had to go back to remind myself what Carmen even looked like. But yes! Carmen from the El Sol ad! Carmen the nurse! (I always thought she was a nod to one of Dean's psychosexual fixations, too; that is, films with hot men who dance like Swayze (Carmen 1983). I mean, hello Antonio Gades.

Plus, you know his thing for Spanish soap operas... ("Mi amor! Mi amor! Por favor despierta!" Poor Ricardo.)

And Dean's love for soaps from 7x03 The Girl Next-door. (Yes, the "My love, my love, please wake up!" one.)

//

Ahem. Anyway. Back to our Carmen. *points* Oh, my God. Yeah, it's El Sol, but it's also the specter of the beach. I am choking on my own spit here.

There's definitely something analogous in Sylvia (from season 15's Gimme Shelter) being an idealized something that Connor maybe thought he wanted, felt comfort going after, or tried to make himself want.

For that matter, I think there's something parallel here in how Amara views her love for Dean, too. Amara's view of Dean is idealized, draped in always-or-never statements, and impersonal. Meanwhile, the Dean of season 11 has grown immensely since the djinn dream in season 2. His conceptualization of love has become less romanticized:

DEAN: I can’t explain it, but to call it desire or love…it’s not that.

Carmen was an ideal, and Amara was perhaps the network's ideal, but Sylvia is actually not quite as one-to-one to either of them here. Sylvia was a real relationship with Connor, even if was perhaps a tragic childhood misstep for Connor while he was trying to figure himself out.

Of course, Carmen Porter's own words come back to haunt the Dean & Amara and Dean & Carmen relationships. Even our idealized romantic relationships falter, and they too become as baggage-ridden as our family, and our family is imperfect.

CARMEN: Well, you don't really spend a lot of time together. I mean, I just think you don't know each other all that well.

In early days, Dean's conceptualization of Carmen is adorably immature, like a teenager's dream: someone who accepts my eating habits n' idiosyncrasies, listens to me, and loves me. Someone who is "respectable" and stable. (In season 2, Dean is still, like Amara, dealing with the core wound of his nursery.)

Sylvia and Connor seemed to know each other quite well and were "a couple." He genuinely loved her, in his own way. Their connection just wasn't exactly what Sylvia thought it was, or wanted it to be. She became angry with Connor and called him a LIAR, and then she murdered him.

Dean has carried healthy relationships with dark-eyed beauties as well, like Lisa Braeden and "I-thought-we-had-a-connection" Risa from season 5's The End.

Hmmm. Okay, yes. I think your point is a good point. And it has branching points, too. There's a lot tangled up in here! Season 15's Sylvia Jones has some uncomfortable similarities to season 5's Risa, especially.

//

(REF: Here's the recent stuff about Sylvia and Amara-Silvia stuff and more Amara failing to recognize romantic love and Chuck setting Amara up for disappointment.)

[blurred-lines19]

"One bite and five days are all it took for the world to come to an end. Nearly two months after an unexplainable, violent illness swept throughout the globe like a raging wildfire, after cities have crumbled to ruin and most of humanity has been wiped out, only a few survive. Some of those still alive are just trying to survive, while others are searching for an answer—a reason why and what caused people to turn into walking, cannibalistic corpses that decay but never seem to truly die. Now, a group of survivors—a dog, few adult figures, and a bunch of teenagers—search for a cure and must figure out how to live with the undead amongst them, and how to deal with each other as relationships strain and tensions rise."

†· Word Count: 5161 †· Fandom: Percy Jackson and the Olympians - Rick Riordan, Percy Jackson and the Olympians & Related Fandoms - All Media Types †· Rating: Mature †· Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death †· Relationships: Annabeth Chase/Percy Jackson, Jason Grace/Piper McLean, Nico di Angelo/Will Solace, Hazel Levesque/Frank Zhang, Silena Beauregard/Charles Beckendorf, Thalia Grace/Reyna Avila Ramírez-Arellano †· Characters: Annabeth Chase, Percy Jackson, Leo Valdez, Nico di Angelo, Frederick Chase, Frank Zhang, Luke Castellan, Hazel Levesque, Jason Grace, Piper McLean, Grover Underwood, Juniper (Percy Jackson), Katie Gardner, Travis Stoll, Connor Stoll, Chiron (Percy Jackson), Will Solace, Silena Beauregard, Charles Beckendorf, Clarisse La Rue, Thalia Grace, Reyna Avila Ramírez-Arellano †· Additional Tags: Angst · Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence · Inspired by The Walking Dead · Title from a My Chemical Romance Song · Found Family · Bittersweet · Based on a My Chemical Romance Song · I'm so sorry · Everyone Needs A Hug · Hurt/Comfort · Alternate Universe - Zombie Apocalypse · Annabeth Chase/Percy Jackson-centric · Betrayal †· **First Person POVs** †· Rated Mature for strong language, violence, sexual references, etc..

Percy

“Percy, baby, look at me,” the woman with kind blue eyes and brown hair, traces of grey lacing through it with age, says, gingerly holding my hands in hers.

I force myself to look at her, but it hurts. The woman’s skin is pale, her face gaunt and cheeks sunken in and hollow. It only strikes me now how sick she really is. She’s dying. I know that at one point in time, she must have been beautiful—signs of that beauty still show through her sickly appearance—but she looks like a ghost, a rotting corpse, almost. Talking that way about a person makes me feel bad, but we both know and we can’t ignore it.

“Mom— Mom, I can’t,” I say adamantly, trying to keep my voice from quivering. “Don’t make me do this.”

“Percy…”

“Mom, please, no.” This woman (my mother) is dying, and there’s nothing I can do about it. I can’t fix it. I can’t make it go away. There’s nothing I can do.

“Percy, I’m your mother and you will do what I tell you to,” she says sternly—her voice on the verge of anger. My mom gets an empty, angry look in her eyes, which scares me. Subconsciously, I back away, but she groggily shakes it off, gently pulling me back toward her. Mom rests a frail hand on my cheek. Even though it’s cold, I lean into it, trying to find some warmth in her touch. “Please. Don’t let me get sick like the other people. It’s only a matter of time before I do, and I don’t want to be awake when that happens—I don’t want you to see me like that.”

I don’t bother holding back my tears (I couldn’t if I tried). They stream down my face quicker than I can brush them away. Pursing my lips, I try to steady my voice. “Okay…” Solemnly, I nod. “Okay.”

I grab the gun off of the TV stand, my hands clammy and trembling as I load the magazine clip. Infected pound on the door outside, people screaming as they watch themselves get eaten alive by their own family members. My stomach feels queasy. None of this feels real. None of this can be real. This can’t be happening. Everything was fine between them this morning. How did things come crashing down so fast?

I raise the gun, pointing it at my mother’s head—something I never thought I would ever do. My finger inches toward the trigger, but I can’t do it. Frustratedly, I turn away, the gun clattering to the floor. “No. I can’t do it.” I’m angry with myself. I don’t want to shoot my mom, but here she is begging me to, and I can’t do it. The last thing she asks me to do, yet I can’t do it.

I look out the window at the streets. People are running and screaming. The Red Cross is tending to the injured the best they can, but the sick just keep coming, biting and consuming anybody they see. The bombs stopped a while ago, but I know they’ll be back.

Out of the corner of my eye, I see my mom fumbling with the gun, trying her best to pick it up.

“MOM, NO!” I dive for the gun, jerking it out of her hands. Thankfully, it’s too heavy for her to pick up in her weak state. “Mom, what the hell are you thinking?!”

“If you won’t do it, then I’ll do it myself, you horrible child!” she shouts. Her hand flies to her mouth as she realizes what she just said, her eyes filling with tears. “Oh, Percy. Percy, dear, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean what I s—”

I cut her off, pulling her into a tight hug, careful not to hurt her. Mom winces at the soreness in her body, but hugs me back just as tight, crying quietly into my shoulder. “It’s okay, Mom,” I tell her softly, smoothing her hair. “It’s alright—I know you didn’t mean it. That wasn’t you saying it.” But it hurts. I know she didn’t mean it—that it wasn’t her—but I can’t help the lump forming in my throat and the tears stinging my eyes. This isn’t her, anymore. Right before my eyes, my mother is turning into one of those things. It’s probably only a matter of minutes—an hour, at most—before she dies.

I pull away and look her in the eyes. “Are you sure? Because if not, you need to tell me now.”

She nods. “I’m sure.”

Mom is sitting on her knees in front of me, frail hands shaking in mine as she holds them for the last time. For my sake, she won’t say it, but she’s terrified. And so am I. “No matter what, you stay alive and you never stop fighting,” she says, her typical strong willpower shining in her blue eyes. “No matter what. And don’t you dare forget yourself, Perseus Jackson. You survive, and you fight, but don’t forget who you are. If not for yourself, then for me. Promise me that.”

“I—”

“ Promise me.”

“I promise.”

She smiles at me tearfully, her lips chapped and split. “You’re the best son a mother could have asked for, and I love you so much,” is the last thing she says to me.

I press a kiss to her forehead, which is clammy and hot from the fever, eventually having to force myself away. “I love you too.”

I raise the gun to my mother’s head. But, before I can pull the trigger, the dream shifts. 

I’m in my bedroom, a tall girl with pretty, curly honey-blonde hair hovering over me, shaking me awake.

“Percy, you need to get up,” she whispers, her hand firm on my arm. “They’re at the door. I— I don’t know why, but they’re trying to get in.”

“Huh?” I say, my vision cloudy from sleep. I don’t know why this random girl would be in my dream, but I roll back over.

Only when the girl throws the blankets off of me and grabs me by my ankles, dragging me out of bed, do I realize that this isn’t a dream.

“Ow,” I hiss. I push myself up into a sitting position, rubbing my shoulder. Groggily, I rub the sleep out of my eyes. “What? What is it?” I ask. “And why’d you drag me out of bed?” Already, I can’t remember what she said when she shook me awake.

Annabeth rolls her eyes, leaning against the door frame, although she’s looking at something in the living room, distracted. “I told you. There are walkers trying to get in here,” she repeats. "Can you not hear it?”

The second Annabeth stops talking, and I manage to get my hearing to focus, I hear it. Infected (or walkers) are growling and pounding against the door of my apartment. How did I not wake up to that? It's concerning. Actually, my bigger question is why are they here? Yeah, walkers are kinda everywhere considering it's the end of the world and everything, but there hasn't been anything to draw them up here.

Must be getting restless, I think. Not to mention that they've probably noticed the smell of something alive, the smell of something other than their rotten flesh.

Annabeth turns back to me, eyeing me up and down with mild confusion, an eyebrow arched. "Nice Finding Nemo boxers," she deadpans.

Heat rises in my face, and I already know that I'm as red as a stoplight. 

I rub my hands over my face. "Ah, shit…" I clear my throat, anxious to change the subject. "Yeah, I hear it. How long have they been doing that?"

"I'm not sure. Just get your ass up, 'kay? And put some pants on, while you're at it, Seaweed Brain," she calls quietly, waltzing into the other room.

Seaweed Brain?

I shake my head, irritated. Here this girl is, who I let crash on my couch for three days without much questioning, giving me random nicknames and orders in my own apartment.

With a yawn, I stand up, hurrying to find a shirt, and quickly pull on my jeans, the cuffs worn down and beginning to fray. Most of my clothes are like that, now. Torn and blood-stained, some of my shirts looking like crop tops from where I've had to rip the fabric to patch myself up. 

Doing up my belt as I walk into the living room to meet Annabeth, I look up and see that the door, which is still barricaded, is starting to warp under the pressure. Moans and groans, nails scratching and fists pounding against the door fill the space, and I can hear it echoing in the hallways outside the door. Yeah, this is definitely not good.

“How long have they been there?”

“Beats me,” she admits. Though she seems calm, I can tell something's off; she’s fidgeting with her hands. I don’t know her very well, but from what I’ve gathered over the past few days, it must be pretty bad to make her nervous.

Cautiously, I approach the door, trying not to make too much noise. I press my face to the door, shutting my left eye, and peer through the peephole. Outside of the door has to be eleven or twelve zombies pushing into each other as they try to get into the apartment. I back away, cursing under my breath. This hasn’t happened before; not to this level. There have been two or three times where some have tried to get in, but it’s usually just been one.

“Either way, we have to leave.”

I quickly turn from the door and stare at her. Leave? I haven’t thought that much about leaving (though, of course, the thought has crossed my mind once or twice). But this is my home. Where am I supposed to go? I don’t have anywhere to go. I don’t know anybody. Anybody I did know is dead.

“What?” I ask. This doesn’t have anything to do with her, I remind myself. Calm down.

Annabeth looks at me as if the answer should be obvious. “They’re about to break down the door. We need to get out of here.” She returns to the couch, gathering her stray belongings.

“No,” I say.

Annabeth pauses what she’s doing and turns to look at me. She frowns, confusion written on her face. “Percy, you’re not seriously considering staying, are you?” I don’t answer. She stares at me in bewilderment. “You’ll die if you stay here!”

“I can’t go!” I shout, not bothering to lower my voice.

“Why not?” she questions, yet doesn’t wait for a response before grabbing my wrist, dragging me toward the window. “Is this how you want to go out?” Annabeth pushes the curtains out of the way, pointing to the road, clustered with walkers at the base of the apartment complex, all of them trying to get in. And they are. Slowly but surely, the undead are crawling underneath the deteriorating barricade, which is falling apart.

“No, but—”

“Listen to me,” she says sternly, storm-grey eyes staring into mine intently. “We need to get out of here. You can come with me or not—that’s your choice—but if you don’t, you’re going to be eaten alive by those things. Is that really how you want to die?”

Obviously not. As much as I hate to admit it, she’s right. If I stay, I’m going to end up dead. Or worse, I’ll turn into a reanimated corpse.

I turn away from the window (I’ve seen enough), my eyes darting around the room for what I need. “Fine,” I huff, retreating to the kitchen to put my stuff in a bag. I’ll figure out where to go later.

Still, I’m hesitant. I can’t remember a lot from right before all of this went down. Just flashes of memories that I can’t piece together. I know that I have family somewhere—cousins that I remember being close to—but I have no idea if they’re still alive or not. Surviving has been the only thing on my mind, and I can hardly remember their faces. Either way, I needed to leave at some point. Sooner or later, the food would have run out, and they would have gotten in anyway. I don’t realize I’ve stopped packing until a loud CRACK snaps me back to reality. I shove the rest of my belongings into my bag and hurry back to the living room. Mrs. O’Leary is barking and growling at the door, her lips curled, revealing a set of sharp teeth. The wooden boards I put up to reinforce the door a few days after Annabeth showed up are splintering and warping under the pressure, and the door is about to fly off the hinges.

“It’s now or never,” Annabeth tells me, holding her bronze dagger, which she had pointed at me a few days ago. Glad to see we’re making progress. Better pointed at those freaks than at me. “Are you ready for this?”

I pet Mrs. O’Leary on the head, trying to calm her down. “Ready as I’ll ever be,” I grumble.

Right as I finish talking, the door breaks in half, the undead pushing it apart the rest of the way. The barricade slows them down a bit, but not for long. Annabeth climbs out the window, Mrs. O’Leary following. I’m right behind her, kicking over an end table on my way out; the lamp clatters to the ground, the burnt-out bulb shattering. I turn back one last time before I leave, never coming back. With one last glance, I notice something.

My pictures.

I can’t leave them here. I can’t. Walkers are pushing their way in, all of them eager to eat me and Annabeth for their breakfast. It’s risky, I know it is, but I can’t leave them. Those pictures are the only things I have left from life before this; I won’t leave them. If they’re the last things of my family before this, the last things that show me some sort of solid memory, I would rather die than leave without them.

“Percy, what are you doing?” Annabeth exclaims as I shake off my belongings.

“My pictures!” I shout over the sound of moaning and groaning, the trampling of feet coming up the stairwell. They’ve mostly made their way in by now, but I don’t care at this point.

Annabeth grasps my wrist tightly. “No! We don’t have time. We need to get out of here.”

I jerk my arm away. “I’m not leaving without them,” I say before climbing back through, hacking off a zombie’s head.

Through the noise made by the undead barreling toward me, I hear Annabeth curse under her breath.

The TV stand is just a few feet away, but walkers stand in my way on almost every side. How am I supposed to get them? Even I’ll admit things aren’t looking good at all. I’ve barely made a dent; my arms are getting tired. One way or another, though, I am going to get them.

A corpse almost gets me, but, as if on cue, Annabeth jumps back in beside me. “I’ve got you covered.” She jerks her chin toward the TV stand. “Go get your pictures.”

I stare at her for just a moment, then, remembering what’s going on, I nod, not wasting another second. Dodging left and right, I dart for the TV stand, slashing and stabbing any undead that get in my way or come too close. C’mon, just a little further, I pray. Finally, I reach the photos, hurriedly yet carefully stuffing them into the inside pocket of my jacket. I reach for the last ones, but a damn ghoul grabs my forearm so tight that I can’t free it, its jaw opened wide as it bites at me. The walkers ‘ve created a traffic jam in the door frame and down the stairs, falling over each other like dominos; it slows them down some, but not for long. I push my hand against its forehead. It doesn’t budge. I punch it in the face, but that only makes it angrier. Right as it’s about to clamp its jaws around my bicep, a blade comes down on its arm, severing it. The zombie roars in anger, turning for Annabeth, but she brings down the machete—mine that I must have dropped—on the ghoul’s head, blood splattering.

“Thanks,” I say, shrugging the severed arm off me. Yuck.

“You’re welcome. Now come on.” She slashes at a walker, kicking another in the gut (or lack of).

We rush back to the window, narrowly escaping before it fills entirely with the undead. They’re on our heels as we bound up the grated, metal steps, decaying hands bursting out of shattered windows, provoked by our loud presence, our shouting, and the thunder of our footsteps.

“Up here!” I shout.

First, Annabeth climbs the ladder to the next platform, holding out her arms for Mrs. O’Leary. I hand her Mrs. O’Leary (I’m worried Annabeth might not be able to carry her because of how big she is, but she manages fine), then I go up behind them. What time it is, I have no idea. It must be early because, even though it’s summer, the air has a chill to it. We cross the rusted metal grating and quickly climb up a service ladder to the rooftop, the gravel crunching beneath our feet. Shit. A look around tells me immediately that we’ve run ourselves out of one corner and into another.

“Now what?” she asks.

“Why are you asking me?” I ask, checking Mrs. O’Leary for bites. “We made it out of there. And you said it yourself; two or three days, and you’d be well enough to leave.”

“Look, I—” Annabeth bites her lip, avoiding my gaze as if she’s having a hard time admitting something. She lets out a breath, collecting herself. “I can’t get out of here by myself,” she admits. “Not with my ankle the way it is. Besides, I don’t know my way around the city. You do.”

I blink at her in confusion. What is she on about… Realization hits me. “Uh-uh. No. No way. You can’t be serious.” She’s serious. “You can’t expect me to—”

“Be sensible, Percy,” Annabeth argues. “You can’t stay here, and I’ll die trying to get outside the city limits. Just help me get out of here. We can part ways once we get far enough away from here—whatever; I don’t care.”

“Do you seriously think I’d follow you to God knows where?” I question. “I don’t know anything about you other than your first name. I let you stay in my house for a few days. That’s all. And I already told you. I can’t leave.”

“Why not?” She scoffs in disbelief. “Nobody is keeping you here, Percy! Whatever it is you’re stuck on, you need to let go of it. It’s going to kill you.” Annabeth looks at me sincerely, almost pleadingly. “Please.”

Don’t you dare forget yourself, my mom’s words echo in my head.

This isn’t you, I scolded myself. Mom didn’t raise me this way. My mother didn’t raise an asshole who refuses to help someone just because they don’t know them; not when they need them.

I look back at Annabeth, who is standing in front of me, seeming as calm as can be (although I can tell by the way she’s picking at her nails that she’s more anxious than she’s letting on). I nod. “Okay.”

Her head snaps up at my words, her eyes wide. “For real?”

“It won’t be so real unless we start moving.” The maintenance door starts to open, what appears to be dozens of hands and mangled faces trying to squirm their way out. Bad news, though. I don’t know exactly how to get down from here without going back the way we came, which is an automatic no-go.

I run over to the metal door, pushing all of my body weight against it in an effort to keep the dead at bay. Their stench overwhelms my sense of smell, reminding me of dumpsters with expired meat and empty milk jugs left out to rot in the hot sun; even that doesn’t come close to describing it. Mrs. O’Leary snaps at them, some of them shrinking back in surprise. 

“Any luck?” I holler at Annabeth, who is looking for somewhere for us to get down. We’ve managed to hold them back but we can only keep it up for so long.

“Over here!” My gaze sweeps for Annabeth, eventually finding her to my left. “They haven’t gotten through yet.”

One shoulder still on the door, I throw my stuff at her, quickly pushing my weight against it again. Though I have no idea what they “haven’t gotten through” yet, the concept is good enough for me. I tell Mrs. O’Leary to go to Annabeth (in a weird baby-talking voice that’s completely out of place right now), who she happily bounds over to, and shout: “I’m gonna let go now!”

“No, not yet!”

“What do you mean ‘not yet?!’” I ram my shoulder back against the door, sweat beading at my temples. “I can’t hold this door forever— Hey, what are you doing!”

Annabeth is climbing down the ladder—our bags aren’t on the roof anymore—Mrs. O’Leary in her arms. Oh, no. Not my dog. “If you hurt her, I swear to God!” I have half a mind to just let go and run, regardless of where Annabeth is, but she has my dog.

“I’m not gonna hurt her,” Annabeth says, reappearing by my side. Where is she then? It’s as if Annabeth can hear what I was thinking as she answers, saying, “She’s on the platform—I didn’t want her to get in the way.”

Oh. "I take it you found a way down, then?"

She nods, struggling to hold the door closed. "Fire escape. We need to go before the others get past the alleyway. On three?"

“Yeah, one—”

“Three!” Annabeth lets go of the door and darts for the fire escape, leaving me to stumble after her.

“The fuck— I thought you said on three!” I sputter, helping Mrs. O’Leary the rest of the way down the fire escape. Stupid ladders.

“That was three! You weren’t—” The bottom half of the fire escape snaps right as I hit the last few steps and sends me thudding to the ground, the rusted, jagged metal of the broken half narrowly missing me. “Percy.”

I scramble back up, hearing walkers from above and others starting toward us. “Uhh…” I look left and right for something to help her get down, but I can’t see anything. “Here, c’mon. Jump; I’ll catch you.”

“You better,” she mutters, steadying herself before jumping down. Surprisingly, for how tall and athletic she is, she isn't that heavy, and I manage to catch her bridal-style no problem. “Thanks,” she breathes, hands still clinging to the sleeves of my shirt. Realizing what she's doing, her grip loosens. Her legs are trembling, and she looks really pale, her hair coming out of its ponytail and falling in her face.

“You're welcome,” I say.

As I'm about to set her down, moans, growls, and snarls emerge from the front of the apartment complex, hundreds—hell, probably thousands—of the undead charging at us like a rolling wave of stink. Urgently, I look around for a way to go, spotting an opening at the end of the alleyway.

“Um, you can put me down now.”

"No time," I say, running out of the way and down the alley as the walkers from the rooftop begin falling down, deteriorating bodies contorting as they hit the ground, their bones breaking on impact. She’s obviously exhausted, and I don’t want to get held up or risk her falling behind and getting caught, or all of us getting surrounded and killed. Dying isn’t what I had on the agenda for today. 

Or at all, actually.

I can practically hear Annabeth rolling her eyes, but she winds her arms around my neck regardless, holding on as I run. (Heat rises in my face when she does, though I’m not sure why, but it’s pretty unimportant, right now, given that I’m probably about to die.)

We rush through the city, winding down street after street—all the names have blurred together, I’ve seen so many street signs. Eventually, we escape the initial horde, but nearly get trapped just a few minutes later (it’s pretty much unavoidable). We manage to find another rooftop and climb up there to wait them out. Our rest only lasts for a few minutes, though, before we have to start again, the sound of walkers screeching getting closer. I gather Annabeth up in my arms, despite her annoyance and protests, and start walking/speed walking. For the most part, we’ve outrun them, and, by the time the sun rises, we can see the George Washington Bridge in the distance.

†††

Annabeth

After a short rest, we make it to Harlem by about noon and are so close to the George Washington Bridge that I can hardly stand it; I’m nearly out. It makes my chest tight and I almost feel like crying. On the plus side, however, I finally convinced Percy that I could walk. Even though he still seemed concerned, he agreed and set me down after the second time. Now, we’re walking through the desolate streets, careful to avoid attracting walkers. Mrs. O’Leary seems to be enjoying herself. She’s running and jumping through the streets, playing with sticks she finds, pieces of trash, and stray papers. Percy keeps hushing her, yet he can’t keep a smile off of his face. Speaking of which, Percy seems in a bit better of a mood now than he was earlier. It’s likely because he’s distracted, but I definitely prefer it over his attitude this morning.

“Where are you headed to once you get out of here?” Percy asks, quickly following with, “If it’s not too personal.”

“Richmond,” I answer simply. 

Either he’s very oblivious or understands the whole try-not-to-ask-questions thing—I have a feeling it’s the first—because he hasn’t asked me how I got here or anything else. Still… While he seems nice enough, I’m wary. I’ve trusted people in the past, and I know how it can end. Besides, I’m only stuck with him for another hour or so.

“How come?” he asks, raising his eyebrows. He throws another stick a short distance away for his dog to play with. “I thought you were trying to stay out of the cities.”

Instead of giving him a straight answer, I look around me, discretely looking for any signs my group may have left behind for me—to tell me which direction they’re headed. So far I haven’t seen anything. “You’re going to attract walkers if you keep talking,” I say. “And where I’m going is my personal business. Got it?”

Percy raises his hands in defense. “Hey, just curious.”

After walking for a while longer, he says, “Now’s probably a good time to take a break, yeah?”

I nod, the pain in my ankle making itself present as he mentions it. Percy sets his stuff down, promptly getting tackled by Mrs. O’Leary. I, on the other hand, limp toward an abandoned Dollar Store. There’s something stuck to the wall of it, lightly fluttering in the soft breeze. A slight glance behind me shows that Percy isn’t paying attention to me, instead happily eating crackers and scratching Mrs. O’Leary’s belly. I quickly tear the note off of the wall, reading it with my back to Percy.

On the back of the note is a hand-drawn map, complete with little stick figures and hearts in the margins.

Leo, I figure.

“Hey, everything okay?” Percy asks, readjusting his pack on his shoulder.

I shove the note in my pocket, turning around to face him. “Huh? Oh, yes. You ready?” I ask, ignoring the suspicion in his eyes.

We walk a little further and soon reach the George Washington Bridge. It’s clogged with cars, but I can easily make my way through it, so long as I’m quiet and don’t run into any walkers.

“Well, here we are, ladies and gentlemen. The George Washington Bridge,” Percy says, gesturing to the bridge. “This is where we part way, huh?”

I nod. “Thanks, by the way,” I say. “Really.”

He shrugs. “‘S no big deal. I’m just glad we made it out.”

“Well, it means a lot. Any idea where you’re gonna go?” 

Scratching his head, he answers, “Not yet, but I’ll figure it out.”

I outstretch my hand toward him, which he grasps in return. A shock runs through my arm, a fluttery feeling in my chest presenting itself, but I brush it off. “Good luck, Percy.”

Percy offers me a small smile and withdraws his hand. “‘Course. And good luck to you too.”

Turning to leave, I hardly get a few yards away before Percy’s dog runs after me, barking.

“Mrs. O’Leary!” Percy calls as quietly as he can. “C’mere, girl.”

“Go on. Shoo,” I say softly, although it hurts to.

Mrs. O’Leary whimpers, her eyes sad as she mopes back to Percy. While consolidating her, Percy waves goodbye.

It’s too sad for me to see, so I abruptly begin crossing the bridge. Something nags at the back of my mind, though. I’m on my way out of the city to find my friends—my family—yet Percy is still here. By himself. He told me he didn’t have anywhere to go, and he really doesn’t. He’ll figure it out. It’s not my problem. I only get a few steps further before my feet practically glue themselves to the ground. It’d be really bad of me to ditch him here, especially after he’s helped me so much. Obviously, he can survive by himself (he’s made it this far), but how long is it going to take him to actually leave? Groaning, I drag my palms over my face.

“You can tag along if you want,” I tell him. “Until you figure out where to go.”

Percy looks at me in contemplation, pausing what he’s doing. He rocks back on his heels, sticking his hands in his pockets. “I don’t know…” Kicking a small pebble, he stares at the ground. Then he looks back up at me; he looks so small all of a sudden. Nervous. “You sure?”

“I wouldn’t offer if I wasn’t,” I confirm, rolling my eyes. Realizing he’s not following me, I face him. “Are you coming or what?” I ask impatiently.

A crooked smirk spreads across his face, his expression brightening. “Alright.”

I wait for Percy to catch up to me before continuing. When he starts talking about I’m not even sure what, I have a feeling that this is going to be a long trip.

Read on archiveofourown.org <3

[oldfangirl81]

My brain really is always trying to connect Marvel to my other fandoms. But when you bring Gods, magic and the multiverse then anything becomes possible.

Fandoms: The Sentinel, Due South, Young Justice, Torchwood, Nimona, Warehouse 13, Lucifer, Stranger Things, 911 Lone Star, Hawaii 50, 911, Eureka

• Sentinel: Clint is sentinel whose strength is sight. But his abusive father still cost him a good chunk of hearing. Other events have left Clint completely deaf in one ear and partially in the other. In a world where ableism exists this makes it hard to find a guide. Until he meets Coulson/Natasha/Bobbi/Bucky/Darcy/Laura.

• Due South: Teenage Clint has been betrayed by Barney and Trickshot. The circus happened to be in Chicago at the time. Clint ends up homeless after being released/sneaking out from the hospital. He meets Diefenbaker on one of his adventures. This leads to Ray and Benton fostering Clint. Hawkeye still becomes an Avenger but he was SHIELDS best track in both urban and wilderness settings.

• DC: Young Justice Connor Kent tries to protect his team from an angry magic user. Instead of dying he is transported to the Barton farm a week before the snap. How would Clint's arc change if he had a superpowered teenager following him like a duckling.

• Torchwood: During Captain Jack's absence the rift gets odd again. Ianto and Toshiko get pulled in and spit back out in the sanctum sanctorum. Wong and Ianto bond over properly brewed hot drinks. Toshiko makes friends with a hacker online by the name of Skye.

• Nimona: What if Nimona brought a guest back with them in the form of a shape shifting Asgardian Loki. The God flirts heavily with Ballister to the annoyance of Ambrosius.

• Warehouse 13: Somehow Steve's shield becomes an artifact. Steve, Bucky and Sam take a trip to the warehouse in hopes of fixing it.

• Warehouse 13: During a new experiment to bring back her daughter HG Wells is sent to Tony Stark's lab while the man was explaining something to Peter Parker. To Clint's amusement HG flirts heavily with Natasha.

• Lucifer: Clint follows a suspect into Lux and stops her from taking a shot at Lucifer. When the cops arrive Clint has the awkward moment of seeing his ex-boyfriend, Detective Dan Espinoza.

• Stranger Things: Instead of exiting the upside down they end up in the sanctum. Much to Dr Stranger's annoyance but he does assist in helping them get back eventually. It takes effort because once the kids discover they are in a comic universe they want to explore.

• 911 Lone Star: When Steve was on his bike tour he met a Texas Ranger who he struck up a friendship with. Bucky, Steve and Sam were in town for the wedding incognito as "work friends". Because of this the gun shot wasn't fatal. Carlos doesn't know how to react to his Dad being friends with Avengers. And ones that weren't straight. I love a Jewish Bucky so he bonds with TK on several levels.

• Hawaii 50: Clint is taking a forced vacation in Hawaii. As luck would have it he's in a museum that Charlie's school was visiting when it was taken hostage. The bad guys are specifically looking for Charlie as revenge for something related to his stepdad. Clint stops them before the task force arrives. He quickly becomes family.

• 911: Bucky and Clint are trying a normal date at the Santa Monica Pier. They befriend a kid and the guy they assume is his stepdad. Then the Tsunami hits. Because of the extra trained adults Chris doesn't get lost. The school gets in hot water for calling Chris a liar for saying an Avenger saved him. The lawsuit goes down very differently, either because they get him a better lawyer who works with the union or offer Buck a job with Avengers HQ in New York.

• Eureka: Clint drops in on an old friend, Sheriff Jack Carter. Given all the shenanigans he's used to the town barely phases Clint. However Nathan Stark is not happy to have a member of his cousin's boyband hanging around Jack. His headache increases when several assassins, Bucky and Natasha, arrive to bug Clint.

[tarantula-teeth]

Five Fandoms and Five Ships

Tagged by @dear-massacre 🖤

1. Teen Titans - Beast Boy/ Raven in retrospect, this ship was really foundational in my fandom experience. being a prickly goth teenager, i always wanted someone to see the love i had to offer. Love annoying funny guy/angry guy

2. Teen Wolf - Stiles/Peter my sister asked me why i ship this so hard and i took some time to puzzle over it. i think the idea that someone loves you BECAUSE of all of your shitty bad parts is deeply comforting to me. Steter to me is a celebration of earned trust, loyalty and unconditional love. If you can love me at my insane/possessed/mean/cold/worst, then you must really love me at my best.

3. Detroit: Become Human - Hank/Connor i wanna fuck them both so bad it makes me look stupid

4. It Chapter 2 - Eddie/Richie the idea of losing and then finding yourself again in the eyes of a childhood friend you experienced a horrible trauma with is deeply resonant with me. like at the end of the day, we are both 11 and i am holding your hand as tightly as i can. i will never really let go.

tagging @teenwerewoofs @lucky-bishop @kiwibyrd @sparklytimetraveler @unabasheddeerking @midmorning-bomb

[thefaeriefeatherdark]

@whalehouse1

Quite annoyed because your 3 Kon's AU has infected my brain and now I have a bunch of ideas for it.

Like. Maik dying his hair blonde at some point after going to live with the Danvers.

I'd probably include the idea that Kara dies her hair to be Linda Lee Danvers [though dying it brown instead of blonde like Maik]. Maik insists she's endangering his Secret Identity by not revealing how she can change her hair color so quickly. The answer is that she washes her hair with boiling water when she needs to become blonde [any remaining dye just makes it look like her hair is slightly darker and isn't enough for most people to notice]. She does not tell Maik because she isn't sure how powerful his invulnerability is and doesn't want to find out.

Also Lena Thorul walking in being like, ah Linda's (Kara Zor-El's) new little brother Michael she told me about, and then immediately getting hit by a wave of massive trauma from him psychically and immediately realizing that he's Lex's kid and proceeding to address him as nephew even though Michael doesn't really get why. She claims it's because she doesn't know him well enough to consider him a little brother (She's Kara's foster sister) but Kara keeps wondering "Does she know that Lex created Maik? Wait does she know I'm Supergirl?"

My thoughts here are that Kara is probably 18 or 19 and just starting college with Lena being like 22, and having already gotten a job at the DEO (in the original comics Lena was applying to work at the FBI [And I think eventually got the job]).

[This only applies with my concept of Maik having Cybernetic modifications] Right after Kara initially takes Maik home to the Danvers with her to hide him and she uses her X-ray vision to check him over for injuries and realizes that the Lex Corp Energy weapons are cybernetic modifications that Lex grafted onto Maik, and just getting more angry at Lex.

Kon-El and Maik's first encounter being a fight between them, but instead of being mad about this new Superboy trying to beat him up Kon's just really annoyed at the fact that Lex stole Kon's iconic look for this Tween Superboy. He also has a "Don't you know that looks out of fashion" comment towards Maik and Maik responds with "Maybe on you old man" and it is probably the most damaging hit Maik got in during that whole fight.

Also the idea of Nightwing being the guy to talk to Superman about Connor because he's slowly realizing that his new teenage teammate is certain that Superman hates him. His call being like "Hi your clone is very mopey and sad that you don't talk to him" and Kal just goes "No Kon's usually fine, loves being left alone". Dick is just like, "No the other one" and Superman blinks and goes "I have another clone?!?"

[snortoborto]

Ik this is the only place that anyone will care about my musings about (super culturally relevant in 2024) musical Dear Evan (Hansen).

Idk anyway, it's not really ever been one of my favorites per say, and I know the time has passed, but, I kinda wanna talk about Connor Murphy. (These are all just my takes as someone who likes musicals but doesn't participate in like, musical fandom.)

I think it's very obvious that Evan is supposed to be a pretty relatable character, because of his struggle with mental illness. Feeling anxious and unsure of ourselves, especially in relation to other people, is a feeling we've all experienced, especially a lot of teenagers. That feeling of isolation leading Evan to an attempt, is really raw and resonates with a lot of people. Still, the narrative shows us all of Evan, messy or not. He's young, he's mentally ill, he's human. He makes mistakes that end up hurting people, and we see that all. But I ultimately believe that the narrative eventually portrays him in a very human, forgiving light, by the end. He's a kid who made mistakes. He's well rounded and ultimately sympathetic, while still flawed and uncomfortable. I like that.

I wish Connor got the same grace tbh. All we know about him, the REAL Connor, is that he's a troubled kid, who's perpetually stoned, and nothing more than a bother to his family. He's mentally ill, just like Evan, but where Evan failed an attempt, Connor succeeded. Where I see a difference is in the way their mental illnesses surface, in terms of behavior. Being mentally ill isolates both boys, but in a different way.

Evan closes himself off. He's passive and shy, but has a mom who's constantly trying to be there to encourage him and provide for him. Connor's mental illness surfaces in a different way. He's violent. He's angry. He copes by using drugs. His mental illness is not quiet, does not present passively, and his family rejects him because of that. Even his mom, who wants to love him, only can once Evan presents a version of Conner that wasn't so difficult. Connor is too messy to get the understanding he deserves.

The way that Connor essentially has his voice and expirences taken from him, and softened, sanitized (by Evan) in order to finally gain acceptance from his family and peers is genuinely fucking crushing. The way he couldn't be loved as the person he was, because his coping mechanisms were taboo and his mental illness wasn't docile enough for understanding, kills me fr.

I'm not really sure how much of this is actually planned, thematic commentary, but, just the fact that Connor isn't even THE REAL CONNOR for most of the events of the plot (just Evan's idea of him) feels so fucking sad. Yeah, sure, sad for Evan that this is his only shot at friendship, but mostly sad for Connor that he could never be loved as he was, even by his own family, and only in death, was he sanitized enough to win sympathy and understanding.

He wasn't worthy of love or help when he had loud, violent, ugly mental health episodes. Or when he was using drugs and self medicating on a daily basis, cause all that stuff is uncomfortable. That's the ugly side of mental illness. His family didn't help him, they pushed him away and labeled him as a monster, unworthy of support. The fact that the only thing that softed Connor's family to him was a classmate completely rewriting his life, to make it more palatable is so disheartening.

It makes me wish that the focus was more on Connor and his family, that we got to spend more time with him. Some people are mentally ill in a way that's socially permissible, and some people are simply too sick, so we might as well just treat them like the bad people they were born to be.

Evan does (obviously, it's the whole point of the show) grapple with his actions, caused by mental illness. He finds himself acting immorality and being manipulative, but he's allowed that space to make mistakes. He has to opportunity to learn and begin on his path to forgiveness. Not Connor. He's already too far gone.

His mental illness isn't quiet. It doesn't make him act meek or anxious, like Evan. It makes him violent and angry and I can't help but feel like the narrative is punishing him for that. For having ugly symptoms that hurt people, most of all, himself. I can't help but feel like the way that Evan took full control of Connor's voice in order to make him more manageable is like a condemnation of who Connor was in life. Same with making his family hate him. I feel like I'm being told that this kid was a burnout piece of shit, not worth being remembered for who he was, but Evan's heart is in the right place by trying to whitewash his life, for the comfort of the family that rejected him.

Obviously the point of the show is that what Evan did was wrong, but it's wrong because he lied to his crush and her family, not because he took Connor's voice for his own, when Connor deserved to keep that agency for himself. It's framed as wrong cause he lied to the family, not because he spoke over someone who suffered greatly.

I just feel like the narrative really props Evan up as "one of the good ones" who's just lost his way. I feel like it uncritically frames Connor as a lost cause, scumbag who's family (especially his sister) are right to feel the way they do about him. Its almost framed as like, a fool's errand that Evan wants to clean up Connor's image, post death, and the narrative confirms this by never really giving the real Connor any humanizing moments. He doesn't have the right kind of mental illness to be sympathetic to an audience.

At the core of Evan's wrongdoing is deceiving Connor's family and the public for personal gain. It's the feelings of Connor's family (who hated him) that are the ultimate concern. Connor, himself, hardly even matters. I'm not sure if that's intentional or not, but it still feels...dismissive and malicious towards anyone who has a more stigmatized form, or outward expression, of mental illness. It feels like saying: "here are the traits of mental illness that you're allowed to have and can heal from," whatever Evan has going on, "but these ones (violence, anger, substance abuse) make you a lost cause and justify your family and peers hating you."

There's so much there with Conner as a character. So much wasted potential. Idk, I just always imagine the narrative from his side whenever I re-listen to the soundtrack. Cause I'm not an Evan, in terms of how mental illness has affected my life and relationships. I'm a Connor.

[kitweewoos]

✒️✒️✒️ friends

Uhm... Tiny warning for child abuse

“Intentionally insulting your son’s boyfriend because you’re trying to be subtly homophobic in the middle of a charity event hosted by a very liberal and diverse board for diverse charities, that does have something to do with me. And I like Will, strangely enough because he makes Connor happy. You know, Connor, your son, someone you should also want to be happy?" She set her hands on her hips, and stared unblinking at her father to challenge him to continue. Cornelius let out a long breath, and Will understood the look in his eyes better than anything. His father got that same look when he was trying not to outright smack Will when he was growing up. Unintentionally, he squeezed Connor's hand in reaction. He didn't mean to, but the image of Cornelius raising a hand to Claire flashed through his mind and he was suddenly a teenager in his home staring up at his dad's angry expression. Internally, he flinched, and he clung to the closest safe space, and as with everything, his safest place was Connor Rhodes.

Send me a ✒️ and a wip title/code name and I’ll write three sentences on that wip and you get the sentences

[portypaper]

My 10 favorite things of 2022

10 - mcdonald's fan owns burger king in epic video

Sometime in 2018 I discovered the comedian/actor/writer Connor O'Malley's youtube channel filled with some of the best cringe comedy vidz I've ever seen. One of my favorites being "mcdonald's fan owns burger king in epic video" a pretty self explanatory video where O'Malley plays an angry McDonald's fan trying to fuck over Burger King and try to convince the customers to go to McDonalds. Around the time I discovered the video my friends had a little get together and I made sure to show everyone there the video, shit was just that good dude.

Unfortunately because there is this little scene where just a little bit of king of the hill porn is shown, I think it was hank hill wackin' his willy silly or some shit and because of that those FUCKERS at YouTube took it down, basically destroying the Mona Lisa of cringe videos. Now normally a video uploaded by a notable person getting deleted would be no big deal, it's like I was told as a kid "stuff on the internet lives forever" so I could probably just find a reupload of it on another site right? I ended up not being able to find any reuploads dailymotion, vimeo, or even porn sites.

Every few months something would come up that would remind me of this masterpiece and I'd start searching again, of course never finding anything except dead links, a single clip, and posts asking what happened to the video. That was until 4 months ago when I found this, some mad man actually had the full video and shared a full download. After 4 years I was finally able to watch one of my favorite cringe videos and brother it was even better than I remembered it being, if you're a fan of cringe stuff please do yourself a favor and watch it.

9 - Showa-Era Godzilla

As a teenager I started to notice a handful of people that I looked up to and thought were really cool mostly had a lot of the same interests, one of them being kaiju films. So sometime during Q1 of 2022 when I found out that almost every showa-era godzilla film was free to watch on YouTube I binged em with some of my friends.

Honestly the whole thing was a bit of a blur, like we were doing 2 or 3 a day for a week but I can say (with the exception of Son of Godzilla) they were all a really great time. If I had to choose a favorite I think Invasion of Astro-Monster takes it easy, small part because MF DOOM sampled it in the greatest opening track ever but, also because everything about the film is just so cheesy and charming, the costumes the sets just looking at it all makes me want to finally bite the bullet and make a cool low budget sci-fi movie.

I feel like I should explain the appeal of Godzilla since as an outsider I never really got it but I still feel new to being a fan and might not explain it the right way so I'll just say to check the films out yourself, aside from Invasion of Astro-Monster I also really fucked with Godzilla vs. Megalon and Terror Of Mechagodzilla. Godzilla vs. Megalon has Mr. Zilla himself teaming up with a neat lookin' robot Jet Jaguar and Terror Of Mechagodzilla has a great mixture of main character doing shit and big monsters fighting so nothing really feels like it drags on for too long.

8 - Norm Macdonald - Nothing Special

It's been too long since I watched it for me to really remember anything other than how much I enjoyed it so I'll just write down how I felt instead.

One thing I'm sure you've worried about is legacy, how you'll be remembered or if anyone will even care about your leaving. Something that really felt good about this comedy special was after the jokes were over we got a half an hour of Norm's comedy peers looking back at just what a funny and great person he was, a person who would hide his battle with cancer just so no one would worry. I don't really know what people think of me but I hope I end up being looked at the same way people look at Norm.

Oh also if you've never heard any of Norm Macdonald's comedy there are a whole lot of compilations of his stuff on YouTube, and also obviously this comedy special but I'm a bit unsure if this would be a good first watch since it's the last we'll ever get.

7 - King of Fighters XV

I've had a small problem with fighting games for the last 10 years, I love em but since I started getting into them there always felt like there was something off to where I couldn't fully click with one, like I could still enjoy the games I played like Street Fighter V or Tekken 7 but I just never felt like I got into a nice flow with them or if it was a game I clicked with it wouldn't last very long (R.I.P. MvCI)

Then late last year some friends were hyping up the next KoF game to me, I'd been burned in the past by taking one of their recommendations before so I wasn't super interested at the time then fast forward to February 2022 I was feelin pretty bored and decided to just say fuck it and buy King of Fighters XV and brother this shit just clicked instantly, the execution is a bit tighter than what I've gotten used to from modern fighting games but it all just feels so good I don't even mind when I accidently drop a combo. Oh my god and the characters fucking rule there is this one dude who has the Android 16 dunk and MvC ironman's unibeam. My favorite dude is the one who looks like a phone game icon and has a shit ton of grabs

This is easily the best fighting game of 2022, sadly the only bad thing about this game is the online matchmaking is pretty broken like the game plays like a slideshow with my friend who lives down the street but it plays perfectly with my friend who lives a few miles away. This game is a hardcore recommend if you're willing to risk the possibility of the online being dogshit with one of your friends.

6 - Zero Escape: Nine Hours, Nine Persons, Nine Doors and Zero

I've never really been a visual novel guy, the whole genre just felt like reading a book with extra steps. Then after trying to watch some stupid ass death game anime that just wasn't clicking I said fuck it I'll just play this to get my death game fix.

I actually tried to get into this game about 7 year ago? I remembered reading about it in Nintendo Power back in the day and decided to pick it up, unfortunately I tried playing it during a very stressful time and after playing the tutorial I put the game down intending to come back once things started to feel normal, anyways 7 years later I started up the PC port and had a lot of fun. The puzzles were clever and I had a great time trying to figure out if one of the characters were working behind the scenes of this death game.

I'd like to share more but I also really don't want to spoil this game so I'll just say "Snake" is the best character in the game :)

5 - Wolfenstein: The New Order

At the end of 2021 I was looking back at the games that releasing during the year and got really bummed, it really started to feel like games were just getting worse. Either stuff was coming out blatantly unfinished like Battlefield 2042 or It was just a flash in the pan game like Back 4 Blood or Halo Infinite that I couldn't even run on my little 1060. Games just started to feel so disposable and greedy, what was the point in installing the hot new thing when it took over a hundred gigs of space and wouldn't even last long enough to even be remembered? So at the start of 2022 I said fuck it I'm done with video games until I realized how boring life was so I said alright fuck it if the new shit sucks I'll just play the old shit.

I randomly decided to play Wolfenstein: The New Order and dawg this shit is one of the finest single player first person shooters I've played, everything about it was just so perfectly crafted. It's a game you can beat in a day and 100% in two, the guns and ammo is perfectly paced where I felt like I was always getting a fun new weapon to use on the nazis, and the story has just the right amount of silliness to keep my attention the whole time. If you felt the same way as I did at the start of the year please play it, or check out your backlog to find a gem like this.

4 - The Rehearsal

Have you ever wished you could go back in time and fix a mistake you've made? Well Nathan Fielder's The Rehearsal is sorta like that, Fielder being the absolute insane crazy person he is helps people rehearse things they're scared of doing, like in the first episode he meets a dude who lied about having a master's degree to his bar trivia friends and has him go through every possible scenario so he can confess to his one friend who he is certain will not take his lie well.

Some other stuff happens too, but this show left me fuckin' mouth agape in complete shock multiple times an episode and I don't want to spoil some of the absolute insane shit that happens in this show, so just trust me when I say this shit rules and you've gotta watch it, also watch Nathan for You if you haven't.

3 - Cyberpunk Edgerunners

Dawg, Edgerunners is the best animated project I watched in 2022. If you've watched it I don't need to say shit because you already know this shit rules, if you haven't watched it you should watch it. I think in the future when we look back at animation that dropped this decade we're gonna be remembering Edgerunners as one of the best of the 2020's. When I was watching there were just so many "holy shit this is so beautifully animated" moments, the story isn't anything super groundbreaking but god it's just so pretty and the characters are so charming.

2 - Pulp Fiction

Good Movie. Everything I want to say has been said by people way smarter than me so yeah, good movie is all that needs to be said from me.

1 - JPEGMAFIA

I'm no Fantano so I can't really properly explain what it is that made me love this dude's music so much but I randomly stumbled upon him in March and he's slowly been growing on me more and more til I eventually ended up just playing all his stuff on repeat for days without listening to anything else. Instead of going on and on I'll just list some of my favorite for you to check out.

BALD!

HAZARD DUTY PAY!

FREE THE FRAIL

THOT TACTICS

JESUS FORGIVE ME, I AM A THOT

I CANNOT FUCKING WAIT TIL MORRISEY DIES

1539 N. CALVERT

dude is just great and I wish I discovered him sooner.

Thanks for reading sorry if I explained myself poorly hopefully my writing will get better by doing this more alright I'm gonna go piss and play cyberpunk xoxoxo 😘😘

[nevalizona]

My brother sent me a couple prompts and I am slowly working through them!

Here's the first!

Pardon any errors.

xxx. after everything.

Genevieve stood in front of the mirror in her bathroom. She’s avoiding eye contact with herself. This is not completely uncommon, but it’s certainly gotten worse after everything that has happened this year. In fact, she avoids looking at anything reflective. The last time she did, she felt like she’d never be able to lose this look of grief. So, she has ignored it. She doesn’t need to worry about not looking so sad, if she cannot tell she is, then maybe she isn’t. Even though she can feel how heavy her chest has been. What a confusing year this has been. Her beloved husband, Connor, finally comes home from Vietnam, only to leave again after a few months. ‘It’s unfinished business’ he had said. Told her that he would be home sooner than later. She imagined it must’ve been important if he would leave his family so soon. But for some reason, him leaving devastated her. She would never tell him, but she weeped for days, maybe even weeks. She kept up appearances around her children, like she did the entire 7 years he was gone, and as soon as she was alone she’d allow herself to feel everything at once. It wasn’t healthy, but it was better than gluing herself to their bed and crying all hours of the day.

She took a deep breath, gripping the side of the sink in her hand. She’s trying to calm herself, her kids are about to be up, and she doesn’t need to look like she had been just crying. This is more of Genevieve trying to convince herself that she doesn’t always look like this anyways. They can never know this feeling of grief. They will experience something different, abandonment. She knows that one day, everything Connor has done to their family will leave her kids hating him. Maybe her too. They won’t be able to understand, and Genevieve certainly isn’t going to try to change their minds. They really haven’t had a father, they’ve heard about him. Seen pictures. But a couple phone calls and letters will never be enough. The few months Connor was home, the kids clung to Genevieve. Almost like he was a stranger to them, perhaps he was. By the time they finally started warming up to him, he was gone again. Gone. Never coming back. No funeral. No body. Gone. She has tried to find a way to tell CJ and Audrey that their father isn’t ever coming home, but nothing seemed right. Why burden them with this? They hardly know the man! She keeps hoping that maybe if she says nothing at all, they won’t ask and they can go back to the way things were before Connor came home. Just the three of them. A single mother.

Genevieve remembers how angry she got when Connor’s mother had called her that. She was trying to be nice. Helpful. But nothing about anything she ever says is helpful. It left a terrible taste in Genevieve’s mouth, in fact, it sat on her tongue for weeks after. Single mother. Is that what she was? She practically raised CJ and Audrey all on her own, and now she will continue to raise them alone. Anger stung her in the oddest way. Her teeth chattered as she moved away from the sink, forgetting what she was even doing in the first place. How could he do this to them? Again!? She wanted to get angry. Feel her feelings. But she can’t. So instead, she pinched herself as hard as she could on the thigh, a way she’s grounded herself since she was a teenager and plastered on a smile, going in and waking up the kids.