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lonely-lost-soul · 4 years ago

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Immortality and Nymphs Pt. II

(Philza x reader)

Kisses. God Phil missed your kisses against his skin most of all, you were always so warm and gentle. He couldn’t wait for you to be a constant in his life once again, he walked all three of you back to his home. Wilbur was eyeing you the entire time almost like he was trying to find the differences between himself and you, thinking, The boy looked much more like himself than he did you, but there were tiny similarities here and there. You didn’t seem to mind though when he asked you questions you answered them truthfully. Once they arrived back at his house Wilbur stood up a little straighter,

“As much as I’d like to stay and talk more, Fundy and I need to get going.” He trailed off a little looking at you, “I still have thousands of questions but I have a revolution to plan.” Wilbur continued as you raised a questioning eyebrow, Phil’s wings ruffled a little as he cleared his throat.

“You should come back next week with the others.” Phil gave a slight nod of his head, “I’ll send a crow to Techno.” Fundy was the one to whip his head and nod eagerly, Wilbur adjusted his glasses but eventually nodded.

“That should work.” Wilbur turned to face you taking a shaky breath, “I’ll see you then?” A tender smile spread across your lips as you reached out to cup Wilbur’s cheeks.

“I’m not going anywhere again baby boy,” You whispered as he flushed hesitantly leaning into your touch “I promise.” He pulled away, clearing his throat taking Fundy’s hand as he waved.

“Bye, grandpa! Bye, grandma!” The fox hybrid called and Phil watched as you flushed deeply. Phil wrapped his arms around your waist and pulled you close, his wings spreading around your body like a cocoon. You giggled softly as he nuzzled his face into your neck, his beard prickled your skin, you missed the feeling.

“Fundy seems sweet,” You mused as the man behind you kissed the skin of your neck. Phil only hummed in agreement which caused you to laugh, “you’re so not paying attention to what I’m saying are you?”

“What?” You burst into laughter at his genuine confusion, “Come on now. I missed you, can you blame me? You’re distracting.” Phil let out a little huff as you pulled away to face him,

“Then show me how much you missed me my crow,” You purred running your fingers through his feathers, you felt his entire body shiver as his breathing hitched. His fingers dug into your hips,

“Careful. They’re sensitive and wouldn't want a pretty thing like you to get hurt.” Phil teased pressing his forehead against yours,

“Oh, I remember.” You winked teasingly as Phil leaned in to swallow your words with a blistering kiss. He felt you melt against his body as his wings fluffed up, both of you poured all your love and admiration for each other into one another. It was then Phil knew nothing changed between the two of you even after all these years apart, there was still the same amount of love and longing you always shared. Phil lifted you into the air and you hooked your legs around his waist, he felt young again, back in the forest by his old home. He felt you giggle against his lips and pull away to rest your forehead on his own, he chased your lips almost desperately. Your hand came up to cup his cheek and he closed his eyes to lean into his palm, “Take me inside first.” You murmured and his eyes lit up mischievously.

“If I remember correctly you never had a problem with making out in the woods before.” He watched your face turn beat red as he smirked proudly, he adored getting you flustered which way to Sunday.

“Yeah well, I��ve lived in the woods all my life. I think I’m ready to stay with my adoring lover in his house, is that really such a bad thing?”

“No. I’d never be opposed to something like that, not when I’ve missed you this much. It’s all I’ve ever wanted, living with you and raising Wilbur, being a family.” He watched you visibly wince and guilt ebbed at his heart, “Hey, hey you had to do what you needed to. I’d rather have you alive and here now than dead or worse.” Phil reassured and you seemed to relax a little bit in his arms,

“I wish I could’ve been here to raise Wilbur with you...I wish I could’ve seen him grow up.” Your voice wavered a little as Phil pulled you close, he hesitated slightly trying to find the right words to say.

“I wish you were there too. But you’re here now, you’re safe and that’s what matters. Plus…” His cheeks flushed a soft pink, “we could always try again.”

“Jesus Christ Phil,” you giggled covering your mouth with your hands and he looked embarrassed. “I just got home Crow, let's give it some time. But...I’m not opposed in the future.” Phil’s face lit up again and he nodded rapidly, he could agree with that, maybe once you built a better relationship with Wilbur and his other boys that’s when the both of you could try again.

Oh god, the other boys. When he invited them all here next week, he hoped they’d make a good impression if not Dadza was going to craft a belt.

“How long has it been since you’ve had an actual meal?”

“God decades!”

He chuckled deeply, kissing your cheek, and led you into his house to have a nice warm meal. Having you around definitely took some getting used to, his days suddenly shifted around as he accommodated for another person but he didn’t mind. Phil woke up happier than he'd felt in a long time, you were curled up against his chest, the top of your head was right under his chin. He ran a hand through your (h/c) hair, letting it run through his fingers, even though it’s been about a week he still felt like you weren’t really beside him.

Wait a week.

His eyes snapped open and he shot up like a rocket, feathers flying everywhere as you groaned, “Crow? Everything alright?” You asked adorably rubbing your eyes, his stress melted away momentarily as he watched you wake up. A few flowers bloomed in your hair as you came to your senses.

“Everythings fine! Just remembered it’s Sunday and the others don’t usually follow set times.” He pulled you from the bed giving you a quick good morning peck on the lips. “Get dressed, something nice I wanna show you off,” He kissed you again longer this time you giggled.

“To who? Our son and your friends?” He gave a happy little nod, as you rolled your eyes, he felt your fingers fix the hair on his face, Phil closed his eyes and leaned against your touch. “But I’ll do as you wish my Crow,” You stood up from the bed and stretched your arms above your head. Phil had managed to get some clothes for you from a nearby village, he still remembered your style, but tried to make it more modern so you didn’t stick out like a sore thumb. You slid on the new clothes, they hung off you loosely. They clearly needed some tailoring, and you slid on the boots he got you the day before, as much as you like walking around barefoot it was pretty impractical.

“Shall we?” Phil held his arm out to you, you wrapped your arm around his own as he led you outside. You both stood on a hillside covered in soft green grass and a big willow tree. Phil looked down at you, his big wings gently covering your back from any danger, he was sure not feeling the grass between your feet was a foreign feeling to you but you didn’t seem to mind. The smile on your face said it all, you were peaceful and relaxed, letting the breeze flow through your hair. “You’re beautiful,” your eyes snapped up to him your cheeks turning light pink,

“Oh stop it old man.” He made an indignant sound as you laughed, your hands reached up and dragged him down to your level, kissing him tenderly. Phil felt his eyes flutter closed and his wings drop, he was snapped back to reality by loud whistling. You pulled back and he pushed you behind him, wings puffing up defensively, standing on the side of the hill were Wilbur, Tommy, Technoblade, and Fundy. Tommy was the one whistling eyes sparkling mischievously, Wilbur whacked him on the back of the head to get him to shut up.

“Dad! Wil’s being mean to me!”

“Don’t be mean to Tommy Wil,” Phil pressed his fingers to his nose with a sigh “Wilbur don’t antagonize your brother.” Fundy was cackling at their mischief, your eyebrows shot up on your forehead and Phil cleared his throat, face pink. Technoblade just stared seemingly eyeing you suspiciously, “(Y/n) these are my other sons. Boys this is (Y/n) Wilbur’s birth mother.” It was Technoblade’s turn for his eyebrows to raise and Tommy’s jaw dropped to the floor,

“No shit.” Tommy gawked, “You don’t look like her at all Wilbur! You’re so ugly, must’ve gotten that from Phil. Sad.” You burst into hysterical laughter watching Phil glare over at Tommy. Wilbur was seething at his sibling but ignored him in favor of giving you a light hug,

“Good to see you, mom.” He whispered,

“Good to see you too.” Phil heard you respond and hug him back, Wilbur whispered something to you and you made a little surprised face before nodding. Phil assumed he told you that the other boys were not in fact his biological children, but those he had adopted. Fundy soon joined in the hug snuggling into your stomach, you ruffled the young fox’s head and he chirped happily. Tommy walked over to introduce himself to you next, he proclaimed to be not only Phil’s favorite son but Wilbur’s favorite brother too. Which lead him to then boldly declare he’d be your favorite as well and Wilbur sent him a scathing look, ah yes, Phil knew that look rather well. Wilbur inherited that look from you, nose all scrunched up and eyes sharp. You shook the young boy's hand and happily told him you couldn't wait to see him fall into the number one spot. Wilbur shot you an offended look and Phil covered up a laugh with his hand, the offending look was sent to his father next,

“Dad.”

“What?” Phil laughed holding up his hands, “If he wants to win your mother’s attention I’m not gonna stop him. Every man for themselves.”

“Phil,” You nudged him with his elbow “be nice.” Tommy began to boast about how awesome he was in comparison to his brother, you sent a wink to Wilbur’s, and his shoulders visibly relaxed.

You were his number one, anyone with a brain could see that.

Phil noticed Technoblade had his eye on you the entire time, it took him much longer than the others to gain trust. He decided to walk away from you to stand by the hybrid's side, “Hey mate.” Technoblade only grunted in response, arms crossed over his broad chest protectively, “What’s crawled up your butt eh?”

“You didn’t tell me ‘bout her.” He motioned in your direction with his chin, “you tell me everything. Why not her?” Technoblade was trying to remain stoic but after all these years he could tell he was hurt. Phil sighed softly scratching the stubble on his chin as he watched Fundy run around you trying to fight for your attention.

“It was hard for me to talk about, she didn’t leave on her own free will. Her life was in danger and I didn’t know if I’d ever see her again. It was a shock when she came back last week, a good shock but a shock nonetheless. (Y/n) was my everything, is my everything. I kept it from everyone because I hoped it would keep her alive and safe from those who wished to harm her.” Phil looked over at Techno, for once Phil’s eyes showed his true age, “I’m sorry mate you know I would’ve told you if I could. Doesn’t take much for me to start gushing ‘bout her. I mean look at her.” Phil glanced back over at you, Fundy was on your shoulders, his hat on your head, meanwhile, Wilbur was wrestling with Tommy on the ground. You looked over at him desperate for his help and Phil only smiled over at you and shook his head. Your eyes screamed distressed as you tried to get the boys to stop fighting, Phil felt Techno’s eyes on him and he looked back at his son and friend.

“I understand I suppose,” Technoblade sighed rubbing the back of his neck, “You wanted to protect her. I can’t be mad at you for that, but no more secrets alright? Promise me?”

“Promise. Now go say hi to her before she gets upset and thinks you don’t like her,” Phil nudged him forward and his eyes widened a little,

“Heh? Phil hold on-”

“(Y/n)! This is Techno.” Phil clapped the man on the back, you looked up at him with a kind smile.

“Pleasure to meet you Technoblade, I like your cape.” Phil watched the man flush in embarrassment at the compliment,

“Eh...thanks. Like your flowers.” He motioned to the flowers blooming in your hair, you beamed brightly at him, always happy to talk about your flowers.

“Thank you, sweetie!” His ears turned red and he waved you off anxiously, he moved to peel Tommy away from Wilbur, wanting to get out of this conversation. Fundy hopped off your shoulders to tackle his father and you let out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding in, “wow. They’re…”

“A lot?”

“Yes.” You laughed fondly, “but…”

“I wouldn’t trade them for the world.” Phil nodded kissing you on the apple of your cheek,

“Good. You better not. They’re all my sons now. I hope you know that” You leaned against his chest, he laughed and you felt his chest rise and fall.

“I’d expect nothing less from you.”

Letters. That’s how most of you communicated in the years to follow, Wilbur would send letters and you would beam in delight. It melted Phil’s heart, he knew his son was busy with the revolution and the now Presidency but he wished he’d visit his mother. You would write him back almost immediately after receiving a letter, you’d seal the letter with a kiss before sending it off with one of Phil’s crows. Afterward, Phil would take you in his arms and pepper you in tender kisses, you would giggle and snuggle into his arms. He told you he loved you, and you cooed and told you loved him back, then you both would share a kiss. Phil loved those days the most, seeing you truly happy made his heart swell. There were days where Phil taught you how to fight, days where you would garden, and days where he let you groom his feathers. He loved that, grooming was another one of the things he missed the most, you got out all the tangled feathers just perfectly. He would lean back against your hands head falling on your shoulder as he panted, his pupils were blown wide as you hummed fondly.

So, maybe Phil enjoyed it a little more than he remembered.

It was a cold autumn day when the letters stopped coming, you were heartbroken, always anxiously petting and feeding his crows. They could sense your disappointment in waves, it was almost choking Phil himself, his heart ached to see you so sad. He pets your hair gently as you both sat on the hill with the willow tree, he noticed the bags under your eyes were dark, Phil’s frown only deepened.

“My love please smile for me, I’ve missed it so much these past few weeks.”

“Somethings wrong,” Your voice was soft looking up at Phil “He wouldn’t just stop writing to us. He always writes to us.” He hated the way your voice quivered, “what if he changed his mind about me?” Phil shushed you softly with a kiss,

“First of all, there’s no way he changed his mind about you. The way the both of you bonded these past few years, Wilbur wouldn’t throw that all away for no good reason.” He tried to reassure you, “Although, I will admit this is strange. Wilbur isn’t one to not write to me, it’s something he’s always done ever since he was old enough to spell.”

“Crow…” You whispered, “can we visit him? Just to put my mind at ease...please.” Phil’s heart melted as soon as he saw your puppy dog eyes, he nodded and you smiled.

Good. He was going to keep that there as long as he was physically able.

The next day, Phil scooped you up in his arms and you headed towards the direction of his son's new nation.

It was called L’Manburg if Phil remembered correctly.

What the both of you didn’t expect to see was a war zone, “Phil…” You murmured eyes wide in fear, he held you to his chest, your brow furrowed in worry. He swore he could see Tommy and Techno looking up at them from below, it didn’t ease the anxiety prickling at his skin, the sky suddenly went black with crows.

A bad omen, something bad was going to happen, and they knew it.

“Phil they’re distressed. Somethings wrong.”

“I know hon,” Phil looked around worriedly, he spotted a glance of Wilbur walking into some sort of room. He landed just outside the entrance, he put you on your feet, “Stay behind me.” He instructed you, you nodded your head clutching onto his bicep. The both of you stepped into the dimly lit room, there were scrawlings etched into the wall, all scratched in by Wilbur. Your brow furrowed in concern, fingers dancing across the lettering, “what’re you doing?” Phil spoke, his tone flat and serious, looking dead at your son, wings spreading out behind him.

“Wilby?” You asked softly as he slowly turned around, his big brown eyes were wet and wide.

“Mom…” He whispered, “I didn’t want…” Wilbur looked away from you and grit his teeth, “Welcome to L’manburg. Sorry, you have to see it like this, war-torn and broken. I wanted you to see it in its prime, a shame you didn’t visit sooner.”

“Wilbur, don’t do this,” Phil said watching his son look longingly at the button in the middle of the wall, almost with longing. “This is your country, it can be fixed. Things can be rebuilt, it’s where you raised your son,” Phil continued his entire body tense and nervous he was too aware of the sword on Wilbur’s hip. Phil reached out his hand as you walked towards Wilbur,

“Baby boy…” You whispered tenderly, vines slowly growing out of the cracks in the floor. “Don’t do this I only just got you back, please think about what you’re doing.” Wilbur’s brow furrowed watching you smile softly holding out your arm, “Everything will be alright I promise you. We can help you.” He let out a wet laugh running a hand through his brown curls, his pointed ears visible.

“It’s not the same nation anymore. There was a special place where people could go but it’s not there. It’s no longer the nation it once was Mom.”

“It is there. You've just- You've just won it back, Wil!” Phil spoke up in opposition to his son.

“MOM, Dad, I’m ALWAYS SO CLOSE to pressing this button, Phil! I've BEEN HERE like seven or eight times, I've been here seven or eight times...Phil, I've been here so many times…” All of you jumped a little at the sound of crackling fireworks outside, “They're fighting. They're fighting!” Phil and you glanced at one another, there was a beat of silence.

“And you want to just blow it all up, You fought so hard to get this land back... So hard.” You argued reaching out to cup his cheeks, he melted into your palms, snuggling into them like they were his last lifeline.

“I don't even know if it works anymore, Mom, I don't even know if the button works, I could, I could... press it.”

“Do you really wanna take that risk?” Phil laughed, “There is a lot of TNT potentially connected to that button.”

“Phil... There was a saying, Phil. By a traitor. Once part of L'Manburg. A traitor- I don't know if you've heard of Eret? He had a saying...It was never meant to be!” He tossed his hand back and slammed it against the button, you let out a devastating shriek pulling Wilbur into your arms to try and protect him from the blast. Phil felt pure adrenaline enter his bloodstream as he flew towards you and his son. His wings wrapped around the both of you and you whimpered, some of his feathers caught fire and he squeezed his loved one’s harder. Wilbur meanwhile let out a roaring cry “MY L'MANBURG, PHIL! MY UNFINISHED SYMPHONY, FOREVER UNFINISHED! IF I CAN'T HAVE THIS, NO-ONE CAN, PHIL!”

“Oh, my god…” Phil spoke, his voice quivering with horror, Wilbur looked down at you, hurt and pride swam in his eyes,

“Are you proud of me mama?” He whispered softly as your thumb caressed his cheeks, Phil glanced down at you ignoring the pain in his wing, your eyes were wet but you were still smiling.

It didn’t reach your eyes.

“I’ll always be proud of you Wilbur. I’m your mother, and I love you, I’ll always love you.” He let out a little cry, you were so genuine with him, your love was smothering him. Wilbur looked up at his father and grabbed his wrist,

“Kill me, Phil. Phil, kill me, Phil kill me!” Wilbur broke away from his hold and tossed his sword Phil’s way. Phil caught it in his arms the lines in his forehead creasing with worry, “Phil, stab me with the sword, murder me now, kill me! Killza, Killza, do it! Kill me, Phil! Murder me! Look, they all want you to! Do it, Phil! Kill me! Phil, kill me!”

“I- You're my SON!”

“Wilbur NO! PHIL DON’T YOU FUCKING DARE!” You cried as Wilbur shoved you away from him, your growing distress caused vines to spill into the room, filling it with greenery, nature wanted to protect you.

“No matter what you- dude, no matter what you've done, I can't-” Phil’s voice cracked, his knuckles turning white against the hilt of the blade.

Wilbur slammed his fist against the wall, “Phil, it's- LOOK! LOOK! HOW MUCH WORK WENT INTO THIS, and it's GONE!” He grabbed Phil’s hand and shoved the point of the sword into his chest, “Do it. Do it.”

“PHIL!” You sobbed grabbing onto his other arm, eyes red and puffy, fat tears were running down your pink cheeks.

The man squeezed his eyes tightly, his throat closing up, he couldn’t look at you, he could feel the look of horror that was slowly spreading across your face.

“Phil. I’m begging you we can get him help, I can’t lose him. Not again, not when I’ve only just got him back.” You choked out, “he’s my baby. He’s our baby.” You were clinging to Phil desperately, your smile was gone, he failed you and he failed his own son.

“Do it, Dad.” Wilbur interrupted you, you let out a desperate cry and Wilbur shushed you softly, brushing away your tears. “It’s better this way,” Wilbur leaned down and kissed your forehead, “I love you and I forgive you.” He looked back at Phil and his disintegrating right-wing, guilt ate at him, “It’s time.”

Phil let out a deep breath, jaw tense and he felt you bury your head in his uninjured wing. He ran his sword through his son’s chest, Wilbur fell forward against the blade, he choked on the blood in his mouth, it flowed out of the corners and stained the front of his shirt. Phil felt you move to look but he covered your face with his wing once more, “Don’t look darlin’” He whispered as your sobs only increased, Wilbur slowly died in his arms with a smile on his face that would forever haunt Phil’s nightmares. He stroked Wilbur’s hair as he slowly faded out of existence, three lives completely snuffed out, Phil was part of giving him life and was the one to take his final one. Once Wilbur was gone you crumpled to the floor loud sobs echoing in the chamber, he fell beside you and wrapped you in his arms, you clutched his beanie to your chest.

“It’s alright. It’ll be okay.”

“Okay! Philza Minecraft how the FUCK is this gonna be okay!” You snarled in his arms but he only held you tighter, “Our son...our baby is dead.” You choked holding your hand to your mouth, the vines that had grown started dying feeding off your agony. “He’s gone…” You whimpered letting Phil caress your hair and plant kisses on the top of your head.

“We’ll get through this. I promise you.” He swore up to you cupping your cheeks within his hands, you sniffled a little and gave a small nod of your head. You were drained emotionally and physically, Phil’s heart ached in his chest.

“You’re hurt…”

“I’ll be alright,” He tried to stretch out his wings he flinched as pain shot up the right side of his body. Phil’s wing was charred to bits, you both knew the unspoken truth that he’d never fly like he once did, Wilbur wasn’t the only thing Phil would mourn.

“We need to set up a grave for him. Under the willow tree, I’ll plant yellow flowers. That way he can always be close to us so long as we live there,” You looked up at him eyebrows pinched so tight “Please.”

“You don’t need permission Darlin’.” He whispered to you resting his forehead against your own, “If that’s where you want it that’s where it’ll be.”

“Good.”

Phil slowly helped you to your feet, you weren’t injured, a few cuts and scrapes he took the majority of the damage from the explosion just like he had planned. He hissed as he tried to put pressure on his left ankle, “Fuck me. I’m too young to need a cane.”

“Eh,” You smiled weakly “Wouldn’t say that.”

“Shut the fuck up.” You giggled softly, your laughter significantly improved his mood, even if it was a minuscule adjustment. “We all can’t be as spry as you,”

“What can I say some of us have it and some of us don’t.” You smirked slightly hearing another loud explosion go off in the distance, “the Withers. Technoblade spawned them didn’t he?” Your eyebrows furrowed in thought and Phil gave a little nod,

“Most likely.”

“Our boys, they can’t do anything without explosions can they?” You shakily whispered and Phil couldn’t help but let out a dry laugh,

“Guess so,” He shrugged limply as you slipped Wilbur’s beanie on your head,

“What now?” You looked up at him through wet eyelashes, Phil caressed the back of your head,

“We go home, bury what’s left of Wilbur, and take a look at my wings to assess the damage.” Phil watched you nod numbly against him, “it’ll be a long walk back.” He groaned rubbing his eyes and you rubbed his back soothingly.

“Let me handle that,” You reassured and he raised an eyebrow the both of you moved to leave the structure neither one of you wanted to put up with anyone, you both had lost a son and wanted time to mourn. Plus, it seemed Tommy and Technoblade were busy fighting. Phil watched you with careful eyes allowing himself to lean against one of the trees that survived the explosion. You placed your fingers in your mouth and gently whistled, not only did a crow from a tree flutter by but a wandering horse as well, you really were an animal whisperer. The crow ruffled its feathers and cawed loudly at Phil, he shot the crow a look and flipped it off, meanwhile, you worked your magic taming the horse in a matter of moments. “Come here Crow,” You held as your hand and he fell into it, you helped him onto the horse and he shot you a look,

“I’m not riding on this horse with you walking on foot. Switch with me.” Phil tried to argue but you shushed him,

“You took an explosion to the back. Take a breather, relax, nature helps me heal anyway.” You hummed fondly as he slumped against the horse reluctantly, it took about an hour to get back home, Phil had lost all feeling in his wing and wanted nothing more than to curl up with you and go to sleep. As the looming willow tree came into view Phil heard you sniffle and clutch his son’s beanie on your head,

“(Y/n)?”

“I-I’m alright.” You cleared your throat shaking your head, “Let’s get you looked at before anything else, okay?” Phil too exhausted to argue only nodded limply, you helped him inside and set him down on a chair. “Spread your wings for me,” You commanded, helping him stretch out his wings. He cursed, only feeling pure agony shoot through his right side,

“Ow! Fuck me!”

“Sorry, sorry,” You whispered out tenderly rubbing the base of his left-wing. The mixture of pain and pleasure was foreign but not completely unwelcome. “Oh, Phil…” You trailed off hesitant to touch the damage that was inflicted, “I don’t...I don’t think-” You chewed the bottom of your lip, but Phil got the message, he wasn’t going to be able to fly as he once did, maybe ever again. His flight feathers were singed to hell, completely burned away, not to mention the patchiness of his other feathers. His shoulders slumped forward as he ran a hand down his face, he was exhausted, he felt the coolness on his wing as you spread some antibiotic on the injury. “I’m sorry,” You kissed the back of his neck and he shivered at the feeling. “We’ll bury what we have tomorrow, you need rest.”

“I’ll be fine-”

“Phil, I will force you into bed. Don’t fucking test me right now, I will force you if I have to.” You hissed out glaring daggers at him, he should be threatened but he just felt oddly aroused.

He decided to attribute that to how fucked up he felt today.

Phil allowed you to tuck him into bed as gentle as you were capable of doing, “I’m going to send out some letters. I’ll join you in a little bit.” He felt you remove his hat and run your fingers through his blonde hair, he leaned into your touch like a kitten. As soon as you shut the door, Phil was out like a light.

Phil found out the next day that you had sent a letter out to both Tommy and Technoblade, you wouldn’t specify what you sent but you seemed a bit more relaxed than you had the other day. You both didn’t get a chance to bury what was left of Wilbur until a week later, Phil’s healing process was slower than he could’ve imagined. Phil reluctantly had to use a cane to get around easily, his crows laughed at him but you were also so kind and careful.

You were an angel.

The two of you buried him under the willow tree on the hill where you’d met the other members of your odd family for the first time. Technoblade had shown up at your doorstep holding out a large box inside of it was a stone tombstone inscribed on the tombstone was Wilbur’s name and date of birth and death. It had surprised Phil that the hybrid even agreed to make this for you, but at the same time, he was Phil’s adoptive son and closest friend, he appreciated the gesture nonetheless. Phil had placed Wilbur’s coat and beanie into a box and placed it under the ground. You had kept your promise and had grown little yellow flowers around the site of the burial, and the two parents mourned the loss of their biological son. Technoblade stood close by a hand resting on Phil’s shoulder in hopes to soothe him at least a little bit, Phil would never admit it but he appreciated the gesture.

Little did the three of them know, a small smile spread across a young ghost’s face. He picked at the sleeves of his yellow sweater, maybe he could give both of them some blue sometime to help them heal.

He had a feeling they’d like that idea.

~~~

I usually don't tag people in my stories but I figured a lot of people wanted a part two:

@xx-smiley-xx @dreamsofficialwife @dirtydiavolo @thatguythatsshy

@shinyshimaagain @little-odd-dude @theultimatewifu32 @hee-hee-haw @thegeekishere

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incomingalbatross · 3 years ago

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Evaluating how a handful of Gargoyles characters would respond to a Peggy Sue-type time travel plot that sends them back from the end of the show to the beginning of their storylines (assuming that, as they're in their actual younger bodies, the "you can't change the past" rule is automatically broken)

Macbeth: Say he goes back to the night his dad is killed? Making the MOST of this. Maybe kills the Hunter with his future experience, if not probably assassinates the guy a little later, definitely marries Gruoch earlier and ABSOLUTELY tries to stay away from the Three Sisters and any immortality pacts. Maybe just ditches Scotland entirely to avoid the politics. His goal is to live a quiet life and then die.

Demona: ...Her whole thing is the tragedy of making the same bad choices over and over, so I think nothing would actually change?? She'd wake up in Castle Wyvern before planning the betrayal and just be like "...THIS time I can do it BETTER," and then it would go wrong in new and exciting ways that still make her lose everything. She's real dumb.

Goliath: Would have a BREAKDOWN over being in 994, poor guy. I think he'd take the stance that "I have to save the people in front of me first," regardless, but the joy of seeing his clan again would be countered by the sudden loss of Manhattan and Elisa. Priorities would be preventing the betrayal and mending garg-human relations... But it would be REALLY HARD being around Demona specifically, because she technically isn't a traitor yet but he KNOWS she WOULD, and also they're still gargoyle-married but he's not in love with her?? And he REALLY MISSES ELISA. (But I think watching him tackle 994 with his added wisdom and maturity would be neat. And if all went well he'd get to raise baby Angela!)

The Magus: "This time I should probably not antagonize or curse the gargoyles. And maybe I should also just TELL the Princess I'm in love with her at some point."

Xanatos: Sending him back to 1994 is... Terrifying. Fascinating. PROBABLY half the problems of canon would be avoided because they're problems he creates for himself, but also he miiiight still do things like upgrade the Pack and mutate people just for fun? He'd go through everything knowing that his biggest priorities are Fox and the unborn Alexander--self-knowledge he did NOT have the first time around--so he'd be focused on prepping for the whole Oberon thing throughout... But he'd also be running side-schemes with his future knowledge, because he's Xanatos. I think he'd tell Owen everything, both because he needs Owen in his confidence and because he trusts him even more after the Gathering, so there'd be a LOT of strategy discussions for sure. Fun but terrifying.

#the Peggy Sue time travel is one of my favorite tropes to play with in my head #(even though i basically never want to write a full fic with it)#so this is my thought experiment #xanatos trying to explain to owen that he consciously Cares About Other People and has the rudimentary inklings of a sense of honor now #would be really funny i think #'so...are the gargoyles worth awakening sir?'#'oh i think so. they're not very malleable but they make life interesting! and handy to have around for any problems i DIDN'T make myself'#'--we're not cloning goliath though. that's off the table'#'... I hadn't even put it ON the table yet sir. but I'll make a note of it'#gargoyles

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crystalirises · 3 years ago

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Random DSMP One-Shot

not an au, just a one-shot I felt like writing cause c!Wilbur is a very disappointing dad figure and I just want Fundy to move on with his life and be happy

also rip Tommy, someone pls get him away from Wilbur, they both need therapy and I don't think antagonizing (what are they doing actually in the lore XD) Las Nevadas is therapy

this is not canon-compliant, mostly cause Fundy here moved on lmao (still has daddy issues, but he's busy taking care of Yogurt to worry about Wilbur now)

Ao3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/31985884/chapters/80464195

He spotted Tommy while on his way back home, a hand wrapped around Yogurt’s, his son having finally calmed down after Fundy had promised to make his favorite yogurt and berry cake for dessert. Fundy met dull blue eyes, wincing before pushing himself to make small talk with the teenager. He hadn’t spoken to Tommy in quite some time, and the kid’s probably been busy with da— Wilbur. Fundy shook his head, putting up a genuine smile on his face, “Hey, Tommy!”

“What’s up, big man? I, uh, long time no see…?” He nodded, trying to push back the nagging feeling he had deep inside his chest that something was wrong. Tommy looked like he’d just been dragged through hell, but then what else was new? Fundy took a moment to look at the teen’s long disheveled hair, the dark circles beneath his eyes, and the tremble in his shoulders. He was leaning against a stone pillar. Odd. Fundy was sure that hadn’t been there before. Fundy shook his head. He didn’t want to get into whatever mess that meant. “Whose… Whose kid is—”

“This is Yogurt! He’s my little boy!” He glanced down at his son, feeling a swell of pride when Yogurt kept himself behaved. Usually, he would be trying to zip down the pathway or pulling at Fundy’s hand so they could get home faster. “Say hi to Toms, Yogurt. He’s very nice.”

“Hi!” Yogurt chirped out, giving Tommy a little wave before running off the moment his attention began to shift. Fundy sighed, at least his son was sticking close and had only gotten distracted by a random patch of flowers. Fundy watched him for a bit, smiling while Yogurt continued to pluck the flowers. After a moment, Tommy interrupted the silence, coughing against his fist. He turned back towards Tommy. There was a reason why he was waiting for him.

He saw Tommy open his mouth, quickly beating him to the punch before the teen could say anything. There was really only one reason why he’d be there. No one, except for Eret and Quackity, visits Fundy. “I’m staying far away from whatever shit everyone is going to get into these next few months. Quackity has Las Nevadas and all that, but I’m not helping him.” He shrugged. Declining Quackity’s offer had been the better decision, the nightmares had stopped once he had done so, which meant that he had at least changed something in the future. “I’m not joining whatever scheme Wilbur has fucking concocted either. He can go fuck off for all I care.”

Tommy flinched, and Fundy berated himself for being so aggressive. Try as he might, he still resented Wilbur for all the shit he’d caused. “Sorry. You love him, it’s hard when I say bad sh—”

“And you don’t?”

“I don’t have the energy or the heart to care anymore, Tommy. It’s been years, and I have a son, and… fuck… I can’t keep thinking about him anymore.” He ran a hand through his hair, a part of him resenting about the small detail of how eerily similar he now looked like Wilbur. Fucker had to come back with a white streak in his hair, wow. He shook his head. He didn’t want to think about Wilbur anymore. “I have a son now, Tommy. I-I can’t keep living underneath his shadow.”

Besides, he understood how disappointed Wilbur had been in him. It was always Tommy and if it had been a different time, he would have been angry at the teenager and would have done anything to gain his father’s affections and attention. But now? He couldn’t bring himself to care. Oh, he did care. He did. But he can’t think about it. Someday he felt like a shattered vase glued together by glue, the smallest shake could cause him to break. He couldn’t let that happen to himself again. He had Yogurt. He had his life. He had his freedom. “You were his favorite. I’m not mad at you for that. He loved you, much more than he ever could love me. I… don’t mind.”

“F-Fundy—”

“Papa!” Tommy jumped, the conversation was over the moment Yogurt raced back towards them. His white tail wagged happily behind him as he presented a bouquet of flowers to Fundy.

“Oh? Now who’s this cute little fox?” Fundy gently took the flowers from his son, ruffling Yogurt’s hair. He’d have to put them in a vase soon. “Who is this little fox cutie? Huh? Who?”

“Papa!” The child whined, playfully pouting before raising both of his arms. Fundy laughed, taking his son in his arms. Yogurt nuzzled into Fundy’s neck, purring, “Papa’s lil cha’! Yogurt!”

“You are! You are papa’s little champion! My little yogurt!”

Fundy sighed, letting Yogurt rest his head against his shoulders. He tossed Tommy a small smile. “It was great, ya know? Talking. But Yogurt and I have to get home before the flowers wilt.” That and he still had to collect berries for the cake. Yogurt would get very cranky if Fundy didn’t get him what he wanted, and Fundy intended never to break a single promise to his son. Ever. “This was nice. You should visit more often, man. I think you’d be a good influence on Yogurt.”

“Yeah�� Yeah, big man. I understand.” Tommy seemed to shrink into himself, eyes darting towards the stone pillar that he hadn’t stopped leaning against. “Get home safely, Fundy.”

He nodded, adjusting Yogurt in his hold. “Whatever it is that Wilbur’s dragged you into, I hope you’ll be alright and shi- stuff. But ya, I guess you’re his right hand and all. You’re both probably having a blast… not literally… please.” Fundy reached out, placing a hand against Tommy’s shoulder. Tommy flinched, eyes glazing over before his attention focused on Fundy’s gaze, like he was assuring himself that it was just Fundy. He hesitated, but eventually let go.

“I hope he’s a good father, brother, or whatever to you, unlike what he was to me.”

Tommy watched Fundy and Yogurt go.

A lot of stuff has changed, people included.

He took a shaky sigh.

Tommy turned to look behind the stone pillar, swallowing down his fear.

“... Wil?”

#fundy #tommyinnit #wilbur soot #yogurt #dream smp fanfiction #dsmp

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percontaion-points · 3 years ago

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Raven King chapter 6

Click to see the rest of the snark & image descriptions.

Chapter 6

Nicky was bringing Jim from his improv class...

I thought Nicky had a long-term boyfriend?

Well, if he did, he probably doesn't anymore. Not with all of Nicky's jokes about cheating and him taking some rando to the big dinner.

Blackwell was slow to appear in the distance, but it didn't take long to spot the two stadiums. The football and Exy stadium were on opposite sides of the campus like massive bookends.

I'm still having a really difficult time swallowing that society completely shifted because of a sport invented some 30 years earlier.

Like I'm willing to overlook a lot for the sake of a story. But for society to just go completely and utterly apeshit over a 30 year old sport makes zero sense. AND I READ THE STORY WHERE THE LADY HAD SEX WITH THE LITERAL BULL.

Wymack pulled a bottle of vodka out of the bag and put it down beside Kevin. "You have ten seconds to inhale as much of this as you can. I'm timing you. Go."

It was alarming how much a man could drink when he needed an emotional crutch.

WOW THAT'S SUPER FUCKING HEALTHY.

Like I get that his foster-father and brother abused the shit out of him. But therapy is much better than alcoholism.

Madison was using the home locker room to change right now, so the Foxes had to go all the way around to the away side.

I really love how there's this big fancy banquet dinner where they invite all of the college exy teams, and they literally have to change in the locker room.

My high school did this band banquet, too. But we didn't have to fucking eat dinner out on the football field with our parents... We had the school cafeteria for the evening.

Out of touch author can't even think of a world where these idiots would want to rent a banquet hall. Oh no... it's got to be at the fucking stadium, for some unholy reason.

Judging by Neil's quick headcount, the Ravens hadn't brought dates. They hadn't brought any color along, either. All twenty-two of them were dressed head-to-toe in black. The twenty men wore the same shirts and slacks, and the two women wore identical dresses. They even sat the exact same way, all with their right elbows on the table, all of them with their chins in their hands. Another team might look foolish going so far, but somehow the Ravens looked imposing.

I joke about the fox characters outside of Neil, Kevin, and Andrew being cardboard cut-outs... but this ain't got nothing on those cardboard cutouts.

"I know who you are," Riko said. "Who here doesn't? You're the woman who captains a Class I team. You've done admittedly well despite your disadvantages."

CASUAL SEXISM.

The man to Riko's right stood up as soon as the Foxes were settled and walked behind the Ravens until he was across from Neil. Two fingers to the woman's shoulder got her out of her chair and she moved to the newly-emptied seat. The stranger sat across from Neil. As he did the Ravens fell out of their frozen poses, but they did so only to lean back as one in their chairs.

Did they practice this ahead of time?

The black three tattooed on his left cheekbone meant he could be no one but Jean Moreau.

Imagine getting a tattoo of a college sports number. Of which you would only get to play for a few years before being forced out.

It took him only a few seconds to realize the Ravens were coming. The entire team was crossing the court toward Kevin, walking in V formation like a flock of birds going south.

I can't with her descriptions of the Ravens. Like one team's colors are orange and white, and the other is black and red. ONE OF THEM IS GUD AND THE OTHER IS EBUL. THE RAVENS ARE EBUL, AND THEY'RE ALL HENCHMEN ROBOTS.

"We're sure it is," the Raven striker said, "seeing how you're dating a prostitute."

"Stripper," Dan corrected...

[…]

Neil tried not to stare at her. He would have dismissed the Raven's insult as an outright lie if not for Dan's easy response. Too late he remembered her telling him she'd worked an overnight job during high school to make ends meet.

THE AUTHOR DOES REALIZE THAT YOU HAVE TO BE 18 TO WORK JOBS LIKE THAT... RIGHT?! Like please tell me that the author didn't write about a 15 year old getting a job as a stripper.

This series is bad enough without needing to drag child strippers into the mix.

The others fell asleep within a few miles, but Neil spent the entire ride thinking about Riko and his father.

Chapter 6 summary: So it's time for the banquet. They do a random lottery draw where they decide which school will host the banquet this year. The school picked is only about four hours away. The banquet itself lasts for two days, in order to justify some of the travel time for those further away. However, the foxes are of the opinion “fuck that; we're not staying the entire two days”.

As they get closer to the school, Kevin starts to have a panic attack. As the others leave the bus, David gives Kevin some alcohol, and tells him to chug it. Which... yeah, that sounds fucking healthy. They have to change out in the locker room, which is fucking weird if you ask me. And then they go into the stadium, which has been turned into a banquet hall. The sight makes Neil angry, and mood. Rent a fucking banquet hall for this, assholes.

They're upset to see that the foxes are randomly supposed to be sitting across from the ravens. And the ravens are all dressed like evil henchmen, and are even randomly acting in unison. Talk about zero personality. David warned the others not to pick a fight, but obviously wasn't counting on Riko bringing his planet-sized ego with him. A rando Raven player named Jean-- who is the embodiment of every French stereotype you can think of-- starts to antagonize Neil, and calls him by a bunch of Neil's former names. He then moves on and starts insulting everybody else.

Their little pissing match goes on for a long while. But hey, it's not like anything else is going on, so this might as well happen, I guess. Finally, Riko antagonizes Neil into speaking, and Neil calls Riko out on his shit, saying that he's a whiny, entitled little brat who doesn't have anything going for him. Then, Jean and Riko start to act like they “own” Neil, which has fucking creepy slavery undertones to what they're saying.

David finally shows up to say that they're trying to move the foxes to another table. As they get up to leave, Jean can't help but name-drop Neil's father. The others rally around Kevin and Neil once they're away. Kevin is sent back to the bus to drink some more liquor, and Neil thinks about following. Not only that, but just fucking leaving. But he doesn't, because then this series would be put out of its misery.

After dinner, then they put all of the tables away and everybody starts socializing and networking. The ravens come over, act like they've never met the foxes before, but then continue to insult them. I'm really fucking over this. Riko's uncle and the raven coach comes over. The two teams awkwardly stare at one another, and the only thing this scene needs is some dramatic finger snapping. Tetsuji says that he ran fingerprint test off of a glass Neil drank out of back during that dumb morning talk show, and knows who he is. He yells at Neil about crimes that Neil's dad committed against The Family©, as if Neil himself personally did all of that. However, Neil stands his ground and refuses to be bullied by these assholes.

Matt finally drags Neil away, and threatens to tell the exy board about Riko's shit behavior and have him benched for the rest of the season. They all go back to the bus finally, and start to head home.

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drops-of-moonlights · 4 years ago

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The redesigned Magic Animals! Because I looked at their old designs and absolutely hated them so they getting redone. Also Roxy gets one now and Elas goes to Diaspro because Bloom already has Kiko! Info below on them, Magic Animals in general, and the reworked concept of Wild Magic. (In order - Amarok, Squonk, Critty, Shiny, Flitter, Elas, Kiko and Galila)

Wild magic is, very bluntly, magic gone wild. It's natural ambient magic that has been negatively affected in some form or another, which stays in the area and starts to mutate and change the place. Previously crystal clear waters can become a toxic swamp, healthy trees can rot yet keep growing in an instant, animals might be harshly mutated. Those affected can suffer from various illnesses and while it's not normally fatal, chronic conditions might develop thanks to exposure.

However, wild magic is also what gave birth to the many Magic Animals on the system, creatures that managed to take in the magic and adapt to it rather than succumb to it, changing their form and gaining new abilities to survive in the conditions.

Wild magic seems to also fade away on its own after a certain amount of time, and while the changes to an area might downscale or dissapear completely, animals and people affected by it remain changed unless outside magic is applied to combat the effects. This is partially the reason for Silvestrix existing, as its immune to the effects of Wild magic and can counter and erase it almost perfectly.

TL:DR it's basically like radiation but slightly less murdery.

Onto each animal!

Amarok, the Moss Magiwolf: Amarok has been with Flora since she was a kid. Her parents run a Magiwolf sanctuary, and Amarok was brought in as a puppy. He was supposed to be released back into the wild, he came back after a few hours. They tried to make him leave again, but he simply stood there, tail wagging, before nuzzling Flora’s dad. Right then, Amarok became the “dog” of the family. They have a license to handle wild Magic Animals, and since Amarok still counts as one despite being somewhat domesticated, they were able to keep him. He’s a very loyal and goofy pet, and loves Flora and Miele very much.Lynphean Moss Magiwolves have a top layer of fur that covers their head and back that has a texture similar to moss, even being able to grow flowers on it - it helps them to keep cool in Lynphea's hot humid summers and they use it to mark their territory, as some tree moss is just the fur of a Magiwolf being fused with the bark. They’re omnivorous, like regular wolves.

Squonk, the Seafaring Gryphon: Squonk approached the Winx very hurt during a short travel to the Andros mountains, having been attacked by Kalshara who’s trying to hunt him. The girls defend him, and after being protected from an attack by Aisha, he helps the girls fight off Kalshara albeit clumsily. The girls try to find its parents, as it’s just a baby, but not finding them Aisha decides to just adopt him and learn about him so she can help him grow well. He’s very shy and gets scared very easily, but can and will harm anyone that he distrusts that approaches Aisha. Seafaring Gryphons are common in the Andrian cliffs, their eldest diving for fish to bring to their young. They also hunt small rodents, and seem to have traits of falcons rather than eagles, like other gryphon species.

Critty, the Melodian Quillcat: Critty was actually being hunted by Kalshara and Brafilius, in Musa’s hometown. She managed to escape thanks to Musa, however, and after she’s rescued fully, she seems very attached to her, even if she’s still hostile to the other girls… and everyone else. Quillcats are wild cats whose neck and tail fur managed to harden into sharp points, similar to hedgehogs and porcupines, with the added bonus that they seem to secrete a poison that acts as a paralizer, with Melodian Quillcats in particular seemingly creating some sort of “vibration” with them when scared or angry. They seem to be evolved from mountain cats, and have a similar diet.

Shiny, the Solarian Lumibird: Shiny appeared to the Winx during their attempts at rescuing Critty, and guided Stella (who had gotten separated) to a secret passageway, him also having been kidnapped by the siblings and wanting some sort of revenge. Shiny likes Stella a lot, as well as Squonk, but seems lukewarm to the other girls and animals. Lumibirds seem to be evolved from birds of paradise, mixing traits from the astrapia and parotia species. They are incredibly fast, looking almost like a shooting star at night thanks to their slight bioluminiscence, and their predisposition is basically like australian magpies. Diet is mostly plants as well as bugs, and in the case of Solarian Lumibirds, rocks.

Flitter, the Storm Fox: Flitter is one of the bats and foxes that maintain the inner heat and currents of the capital of Zenith’s main computer. After heavy malfunctioning, the girls access the core, and with Tecna and Flitter joining magic, they manage to restore the place. Flitter ends up close to Tecna, and seeing that the core can work without her, she leaves and joins the Winx. Electrobats and their big cousins, Storm Foxes, are known for their ability to store electricity in their fur and wings, usually using them for their prey or to attract mates via clever uses of the stored static. They are used in Zenith since ancient times as chargers for the older machinery, and are treated very well in exchange. Their diet consists of mainly fruit. (Yes I changed Flitter from squirrel to flying fox it’s my AU I can do what I want and what I want is for Tecna to have a giant fucking bat with her)

Elas, the Qilin-Unicorn Hybrid: Elas is the second-last animal the girls acquire, having been cursed under a rage spell and causing mayhem in the Domino/Quarzis border. Diaspro manages to calm him down enough for Roxy and Flora to lift the curse, and he becomes attached to her as a result. He seems very prideful much like Diaspro, and likes to antagonize Kiko. He is an unicorn-qilin hybrid, taking most of his physiology after Unicorns (just one horn, mostly horse-like, long mane) but with Qilin details (the gems in his forehead and chest, the scales covering most of his torso and head, his horn not being straight, his long tail). His diet is mostly plants and bugs, but can also eat small rodents thanks to his Qilin side and likes to bully Kiko saying he can eat him in one gulp.

Kiko, the Moth Rabbit: Kiko becomes friends with Bloom all the way back in S1, having been rescued by her in the Blackmud Swamp. He follows the girls to Alfea, and after a three-day battle with the girl’s dorm manager, Kiko starts living with them. He’s capable of slightly broken speech, and seems to also be able to understand talking plants. He’s very attached to Bloom and can be a jealous little flying fuzzball. He's a moth rabbit, very obviously a rabbit with moth wings. They're also nicknamed "fairy/witch rabbits" based off their wing design and coloration. They are herbivorous, and seem to prefer the fruit from very high trees. They also seem to be able to help with pollinization, and are native to Magix. They can fold their wings and seem to be able to lay on them without much issue if folded.

Galila, the Two-tailed Golden Ferret: Galila is part of the first proper magic animals that seems to have appeared on Earth after the revival of magic, and as such Roxy's very interested in her in both an investigative way and just her natural love of animals. Galila is very shy and withdrawn like Squonk, but seems to light up around Roxy and Musa and is very playful with them, sparking a bit of jealousy from Critty. Two-tailed golden ferrets don't deviate much from regular ferrets outside of the tail, but they do seem to have a knack for burrowing and seem to be able to generate sand as a distraction tactic.

As an aside, Amarok, Squonk, Shiny, Kiko and Elas are male while Critty, Flitter and Galila are female.

#Drops's Art #Winx Club #Winx Redux AU #Magic Animals #Amarok #Squonk #Critty #Shiny #Flitter #Elas #Kiko #Galila

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dad-victoriam · 4 years ago

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I have one official character each for Fallout 3 and New Vegas, but In Fallout 4, I have like, three. Two Minutemen Generals and a Railroad Agent. Can you tell which play-through I started while bored and stuck in quarantine?

Lupe Campbell

Gender: Female

Pronouns: She/Her

Hair Color: Dark Brown

Eye Color: Pale Blue

Sexuality: Bisexual

Nicknames: General, Madam President, Ma, Lulu

Preferred Weapon: Custom Laser Rifle

Faction: Commonwealth Minutemen

Best Friend: Nick Valentine

Love Interest: Preston Garvey

Has never done anything wrong in her life ever.

Preston knows this, and he loves her.

They have Team Mom and Team Dad Energy.

Sturges says they’re gross about it, but one time they got in a fight and he nearly cried because he though they were going to break up.

Is freakishly strong and constantly concerns and astounds people watching her carry and lift things.

Once physically lifted Hancock up over her head and carried him to the time-out corner when he was antagonizing Danse.

He lives in constant fear of being manhandled again.

Her karma is so pristine it’s practically blinding.

Loves helping Nick on cases, always looks for an excuse to wear the trench coat and fedora.

Has unique sense of fashion, thinks the Minutemen General Cosplay is high couture, only wears high-waist Mom Jeans.

Had joined up with the Brotherhood for a little bit, but after Danse got kicked out she left.

Actually, what happened was she stormed into Maxon’s office, lectured him in a way only a mom could, told him she wasn’t mad, just disappointed and then left the Prydwen and hasn’t returned since.

Maxon locked himself in his quarters afterwards to brood, not to cry, he definitely didn’t cry.

(He cried a little bit)

Danse joined the Minutemen after that. It was like the Brotherhood, but they were as loyal to him as he was to them. It really helped him cope and renewed his sense of purpose.

Lupe and Preston are proud of him.

Everyone jokes that he’s like their son behind their backs. Hancock got caught once (see above mentioned physical lifitng).

Her Mom Energy is so potent that legit most of the companions and even some of the Minutemen and Sanctuary settelers gave her the nickname ‘Ma’

Does not drink, does not smoke, what does she do?

She delivers Justice.

Fox Hawthorne

Gender: Female

Pronouns: She/ Her

Hair Color: Ginger

Eye Color: Green

Sexuality: Lesbian

Nicknames: Whisper (Deacon) Renarde (Curie)

Preferred Weapon: Silenced Sniper Rifle

Faction: The Railroad

Best Friend: MacCready

Love Interest: Curie

Closeted Pre-War, had a family to please her mother, actually pretty sad, doesn’t like talking about it except where Shaun is concerned.

“Fox” is not her real name but she refuses to tell anyone what it really is and there’s no way for them to ever find out for sure.

Deacon once snuck down to the vault to see if it was on record somewhere only to find out she was one step ahead of him.

She hacked the records and wherever her true name had been was replaced with a string of emojis.

🦊🍑👅🖕🏻

Codsworth is programmed to call her “Miss Fox” and does not understand the fact that she has another name so he’s no help either.

She can NOT stand staying in Sanctuary (too many memories) and renovated the Red Rocket station nearby to keep her stuff in.

A settlement formed around it and they’re pretty friendly with their Minutemen neighbors even though Preston is constantly trying to get Fox to join the cause.

She will not, she thinks the outfits are tacky, but secretly still goes out of her way to help settlements.

Curie loves it when she does that.

Her relationship with MacCready is summed up by ‘Pure of Heart, Dumb of Ass / Lesbian’.

Do Not Separate Them.

They platonically raise Shaun and Duncan together.

“This is our dad, and this is our mom, and this is our mom’s girlfriend, Curie.”

Two Snipers Out In The Commonwealth Doing Sniper Things.

He literally pouts every time Fox leaves him at Red Rocket to do Railroad Missions with Deacon.

Curie keeps him company, they get along stupendously.

Other than Railroad Missions, or Settlement Rescue Mission Dates with Curie, Fox and MacCready are joined at the hip and are off doing dumb shit.

Always return to Red Rocket with broken noses, dislocated shoulders, cuts, bumps, and bruises and Curie has to patch them up.

Fox claims her kisses have healing properties.

She’s flirting, but Curie thinks she’s serious and has offered to kiss MacCready’s wounds as well.

He had to politely decline multiple times for fear of facing certain death via sandman kill.

The weirdest trio in the Commonwealth.

No one understands their dynamic.

It works because all three of them are the awkward third wheel of the friendship.

Gender: ???

Pronouns: They/Them

Hair Color: ???

Eye Color: ???

Sexuality: Pansexual

Nicknames: Commonwealth Cryptid

Preferred Weapon: Molotov Cocktail

Faction: Commonwealth Minutemen

Best Friend: Dogmeat

Love Interest: Hancock

Has good intentions, but bad methods.

Takes their title as General of the Minutemen very seriously.

Makes sure every settlement has enough food, water, and defense.

Spends hours decorating and making them look nice.

Could have a promising future (or past?) in architecture and interior design.

Intelligence stat is either 1 or 10, no one knows.

All their strategies are chaotic and crackpot but like; they work???

Chooses the Sarcastic response 100% of the time.

Low-Key devout member of the Children of Atom.

Wears assault gas mask and only ever takes off the mask when they’re furious and deadly serious, or you know, when they’re going to sleep.

Legitimately no one, not even the companions, knows what they look like, or even if they’re human or not.

Hancock knows, because he’s seen them naked, but refuses to tell anyone because he lives for the chaos and will constantly make up fake shit just to fuck with the rest of the group.

Hancock is the only living individual who knows what their face looks like.

Piper tried to see if Shaun knew anything and was like, “are you not even a little curious?”

The kid just shrugged, and like, messed around with a Laser Sniper Rifle he was making and was like “they’re my parent. That’s just how they are. I like them the way they are”.

MacCready swears up and down that he saw them turn their head 180 degrees like an owl one time.

Hancock backed him up, but he was huffing jet and laughing his ass off the whole time so no one knows if he was serious.

Gives “let’s get this freak show on the road” a whole new connotation.

Can only shop at Diamond City Surplus at night because Crazy Myrna refuses to sell to them.

She thinks they’re a synth and will not take “No, I’m Jangles the Moon Monkey” as an answer.

Definitely did blow up the Prydwen.

Stole Maxon’s jacket.

Has the Cannibalism perk.

It’s just practical, there are lots of dead bodies everywhere and food is scarce. If they eat a raider, then somehow, somewhere, there’s a Fancy Lad Snack Cake left for a starving orphan to eat.

No one else seems to see it this way.

Loves Brahmin.

I mean, really loves them.

Will stop whatever they’re doing to pet one if they see one.

If they’re working as part of a caravan, they’ll call them Ma’am and apologize for disrupting their work, but will still pet them.

Caravan Guards who see this behavior: ?????

Maxed Stealth and Pickpocket perks

Is a Little Sneak Thief

All their armor has Chameleon Legendary effects.

This stresses everyone out because that means they can be anywhere at any time and oh my God, where are they? I know they’re in here with me, where are they???

Once snuck up on MacCready (accidentally) and pulled an actual full swear word out of the guy. It was loud.

And it was the Fuck word.

It’s Bo’s proudest achievement.

Was totally on board with being the Overboss of Nukaworld until Gage suggested raiding Commonwealth Settlements.

They take their title as General of the Minutemen very very seriously.

They took off the mask, and all of Nukaworld saw their face that day. T’was brutal.

I’m talking “Rip and tear until it is done”.

I’m talking heavy metal theme music and everything.

It’s a nice and peaceful little trader settlement now. Bo planted flowers everywhere.

So, did you guess which one I started cuz I was bored in quarantine, yet? Did you guess all three? You would be correct.

#i have no explanation #fallout #fallout 4 #fallout 3 #fallout new vegas #fallout oc #incorrect fallout #preston garvey #fallout hancock #fallout maccready #fallout curie #fallout deacon #dogmeat #nick valentine

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3starsquinn · 4 years ago

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Lazy Afternoons || Orion & Winn

Timing: June 3rd (Don’t @ us)

Parties: Orion & Winn ( @packsbeforesnacks )

Location: The Commons

Summary: Winn and Rio meet up to discuss Winn’s disappearance and Winn’s memory loss.

Mixed feelings. That was the only way that Orion knew how to describe what he was feeling as he sat, legs crossed, his feet tucked under them. He had picked a random spot on the grass, his bookbag next to him and filled to the top with books. He had agreed to help Winn. That was what Scribes were supposed to do right? He had questions about werewolves and Scribes were meant to collect and impart knowledge. But that didn’t really answer the question about Winn. Was he angry? He didn’t know enough about the situation to hold a grudge. But he didn’t know how else to feel. Hurt? Scared? Those feelings were both way too complicated. Anger was easier. But his dad being with him made things even more complicated. Maybe. Rio didn’t know how to feel anymore. But there wasn’t much time to dwell on it now. His hearing picked up on Winn’s voice from across the large field. Rio jumped up, spinning around to face Winn and who he assumed was his dad crossing the field to meet them. Awkwardly, and against his better judgement, Rio smiled and waved at the two.

The way to campus wasn’t awkward, per se. Sure, his dad had requested to meet his friend fairly out of nowhere, but Winn didn’t begrudge the man for wanting to be involved in his life. (Even if it was, like, a little weird.) But his dad hadn’t told him why he wanted to meet Rio, beyond some bull about wanting to meet a fellow researcher. There’d been a weird look on his face when he’d said that, like he knew somethin’ about Rio that Winn didn’t. And Winn didn’t… well, he didn’t love that? But he’d made a compromise with Dad. Winn would let him tag along and meet Rio, but only if his dad gave them some time to hash things out alone. His dad was happy to go antagonize his future bosses (and walk Denny through campus). As they approached Rio, Winn tossed a blanket his way. “Hey, help me spread it out. I brought grub.” Winn wasn’t above bribery, so had stopped and gotten Rio some fast food, the same order, exactly, as when they’d been on their way to the retreat-that-wasn’t. And who didn’t love a spring afternoon, lazin’ about on a blanket? He’d almost brought a frisbee, but he figured that would kill the vaguely serious vibe. Winn could only hope this conversation went as halfway decently as the others had. Rio didn’t seem the punchin’ type, at least. Denny sniffed at Rio, and Winn remembered that Rio technically hadn’t been introduced properly to his dog. “Oh, Rio, meet Denny. Denny, it’s not nice to sniff new friends without askin’.” The dog looked at him, then immediately back to Rio — an eye roll in dog language, Winn was pretty sure. “And Rio Quinn meet…”

“Daniel Woods,” Daniel said, holding out his hand to Orion for a shake. “Winn has asked that I,” he held up his fingers, doing air quotes as his students had taught him, “buzz off and let you two talk for a while. Please do go easy on him.” He laughed, tugging on Denny’s leash. “Let’s go, Mister Deniability. I am sure Dean Skaro would love to meet you.” Oh, how Daniel despised that man.

Orion huffed and crossed his arms when he saw that Winn was carrying a bag of food with him across the courtyard. Was this some sort of peace offering? “You can’t just bring food and expect me to— Is that a milkshake too?” Rio squinted his eyes but softened for a moment as he considered the bribe. Eventually, he exhaled the breath that he had apparently been holding and his arms fell to his side. Soon, he completely gave in and bent down to help spread out the blanket. His attempts were thwarted by the dog, but Rio didn’t mind. He held his hand out gingerly, allowing Denny time to get adjusted to the new face before jumping in to try to pet him.

Rio shook the man’s hand, smiling widely and trying to ignore any of the awkward tension, if it could even be called that, between himself and Winn. “Such a pleasure to meet you, sir! I’m super excited to have you join the staff at the college. I’ll make sure that Winn lets me know once you have classes that I can take a look at.” If nothing else, it was always positive to meet another person that was passionate about their academics and learning. Rio knew nothing about the man’s specialty, but he respected him even if he wouldn’t be taking any of his classes.

Eventually, Daniel led the dog away and suddenly Rio was left with just Winn and the food he had brought along. Rio avoided talking as long as he could be shoveling food in his mouth and then taking the longest possible drink from his milkshake whenever he finished chewing. But the food would run out eventually. And if he knew Winn at all, he wasn’t going to go anywhere. “So. You’re back in town obviously. Where did you go?”

The knots in Winn’s stomach hadn’t loosened, even after explainin’ himself over and over again, so he figured food wasn’t an amazin’ idea for him right now. While Rio ate, and super obviously avoided talking, Winn sipped at a sorry excuse for sweet tea. Least it wasn’t raspberry. Every ‘sweet’ tea Winn had tried for the first few months had been fuckin’ raspberry. Northerners. You can drink sugar, you just gotta pretend like it’s healthy. Naw, admit that shit. Be honest. Speakin’ of…

“Look, I wasn’t lyin’ about everythin’ that happened. I mean, not the basics. A lot of it was a big misunderstandin’, and I didn’t even know y’all thought I was gone until Noah popped me one square on my jaw.” A sip of tea. “You haven’t known me that long, but I really hate lyin’, if I can avoid it. So, um, my name is… well, was Winthrop Linton Zhou. Dad used to be the English department chair down at Georgetown. Mom was in Congress. I, um… some bad shit went down with a Hunter — the kind we both hate — and from there shit gets… blurry. Literally. I wish I could tell you why I was in White Crest, but some shit’s been goin’ on recently, some people suggestin’ maybe I don’t know who I am. And I… Well, I figured the quickest way to remind myself of who I am was to go and talk to the folks who knew me best. Dad. And, uh, my ex-boyfriend-slash-packmate.”

“I didn’t mean to be gone for more than a couple of days, but my dad is a, uh, huxian? Or, shit, what do the Japenese legends call them… kitsune? Foxes. Apparently, when a huxian has a kid with a human, it’s a bit of a coinflip on whether or not the kid comes out human. I got the human end of the coin, so my dad kept my nose out of the supernatural side of the world until… well, until I found it myself. But shit went down, I only found out Dad was, again, literally a fox, last week.” Okay, yeah, naw, Winn couldn’t do this sitting up. He flopped down into the space next to Rio, head resting against Rio’s thigh. “But, um, Dad suggested maybe I’d lost my memory? Or… had it taken? Wanted to rule out, um, wolf-causes before I went after… other causes. And when I asked you, I mean, I thought there was no way it was anything other than some wolf shit. Now, I don’t really know.” He scrubbed at his eyes with the palms of his hands. “So, um. What’s new with you? Likin’ the hair color.” Winn winked up at Rio.

Orion sat patiently, silently while listening to Winn’s timeline. At first it just sounded… like an excuse. Rio had heard enough of them. He remembered all the rushed excuses as to why they had to rush away from Rio if they had gotten stuck in a conversation after Athena was gone. Rio wanted to believe that he had changed since high school. Grown in some way. Enough to be unbothered by people who showed little interest in him or at least enough to know that he was worth more than that. But maybe nothing had changed at all.

But his story started to get way more specific. And way more personal. There was a lot to unpack here. The ex boyfriend, the powerful parents. Some past history with a hunter. His father was a Kitsune? The father that Rio had just casually introduced himself to? Immediately, Rio had to wonder how old the man was. How many pieces of the history that Rio studied so passionately had he been a part of? Rio had so many questions. And Rio needed to remind himself that none of them were important right now given the rest of Winn’s- Winthrop’s?? Story. “Your name is Winthrop?” Rio blurted out, for some reason, that being a key element sticking out in the story, “Sorry- that is the last thing that’s important right now. Ignore me.”

What was important right now? Winn ran through the timeline so quickly that he wasn’t sure what to ask. Or if he should ask. Winn had been intentionally vague about the hunter story? Was it Rio’s business to ask questions? To pry into that portion of his life. Something important enough to lead into another series of unfortunate events that ended up with him in White Crest of all places.

He figured that was for another time when Winn dove back into the source of their original plans. The memory loss. And its connection to being a wolf for a long period of time. Rio still wasn’t sure what he thought. He felt emotional. From the anger that he felt prior to Winn getting here to the confusion he felt hearing Winn spill his guts to him. Rio was just confused. “I uh- well I don’t know. For sure. Memory loss spells exist. I don’t know much about them though. Aside from that, I don’t think we can discount the idea that it is caused by being a wolf for a prolonged period of time. We have no idea how animals perceive time. It’s arguable that spending so long in that form could alter one’s sense of time or self.” He tapped his fingers against the bookbag, not yet pulling any of the books out but trying to pull some of the information from them through some unknown form of osmosis.

“Me? Uh- pretty boring stuff. I sleep like maybe two hours a night if I sleep at all. Been studying some ancient demon language to try to research the creepy cult that showed up in town for the squid. Did a blood ritual that gave me a creepy third eye in my hand that sometimes opens and gives me visions of chained demons. Oh! And I dyed my hair pink. So thanks.” He tried answering as nonchalantly as possible. He didn’t want to give too much detail. He was upset that he believed Winn’s excuse. If it was all some lie, Rio was as gullible as ever. If it was the truth, then why did Rio still feel so hurt?

“Um, was?” Winn tried. “Couple extra days down south to get it all changed, but it’s not my name anymore.” He left that hanging in the air, hoping Rio would drop it. It wasn’t important and, unlike Blanche or Noah, Winn knew Rio wouldn’t bring it up unless it was relevant. And, given it would never be relevant again, he figured he’d be safe. “It’s fine. I’m not going to ignore you, man, not even if you beg. Um, if you have any… questions, we can, like. I’m tryin’ to be more honest, so, like… Hit me.” He was tired of telling this story, sure, but there were things that Rio didn’t know about him. And whether or not the younger man ‘deserved’ to know them, Winn wanted this to be a space where Rio felt like he could, at least, ask.

“There’s, um, another thing. I haven’t… told anyone this, but I took wolfsbane for a while. Months. It was… laced with something. Honestly, couldn’t tell you what, and I doubt it’s in my system after all of these years. It— I thought I had stopped taking it around the time the… gap starts, but… Well, I don’t know much about wolfsbane, don’t know much about drugs, but I’ve also never met another wolf who took it for that long, who took it when it wasn’t the Moon.” He sighed, covering his eyes with his hands. The sun wasn’t that bright — well, and they’d be due for another blink soon — but Winn could feel a headache blooming in the back of his head.

“I appreciate you bein’ honest, man. It’s… Well, it’s fine to not know somethin’, even if it makes this all a bit… harder, for me to accept. There’s, uh, this guy. Says he knew me, but I’ve never seen him. We kinda… had it out. I don’t like bein’ told who I am, and I freaked out a bit, and… Anyway, my ex told me that he remembered a man whose name started with an S. So, I… Could something carve out so much time? And what happens if I get those memories back?” He took in a breath, trying to keep the slow creep of anxiety at bay. “I’m scared, Rio. Scared of what could have happened to do something to me like that. And if I did it myself, I mean— There’s just so much I don’t fucking know.”

He laughed, already more exhausted from this conversation than he’d been all week. Not that that was Rio’s fault. “I don’t mean to keep dumpin’ on you, man. You’ve got your own shit, and I’m… Christ, I’m bein’ a really bad friend right now, huh?” Winn leaned up from his place on Rio’s leg, and smiled sadly. “Demons. I— Man, I know you want to help, but it fucking sucks that you’re probably one of our only hopes. You don’t deserve this shit. I mean, none of us do, but you…” Winn looked at the sun, well, the eyeball, as it blinked slowly, and the lights went out. “Not to get all deep in the dark here, Rio, but do you ever wonder, like, why us? I mean, I know I chose to become a wolf, but I didn’t… I didn’t choose to be hated and feared. You didn’t choose to be born with the gene, but you did choose to help, but why… Why should we even have this shit around to help with?”

“I’m sorry,” Winn said, after a moment. “Really, truly, I am. I took for granted that people wouldn’t… care. If I left. And, fuck, I can’t even look you in the eyes and say I wouldn’t have done somethin’ like y’all thought I did. I didn’t, but I might’ve. Which is shitty. I told y’all, I told you, that we were friends. And I thought… I don’t know. I thought y’all didn’t care as much as I did. And, like, I’m not tryin’ to put words in your mouth, or give you a sob story. That ain’t the point. I just… figured no one would be hurt, whenever I had to leave. I was wrong. And— Shit, I just want you to know that I care about you, Orion. And I want to stick around, ‘cause y’all make my life better. I was… I was in a bad place when I came to White Crest. I’m not in a perfect place now. But I want to be here, for whatever… for whatever that’s worth. So long as y’all will have me.” And then, the sun came back, and Winn winced. Monologuing in the dark. Very chill Winner.

This was all way too much for Orion to handle right now. He had too much going on. Stressing over this just took his attention away from the plethora of other things that Rio had to stress over at the moment. But Winn was trying. He was really trying. He was rambling. Giving more information than Rio knew what to do with. His name was legally Winn now. Which seemed significant, though Winn didn’t seem too apt to talk about it. And Winn seemed open to any questions. Rio felt too tired to even ask questions right now. Especially when he felt there was still so much he didn’t know. He pushed the offer to the back of his mind for a moment. He’d circle back around to that.

Thinking about an actual assignment helped to ground Rio. He could think better when he was thinking as a researcher than something else. The idea of trying to help Winn with his research was pretty much the only thing that had convinced Rio to actually meet Winn out here. “Not knowing something actually really stresses me out so…” Rio let the sentence fade out, pausing to take a drawn out drink from his milkshake. “This just reminds me of all the other stuff I don’t actually know about.” Winn was missing information. Rio knew about Wolfsbane, knew it’s intended effects. But hadn’t known that wolves took it… recreationally? It must be like some kind of drug. “It depends on the source. If the memories were magically taken then arguably they could be magically restored. Probably.” Not that Rio was any expert on magic. “But- I mean it could be something completely mundane too. Maybe they’re repressed memories. Something your brain blocked out as some sort of defense mechanism. Did you ask your ex? Or do you know that other guy that could help fill in the blanks? Maybe if you start hearing them it will jog some sort of memory?” It was definitely more of a theory than anything Rio was confident about. He wasn’t a doctor though. He definitely wasn’t qualified to talk about this.

Rio wanted to laugh with Winn regarding the ridiculousness of the town, but when he tried it came out as more of a choked sob than anything else. “I’ve been asking that same question since… I don’t know. Probably like ten-ish? I’ve known about the supernatural for a long time. Practically my whole life. But I didn’t understand what I was at first. I like learning about others. I didn’t realize I was learning how to become a killer.” Rio couldn’t remember the moment that he had his epiphany. But it was harder to remember a time where he didn’t feel that way.

“Well… we do care.” Rio crossed his arms. There were things he wanted to say. So many doubts that filled his head that he needed answers for. If only he wasn’t too afraid to say them. Or maybe… maybe he should just say them. “Look, I- I just want to know-” Rio paused again. He didn’t know what to say. He didn’t know how to be confrontational. “I need to say stuff but I can’t say it with you looking at me so…” Rio looked at him, motioning silently for him to turn away before he finally resorted to pleaing, “Please?” When Winn wasn’t looking at him anymore, Rio followed suit and stared at the ground, focusing on counting blades of grass as he spoke. “I didn’t have any real friends growing up. I guess my sister was one of the few. I don’t even know if we were friends or not. But she did care about me. And she tried to get others to like me. She was popular. I wasn’t. The first couple years she tried to pull me into the popular group. Her friends were nice to me. Nice enough. Until she wasn’t with us to supervise. What I’m saying is- I’ve spent my whole life with pity friends. And I don’t need those. I don’t want those in my life anymore. But I can’t figure out who actually wants to be my friend and who just feels bad for the nerdy, quiet kid with social anxiety. So- if that’s what this is. I don’t care, okay? No hard feelings. We can just cut out losses and go. Because I have a lot going on and I don’t have the emotional capacity for it.” Rio realized he was gasping for breath once he was finally done talking. At first he thought that it was from rambling, but he realized quickly that he was hyperventilating. It felt like the onset of a panic attack, but Rio was keeping things surprisingly under control. He just needed to try to keep it that way.

Winn laughed, short, almost a bark. “You’re telling me... I don’t even know what I don’t know. César — the ex — doesn’t know much. Just when I stopped talking to him.” A frown, considering Rio’s story about being a Hunter. He felt for the younger man, truly. “I can’t imagine what that was like — having your curiosity taken advantage of like that.”

But Rio didn’t linger long on his past as a child of killing machines. No, instead, surprisingly, he pivoted to his own feelings. Winn would be proud, if not for the way his heart broke in two as Rio described so-called pity friends. And then he was proud, so proud, because Rio was asking him, point-blank, where they stood. Sticking up for himself. Winn wanted to hug Rio. He would. Winn turned back towards the younger, wrapping him up from behind in the biggest embrace he could manage, trying to pour the truth of his friendship, of his affection for Rio, into the squeeze. “Dude,” he said, firmly. “I would never do that to you. I like you ‘cause you’re smart, compassionate, and pet me on the scruff if I ask nice. We are friends. I swear. Maybe not close friends, not yet, but I don’t... I’m choosier than you’d think, about those I let into my life. And I want you here, if you want to be here. Of course I do.” He gave Rio another squeeze for good measure, and held it there for a moment, giving the other man a moment to compose himself.

Orion sighed, wishing that he had something, anything more that he could offer to Winn. But for now, Rio had nothing else to give. He could do some more deep diving. It didn’t make sense that Winn was the first this had ever happened to. It couldn’t have. There had to be an explanation. Rio just had to find it. “Sorry. It must be really frustrating. Losing chunks of time like this.”

Rio couldn’t believe he had actually built up the courage to lay it out like that. He could only have his friends to thank for this newfound courage. And he wasn’t sure what he expected. Nobody wanted to admit that they were just hanging out with someone out of pity, but Rio hoped that given the circumstance and how honest Rio had just been with Winn that Winn would afford the same honestly. What he hadn’t expected was to be hugged. Rio went still immediately from the surprise. Affection always took Rio off guard, but it wasn’t an unpleasant feeling. Rio had come to find that in certain situations he actually enjoyed being hugged. By the right people.

Rio really wasn’t expecting for Winn to go into detail on why he liked him. Rio was happy to get an honest answer, but all the spotlight and attention on Rio made him beet red. Maybe he shouldn’t have asked in such a public park, where prying eyes could make Rio feel even more uncomfortable and seen. All he wanted was to be invisible. “Oh. Wow. Well, that was super honest. So, uh, thanks… for being my friend?” He was fumbling through words now, unsure how to respond. When Winn unwrapped the hug, Rio sat back on the blanket and pulled his legs up into what looked like a fetal position. “So, uh— research was sort of a bust this time around. But I brought some extra books with me that we could start looking into? After I finish the rest of my food.” He dug into his bookbag for the tools he was using to change the subject. Maybe Rio was still a bit hurt, but it was at least good to know that Winn was an actual friend.

#wickedswriting #c: winn #chatzy: winn #chatzy #Lazy Afternoons

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365days365movies · 4 years ago

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February 4, 2021: You’ve Got Mail (Part 2)

You hear that? You’ve Got Mail, and it contains Part 2 of the Review! Check out Part 1 for the rest.

The Shop Around the Corner is beginning to get more public support, with Fox Books taking the role of the villain. But, OK, real talk here...it’s too fuckin’ late. Look, I’m not exactly the biggest supporter of the corporate capitalism that dominates the country, then and now, but...you’re not getting rid of this megastore. And I’m not exactly against a way to get books at lower prices. AND, for that matter, Kathleen’s shop is ONLY A CHILDREN’S BOOK STORE. Where am I going to get my tasteful hardcore Fabio-esque erotica, HUH? Or, for that matter, REALLY GOOD LOOKING DESERTS? Fox Books, that’s where! Or, y’know, at the 241 Starbucks throughout the city. Actually number, by the way, as of 2019.

As if to prove my point, the increased publicity basically changes nothing, and the store’s still on its way under. Kathleen, scared and desperate, formally asks Joe for help, and the two agree to meet. And I’m sure it’s gonna go totally fine. Kevin gives Joe a pep talk (I really like Kevin, by the way), and Joe’s FULLY PREPARED to leave Patricia and marry her on the spot. Still, nervous, he asks Kevin to look.

And yeah, that’s when Joe finds out that it’s Kathleen. And, although he initially leaves...he comes back to see her, pretending not to be the dude, WHEN HE IS OBVIOUSLY THE DUDE. This results in the two having a tete-a-tete once more. It also results in Joe learning what Kathleen thinks of his e-mail persona, making this AN ENTIRELY one-sided relationship. And goddamn, she is also EXTREMELY mean to him. What she says to him hurts ME on a personal level, GODDAMN

This movie is very weirdly mean-spirited, Jesus. And this is also after Joe points out that Kathleen’s basically cheating on Frank, and she BRUSHES IT AWAY LIKE AN INSECT. Joe, clearly (and somewhat understandably) hurt, also breaks it off online, having experienced the verbal assault (also somewhat justified, to be fair) from Kathleen.

The next morning, Joe has officially broken it off in his own head, while Kathleen is convinced that something’s happened to her online boyfriend. The workers at the shop believe that he was actually arrested, as the “Rooftop Killer,” who’s been roaming the city, and was just arrested that night. Later that day, she writes to Joe once again, admitting that she feels bad for the words she said to Joe the previous night, and that she still wishes to meet him at some point.

And Joe, conflicted and confused, reads it and walks away. And during what is a VERY neat editing flourish, he constantly walks past the computer over time, until eventually deciding to reply to her. While he initially tries to make stupid, overcomplicated excuses for ��not showing up,” he eventually replies by saying he can’t tell her, but asks for forgiveness. And his letter, despite the circumstances...is actually somewhat heartfelt. He even takes responsibility for his own actions in their conflict, whether or not she realizes it. And the two continue their correspondence.

Time marches on. We find out that Birdie maybe fucked the Spanish dictator in the ‘60s; and Kathleen breaks up with Bernard from Megamind (my girlfriend pointed this out, AND I CANNOT UNSEE IT, HOLY SHIT), after it’s revealed that they...actually don’t love each other, even a little bit. Man, what is it with Meg Ryan amicably breaking up with guys in a restaurant in New York City in February? I hate the fact that this is a specific story beat I’ve seen twice in two days.

The Shop Around the Corner officially closes (and a customer suggests bombing Fox Books, FUCKIN’ YIKES, PRE-9/11 NYC), and Kathleen visits the giant bookstore for the first time. We see the children’s section, and I gotta fuckin tell you...I like the giant bookstore way more. Yeah, sorry, I’m all about that bookcore, that small independent bookstore aesthetic...but DAMN, I love this store!

It’s also revealed that Kathleen was completely right about the employee’s lack of knowledge on books, which Joe sees first hand. Which shows that they...both had good points...huh. That’s...actually a good take on their antagonism. Interesting. Go on, movie, go on. We also find out that Kathleen Kelly has a reputation for good taste and a comprehensive knowledge of children’s books.

This is revealed by Patricia, who’s suddenly revealed to be a...heartless bitch? Self-admitted, even. That revelation is accompanied by Joe and Patricia being trapped in an elevator, where the bitchiness compounds further, and he IMMEDIATELY LEAVES HIS GIRLFRIEND. Should’ve built that up a little better, guys. Or do something else, like...I’ll wait for the Review.

Their correspondence continues, and Kathleen says goodbye to her mother’s store, and the ghosts of her happy memories with her there. It’s poignant, gotta say. The next morning, both John and his dad appear to be on the outs with their significant others, and are living on their boats. A conversation between the two makes Joe realizes that he’d like to be, well...happy in a relationship? A legitimate revelation.

Joe decides to try and make amends with Kathleen, who’s not exactly happy to see him. She’s also currently sick, but Joe’s brought her flowers. They have a conversation, during which they start to have a heart-to-heart, and Joe drops the name of the movie. Smooooooooth.

The two begin a friendship in person, with Kathleen not knowing that Joe is the person she’s been talking to, while Joe is...completely...aware...this is not OK, is it? This relationship is entirely one-sided, and in Joe’s favor. And I genuinely don’t like that. I get that, back in the late ‘90s, during the very fledgling era of internet relationships, that this is a novelty and cute. But, in a post-catfishing time, this movie has aged, once again...like vintage milk. Not fucking well.

Also, real talk, I get that they’re building their relationship as a friendship post-rivalry...but he DID still CRUSH your bookstore. He crushed your mother’s legacy in favor of his own family legacy. It’s, uh...not great, to be honest. And it’s also not terribly convincing, sorry to say. The romantic connection sort of comes out of nowhere. And as the film ends, the weird power play just gets worse and worse. I dunno, it just feels...odd to me.

At the last moment, before Kathleen is set to meet her online friend/love interest, Joe is walking with her and reveals his feelings for her, which are now quite romantic. She’s quite close to reciprocating, but leaves to go on her potential date with the mystery man. She heads to Riverside Park, where the two are to finally meet.

And they do. And she wanted it to be him, so badly.

AND I WOULD HAVE PUNCHED HIM IN THE GODDAMN FACE HOLY SHIT. HE WOULD BE ON. THE. FLOOR IF I WERE IN HER PLACE. I would be FEELING HIS TEETH on my GODDAMN KNUCKLES, I TELL YOU WHAT.

...Yeah, that’s You’ve Got Mail, and I got some fuckin’ ISSUES. See you in the Review, yeah?

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lovelylogans · 5 years ago

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cocoa

part of the wyliwf verse.

the sideshire files | read my other fics | coffee?

warnings: mention of puppy mills, dogs, secret-keeping, food mentions, recreational drinking (not to drunkenness) kissing, that’s about it. this one’s mostly fluff, folks.

pairings: moxiety, logince

words: 7,766

notes: bold of you to assume i wouldn’t take the canon dog in gilmore girls WHO WAS ORIGINALLY NAMED COCOA and directly transport it into this verse. picture of the inspiration behind wyliwf!cocoa here as a puppy and here as an adult, btw. she’s a mixed breed, definitely has some chow chow (hence the Fluffy, if u are acquainted w/ mash potato, he is a chow chow) and german shepherd (hence the coloring) along with some other Mystery Breeds in there, so!

thirty-five isn’t exactly a special birthday.

thirty-three, sure, maybe, repeated numbers. thirty? yeah, new decade! but thirty-five—well, it’s just a halfway point, isn’t it? patton doesn’t think there should be much going on in preparation for that. a dinner, a little party/get-together, and patton’d be happy, which he’s told both virgil and logan (and roman, when he wanted an excuse to throw a party.)

so virgil and logan being so evasive over the past couple weeks or so means that patton’s been getting as investigative as logan about what could be going on with the pair of them.

logan, at least, has an excuse—apparently, there was some random, weird deadline for the franklin that logan had run into and had to guide the rest of the staff through—but virgil has just been a little... well, a little strange.

he’s been intent on suddenly patching up the back fence, which he’d been on about when there were rumors of foxes and raccoons getting into trash, but that had been months ago. it seemed like a weird time for this desire to resurface, considering it’s january. there wasn’t really much of a chance of all that when the ground was basically frozen over—patton doesn’t know much about winter habits of foxes and raccoons, but he’s pretty sure they’ve gone for warmer climates, or at least might be sleeping it out.

he’s been reading some kind of articles that he keeps humming at thoughtfully and bookmarking on his phone, patton thinks, except virgil hastily turns off the phone’s screen and turns to smile at patton whenever he tries to peek.

he’s also been furtively ordering things—patton would think it’s birthday presents, except he caught a glance of one of the labels of the boxes and it’s from tiny company that, patton has searched, makes some specialty peanut butter cookies and the like. food is virgil’s thing, he wouldn’t just order it, so maybe patton got the company wrong?

and now...

patton knocks gently on the top of the coffee table, so he doesn’t startle virgil into hitting his head.

“um,” he says. “hey there, honey.”

“hey,” virgil says, forcefully casual.

“can i ask what you’re doing under the coffee table and half under the couch?”

“i, uh,” virgil says, and coughs. “thought i saw something under the couch. cleaning, you know.”

“yeah,” patton says, and settles on the ground. “except you’ve kind of been deep-cleaning the house for the past week.”

“um... yep.”

“i don’t think you could’ve missed something if you’d been trying,” patton says, amused, and reaches out to scratch a little at virgil’s back. the part he can reach, anyway.

“i’m really deep-cleaning,” virgil says.

“i kinda figured.”

“really,” virgil says, “really deep-cleaning.”

patton grins, scratches at virgil’s back again. “did you get whatever was under the couch, then?”

virgil withdraws from the couch, an old piece of paper crumpled up in his hands.

“we should really vacuum under the couches more,” virgil says, and patton leans over to kiss his cheek.

“whatever you say, darling.”

(“how do you feel about dogs?”

virgil glances up from where he’s wiping down the counter—logan, in his chilton blue-and-navy, is sitting at his counter.

“uh, i have generally positive feelings toward dogs?” virgil says. “they’re cute. i’ve never had one. wait, aren’t you supposed to be working at the franklin right now, that random deadline, right?”

ever since logan was told he’d be editor-in-chief of the franklin at the end of his junior year, and now that he’s started his senior year and has been at the helm for over five months, he’s been spending lots long afternoons at the school, deep in the journalism lab, fussing over copy and photos and ap style and page design. virgil’d be worried about him overworking himself, but he knows that mel can, has, and will kick him out if he sticks around for too long, plus dee is there to antagonize him into getting distracted, along with some other chilton friends swinging in and out.

“i made it up,” logan says. “it’s going to be a cover story.”

“a cover story,” virgil repeats slowly. “right. okay. for what?”

logan hesitates, glances around, and says, in a lowered voice to avoid eavesdroppers, “dad’s birthday is in two weeks.”

“right,” virgil says slowly.

“i think we should get him a dog.”

virgil pauses, before he sets aside the rag. “a dog,” he repeats.

“yes,” logan says. “a dog. a canine. canis lupus familiaris.”

“why a dog?” virgil says. “i mean, i know patton wanted one when he was a kid, but, well. your grandparents.”

logan hesitates, just for a moment, before he says, “i’m graduating in may.”

virgil knows this. virgil has had several crises about it. virgil has sat with patton through his various crises about it. virgil could not possibly be more aware that logan is, in fact, about to leave the nest.

“yeah,” he says.

“well,” logan says. “i’d have suggested a cat if he wasn’t allergic, but. he’s been used to taking care of someone or something for all this time. once i’m gone... it just. it might be a good way to cope, that’s all.”

“like the exact reversal of getting a dog to prepare for having kids,” virgil says, starting to get it. “getting a dog to deal with not having a kid around as much anymore.”

“yes. precisely.”

virgil considers this—he considers him and patton in the house, alone. and then he pictures a dog, big, small, medium, resting its head in patton’s lap, patton petting the dog, hugging it. taking the dog for walks and training it—well. it would be hard work. it would be a lot of energy. it’d be a commitment for however long the dog would be alive.

but it would be a comfort, too.

“all right, then. it’s time for me to start researching dogs, i guess.”

“oh, i’ve been researching breeds and training methods and house preparation and shelters in our area for a month now,” logan says briskly, and reaches into his backpack to take out a binder, and virgil really doesn’t know what he’d expected.)

...

(“hey,” virgil says, as logan slides into the passenger’s seat of his car. “how was school?”

“good,” logan says. “i had a pop quiz in latin, i think i did relatively well on it.”

“nice,” virgil says, and pulls out of the parking spot.

this is their second time visiting an animal shelter—they’d dropped by the sideshire one, but realized that they wouldn’t really be able to keep an adoption of an animal secret at home, especially considering that patton sometimes volunteered to walk the dogs there. this time, they were going to a place closer to the city that logan’s research assured them was humane, a nonprofit society, and took part in raids against illegal puppy mills and dog fighting rings—all in all, virgil thought it seemed like a pretty standup shelter.

“okay,” virgil says, as they’re pulling into a parking spot at the shelter. “and we do have a plan for if we find The Dog today, right?”

“they’ll hold a pet for you up to a certain point,” logan says. “i’ve asked mrs. prince and roman, and they said that if we had to bring the dog home earlier than anticipated, they’d be willing to house it.”

virgil nods, absorbing this, and gets out of the car.

“right, then,” virgil says. “let’s go see some dogs.”

they see some dogs. they see a lot of dogs.

they, eventually, see the dog. she’s tiny, and absurdly fluffy, and she eagerly attempts to institute herself in their laps the moment they sit down, demanding pets and treats and love, and she’s too cute for words. she snuffles at them eagerly and wags her tail so hard virgil kind of fears that she’ll fall over to the side, but she’s so energetic she’d probably bound up again immediately, wagging her tail even faster. she’s got big, clumsy paws, and big ears, and a too-long tail, and big, chocolate brown eyes that she’ll probably grow into. when she licks at his chin, he's basically sold immediately.

“virgil,” logan says, in the midst of petting the puppy, examining her temporary plastic collar. “look at her name.”

virgil leans enough to check the little paper sheet full of the information on the outside of the weird room-crate things this shelter’s got going on, and lets out a low whistle.

“right, then,” virgil says. “that’s that.”

“we have a dog,” logan says, with a smile that he hasn’t quite tamped down—virgil realizes, belatedly, this is logan’s first pet outside of the occasional goldfish and smuggled-in-from-the-outdoors frog or turtle, and maybe all the face-licking and snuffling and puppy eyes had sold logan, too.

“we have a dog,” virgil agrees.)

“oh my gosh oh my gosh oh my gosh oh my gosh!!!!” patton hears roman squealing from where he’s in the kitchen, and patton leans his head out in time to see roman holding logan’s phone and cooing.

“what’s up?” patton says, toting the two bowls of popcorn he’d been in charge of preparing and settling back down on the couch next to virgil, and roman and logan both look up from the phone, roman grinning.

“oh—nothing,” roman says, and passes logan’s phone back to him. “just a cute, um, dance picture thing, s’all.”

“can i see?” patton asks.

“it was a snapchat,” roman says. “faded away after ten seconds.”

“oh, darn,” patton says. “what movie were we going to watch, again?”

“maybe we should watch lassie,” roman says, voice in that faux-innocent tone he’s been using when he’s up to mischief for years, and logan elbows him hard in the side. patton looks to virgil, confused.

“did i miss something?”

“maybe best if you don’t ask,” virgil advises him, and patton nods, taking a handful of popcorn.

...

patton’s decided to take a page from his son’s book and keep notes about things he’s noticed that are Weird, partially because he’s bored and partially because he’s now very interested in whatever’s going on here.

there’s the whole fence thing, as virgil had spent a good chunk of his saturday hauling out his and patton’s shared toolbox and grumbling irritably at the fence as he patches up holes and makes sure nothing can get into the backyard, sometimes retreating back into the house to stick his hands somewhere on patton’s person in order to warm up and drinking tea before he went back out there.

(“does this seem secure enough to hold a puppy?” virgil asks logan, when he comes out to the yard. “i mean, she’s really small, but she probably couldn’t fit through any of these holes, right? plus she’s growing.”

“she’ll be on a leash most of the time, anyway,” logan points out.

“i know, but—”

“virgil. the fence is fine.”)

he’s also hidden a variety of boxes away somewhere, labels that he’ll cover with his hands and say “don’t look don’t look birthday surprise!” which only makes patton want to look even more, and really, patton doesn’t think he’s a person that virgil needs to get several boxes of gifts for, so he’s dying to figure that one out when the time comes.

(“how does a dog require so much stuff?” logan says disbelievingly, sorting through the latest incoming purchase. “is this order just entirely collars?”

“harnesses, too, but she’ll grow out of them!” virgil says. “so we’ll have ones for when she does, i’m planning.”

“you’re going to spoil this dog,” logan says. “you’ve bought her bandanas.”

“look me in the eyes and tell me that patton wouldn’t love to accessorize his dog with bandanas,” virgil says, pointedly ignoring the suspiciously familiar black bandana with purple plaid stitched on with thick white thread that logan shakes at him accusingly.)

the whole deep-cleaning-the-house thing hasn’t stopped, and sure, it’s nice and tidy, but really, there’s only so much deep cleaning you can do before you can pronounce a two-bedroom, one-and-a-half bath house with one bedroom he wouldn’t go into, considering it’s logan’s room, fully clean, right?

(“i know puppies chew on things, but virgil, this is getting ridiculous,” logan says. “you’ve puppy-proofed the entire house at least five times. if she chews on something at this point, she’s to be commended for her creativity.”

“i just want to be sure she doesn’t choke on anything,” virgil says.

“i am positive the puppy won’t chew on old paper,” logan says pointedly. “and even if she does, if it isn’t a huge thing of paper, she’ll be fine.”

“don’t come crying to me when she throws up in your room, then.”)

he keeps going to the town library? sure, virgil’s a reader—not as much as logan, but maybe no one could ever be as much of a reader as logan is—but usually he brings books home and sets them on the bedside table and reads them gradually, over the course of a few days, but a few people have mentioned to him that they’ve seen virgil in the library, he’s reading books there and not at home, though no one’s really seen exactly what he’s reading.

(“what... is that?”

“um. it—apparently, it’s—i read that if we give her a hot water bottle and a ticking clock near her sleeping area, it imitates the heat and heartbeat of her littermates and helps her get acclimated to her environment better, so—so it’s a clock. for her.”

“virgil. you went out and bought a clock. for the dog.”

“okay, look, whose idea was it to get a dog in the first place?!”

“i haven’t bought a clock for the dog!”)

and now—

“babe,” patton says, dragging his fist across his still-sleepy-bleary eyes and settling his glasses on his nose, and virgil jumps before he pivots.

“hey!” virgil says. “i—sorry, did i wake you up?”

“no, just woke up and saw the time and wondered where you were,” patton says. he’d like to be coordinated about his affection, but he is very sleepy, so he just plods over to virgil and, essentially, walks straight into him until virgil wraps his arms around him with a soft laugh.

“sorry,” virgil murmurs, and kisses his temple. “i’ll be right up, i promise.”

patton peeks around his shoulder, and says, “was filling up some kind of new cookie jar really a huge priority, this time of night?”

“i—no,” virgil admits. “i just kind of got into the swing of doing dishes and wiping down the table and i ended up—well. filling up a new cookie jar.”

“i didn’t even know we got a new cookie jar,” patton says.

“surprise,” virgil says. patton reaches forward, intending to steal one of these apparently-good-enough-to-stay-up-past-midnight-for cookies, and virgil quickly closes a hand over patton’s wrist.

“um, probably not a best idea at this time of night,” virgil says. “sugar’ll keep you up.”

“that is a blatant lie,” patton says, and virgil leans down to kiss him again—quick, almost chaste.

“then it’ll be too much of a fuss to brush your teeth again,” virgil says, and sets the lid on the top of the jar before physically turning patton around. “let’s get to bed, yeah?”

“you’re being weird,” patton says, then decides, “i’ll deal with it in the morning.”

except in the morning, like it’s some kind of strange fever dream, the new cookie jar’s gone.

(”why did you decide to fill up the jar with dog treats in the middle of the night,” logan hisses at virgil as virgil’s making breakfast, logan looking for somewhere to hide the jar before patton comes downstairs, and ends up cramming it in the cupboard under the sink.

“it just happened!” virgil says defensively.)

...

the thing about instituting house rules for birthdays is that they tend to get thrown back at you.

“but i can—“

“no,” virgil says, from where he’s double-checking that the streamers will stay up if someone leans against the wall. “house rules. it’s your house, you know them.”

“virgil,” patton grumbles. “you wouldn’t be ruining my birthday if i helped with my decorations—”

“nope,” virgil says. “if i wasn’t allowed to cook on my birthday, you’re not allowed to decorate.”

patton sinks back against the couch with a huff, crossing his arms.

it’s been a very nice birthday, generally speaking. virgil made a massive breakfast, eggs and hashbrowns and bacon and biscuits and chocolate croissants and donuts, and didn’t monitor his hot cocoa/coffee consumption, for once, and logan and roman had swung by for breakfast before swinging out again (“i’m under oath,” roman had said solemnly, when patton asked them what they were up to) and they still haven’t come back, even though the party’s due to start in ten minutes.

once virgil has triple-checked everything, and fetched patton a glass of wine, he tugs patton to his feet and wraps his arms around him, smiling down at him.

“hi,” patton says, not quite able to keep the grudging tone he’d been trying to go for.

“hey,” virgil says. “happy birthday.”

a smile breaks out on patton’s face, even when he’s very sure he’d tried not to let that happen. “you’ve told me that already.”

“and i’ll probably say it again,” virgil says, and he leans down to kiss patton, and kiss him, warm and soft and the best kind of overwhelming, and patton really regrets having to break the kiss in order to breathe, but he very much likes the small, needy, breathless sound that virgil makes when he does.

the doorbell rings, and patton groans, leaning his head against virgil’s chest.

“the timing of whoever’s at the door,” he informs virgil’s sternum, “is terrible.”

virgil snorts and drops a kiss to the top of patton’s head, and patton reluctantly disentangles himself from virgil in order to answer it.

he really should have expected who it is.

“patton,” his father says. “happy birthday.”

“thanks, dad, mom,” patton says, and steps aside so that they can file into his house.

“hi richard, emily,” virgil says. “do you want something to drink?”

“stoli on the rocks with a twist, if you can manage it,” emily says.

“richard? oh, patton, here’s your wine,” virgil adds, pushing the glass into his hands again.

richard requests scotch.

“i can—”

“absolutely not,” virgil says, and presses a kiss to his cheek. “stay out here in case anyone comes to the door, yeah?”

patton sighs, and does.

the party fills up in waves—isadora and emily are engaging in some kind of silent stare-off in the corner as richard has, once again, escaped from a party with a magazine in hand—and soon enough, patton’s busy entertaining people and making the rounds. it fills up so slowly that patton almost doesn’t notice until he ducks back into the kitchen to check on virgil, how chaotic it is, how it’s just a bit too noisy—he thinks that most of the inn’s employees have shown up, as well as his friends and neighbors from throughout sideshire.

and when he gets into the kitchen, the quiet nearly overwhelms him. patton has to lean against a counter and let out a slow breath when it hits him.

virgil glances up from where he’s been topping off some snack bowls, and sets them aside.

“hey there,” he says, and drops a kiss on top of patton’s head—patton’s cheeks flush, feeling warmer than he already is, and he beams up at him.

“hi,” patton says.

“having fun?”

"mhm,” patton says, and winds his arms around virgil. “missing my fella, though.”

virgil smiles down at him, soft, and brushes a curl off his forehead.

“i have had,” patton informs him, “some wine.”

virgil’s grin grows a bit more wry. “that so?”

“i haven’t caught anyone at it, but someone keeps filling up my glass and i suspect remy,” patton says.

“yeah, he would,” virgil grumbles.

“i’ll understand what’s going on between you two someday,” patton says—the slightly-joking-but-not-really rivalry between them has bemused patton for years now.

virgil snorts, once. patton’s about to poke fun at him a bit more, but there’s the chime of a text message, and virgil digs his phone out of his pocket.

“it’s logan,” he says. “i’m just gonna make sure that he’s got your surprise all set.”

“it has to be brought into the house?” patton says, and blinks up at him. “but what about all those boxes?”

“you’ll see,” virgil says, and twines his fingers with patton’s, tugging him out into the living room. patton gets parked soundly on the couch.

“wait here.”

“for my surprise?”

“for your surprise,” virgil confirms, and patton squeezes virgil’s hand tight before he lets him go.

“a surprise?” dot, his neighbor, asks.

“in five or so minutes,” patton says. “or, whenever virgil and logan come back, i guess.”

“oh, the surprise,” babette says, and winks at morey—neither of them holding cinnamon, which is strange, considering their cat comes with them everywhere. “morey, the surprise is coming.”

“you know what it is?”

“know what what is?” sookie asks, looking up from the tray of canapés she’s brought and is still experimenting with.

patton’s distantly aware that other people are disrupting their own conversations in order to turn attention to his, but he can’t really care right now.

“my birthday surprise,” patton tells sookie. “virgil’s been acting weird for the past couple weeks, and apparently all the investigative skills in the family went to logan, because i’ve been trying to figure it out and i’ve got zilch.”

“well, it is a surprise,” sookie says reasonably.

“babs?”

“sorry, sugar,” babette says, and patton sighs. just a little.

“well, i’ll find out soon, i guess,” patton says.

...

“hey,” virgil says.

“hello,” logan says, holding tight to the leash; the puppy is teething at the leash, too, still attempting to walk forward even though logan’s come to a stop.

“hi,” roman adds, holding the box that virgil had gotten specifically for this.

there’s a bit of weight on virgil’s shoe—the puppy’s come forward, set her little paws on his boots, and is sniffing eagerly at his jeans.

“hi,” virgil says (he does not coo) and leans down to pet her, scratching behind her ears, before he glances up to see roman grinning at him.

virgil coughs, and says, gruff, “here, give me the leash, i can get her ready for the surprise.”

logan hands over the leash, and roman sets down the box, before he digs out—

“seriously?”

“if you’re getting a dog as a birthday present, you have to put a bow around her neck, it’s practically the law,” roman says. virgil sighs and snatches it away.

“fine, fine,” he says. “go inside, text me when everything’s all set.”

roman takes logan’s hand, and logan pulls him toward the house; there’s a swell of music as the front door opens, then closes.

“okay,” virgil tells the dog. “um. so, you’re about to meet patton.”

the puppy continues to chew at her leash, still looking at him with her chocolate brown eyes.

“patton’s the best,” he tells her. “and he’s gonna love you, and we’re—you know. we’re gonna take care of you, and—and we’ve never taken care of a dog before, but we managed to raise a kid okay, and you’ve never lived with humans before, so we’re both new at this. we’ll do the best we can. okay?”

the dog tilts her head.

“i’m talking to a puppy,” virgil mutters, and shakes his head. “right, then. let’s get you all set.”

he puts the puppy into the box—it’s got a lid and a box, both separately wrapped, it has a blanket in the bottom, and cut-out handles so that virgil can carry her, and so that she gets air—and carefully removes her leash.

“comfy?” he asks.

she sits.

“good girl,” he murmurs, because reinforcing praise is important, and pets her for a bit. he looks at the bow roman had given him—big and red, of course—before he carefully ties it to her collar. she attempts to nip at it, before virgil wiggles his fingers in front of her face, distracting her.

“okay,” virgil says. “we can just sit here and wait until logan or roman texts us, yeah? and i can just keep petting you.”

so he does—at once point, virgil’s practically in the box with her because it turns out the puppy very much likes belly rubs, but it also turns out that fingers are, potentially, the best teething tool of all time (virgil is familiar with this, but it’s been about sixteen or so years since logan’s needed to chew at his fingers) so she is very conflicted between letting virgil scratch her belly and chewing at virgil’s fingers.

virgil’s phone buzzes, and virgil removes a hand in order to check—logan’s said He’s ready—and leans in to peek at the puppy.

“okay,” he says. “i’m gonna put the lid on, and i’m gonna carry you around for a little, but you’ll be out of the box soon, okay? and you’ll meet patton, who i’m sure will spoil you rotten and pet you until you’re sick of it.”

she wags her tail.

“cool,” virgil says, and carefully sets the lid on the box, and even more carefully picks up the box, making sure that the box stays level.

before he has to consider how he’s going to hold this (frankly kind of absurdly too big) box and open the door, roman opens the door for him, grinning. also, he’s holding his phone horizontally, which means he’s definitely recording this.

patton’s smiling, but there’s a curious glint in his eyes as virgil shuffles slowly forward, very conscious of the tiny little puppy in the box that he doesn’t want to jostle.

the people at the party have also ringed around the room—babette and morey, who have remembered not to bring cinnamon, since he doesn’t know how the puppy will react to a cat, dot and larry, sookie and michel, and emily has somehow managed to pull richard away from his magazine, among everyone else—watching as virgil carefully sets the box at patton’s feet.

"logan just told me that the deadline was a cover story,” patton tells virgil. “you’re in trouble.”

virgil grins. “all of this was logan’s idea in the first place, actually. i thought it was a real deadline too until he brought me in on it.”

patton huffs, put-upon. “well,” he says airily, and elbows logan jokingly, “this better be a good surprise, then.”

“open it and see,” virgil says.

patton leans forward, and begins to pry off the lid. virgil waits with bated breath.

as soon as he gets the lid off and seems to catch a glimpse of what’s inside, patton squeals in shock, jerking away from the box, and for a second virgil thinks they’ve horribly miscalculated and patton’s actually afraid of dogs, but that’s before he leans right back forward again and reaches down to pet the puppy.

“hi,” patton croons, and then he starts to giggle—before he puts his hands over his face, before he peeks out again, like he was checking to be sure that the puppy wasn’t a hallucination and that she wouldn’t disappear as soon as he took his eyes off her. and then he looks at virgil, eyes bright and eager and excited, laughing the whole time.

“is this real?!” patton demands between giggles.

“of course it’s real,” logan says, and patton puts his hands over his face for a second, before leaning back forward and reaching down to pet the dog.

“oh my god, oh my god, oh my god,” patton repeats, and, with a jolt, virgil realizes that he’s crying, and patton meets eyes with him, beaming hugely, and virgil feels some kind of unnameable emotion swell up in his chest—the closest he can get to identifying it is joy.

“hello,” patton repeats to the puppy, then, to virgil, “can i hold it?”

“do whatever you want, she’s your dog,” virgil points out, unable to stop his own smile.

“she’s a girl?”

“she’s a girl,” logan confirms, “ten weeks old,” and patton carefully reaches in, still giggling all the while, and carefully hoists the dog into his lap, therefore bringing the dog into the view of the rest of the room, which makes a variety of gasping, cooing noises that are really exactly what a surprise puppy deserves.

“oh my gosh,” patton repeats, and giggles even louder when the puppy sniffs at his face, and licks the tears off his cheeks. “oh, my gosh, hi there, sweetheart!”

the puppy squirms, and patton adjusts his grip, staring.

“she’s so fluffy,” he says in awe. “oh, my gosh, she’s like a teddy bear, look at how fluffy she is!”

the puppy is, indeed, very fluffy, and very stuffed-animal-esque in her adorable-ness, and patton sniffles, burying his face in her fur, just for a moment. the puppy wiggles a little, in order to keep licking and sniffing at patton, so patton resurfaces after a few seconds, crying harder than ever.

patton’s grinning, so virgil’s pretty sure he’s crying because he’s happy, but he wants to be sure, so—

“do you like her?” virgil asks hesitantly.

“i love her,” patton sobs, and virgil climbs onto the couch, so that he can wrap an arm around patton’s shoulders and kiss him on the cheek.

“i can’t believe you got me a puppy,” patton chokes out, and sniffles noisily, before pressing a kiss to the puppy’s forehead and settling her on his lap.

“logan, technically, campaigned for you to get a puppy, i was just the one who was legally able to adopt her,” virgil says, and patton turns to logan, smiling.

“you should check her collar,” logan suggests, before patton can get any more emotional than he already is.

“her collar?” patton says.

“her name,” virgil elaborates. “which the shelter gave her and you can change it, if you want to, but—”

“you won’t want to,” logan says.

patton adjusts the bow, and takes hold of the little temporary tag virgil’s gotten her, before they can register her with the vet near sideshire and make sure that they’ve got record of all her shots and the fact that she’s been spayed and microchip her so on, and takes a moment to read it. his jaw drops.

“no way,” he says.

“way,” virgil says.

“her name is cocoa?” patton gasps. “that’s perfect!”

“told you,” logan murmurs.

“hi, cocoa!” patton croons to the puppy, holding her up in a way that’s vaguely reminiscent of lion king, except it’s at face-level and looking toward him. “hi there, my sweet girl! are you cocoa? i think you are!”

cocoa wriggles in protest, attempting to lean forward and lick patton’s face, and patton holds her tight in his arms, face just glowing, and yeah, wow, this was an amazing idea, go logan.

“so you’re definitely okay with the surprise pet,” virgil checks, and patton laughs, leaning forward to kiss him, the puppy attempting to free herself from between them, and it’s one of those amazing, perfect moments that virgil will keep with him forever, not to sound sappy or anything.

the party’s basically permanently derailed, after that.

people approach the puppy in groups, which means that virgil learns a bit more about cocoa: she likes fetch, but only for one or two throws before she gets distracted by something else. she really likes it when you scratch her neck, under her collar, because her back leg starts doing that thumping thing that dogs do when you’ve hit the sweet spot. she likes to play tug of war, which is normal, but she grabs onto pant legs with her teeth and clings even as she gets dragged around the room, so they’ll have to train her out of that.

he also hasn’t really been able to seen her walk around a room, but since she’s got stubby little puppy legs and too-big paws that she needs to grow into, she practically waddles, which is both hilarious and adorable, and virgil witnesses her trip over her paws a couple times, which is cute, even if his heart stops and he half-lunges toward her in the time that it takes for her to re-establish her balance, tail wagging, and continue happily toddling along her intended path.

patton’s attention to most of the rest of the party is lost, too, since he keeps sitting on the floor and playing with the puppy, following her from group to group and randomly bursting into giggles at the sight of her doing something even slightly adorable, which, considering she is a very cute dog, is very often. he occasionally leans down to scoop her up into her arms and kiss her, which, well, virgil remembers him doing something similar with logan when logan was first able to walk reliably enough but still stumbling every few steps, so he probably shouldn’t be surprised.

patton is also half the reason the puppy is getting introduced to everyone. case in point:

“this is your grand-dog,” patton tells emily cheerfully, holding cocoa out in a way that emily would be able to take him. “you can hold her, she’s very light and very soft and very fluffy.”

emily looks like she’s about to decline the offer, like she doesn’t want cocoa to shed all over her fancy skirtsuit, before she sees virgil mouthing hold the goddamn dog behind patton’s head. she sighs, but she holds the dog, in a way that clearly denotes that she has never held a dog before—hands under cocoa’s armpits, letting her legs dangle in the air.

she stares at cocoa. cocoa stares at her, legs paddling in the air.

“you can hold her like a baby,” patton says helpfully, “that’s okay too” and emily adjusts her grip accordingly.

and then she just. holds the dog. she doesn’t pet cocoa or anything. she’s just holding cocoa like a baby.

“isn’t she cute?!” patton says happily.

“...certainly,” emily says stiffly.

“i love her,” patton says.

“hmph,” she says, “well,” and passes cocoa back to patton, before she swipes her hands across her jacket, attempting to discard the fur.

“i’m gonna introduce her to dad,” patton says happily, and goes off to find richard as emily continues to sweep her hands across her shirt.

virgil digs the lint roller out of his hoodie, and holds it out.

"ah,” she says.

she brushes it along, and, once she’s satisfied, she moves to hand it back, before she pauses.

“where did you get this dog?” she asks suspiciously, as if virgil has specifically gotten a flea-infested rabid dog for the sole purpose of getting her to hold it, so it can infect her.

“a shelter,” virgil says.

“which one?” she says. “is it reputable?”

“you were on their donor wall,” virgil says, non-chalant. “so i’d sure hope so.”

she pulls a face at him—well, the emily equivalent of pulling a face. so, virgil one, emily zip.

“what breed is she?”

“german shepherd, chow mix,” virgil says mildly. “there’s some other breeds in there too, we think, but—”

“you should have gone to a breeder.”

“she was a rescue from a puppy mill,” virgil says, even more mildly, “so—“

emily sighs, long and irritated, before she says doubtfully, “it was logan’s idea to get a dog.”

“yep, it was,” virgil says.

“why would logan suggest a dog?” emily says, and virgil glances around—richard is holding the dog slightly better, and tilting his head at it with the same curiosity that he does at a headline about “the youths.”

“he’s worried about patton empty-nesting in the fall,” virgil says. “he wanted to be sure that patton still had something to take care of, so. dog.”

“and that was logan’s idea,” she says. “not yours.”

“...yeah,” virgil says.

“you must have had some other idea for patton’s birthday,” she says, as if doubting that virgil has not masterminded the whole dog plot and cocoa will eventually be trained into a vicious attack dog that specifically goes for white people in the upper tax bracket, or something, as if she is not currently chasing a ball tossed by richard, and then she slides and wipes out in a hilarious fashion before scrambling back onto her paws, tail wagging, panting eagerly, looking like the clumsiest and least threatening dog that had ever lived.

and virgil thinks about the jewelry stores he’s got listed in his private notes, the inspiration rings he’s got saved in about seven randomly named, nested folders on his password-protected laptop that you can’t find without searching for it specifically, the budget that he’s already schemed out, the various ideas that he’ll probably ask logan to help fine-tune, and he shrugs.

“nothing that can’t wait.”

...

patton’s still kind of in shock, but, like, the best kind of shock.

because. he has a dog. he has a dog!!! the surprise is a puppy!

she’s adorable! patton loves her already! whenever he looks at her it feels like his heart is made of melty gooey marshmallows!

“no cocoa baby don’t eat that,” patton says, gently removing a piece of wrapping paper from her mouth. she attempts to follow it, despite the fact that he puts it out of her reach, and he puts a dog toy (virgil has been pulling out absurd amounts of dog supplies from every hidden nook and cranny in the house since the party ended) in her line of sight instead, squeaking it. cocoa takes that instead, lying down with a little thump, gnawing it at it.

“so, the way i get you to follow your own house rules is to give you a puppy,” virgil says, amused, picking up the wrapping paper and putting it in the trash bag that he’s filling with trash from the party, “got it.”

patton grins up at him sheepishly. “i could help if you—”

“nope,” virgil says, “absolutely not,” and runs his fingers through patton’s hair, scratching gently at his scalp, before he goes to sweep the coffee table of discarded paper plates and napkins.

“god, she’s so cute,” roman gushes, from where he and logan are sitting across from patton, the three of them kind of boxing cocoa in, but she doesn’t seem to mind. “i love her floppy little ears, and her big ol’ eyes, and her fluffy perfect face—”

“she is an aesthetically pleasing dog,” logan agrees.

she is. she’s varying shades of brown, fawn and chocolate and chestnut and coffee and taupe, with a splash of white on her chest. her ears are a gradient of the varying shades of brown, and her snout is the same dark color as the edges of her ears. her fluff levels are truly off the charts, and she has pink little beans for toes, and her eyes are so soulful that patton’s genuinely going to get beaten out in the “best-puppy-dog-eyes-in-the-house” competition, though he passively wonders if she still counts considering she is a puppy dog, but—

“jeez, logan, you don’t have to be so sentimental about it,” roman teases.

cocoa squeaks her toy in agreement. it’s shaped like a mallard, with a goofy, cartoonish grin on its bill.

gradually, naturally, the conversation dies down, and they’re all left in a companionable silence, except for the occasional murmur of “you comfy?” between his son and his son’s boyfriend, and patton softly entreating cocoa with a variety of pet-centric nicknames that he can barely make sense of—sweet girl, fuzzyface, sugarbun, marshmallow, kissyface—and eventually, cocoa flops onto her side and snoozes with a variety of tiny puppy snoring noises, and patton’s heart’s so full it feels like it might burst.

and once the house is relatively clean (a bit impossible to be fully clean, with the clutter that’s so ingrained into the house it’s practically a piece of furniture, patton barely notices it anymore) virgil settles onto the ground with patton with a soft huff, and briefly leans his head against patton’s shoulder, before pressing a kiss to his cheek.

“good birthday?”

“amazing birthday,” patton corrects. “fantastic birthday. really spectacular birthday.”

virgil smiles, just a little. “good.” a pause, and then, “late, though.”

patton stifles his smile—virgil fussing about food and caffeine intake and about his sleep schedule has really been happening for as long as they’ve known each other. “you’re right,” he agrees. “i—d’you think cocoa needs to go out?”

“probably,” virgil agrees. “i’ll go with you.”

patton nods, and reaches out to scoop cocoa into his arms—she stirs a little, before settling in his arms just like a slumbering baby, and okay, patton might cry a little, she’s so cute?!

“remember to sleep out in the living room,” patton reminds. “don’t stay up too late, kids.”

he gets “we won’ts” that he’s not sure how close they’ll stick to, and a “happy birthday” from roman and a hug from his son, as virgil trails him toward the backyard. patton descends the patio steps, before he carefully places cocoa, paw-first, onto the grass. she folds herself up and it seems like she’s content to continue sleeping in the grass.

“no,” patton scolds, in a half-laugh, putting her on her paws again. “c’mon, puppy, do your business, and then you can sleep for as long as you want.”

cocoa seems to sigh, before she toddles forward a few steps, nose firmly stuck to the grass to sniff and investigate, and arms come around patton’s waist. patton smiles, leaning back into the warmth of it—january birthdays meant sometimes white birthdays, which were cool, but the cold was just something else—tilting his chin a little, and virgil obligingly presses a kiss to his cheek.

“you’re seriously good with the surprise pet,” virgil checks, and patton huffs a laugh, leaning back against virgil’s chest and securing his grip on virgil’s wrists, to keep him there.

“i’m seriously good with the surprise pet,” patton promises, and he feels virgil’s warm breath of relief against his ear.

“okay, cool,” virgil says, and admits, “i figured you probably would be cool with a dog, generally, since you walk dogs at the shelter a lot, but—”

“i love her,” patton says, leaning a little to see virgil’s face. “thank you.”

virgil flushes, and patton doesn’t think it’s just because of the cold.

“it was logan’s idea,” he mumbles.

“i know,” patton says, and then, “did he tell you why?”

virgil hesitates, before he shrugs. “empty-nesting,” he says.

“ah,” patton says quietly.

the fact that his baby is going to college has been on his mind every single day, since logan first got back his test scores and started sketching out plans at the kitchen table. patton’s been with him to visit a few colleges, and he’s—well, kids grow up, right? that’s what they’re supposed to do.

it doesn’t mean that the idea doesn’t make patton sad and anxious and really eager for some way to slow down time, too.

patton shakes himself, and says, “his idea, huh?”

“yep.”

patton starts to smile again, and he says, “i bet it wasn’t his idea to get her specialty peanut-butter treats, though.”

“...no.”

“or a ton of bandanas for her to wear. including a custom one that looks like your hoodie.”

“...well—”

“or the tons of harnesses and collars, or the big bed that we aren’t fully sure she’ll grow into, or all the toys, or—”

“i get it, i get it,” virgil grumbles. patton leans up to peck a quick kiss to his lips, turning more fully in his arms and wrapping his arms around virgil’s neck.

“i love that about you,” he says.

“what?” virgil says.

“you’re a carer,” patton says. “you’re all gruff and grumbly on the outside, but if you see someone who needs help or needs to be taken care of, you’re all like, oh yes, of course, here’s this friends and family discount, what do you mean it’s brand new, this has always been here, or inviting them to your family’s christmas, or helping take care of their son, or offering couches to crash on and shoulders to cry on.”

patton pauses, and allows, smiling, “or cleaning up the house to make sure that they won’t find anything they’ll accidentally choke on, or patching up the fence so she can’t get out and nothing can get in, or doing secret research at the town library.”

and virgil’s flush definitely isn’t from the cold. virgil swallows, and says, in a voice that’s just a little bit shy and quiet, “it’s your birthday.”

“i know,” patton says simply. “i’m allowed to be sappy on my birthday.”

“course you are,” virgil says, and patton leans up to kiss him, before he turns back to squint out at the lawn. or at least, he means to.

because virgil’s fingers around his wrist prevent him from doing that, and before patton can ask, virgil’s bending just a little to press their lips together, cupping his face between both of his hands, and patton feels his heart do that happy little flutter it always seems to do around virgil. patton sighs, and if his eyes weren’t closed—when had he done that?—he’d be sure that it’d be a puff of steam in the cold air. virgil takes advantage of it, pressing in, so overwhelming but so gentle and patton can only wrap his arms around virgil’s neck and hang on tight.

when they part, patton blinks up at him, dizzy and dazed in the best kind of way.

“what was that for?”

“i’m allowed to kiss you on your birthday,” virgil teases him, smirking just a bit, and patton grins right back, hoping it looks as full of promise as he wants it to be. he leans in to kiss him again, but he’s interrupted by the sound of soft snuffling at their feet, and they both glance down.

cocoa’s staring up at them with an expression she could have gotten straight from logan—like, really, dads?

“okay, okay,” patton allows with a slight laugh, bending to pick her up again. “good girl, we get it, we can go back inside.”

virgil does lean in and give him a kiss over cocoa’s head, though, and patton beams at him with his arms full of fluffy, ten-week-old dog.

they climb the stairs, and virgil moves to the closet, and patton collapses onto the bed, letting cocoa down. she paces a few circles, before she curls up into a cozy-looking ball.

virgil glances back, and says, “patton.”

“what?” patton says innocently, sitting on the bed beside cocoa.

“if we want her to sleep in her actual bed, we have to start training her early,” virgil says.

“she’ll be lonely,” patton points out.

“i specifically bought her a hot water bottle and a clock to make sure that wouldn’t happen,” virgil says.

“um—?”

“hot water bottle to simulate warmth and clock to simulate the heartbeat of her littermates, to help her adjust,” he explains, and yeah, wow, patton adores him.

“virgil, i hate to point out the obvious,” patton says, grinning, “but i happen to know two people who get pretty warm in their sleep and who both happen to have heartbeats.”

virgil hesitates.

“just for tonight?” patton says, pouting just a little. “for my birthday.”

virgil sighs. “i know what you’re doing,” he grumbles.

“you can think about it,” patton says, and gets up to tug lightly at virgil’s hand. “we can do some other stuff, first.”

virgil’s eyes start to get that dark, familiar gleam that makes a secret, almost illicit-feeling thrill shoot down patton’s spine.

but later, when they both slide under the covers that night, freshly showered and fully intent on going straight to sleep this time, virgil makes no noises of protest about the cuddly ball of fluff that’s nuzzled her way between their bellies, and even when her tiny paws dig into their stomachs in her sleep, and she wakes them up when she adjusts, and they both have to contort into awkward positions rather than wake the dog and move her, virgil doesn’t make a noise of protest.

she never really ends up trained to sleep in her own bed at night, either.

#my post #text #the sideshire files #my fic #Two Fics In One Day Babyyyyyy

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tysonrunningfox · 5 years ago

Text

Ripped: Part 24

Guys. This is...this.

Ao3

000000

The ride to the station in the back of Grisly’s unmarked car is a blur that smells like the heavy stink of Hiccup’s anxiety, blood, and the new car scented air freshener hanging from the rear view mirror. Grisly hums continuously, a tune that elevator designers would find too festive, and Hiccup can’t decide whether he’s better off thinking or not thinking, not that he seems to have a choice aside from staring wide eyed at the back of the passenger seat, arm throbbing from being wrenched behind his back.

He stumbles when Grisly half shoves him in front of a wall striped in foot wide increments, nearly smacking his forehead on a crisp number 6 before regaining his balance. Grisly produces a plastic board displaying a six-digit booking number and Hiccup’s name in block letters, the roman numeral ‘III’ included at the end like this is some kind of cosmic déjà vu, before handing it over and stepping behind the ancient mugshot camera.

Hiccup’s dad was arguing about funds to get that camera replaced when he died, and his presence haunts the room like a poltergeist too disappointed to step in as Hiccup’s savior.

“Say Guilty,” Grisly teases, canines sharp and somehow bright even though he’s standing outside the circle of garish light from the halogen lamp dangling above Hiccup’s head. “My boy, at least try not to look so stunned, I will be bringing Astrid a keepsake when I see her next. Not that she’ll be keeping anything for long.”

Astrid.

Her name snaps him out of his daze and his heart thuds back to life, slamming so hard in his chest he’s worried about it making him throw up what he kept in at her apartment. Grisly’s going to go after her, he has to stop him. There has to be a way to stop him, and Hiccup drops his booking number, reflexively struggling against the handcuffs.

“Now, Hiccup, this still has to look good in the system,” Grisly shoves the board back in his hands and he elbows the wall hard enough that it sparks up his arm, like the time he got caught trying to twist out of his dad’s stolen handcuffs and had to talk fast. “Some of that stubbornness you’re so famous for. Show me how brittle that strong chin is.”

Grisly taps his own chin and Hiccup grinds his teeth, standing up straight and holding the board at a coquettish angle in front of his chest.

“Be sure to get my good side.” Hiccup is in the system. He’s stuck here as long as it takes to process him, and as long as he’s not in a cell, as long as he can see Grisly, Grisly can’t get at Astrid. She is safe as long as Grisly is with him.

Ask a few hundred Trip Advisor reviews averaging a solid four point two, he can fill dead space and captivate an audience.

“Right profile then,” Grisly indicates that he turn and he sighs, anything to keep sound coming out because if it stops, the paralysis might set back in.

“Wait,” he says as the camera flashes, heartbeat too fast and off kilter, like a hummingbird in a slowly tipping cage, “All Right, in the creepy comic sans note that you obviously wrote—”

“I thought it sounded like you,” Grisly steps into the light, only serving to wash the last ghost of color out of his cheeks, “blathering on like you do, saying nothing of substance.”

“Comic sans?” Hiccup snorts, breathing deep and leaning into his longest, best known role.

His dad used to say that he talked like his life depended on it, but Hiccup never anticipated the real test would be other people’s lives. People he loves.

“It’s easier to read.”

“Choosing Comic sans might be the worst thing you’ve done.” He watches Grisly’s narrow nostrils flare, the first crack in his manic veneer, and the little lively Snotlout in the back of Hiccup’s mind brags that antagonizing Grisly was the right thing to do all along.

It got real Snotlout shot, of course, but for Grisly to take the same tactic now he’d have to get Hiccup away from the cameras, which he can’t easily do mid-arrest.

Grisly starts patting Hiccup down by the desk in the intake room, thin, dry lips quirking when he touches the dried blood at the neck of Hiccup’s shirt and Hiccup turns his gag into a laugh.

“Are you dyslexic? I thought that was a myth.”

Grisly pats his front pocket before shoving his hand deep enough inside that parts of Hiccup retreat as far as they’re able.

“Do you want to hear that I was bullied? That I was small and slow in school and that made me cruel? Does it make your situation easier to deal with if you pity me?” His grin spreads slowly across his face, the only part of him that seems alive, and his fingers curl in Hiccup’s pocket.

“What happened at Astrid’s apartment might be your thing,” Hiccup makes eye contact with the outdated, image only security camera in the corner and takes a deep breath before glaring down at Grisly, “but it’s not mine.”

“I’m doing this because I want to. Because it’s fun to make you and your friends and the police run around like scared chickens in their coop while the fox locks himself in with them.” He stands up, pulling a ring of keys out of Hiccup’s pocket with a self-satisfied chuckle. The keyring reads ‘Benson’ and Hiccup’s blood runs cold. “And as much as you frustrated me, all of it makes catching you so much better.”

“Well Mr. Benson definitely has enough money to sue me for identity theft,” Hiccup clears his throat, “so that’s not…great.”

“This is…brilliant,” Grisly’s breath smells like death. Not rot. Not the cloying, tired scent of road kill in the sun. The moment of death itself, when the electric impulses that used to be human evaporate into the air in a cloud of static and pain. Like he breathes that in and lets it seep slowly through him, preserving him in its singular, inevitable eternity. “That idiot woman is still looking for these, I can’t wait to tell her I found them in evidence.”

“Ruffnut got a fax from the condos,” Hiccup whispers to himself, and Grisly’s eyes sharpen, grin deflecting to grimace.

“I thought you were smarter than this.” Grisly steps away, rooting through a locker for a jumpsuit and shoving it at Hiccup, who drops it. “Your clothes are evidence. You can change behind the curtain.” He points at a small corner of the room separated from the rest by a shower curtain and Hiccup holds his hands up to be uncuffed.

Hiccup takes his time changing, pausing with his shirt off to scrub as much of the dried blood from his neck and jaw as he can, trying not to inhale. He waits for Grisly to make a run for it, to go after Astrid and Snotlout and leave him in the hands of another officer, but he just paces the room, his footfalls padded like a predator on the cusp of making prey aware of their presence.

The floors creak though, cheap rubber-backed rug squeaking against peeling linoleum, the decay of the room protecting Hiccup like history always seems to.

The jumpsuit and the underwear issued along with it are too big, threatening to fall down as he adjusts the orange cuff around his metallic left ankle. Grisly must see what he’s doing because he comments, voice smooth enough to highlight how rough it was before the pause.

“Usually I’d take something that could so easily be used as a bludgeon,” he sneers when Hiccup pulls the curtain back, “but in your hands…”

“If I’m so scrawny, why me?” Hiccup doesn’t pick up his own clothes, instead waiting as patiently as he can feign for Grisly to re-cuff him, far too tight this time, and add the pile of fabric to his evidence bag.

“It doesn’t take bodily strength to wield a knife,” Grisly points at his temple, “only strength of mind.”

“So that’s why you chose to frame me?”

“What does it matter? It’s done.” He checks his watch, which is impossibly immaculate given what the shiny band spent the morning reflecting. “Or almost done. It will be soon.”

“Then what’s the harm in telling me why you chose me?”

“I never had children—”

“Thank God,” Hiccup rolls his eyes and Grisly tries to ignore him, jaw twitching. He’s not a man used to being antagonized and the cracks are spreading.

Snotlout is smart, Astrid is brilliant, if Grisly is loud. If he’s off kilter, maybe they’ll react quickly enough. Maybe it’s about knocking him off his game while he’s still flying high from his morning indiscretions.

“Clingy, slimy little vermin—”

“Right, kids are slimy, not blood or—”

“But I was under the assumption that at some point they stop with the incessant questions.” Grisly’s voice trembles as his volume expands and Hiccup shrugs, forcing the motion flippant.

“I didn’t.” He exhales, “what came first, the Admiral Hiccup Haddock collection or you choosing me as your prime suspect?” He can’t help but be curious and given everything else going on, he hates himself for it. Or at least he tries to, maybe some hate manages to wedge itself in his brain next to everything else.

“Like I said Mr. Haddock,” Grisly doesn’t like repeating himself but seems compelled to tie off loose ends, “I’m in the business of making money, you and your tour are not.”

“But Heather…” Hiccup can’t help but laugh, a real shocked laugh that makes him worry that part of his brain is floating away with the controls and his confident ruse, “are you saying you framed me for murder because Heather is more marketable than me?”

Grisly doesn’t like being laughed at and his expression darkens, like he’s burning through his morning’s effervescence faster than he’s used to, and Hiccup wonders how long the camera will really protect him.

Not that it matters. Snotlout matters. Astrid matters. It’d kill him if he didn’t get to tell her how he feels, but in the context of this situation, that’s kind of a moot point, isn’t it?

“When I told you not to pity me, I meant it,” Grisly growls, rough as his grip on Hiccup’s arm. A purposeful, strangling grip that’s too practiced to make an empty threat. A grip that promises. “I crawled from under the weight of everything that made me pitiable. Born in a country that had no use for me? I made myself indispensable. I took the chances others would not, I made the choices that coddled, weak people could not, and I took control. I didn’t beg in the streets like a dog, I caught the dog, ignored its squeal and made the streets better.” He hisses, a fine mist spraying across Hiccup’s face as Grisly leans in, practically primed to bite, “I take control.”

“Dead people don’t really have a say though, so is it really control?” Hiccup’s voice doesn’t shake even as his knees do.

“Yes,” Grisly checks his phone with the hand not cutting off circulation to the part of Hiccup’s arm not already deadened by cuffs, the bright screen illuminating his face at an angle that questions the humanity of his features. The sharp jaw, the thin lips, the hollows of his cheeks still shadowed like every kill he makes drags him halfway down after the victim, “the judge is ready to see me about your bail.”

“So I wait in a holding cell,” Hiccup’s throat tightens at the thought of letting Grisly out of his sight. At different blonde hair in his hand, blood soaking a different floor.

“No,” the superficial cracks on Grisly’s veneer spread outward along his geometric edges and for the first time, Hiccup sees something like hesitance mirrored in his usually blank eyes, “he wants to see you too.”

“What’s to stop me from telling him all of this?” Things aren’t going according to Grisly’s plan, for maybe the first time since Hiccup stumbled across a body he wasn’t supposed to yet, and he dives in this time with his eyes wide open. “Maybe it doesn’t need to get to trial—”

“Go ahead,” Grisly’s smirk is cruel now instead of indifferent, like the lock is broken off of the predator’s cage and he doesn’t care that the zookeeper has a gun, “if you want to assume I’m the only one capable of cleaning up the rest of this mess.”

He’s not working alone. There must be NWF members willing to step in and Hiccup thinks of Snotlout, vulnerable in a hospital bed. Astrid, vulnerable in his apartment, finally soft after fighting it for so long. After twenty-five long years, Hiccup finally has motivation to be quiet.

He must nod and something in his numbed expression must look like understanding because Grisly practically drags him out of the door and down the hall to a small office sometimes used for legal rituals when the county courthouse is full. No one has to tell Hiccup to sit on the small plastic chair inside. He isn’t surprised when the door locks behind them.

He is, however, surprised to see the judge.

“Honorable Judge Treacherous,” Grisly tilts the title into something pedantic as he takes the floor, pacing back and forth with steps as even as the heartbeat Hiccup saw him stop couldn’t have been. “I understand you wanted to see the suspect in person to set bail, an unorthodox decision for a man in your…lofty position—“

“Captain Stoick Haddock was an old friend of mine,” Judge Treacherous leans his elbows on the desk and looks at Hiccup over his glasses, down his repeatedly broken nose. Hiccup knows his dad can take posthumous credit for at least two of those breaks and he swallows hard, fidgeting in the too tight cuffs on his wrists.

The jumpsuit makes him feel guilty, but not as guilty as his bloody clothes would have.

“Friend?” Hiccup asks, over-used voice croaking around the question until he clears his throat. “I didn’t quite get that impression.”

Judge Treacherous laughs, “I didn’t get the impression dear Stoick was raising a serial killer.”

“Me either,” Hiccup blurts, fingers numb with instant regret.

“Is that a confession?” Grisly’s eyes sparkle, somehow reflecting blood no longer in front of him.

“This isn’t a trial, Mister…Gruesome, was it?” Judge Treacherous curls his lip and Grisly stands up straighter, rigid like a scarecrow itching for dawn. “When will the officer…Ah, here, Detective Eretson,” Treacherous skims through a stack of papers in front of him, “when will I be meeting this Detective Eretson?”

“Well, as I’m sure you can see from the entire case history I’ve presented to you, Eretson has proven ineffective—“

“Sorry I’m late,” Eretson’s accent cuts through the creak of the poorly hung door as he walks inside, smoothing his suit jacket and standing shoulder to shoulder with Grisly, “train ran slow.”

Hiccup never though Eretson’s presence could be comforting, but the way he glares at Grisly seeks to change that. Grisly’s suddenly tense shoulders back the notion up as he turns around, blood leaching from his face like it leached into Astrid’s carpet.

Astrid.

Panic grips his heart like a steel vice and he repeats the mantra of his morning to himself. Hiccup is in the system, he’s not going anywhere, and as long as he can see Grisly, Grisly can’t get at Astrid. She’s safe as long as Grisly is with him.

Eretson must see his panic, because he catches Hiccup’s eye and nods, his expression as unreadable as always and maybe Hiccup is lying to himself but there’s something comforting there. Something solid. And while Hiccup knows that the detective’s solidity isn’t necessarily rooted in his favor, it’s clearly planted against Grisly and that has to be good enough for now.

“Good old Berk public transportation,” Judge Treacherous attempts small talk, skimming through the file in front of him, “I thought you’d called me here for an offense you caught Mr. Haddock committing this morning.”

“Yes—”

“Where is that information in the case file?” Treacherous slides the manila folder towards Grisly, who bristles.

“I haven’t had a chance to include it,” his voice is mellow even as the hands folded behind his back twitch. “but the rest of the file is—”

“Very thorough,” Eretson cuts in, “it’s been my case for months—”

“And yet I’m the one lucky enough to stumble on the answer,” Grisly grins too bright, his façade slipping another inch under Eretson’s even stare.

“Stumble, right,” Eretson raises an eyebrow, “lucky.”

“Mr. Ghastly, I have to say I’m a bit confused to be summoned so early in the morning to set bail for a case I’ve been seeing discussed on the news for months.” Treacherous folds his hands, “if you honestly believe Stoick’s boy is the Grimborn Copycat killer, I couldn’t in good conscience let him back on the streets.”

If Grisly was pale before, he’s chalky now, complexion abandoning its noble cause to cling to the last dregs of life as his expression freezes into place like a wax effigy stretched over limestone.

“What are you saying?”

“I’m saying that if there’s even a chance that Mr. Haddock is connected to everything in this file, I’ll be making the decision to hold him without bail until a trial can shed proper light on the situation.”

“If there’s a chance—shed light—” Grisly sputters, “more than enough light has been shed, I saw him with my own two eyes, holding a girl up and slitting her throat—”

“I’ll need details for the report,” Eretson cuts in, voice level, and if Hiccup weren’t sworn to silence, he might laugh. Or cry. Or hug Eretson’s leg like the child Grisly accused him of being and hide.

“And I have those details,” Grisly struggles for his composure, a predator walking on wet tile for the first time, a janitorial bureaucracy rendering millions of years of evolution useless, “but to issue a remand without bail—to put this boy’s disrespect of the law on our taxpayers—”

“Taxpayers who pay taxes for the legal system to keep them safe from alleged serial murderers,” Treacherous would bang a gavel if he had one, but he doesn’t so he thumps a meaty hand on the desk. “Now if you’ll excuse me—”

“You haven’t even read the file! And you call yourself a judge,” Grisly’s voice cracks like his composure did as he flicks through the file, dropping half the pages on the floor, “the assailant worked backwards through the Grimborn murders, I caught him in the act of the first this morning. It stands to reason that he’s done with his spree—”

“You’re assuming someone reasonable doing the reasoning,” Treacherous looks to Eretson and then to Hiccup, his tone almost apologetic as he digs in his heels. “Letting a proposed serial murderer out on bail would be the end of my career.”

“House arrest then,” Grisly tries, “he lives with a cop, it’s perfect, there’s no sense in using the city’s resources to hold him at an overpriced jail.”

“Overpriced?” Treacherous snorts, “I picked out the bathroom tile myself, it was very reasonable.”

“Also, your Honor, the officer that lives with Mr. Haddock is currently suspended and on medical leave,” Eretson adds and Treacherous laughs before signing a piece of paper, presumably with his official recommendation.

“Held without bail until the trial,” he sets his pen down, “if the boy has already killed four people, I don’t trust an injured, suspended cop to keep him contained if he decides to work backwards through Bundy.”

“Look at the file!” Grisly shouts, the predator’s paw caught in a trap as he fought to remove a thorn, “it’s immaculate, from his research to the timing of the murders. Everything points to him! Every last drop of blood—”

“Mr. Garish, that is enough!” Treacherous stands up, towering even over Eretson, Hiccup’s dad’s ghost finally stepping into a pair of familiar if un-ideal shoes.

“It’s Grisly, your Onerous.”

The silence rings like high pitched static, the fire alarm between beeps.

Eretson clears his throat, “On second thought, maybe this case is better suited to Mr. Grisly’s particular talents.”

Hiccup’s stomach falls out from under him, and he looks around for confirmation that his ears aren’t making up worst case scenarios, like his actual situation isn’t bad enough. Eretson is patient in professional silence but Grisly’s face is contorting in confusion and rage as Judge Treacherous raises a doubtful eyebrow.

Grisly talks first, voice small, “You do?”

“Seeing how this is going, your Honor, I agree with Mr. Grisly, I might have been over my head with the unique complexities of the case.” Eretson gives Hiccup the barest ghost of a nod as he defers to Grisly with a subtle duck of the chin that’s anything but reverent.

“Well, finally someone is seeing sense,” Grisly attempts to regain his quiet, stealthy tone but instead his voice wavers, something uncouth bleeding into the edges.

“You can see my commanding officer about the transfer paperwork,” Eretson points vaguely down the hallway then turns back to Treacherous, “Captain Anderson, I know you two have worked together in the past.”

“I don’t know if I’d say ‘together’ quite so loud, Detective,” Treacherous chuckles, “that was off the books.”

“Apologies.”

“And if that is your decision, Eretson, I’m afraid you’ll have to leave the courtroom.” Treacherous looks between him and Grisly, reacquainting himself with the changing situation.

“I think it’s what’s best moving forward.” Eretson nods, looking every shade as competent and a hundred times more mysterious than Hiccup has ever seen him.

“Once the transfer paperwork is complete and the file is updated,” Treacherous slides what’s left in the folder pointedly at Grisly, who trips over his own feet to bend and pick up the mess on the floor, looking more like the Ms. Moore, the condo manager, than Hiccup ever could have imagined, “then we can move forward discussing any warrants your investigation might need. Anything else?”

“No.” Grisly clutches the disorganized file to his chest like someone just used it to bludgeon him and he’s still recovering from the shock.

As soon as the door closes behind him, Eretson clears his throat again, approaching the desk with a natural sort of ease, “I was wondering if Grisly selected a public defender.”

“No, he did not, as he completely violated protocol.” Judge Treacherous laughs again and Eretson’s smile is slow and reserved, but unmistakable.

“I’d like to offer to represent Mr. Haddock moving forward.” Eretson presents the solution like it’s not impossible and Hiccup and Treacherous trade confused glances. “Is that a problem?”

Treacherous starts slowly, “Are you…”

“I’ve passed the bar, yes, I’ll have my paperwork faxed over.”

“Obviously,” Treacherous nods to himself.

“I’ll be taking the back interrogation room to speak to my client then, I’ll address having him moved to the county jail when we’re through.”

Grisly wants to kill Astrid and Snotlout, Grisly is on the case now. Grisly framed Hiccup. Eretson turned over the case to him, even though Eretson has never shown anything like trust in the man. Eretson has gone from savior to traitor to…lawyer in the most confusing five minute span of Hiccup’s life, and that’s saying a lot for someone who is currently being framed for a slew of violent murders.

Eretson sits down across the table in the interrogation room and starts babbling in legal-ese, the words going into Hiccup’s ears like the strumming of an out of tune base guitar until he opens his mouth, unsure what’s going to fall out until it does.

“You’re a lawyer?”

Eretson pauses, eyebrow raised, ghost of a grin haunting the corner of his mouth, “That’s what you’re asking? You should be asking my rate.”

“What’s your rate?” Hiccup parrots back at him and Eretson folds his hands on the table.

“You help me bring Grisly down,” he starts, deadly in a way that makes Hiccup want to hide behind him again. “And whatever you can get Jorgenson to throw in. Now, let’s start with what actually happened this morning.”

“Ok, ok…let me think,” he tries to pull back the veil of blood separating then from now and blushes when he succeeds, “so I was with Astrid—”

“I know,” Eretson surprises him by blushing himself, the pink in his cheeks exactly at odds with the rest of his appearance, “after that. Let’s start when you left the apartment.”

“Oh. Right.” He rubs the back of his neck, “wait, you know? How do you know?”

“I was—in the interest of full disclosure regarding the case,” Eretson clears his throat, tone more formal as his face reddens, “at your residence along with Jorgenson this morning—”

“Snotlout?” Hiccup frowns, “is he ok? Is Astrid ok? I have to—Grisly’s going to go after them—”

“They’re somewhere safe,” Eretson nods, all business again, “now back to the beginning, tell me what happened when you left the apartment.”

00000

The county jail stands on the corner where Big Top 24/7 Video used to, in direct sight of the back of the police station. Hiccup can see his dad’s office’s window from the tiny, barred window of his cell and he remembers being nine years old visiting his dad at work and wondering why his dad couldn’t make time to take him to the circus.

After the rumors that the pollution in Berk’s shipping lanes was deforming whales were scientifically corroborated in the mid-nineteen-seventies, trucking took over. Of course, trucking companies were worried about carjacking in the largely impoverished downtown Berk, so a beltway smeared a swath of unpopulated buildings into a slick semi-circle of asphalt. And with all freeways come truck stops and motels with flickering Vacancy signs, and Big Top 24/7 sprung up between them like a necessarily evil lovechild woefully holding the family together.

Big Top 24/7 Video opened off of the first exit within the city limits, a round brick building with a conical fiberglass roof, painted in garish red and yellow stripes that allowed a circus motif to almost veil a secret. The advertisement of private rooms and VHS sales likely did nothing to fool passing motorists looking for a reason to take their eyes off the road for even a second, but it fooled Hiccup.

When he was a teenager looking for something—anything—worth fighting with his dad over, he used to wonder how his dad was ok with circus animals being caged and made to perform for people’s entertainment right in the station’s backyard, especially given his dad wouldn’t even let him get a dog on the grounds that he was ‘irresponsible’. Hiccup threatened to do something about it once when he was about thirteen, but his dad assured him if he even so much as tried to run in that direction, he could spend the afternoon in the holding cell.

Again, Hiccup thought that was pretty rich coming from a guy who met his wife at an illegal protest to protect Berk’s last resident population of hibernating black bears.

Big Top 24/7 Video was torn down about seven years ago for the new jail to go in, and Hiccup wasn’t talking to his dad enough to gauge any sort of reaction. He imagines now that it was something like relief, if only because it was one less thing to answer his son’s ever instigating questions about, but he never got a chance to ask.

His dad died before Hiccup put together the truth that the untouchable circus of his youth was actually a dingy but surprisingly long-lived scheme to bring truckers together in the homosexually word-playing name of VHS porn and other so-called erotic novelties.

But from where he stands now? Well, he’d prefer cheap, fuzzy handcuffs to the ones that bruised his wrists as Grisly dragged him in front of a judge who invoked his father’s name like a bar he’d never meet. He’d love a ground floor ‘private’ suite with a VHS player as old as he is in the corner that he could rent by the hour over the cell he’s stuck in now, especially because a glory hole might provide a means of escape more viable than the bars on the window.

Plus, he knows for a fact he looks better in largely ill-fitting themed-garb than he does in oversized, itchy orange.

By early afternoon, even he can’t conjure enough detail about the dreary view to distract himself any longer.

What if Eretson is wrong? What if Grisly isn’t spending the day tied up with paperwork and in fact, he’s already caught up to Astrid?

Grisly would gloat, Hiccup knows that. He knows it in more blood-spattered detail than he cares to remember, but the only thing worse than remembering it is foreshadowing a repeat performance, this time with the ghost of the blood of someone he loves thrown in his face.

He’s never planned a murder, obviously, so he doesn’t really have a handle on how long it might take. He assumes it might take longer given that Grisly is surely going to try and make it look like an accident, since framing Hiccup while he’s literally incarcerated is sure to be a bit harder than framing him while he’s walking around alleys talking about murder.

But no matter how many times he tries to convince himself it could take days or weeks or even months for Grisly to clean up his mess, he flinches every time he hears footsteps in the hallway.

The stairwell door at the end of his floor creaks open and he wonders if Grisly will go for Astrid first, using the address he sent Dave’s foot to and cornering her. Another cell door swings open, scraping across the linoleum floor, and he wonders if maybe Snotlout is an easier or mouthier target to go after first.

A key turns in the exterior door to his solitary cell and he freezes, plastic slipper squeaking against his plastic foot and tearing the silence like wet paper.

No matter who it is, he’ll be stuck, for the first time in his life, with wishing he had said more even sooner and more often.

The door opens and he braces himself for Grisly’s maniacal grin, almost stumbling from the strength of his refusal to show shock when he sees Heather instead, pale and wide eyed, hair disheveled under a crooked police uniform hat.

“Thank fuck I guessed the right room,” she shuts the door quickly behind her and leans back against it, breathing hard. She’s wearing a police uniform jacket too, one that’s simultaneously way too big for her and way too short in a disarmingly familiar combination of borrowed hoodie and crop top.

“Heather.” Hiccup says dumbly, forgetting how to ask questions when he’s so busy trying to force the answers.

“I knew you were on this floor and I had to guess it’d be a smaller cell since Grisly said you were by yourself, but—“

“What are you doing here?” His second attempt at a question goes better, not that Heather gives any impression that she heard him.

“But I guessed right, so now it’s just…keys, I guess, which one of these is for the cell gate thingy.” She starts rifling through a ring of a few dozen keys, trying a couple of them in the barred gate between them but having no luck.

“I didn’t realize you’d officially joined the force.”

“Unless the cell key is on the other ring in the office that I can’t get into—“

“Was the official police tailor unavailable when they assigned you a uniform?” Hiccup laughs at his own half joke, shoulders so stiff they feel brittle, like he’ll shatter if she keeps looking through him like he’s not here.

“It’s Snotlout’s spare,” she pauses, swallowing hard and shoving one stretched cuff back up her arm from where it was covering her hand. He doesn’t need to ask if she heard about Snotlout getting shot, the sympathy almost verging on apology in her expression is enough.

“Ah, could have guessed that,” he nods, “I swim in his crop tops too. Or shirts, I mean shirts.” The joke falls so flat he almost thinks Heather is going to cry, but he’s glad she swallows it back, since it would probably make him cry too and he’s not going to give Grisly that satisfaction.

“I’m not here to chat, I’m here to get you out of this cell.” She goes back to sifting through her key ring and Hiccup frowns, nearly collapsing onto the hard, metal bench against the wall of his cell. “Just give me a second—“

“You can’t break me out of jail.”

“I have Snotlout’s badge too,” she flashes him the shiny shield in her pocket, “that’s how I got in here.”

“Yeah, I’m in jail for murder, remember? You might have heard the judge said ‘no bail due to serial killings’?” He presses the heels of his hands against closed eyelids, “you can’t just let me out.”

“But you didn’t do it,” she says with such conviction that he wants to ask if she knows who did and he resents the distance she put between them more than ever.

No, they’re both to blame for the distance. He had what he thought were better reasons at the time, but they both said things they shouldn’t have and now they’re on either side of a barred cell wall.

“I got arrested for it.”

“Yeah, but that’s—I know you didn’t do it—”

“It doesn’t matter what you know!” He shouts, louder than he knows he should, suddenly full of resentment for even the implication that she could help him. It’s easier to know that no help is coming than it is to shove off insufficient help in the name of the ill-fitting position of ‘voice of reason’. “You can’t exhume Johann for a confession and you can’t just let me out of jail.”

“Johann?” She snorts, but she gives up on the keyring too and Hiccup’s heart falls even though it’s what he was hoping for, “you think this has anything to do with Johann?”

“Doesn’t everything?”

“I…” She deflates the rest of the way, hugging Snotlout’s jacket tighter around herself and leaning back against the wall, yanking at her braid in frustration, “Admiral Hiccup Haddock.”

“You know my military career wasn’t quite that successful,” he rests the back of his head against the cold brick and stares at the ceiling, “and since when do you call me by my full name?”

“Grisly played me for Admiral Hiccup Haddock,” she continues, slumping down to sit cross-legged on the floor, keys forgotten in her lap. Maybe she just needed to talk.

As much as he’d like to, he can’t find it in himself to blame her.

“I know the feeling.”

“Do you?” Heather snorts, “he had me go on the news and talk about how absurd the whole theory is, I—any credibility I had—“

“Right, Grimborn credibility,” Hiccup cuts her off, gesturing at his jumpsuit, “I guess I’ve got that in spades now, you know, since Grisly framed me for a series of modern copycat murders.”

“I guess you get it then.” She has the sense to look at least a little sheepish and Hiccup sighs, rubbing his face.

“I’m sure that misogyny makes it worse.”

“Absolutely,” she nods, “I’d look way less stupid decrying the now practically proven Admiral Haddock theory on the news if I were a man.”

“Right, men get to make mistakes like that without it ruining their reputation.” He sighs, “I have to ask, ok? Just…when you say you know I didn’t do it, what does that mean?”

“I don’t know,” she winces like she always has when she lies, looking up through her eyelashes, “you put spiders outside—“

“You’ve worked closer with Grisly than anyone.”

“And I’m sorry for that, if I knew—”

“That he’d play you?” Hiccup hangs his head, running a hand through his hair and trying not to think about the crust near his face. “He only chose you because you’re more marketable than me, he practically admitted it. It could be you in here.”

“The name doesn’t help your case,” Heather twirls the keys around her finger, “there has to be some way to fix this, I—you have to have an alibi, or something.”

“An alibi,” he shakes his head, “not this time, I—I can’t bring Astrid into this. Not again, especially not now.”

“She’s been involved the whole time! Hell, she was just a suspect—”

“I just can’t.”

“What’s so different about now?” Heather looks like his friend when she’s worried and there are a million logical ways to answer that question. He could start with Grisly and end there, but instead the day catches up to him and his resolve breaks, his last important secret falling out of his mouth.

“Because I love her.”

“Oh.” Heather bites her lip, uncharacteristically quiet as she fidgets, scraping some gum off of the sole of her boot with a fingernail.

“Oh?” He prods.

“Does she—I mean does she know?” She continues before he can answer, slouching a little further against the wall, “as in does she know there’s a possibility of it?”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Does she know that she’s your alibi for last night in particular?” Heather gestures at nothing, verging on frustrated and Hiccup frowns at her.

“Considering she was in my apartment with me all night and we slept together, I’m pretty sure she’s aware that we were together. Why do you ask?”

“Ok, ok, no need to be so defensive,” Heather holds her hands up.

“No need? Not like you just inferred I was stalking Astrid—”

“You hang out in a lot of creepy alleys near her apartment,” she laughs, “I had to check.”

“Your confidence in me—or lack-there-of is…” He trails off, “I missed it. I—friends? Please? I don’t need any other enemies.”

“Yeah,” she nods, “no one will believe me if I publish Johann now anyway…” Something in his expression wards her off of the topic like even she’s hesitant to rock a newly patched boat. “If we’re friends again, does that mean I get to give you relationship advice?”

“No—”

“Shouldn’t it be up to Astrid if she wants to be involved or not?”

“I just…Not this time, it’s too much to risk, I can’t…of course she’d want to be involved and—”

“Well then, what the hell else am I supposed to do? You won’t let me break you out, you won’t let me find your alibi, I’ve been working for the guy that got you into this mess and defamed me and there’s nothing I can do to redeem myself?”

He likes that she phrases it in terms of redeeming herself, not helping him. It makes it distant, comfortable, and gives him analytical breathing room he hasn’t had all day.

What could Heather do?

What hole exists in Grisly’s perfect plan that Heather could bore into? Hell, how’d he get so much right about Grimborn going off of Heather’s sensationalized tour information and an Admiral Hiccup Haddock book?

“That’s it!” Hiccup sits up straight, lowering his voice at Heather’s alarmed expression. “He had to fuck up somewhere. Not on the framing for murder, obviously, he’s good at that, but at the Grimborn. If he’s saying I did it to mimic Grimborn and you find somewhere in my Grimborn research that I disagree with what the modern case says—”

“Then it points to someone with a different Grimborn theory than you,” she stands up, tucking the stolen keys carefully in Snotlout’s jacket pocket. “It’s something, I can do that.”

“It might be enough, I think Grisly’s starting to crack under the pressure.” Hiccup lets himself hope for a second, not so long that he can’t shut it down before the long, lonely night ahead, but enough to make the dull light through the window seem livable. “Get in touch with Eretson, he seems to know where Astrid and Snotlout are, they can help.”

“Right, like I’d ask Snotlout for help with research this important.”

“No, I mean Astrid, she’s…she’s brilliant, ok?”

“I’ll keep an eye on her,” Heather scoffs, voice soft as she reaches for the handle to the room’s outer door, fingers lingering on the knob for a second, “take care of yourself, don’t drop the soap or—”

“Don’t remind me, I already had Grisly in my front pocket today, just…go. Don’t get caught stealing Snotlout’s keys.”

“Right,” Heather nods, somehow leaving the room a little more hopeful, if lonelier, than she found it.

#ripped #hiccstrid #hiccstrid au #httyd fic #modern au #warnings: serial killer pathology? prison? judges profiting off of the system?#eretson is a lawyer #apparently

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wevegottogetaway · 5 years ago

Text

Whirlwind - Part II

Hey there!

It’s safe to say the latest events have taken our world upside-down and for me it’s had at least the positive result of getting me back in a writing mood. It’s been a hard couple of months but there is just something in everybody going through something somewhat traumatic that makes me want to snap out of my day to day “small-world” problems and be more proactive in life. So here is part 2 of Whirlwind, I can tell you I’ve never had to write anything as hard as this (try writing something highly technical on something you have zero knowledge about lol). Anyway, I think it came out decent so please enjoy and criticize! I would love to hear your thoughts on it!

All the health, and all the happiness xx

Part II - Bora

Echoes are bouncing within the sturdy walls of the San Diego Marine Corps Air Station’s main hangar. Blackshoes are in the middle of pre-flight logistics runs and equipment set-up before the launch of Top Gun program’s first training mission. Aircrafts are being carefully escorted outside towards the runway, the sound of their roaring turbines whelming Harry’s ears but he doesn’t let that disturb his self-reflecting musings. His body is leant on the metallic hinges of the warehouse’s entrance as his absentminded gaze doesn’t shift from the take-off runway.

He is about an hour early but the upcoming events of the day have had him on edge since he reluctantly draped the cool bedsheets off his body that morning. How could he possibly get a wink of sleep knowing he was, at last, going back amongst the clouds for the first time since the accident? For the first time without his best friend. For the first time without is partner by his side (or rather behind him) watching out for hidden threats and targets in line. Jonathan had always had his back but from this day forward Harry would have to rely on Aella to keep them both safe.

He doesn’t know what to make of that, what to make of her. There is no questioning her skills and capability, one could never join this program without those…but two highly proficient flyers don’t necessarily equal one flawless unit. Especially since they know so little of each other. Be that as it may, the fellowship that binds two pilots flying the same aircraft is indispensable to their success. In those life-of-deaths seconds, when it feels like the sky is closing in on them and the next move can make or break them, it all comes down to one thing: the entrustment between him and her.

And he wants to. Wants to take his trust out from the jetted pocket of his uniform, lay it on the palm of her hand and enclose her fingers around it to keep secure. But it doesn’t work like that, does it? Trust is not so much a choice as it is a spontaneous feeling immune to rational thinking. And for a reason he doesn’t want to mull over too much, Harry can’t help but feel wary of her in a way. He’s seen her fire; the night before last when she made a fool out of their most redoubtable opponent. Recognized the same flame that used to inhabit his best friend’s eyes and make him the warmest being Harry ever got to be around. It doesn’t sway him as much as it scares him. Fierceness is a good trait in the Navy world, but too much of it can be deceitful. Harry experienced it first-hand.

He doesn’t dwell on it too much for now though, and makes his way to the back of the warehouse where his "classmates" have started to huddle while waiting for the superiors. Most of the promotion is there, the usual inner-groups appearing clearly to Harry as his eyes takes in the scene: herdsman Rex and his sheeps on one side while the other crews enjoy one last round of banter before their sternness is summoned for the first mission of the program.

Harry takes note of Aella’s absence just as someone calls out to him. "Styles!" It’s his callsign tumbling out of Dean Marshall’s mouth. Harry used to have another, but the only person who was allowed to make use of that one special letter, is no longer able to claim it.

Dean and his partner Emmet Iggersman - or as they are commonly addressed to on base, Dazzler and Tigger - complete the other half of Harry and Aella’s team. The four of them fly in tandem to form a section and hopefully fulfill the missions’ objectives before the others do. Harry has flown many a time with these two guys and he’s glad he’ll be able to count on them as well, should his new pairing go south.

"Hey Daz, how’s it goin’ ?" his greeting is followed by a good-natured handshake.

"S’ goin’ awesome, thanks for asking! My boy just started walking like a penguin on steroids right before I left. I swear the little champ is takin’ the helm to keep his mum on her toes while his father’s gone!" The proud smirk teasing Dazzler’s lips triggers a contagious chuckle from his peers as they all take in the sheer bliss coloring the new-dad’s face.

"That’s swell man! Send my prayers to Catherine, sounds like she might need it, yeah?"

"Will do Styles, but enough ‘bout me, how are you holding up? I can’t deal fo’ you man, what with Fox gone and this new partner thing…" There’s a painful tug at Harry’s chest at the utterance of Jonathan’s callsign, the nickname born from his tangerine-like hair though Harry always believed it was more reference to his best-friend incredibly cunning mind. He ignores it in favor of a more tempered and diplomatic answer than that of his crying heart.

"It’ll be an adjustment fo’ sure, yeah. But overall I’m just glad to be back in the game"

"As we all are Styl-" Tigger has just placed a comforting hand on Harry’s broad shoulder when he is interrupted by none other than Rex’s disdainful voice.

"Hey girls! How’s the BFFs reunion going?"

Dazzler doesn’t hesitate before stepping forward and firing back. "Just about a punch away from properly kickin’off. Why? are you offerin’?"

"Wooo I’m shaking" Rex replies with a fake tremor. Then he seems to spot something - or rather someone - coming up behind Harry and Tigger.

It’s Aella, head kept down as to not attract any attention. She’s seen the despicable man interacting with her new crew so she tries to reach the makeshift classroom (mostly just chairs lined up in a couple rows in the middle of a hangar) as inconspicuously as possible. The déjà-vu impression is not lost on her.

"There she is!" Aella tilts her head up, knowing she’s busted. "Miss James Bond Girl in the flesh! C’mere sweetheart, come show these suckers who wears the pants in this team!" Her hatred for him levels up a notch (as if possible) but Aella doesn’t know what she hates the most about this nonsense. The fact he is ridiculing her once again or the fact he’s acting like none of the after James-Bond-Girl-debacle two nights ago ever happened. As though she didn’t put him in his place like the badass she is.

Or maybe it’s the affectionate pet-name coming out of his repugnant lips and directed to her… Anyway, she doesn’t have the time to prepare a comeback before a second round is launched, this time at her new partner.

"Better watch it Styles! Next thing you know you’ll be the one in the freakin’ kitchen…"

"Cut it out, Rex-" Harry starts defending his team but a stern and humorless voice overpowers his.

"I don’t reckon anyone asked for your moronic opinions, dumbass. So please pack your ignorant bullshit away and leave us the fuck alone" She keeps her countenance as she tells him off but Rex is not budging an inch and neither is the insolent smirk hung on his face.

"Damn Harry, quite the mouthy one you have here. Sure you can handle her?"

"For Christ’s sake, please shut the hell up and go back where you came from Rex or by God I swear I won’t hesitate to have you weep on the floor for your momma like a baby, again."

"Again?" Dazzler perks up with a smiling frown just as Rex’s smugness fades away to be replaced by unadulterated contempt.

"You’re delusional if you think I can be scared of you Lonethorne" he spats out while backing away, head up mighty high. "Stupid cunts" he adds under his breath as he turns around to rejoin his buddies.

Aella knows she’s worked herself up but she can’t help but call out to him one more time. "Oh and Rex?… How’s the hand doing?" He doesn’t give her the curtesy of a respond but Aella is satisfied with the flare of his nose and the twitch in his eye.

Meanwhile the three men still at her sides are left speechless, Dazzler and Tigger still processing the heated exchange while Harry seems lost in his own thoughts. She’d done dit it again. Let the fire out and turned Rex’s crudeness into ashes before they could scar her skin. There was no attempt of taming the beast before she went in guns blazing and that doesn’t help assuage his worries one bit. She’s too impulsive is playing in his head over and over like a broken record. Because while Harry agrees Rex is the worst kinds of knobheads, he’s always believed responding to antagonization was pointless. Better to look the other way and let the jerk waste his energy on petty words that will never reach him. And because all in all, there are dogfighters, but that endeavor is reserved in the air, not on land.

"My my, darling. You just pimped the shit out of the least pimpable man on base. I think I’m in awe." Dazzler says after regaining his senses.

"Please don’t call me darling" Aella retorts softly as she knows he doesn’t mean it in any condescending way.

"Sorry. Aella, is it?"

"Yeah, that’s me. And you are…?"

"Dazzler, so very nice to meet you" he smiles widely accepting her handshake offer. "And just a heads-up dear Aella. After you tell me all about weeping Rex, you and I are gonna be besties, I can feel it" She chuckles lightly at his enthusiasm and decides she'll not only welcome his affection but also return it. Before she can reciprocate the sentiment however, the room falls suddenly quiet and a second later the reason, or rather four reasons, come into her view: Commander Berks, Lieutenant Rogers and two other officers that have yet to be introduced.

"Morning everyone, I can tell some of you over-indulged in Induction Rave. If you could put the same amount of devotion you put at getting faced into your training, I would be eternally grateful." Berks earns himself a full house of laughters before compelling the room back to sobriety. "Time to be serious now. ACM training was not invented to entertain you and make you look pretty up there. As an era where the potential of confrontation is constantly rising, air combat excellence is now more than ever a vital technique to the protection of our country. And don’t you forget that: you are above all defenders of the nation. Not heroes, not athletes, I say again: protectors. Best be at you sharpest then." The Commander pauses after his inspiring tirade.

"Now, let’s talk about this first assignment. Just plain good old-fashioned dogfighting to give you guys a foretaste of what’s coming. Today it’s gonna be 4 units at a time against 4 of ours. Your goal is to target any one of the instructors’ units while trying not to be shot yourself. I’ll say it now, we won’t go easy on you. This exercise is meant as an assessment of your current skills, so don’t get too cocky up there, just do your ex-commanders honor. First one to reach its target or last one to be shot wins the mission. Remember, there is no points for second place in this program." He pauses and starts grinning. "Now, show me what you got."

With that Aella tries a small glance in Harry’s direction but his eyes are fixed towards the horizon with a permanent frown shrouding their luminescence.

She sighs.

Fully equipped of her G-suit, helmet and headset, Aella is making the last adjustments on her seat at the back of the cockpit. She’s not unfamiliar with the radar intercept officer position though she’s usually the one at the commands. She’s also used to flying alone.

The panel in front of her intimidatingly takes up all her front view with a couple of screens and numerous switches and tuners. Her perspective is limited to a peripheral vision on both side of the F-14 but she wouldn’t be relying on a full panorama to spot target and threats anyway. No her job is to accurately keep tract of all flying elements within the largest range and most anticipated time possible. There’s no point in crying out for enemy presence when they’re already at your six and firing away… Along with relaying their position to Harry, Aella can also suggest tactical maneuvers based on the predictions she draws from the opponents’ moves.

Speaking of Harry, they haven’t exchanged a word since their brief introduction two days ago. Now they’re both tightly harnessed to their seat about to navigate a near-thirsty-tons engine beyond the speed of sound. Aella’s never been a religious one but as the technician gives her one last thumb up to signal their operational status, she’s praying to all the Gods the awkwardness between them on land is nothing but the result of a subliminal force destined to counterbalance their incredible chemistry once in the air.

The canopy of the cockpit locks them into silence before Harry speaks up. "All good?" The mediocre quality of microphone’s transducer makes his voice even raspier than fathomable through the headset tucked over Aella’s ears.

"Yeah all good. You?"

"Same."

She thinks their conversation is over but then she hears a hushed voice. "Let’s kick the tires and light the fires" She figures it was more so for his own benefit though, so she doesn’t comment.

All too soon they’re propelled forward, backs pinned to their seats because of the tremendous speed pressure. It can be a small-scale body trauma for some but Aella has never felt more comfortable. A tingle of the fingertips later, they are welcomed in an infinite azure dotted by a few scarce clouds, the runway long gone behind them. Both pilots enjoy a couple peaceful seconds to take in their new panorama and then it begins.

"I’ve got a six strobe. I think he’s locked on us." Aella starts reading out the incoming movements entering her radar scope.

With a switch on his radio transmitter, Harry reaches out to Dazzler and Tigger as they are flying in a parallel tandem alongside them. "Tigger, you spot it?"

"Positive. It’s Rogers, looks like he’s a single." Tigger who endorses the same role as Aella quickly reports, before she pitches back in for a few more precisions.

"Contact at 900 knots closure. He’s gaining speed."

"Daz, it’s split time." Harry announces.

"Copy that Styles."

After Dazzler’s approval, the two aircrafts are both sharply veering outwards in a defensive split, leaving a Y-shaped trail of smoke after them. The move comes through as the chaser is contrived to choose one direction to follow, but to Harry’s dismay they get the short end of the stick.

"Rogers coming left, eight o’clock high." Aella signals immediately.

The scenery below them is a mix of wild purples and pale magentas, with fields-worth of lavender adorning the dry soil so characteristic of Californian lands. Peace and nature prevail on these grounds slightly remote from the bustling life of the city but the same cannot be said twenty-thousand feet above where Harry is caught in a tedious game of zig-zag trying to escape his pursuer.

"He’s tailing us. Watch your six!" Aella’s pulse quickens every time Rogers’ unit manages to lock its position right behind them. There is no more vulnerable position for a pilot than to have an enemy flying at their six. It usually means incoming fire. It’s why Harry is relentlessly jerking the TomCat in a rapid and unpredictable manner, the constant change in direction making it near-impossible for Rogers to locate, aim and shoot them.

"No shit Sherlock, why d’you think I’m jinxing so much?" Harry is starting to see spots on his peripheral vision from the gravitational pull, and he can only hope his tailgater is experiencing the same. Beads of sweat dotting his hairline and starting to dribble along his temples but it doesn’t put a damper on his concentration. He can’t relent or he becomes an exposed target.

"Goddamn, he’s not budgin.’" Harry tries with all his might to leave his frustration out of the cockpit but the situation is not looking up.

"You got new contact ahead, 2 o’clock." Aella perks up at the discovery.

"Imma bit preoccupied with Rogers up my ass, if you haven’t noticed."

She should have known pointing out a potential target while they were heavily pursued themselves was not what Harry wanted to hear, but she already had a plan all mapped out. That’s what Aella is her best at after-all: reading a situation and coming up with a strategy in .2 second flat, no reflexion needed, just the numbers, the physics and the sky on her side.

"I didn’t mean it as a target. You can use them as a shield if you keep Rogers high enough right before making a dive under them." She explains her vision to him, desperately wishing she could be the one in front executing it.

"He’ll just go above and back to tailgating us."

"Not if you barrel-roll right after the contact, he’ll just overshoot." His lack of response betrays his skepticism so she insists further, brushing off the way he’s second-guessing her.

"At the least, it’ll give you leeway and buy you some time." This time her argument weights enough to tip his scale in favor of her plan.

"‘lright then." Harry reluctantly agrees, tilting his chin slightly to the side as if he couldn’t believe himself he was going through with her move. "’s gonna be snug timing."

"Just trust my cue." Aella’s words are left hanging between them like a desperate echo thrown in an empty ravine. Does he trust her? Does she? It’s definitely not the moment to reflect on it, much less have a discussion about it, but neither of them are oblivious to the eerie silence filling up their space like a faux smile greeting a bad joke. Then the aircraft is once again yanked to a blunt left and Aella is snapped out of it.

"That’s it. Target at 1 mile abeam 40° on your right." She’s got the fellow fighter in her line of view, both on the radar and through the bulletproof glass of the F-14′s canopy. "Keep high, keep high…3, 2, 1, drop!" Harry immediately complies, the aircraft nearly skimming the underbelly of its twin above before shooting right back upwards, nose pointing at the sun. The trajectory describes a half loop leaving them upside-down for a milli-second before Harry rolls them back to normal, in the end effectively realizing a vertical U-turn. Rogers skillfully avoids a fetal collision with the third wheeler but doesn’t anticipate Harry’s sudden volte-face, which leaves him ways ahead in accordance with Aella’s prognosis.

"Fuck, we’re losin’ airspeed." Because of such a twist of direction, they are indeed relegated to a lesser speed which Harry is not too enchanted about.

"He’s losing some too." Aella reasons, before jumping to another matter. "2 incoming bogies ahead. I think it’s Berks tailing Dazzler."

She’s barely finished her sentence that two familiar aircrafts flash passed them at such high speed, Harry has to crane his neck backwards to watch his friends in the same predicament he was mere seconds ago.

"I have to cover them." His instinct takes over.

"Fly your needles Harry, it’s too late for them." Aella objects to it straight away. Her mind is unbiased, she knows going for them would be pointless.

"Like hell I’m gonna sit tight, they need cover." Harry’s voice is categoric like he couldn’t ever fathom a world where he would leave his friends stranded for the sake of a mission.

"They already lost, Berks’ gonna turn for us now."

"You don’t know that." He replies adamantly despite her warning.

"Except I do. Daz was loosing speed, it’s over for them." Now she’s the one trying to stifle her frustration with all her might. She just wishes he would listen, but instead they’re doing yet another 180 to follow Dazzler’s trail to the rescue. She has no choice but to adapt and keep calling the positions.

"Contact ahead, four hundred, coming down. He’s gonna turn."

"Not if I nail ‘im first." If she weren’t so bitter about being ignored, she might find his determination admirable. Admittedly she can’t deny Harry is an amazing pilot, as are proof his excellent accuracy in space and timing as well as the ease with which he performs each maneuver. But alas, the git won’t take her words for it, no matter how knowledgable she is. Talk about eyes rolling…

Meanwhile, Harry is desperately trying to aim for the TomCat launched in his direction, but his opponent is using the same tricks he used against Rogers.

"Shit, ’s not stable enough to fire." Aella can’t believe he has to audacity to groan about it to her. DIdn’t she warn him?

Any shot is missed as the two aircrafts cross trajectories, nearly grazing each other

"Don’t lag, he’s gonna come around high at your five." Instead of commenting on his failed attempt, she communicates her best educated guess.

"How’dya figure?"

"Cause he was lagging too." Her retorts are getting sharper and colder as her annoyance grows the more he questions her. Her eyes take a rest from the screens on her panel to lay on the Californian landscape flowing passed them. They’ve wandered quite the distance away from the base, the relatively greener scenery of the seafront giving way to a craggy turf redder and drier by the meter.

"Fuck." Harry suddenly swears, the quality of his voice could rival the roughness of the ground Aella was just observing, and she’s effectively brought back into focus.

"Damn it, I told you!" She indulges with an expletive of her own once she spots the fast-approaching signal of Berks’ unit on her AMDR (Air and Missile Defense Radar).

"The fucker got in my blind spot, I’m doin’ my best here." Harry is quick to defend himself but the damage is done: they’re being chased down once again.

Aella thinks she’s starting to reach her disgruntlement threshold. The fact Harry isn’t much receptive to her ideas doesn’t alleviate her growing frustration at her lack of control over the damn carrier. "Well, step up before we get wiped." She spits.

"I swear to God Aella, now’s really not the time"

"If you just listened to me for- Watch out! At your six, closing fast!" She desperately wants to tell him off. Wishes she could go on a rant about how much of a dismissing jerk is being, but her duties reins her in when a loud signal starts beeping frantically on her board. Berks is locked at their six, a press of a finger away from shooting them.

"I hear that" Harry grunts as he gives a sharp jerk at the control stick in order to dodge Berks’ line of fire. He keeps jinxing the aircraft in all axis but Berks follows suit and matches all his moves.

"He’s too fast, I can’t get out of his fire range." Harry’s heartbeat skyrockets as the situation becomes more dire by the second. He doesn’t know how long he can maintain the zig-zagging going, for the sake of both his energy and the carrier’s. Abrupt moves are what’s currently keeping them safe but these are sadly the greediest in kerosene.

Then all hell breaks loose when Aella is hit by one of her craziest ideas.

"Try a complete thrust reversal of the turbofan engines."

"‘ the fuck?! Are you nuts?! It’ll send us spiraling."

Harry’s livid. He knew it. He fucking knew she was impulsive and way too reckless on the edges. She held too much fire in her hands for him to put his trust in them like he wanted to.

"Precisely." His harsh reaction doesn’t deter her confidence. "If you’re out of control, he can’t anticipate your moves, can he?"

"Are you even listening to yourself? That’s a stupid idea if I ever heard one."

"It’s not. You just have to switch back off the burners for a sec and you’ll get the control back."

"And what if I don’t?" She knows her calculations are foolproof but Harry won’t have any of it. He can’t think past the boldness and near-arrogance of it all.

"You will, just trust me." Once again, the words leave a bitter taste in her mouth, even more so because she knows he won’t likely follow through with it.

"That’s suicide mission Aella. I’m not doing it, that’s final." The last two words are categorical, a way for him to officially close the conversation.

"Damn it!"

The theory of it was beautiful really, but Harry thinks in practical and surefire moves he knows won’t send him six feet under before his time. Aella, on the other hand, has always relied on her infallible knowledge of astrophysics to enhance her flying experience. She’s followed the same motto ever since she stumbled across a quote that inspired her beyond grasp. It goes something like this: "aviation records don’t fall until someone is willing to mortgage the present for the future." And while she would never even entertain the idea of a reckless and immature move, her self-taught philosophy gave her access to a whole world of potential tricks most pilot couldn’t even conceptualize.

Aella is in the middle of regulating her harsh breathing when she starts noticing the spinning arrow on her altimeter. Her head swiftly tilts to the side to get a brief snapshot of the crimson soil of San Diego’s wasteland. They must be pretty far in the land if the upcoming sierra of rocky mounts is anything to go by. That’s not what is retaining Aella’s attention though. No, she’s more puzzled by the lack of space between her and the ground, the carrier grazing over pebbly elevations and lorn cactuses.

"Flathatting? That’s your idea? Christ Harry, the trees won’t save your ass." She figures if he doesn’t bother being civil then she could drop her filter too.

"Leave it Aella. Just do your job."

"I’m trying!" She fires back.

"Just trust me on this."

Blank.

"Fuck you Styles, that’s a two-way street." She’s actually fuming. He had the balls to call her out on trust when he hasn’t been returning her the same courtesy. If she had the time to worry further about it now, Aella would be questioning if coming to Top Gun and partnering with Harry was really a life-changing opportunity. So far, she’s had very few upgrades from the grim world she’s always been privy too.

"There’s a split trail 3 miles ahead on the left." She was under the impression they’d stop talking by tacit consent but the rasp of Harry’s voice through her headphones is no mirage. "I can lose him there. Can you read the positions please?"

She’s tempted to give him the silent treatment but the fervid pilot in her wouldn’t let her jeopardize a mission on such petty grounds. At least he was polite about his request this time. "He’s closing on 300 hundred, nose up. Going by 800 knots."

"Roger" Probably the closest thing to a thank you she’ll get from him.

They’re currently speeding through a gorge, tall cliffs of maroon stone fencing them on either side. Aella starts to question Harry’s move as it restrains their room for maneuver but then he makes an extremely obtuse left turn and she gets it. The intimidating mount on their left actually split into two narrow canyons. At the speed they were going, one is most likely to take the second channel whose angle isn’t as sharp as the one Harry chose. Only someone with previous knowledge of the surroundings would know how to successfully make that turn. It’s then Aella realizes Harry has more insight on the environs than he lets on, and his trick proves to be conclusive as Berks falls into the trap and enters the other passage.

"He’s out."Aella simply confirms, before Harry veers upwards and back towards the base.

"Hunky-Dory." He utters in that same whispered manner he used before their take-off. "Now let’s bug the fuck outta here"

The moment she has her two feet on the tarmac, Aella is scurrying over to a furious-looking Harry.

Nostrils flaring, daggers in the eyes, they’re both squaring their shoulders once nose to nose, or rather nose to collarbones. She doesn’t give him the time to even part his lips before she’s jabbing her pointer finger at his taunt chest.

"You prick! I got better things to do than to fill some empty space at the back of your stupid plane. If you don’t want my insight you can shove it where the sun doesn’t shine."

"Insight? You call that insight?!" He starts laughing jeeringly. "’s fuckin’ madness is what it was. I can’t believe I passed the mission with someone like you babbling all that nonsense!" Harry doesn’t even care to temper his disdain anymore. He’s seen enough to make up his mind about her. He doesn’t like her. Doesn’t want to find out about the person inside because he doesn’t like the pilot that she is. It reminds him to much of futile losses and irreparable hurt.

"Someone like me?" Aella’s face turns sour and if it didn’t make her look so sentimental, her eyes would be hosting a few tears. She really thought he wasn’t like those sexist jerks back home. Maybe not the warmest but at least respectful of her talent enough to appreciate her place in the Navy. Now she hates herself for entertaining the fantasy of ever having an ally flying by her side. "You’re an asshole Styles, and certainly no better than Rex." Then before he can reply she storms off, too angered not to lose her wits.

And really, her last words don’t sit well with Harry, because he knows she’s not referring to the jerk’s flying skills.

#harry styles writing #harry styles series #pilot!Harry #Top Gun!Harry #Harry Styles #enemies to lovers #creative writing #Whirlwind #Part 2 #love story #girl power #chaptered story

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maren-reads-books · 5 years ago

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The Raven King by Nora Sakavic

With the Foxes having been hit with a major loss at the very beginning of the season, they have to learn how to cope with one less teammate while preparing for a perilous season. As they familiarize themselves with a less than ideal lineup they prepare themselves as best they can for their first ever game against the Edgar Allen Ravens. With pasts starting to come back to haunt the team they work their way though and try to push past it. As they work hard to succeed they grow closer than ever before and reveal things that never would have come to light if Neil wasn't on the team to stir things up and break boundaries. As they struggle and conquer together on the court and in their lives, the start to become a united front only for the events of the Christmas banquet finally force them apart. Will the team be able to survive or will they crumble under the pressure of their pasts?

--SPOILERS--

This review is a bit long so bear with me. I feel like this book is where the story finally starts to pick up and get interesting, more so later in the book but this book is definitely it. First off, i can't imagine the way the team is feeling after Seth’s death, they all have so many emotional problems (I’m looking at you Neil) that it must've been hard even if they weren't grieving. And I get it, Seth was an asshole and nobody really liked him but that doesn't mean that you shouldn't care about his death, I especially felt bad for Allison, she didn't deserve that. But I think in the long run (not to sound mean) Seth’s death helped bring the team closer together. And then in the midst of all this chaos, Andrew gets a call, the fateful call that will pretty much set up the entire book. It was great to learn more about the twins and their rivalry, but realizing that they’ve really only known each other for a couple of years was crazy, I can't imagine living most of your life not knowing someone was out there wearing your face. And yet they were both destined for crappy childhoods, like how much was fate messing with them huh? And then the decision to let Andrew be off his meds and play for an entire game comes along, that surprised me, but of course my crazy short blond son is willing to play along. And it works, but I'm sure Andrew felt horrible, but they won and that's what really matters, kind of. I know its not super important to the story but this part is important to me, they take Neil shopping. Finally! It seems crazy to me that he’s so resistant to people buying him anything, even something as simple as clothes, which is something that really needed to happen cause jorts? Really Neil? And the Andrew buys them matching phones?! So cute, also foreshadowing. Then the fated fall banquet arrives, where Neil starts to dig his grave deeper and deeper. First we find out that Dan used to be a stripper, but I’m so proud that she’s not ashamed fo what she did and isn’t going to let any stupid Raven get under her skin. And then we meet Jean, who of course goes on to list some of Neil’s other identities and therefore scare the shit out of him. I hated that Neil and subsequently Kevin found out that they knew who he was with all those people around, I can't imagine how that made him feel. And then after a little bit of antagonization from Riko, Neil snaps and gives his iconic, “You know, I get it” speech, like damn. One side of me is like ‘do you want to make things a little bit worse for yourself hunny?’ and the other side of me is like ‘yas go off on this abusive chauvinist asshole’ and then they tell Neil that really all along he wasn't running from his dad, he was running from Riko’s family and it's just like *boom* mic dropped. Again I can't imagine how truly afraid Neil was for his life at that very moment. His conversation about it with Kevin hit me hard, Neil’s been on the run for years, having someone know who he truly is must be the worst feeling ever, but he chooses to stay anyway, my boy has immense courage and probably a death wish but I'm so glad that that's what he chose. One thing I love the most about this book is the fact that Neil starts to form friendships, actual genuine bonds with real good people. It's crazy that he's never had real friends before but I’m glad that he's friends with these people, they're great in a messed up family dynamic kind of way. Learning the rest of the twins story from Nicky made me appalled, what kind of mother, let alone person could give up her kids change her mind but not have enough love or decenty in her heart to take both? Their story hurt my heart like you could not believe. And then Nicky implying that Andrew killed their mother(which he did but whatever) like damn, another mic drop. And then the topic completely changes form murder to ‘hey Nicky why are you gay?’ and Nicky’s answer is just hilariously on point for his character, the way he talks about Erik is just so adorable, I wish we got to see more of Erik in this series. But Nicky’s backstory is so sad! His parents are awful and I can't imagine what he went through before he truly started to love himself. Then their first game against the Ravens arrives. I was so nervous, I was literally sitting on the edge of my seat during this game. And even though they lost I was very proud of them, but I really just wanted to slit Riko’s throat. I hate him with all of my five foot one self. And then its Halloween and Neil (my magical boy) convinces the entire team to go out for drinks together, what an absolute miracle. But it's not all rainbows and sunshine, quite yet. Remember that call that Andrew got at the beginning of the book, well turns out the cop has come for a visit, how wonderful. But it's a very vague scene which again, is vital later in the book. But then we learn about Matt’s backstory. Like wow, lots of tragic backstories in this book amiraight? After Halloween Neil and Renee finally have in my opinion, a much needed heart to heart, or as close to it as two severely damaged people can get. And we get another backstory, wow, I think we're checking pretty much everyone off the list. Also I want to meet Kevin's girlfriend! I want to meet her now! Then another phone call that will set up the rest of this book. Nicky’s parents call to invite them over for Thanksgiving. What a mess, but Andrew, Kevin, Aaron, Nicky, and Neil all pile into the car and take a ride down to see the parents. But not before stopping by the Exy store to get Neil a new racket, which is also another crazy important detail. This book flows so nicely, even if the events that occur aren't nice, everything connects so seamlessly, it's perfect. And then we meet the parents, right off the bat I knew I would hate them and that they were only going to cause problems. Religion is okay, like Nicky says, it is an interpretation of faith, but people like Nicky's parents aren't willing to view it like that and that makes them dangerous, turns out I was right. Luring Andrew to Drake was cruel and horrifying. I hope they get sent away. The way Aaron defended his brother though, that kind of passion for someone you barely know is something that runs in the twins blood and that's the connection that will be vital to repairing their brotherhood. The way Neil tried to comfort Andrew, all that boy wants is to protect him. The description of Andrew being too high to even really process what had just happened to him, and the description of his laugh, it was enough to make me feel nauseous, it was such a descriptive and visceral scene. I don't agree with Aaron being arrested but whatever. But the fact that, after Andrew found out he was being sent away, he had enough trust in Neil to give Kevins care to him, like wow. That's such a big step in the right direction for their relationship. And I'm so gosh dang happy that Andrew is being taken off his meds, if they'd left him on them after what he went through I would have a serious problem. But Neil honey, your racket was used as a murder weapon and you want it back?! Like seriously? My boy needs some help, but he gets a new one so it's fine. Neil’s mission to fix Aaron and Andrew’s relationship? Such pure intentions for a boy with such a broken heart but it really shows how much he cares for these people, he has such a caring heart and has never deserved anything that he's gotten. The scene on page 269, yes I put the page number in there because it's important, when Neil asks the team if they are actually friends. Ugh, my heart did a little song and dance, I’m so happy that my broken boy has friends, and I’m glad that Aaron gets to keep Katelyn around, I like her, she's good for him. But the Christmas banquet arrives and doesn't bring any yuletide cheer with it. First things first, Riko admitted to being the cause of Seth's death, like wow didn't think that was going to happen but he's a cocky asshole so I really should have expected it. Second, he admits to setting up the thing with Drake and then tells Neil that he can have Andrew tortured/raped at his rehabilitation center if Neil doesn't cooperate. And so Neil sets off to Evermore for Christmas break, pretty much sealing his fate meanwhile the only one that knows is Kevin and Kevin can’t say a thing to stop him. I was literally screaming at my book by this point begging him not to go, but he's a stubborn little asshole. Okay, the fact that Riko put him in Kevin's place, was super symbolic of Riko’s insane personality. Then we find out that Kevin’s dad is Wymack? Like, uh, definitely didn't see that one coming, like never in a million years would I have expected that. I can't believe that they beat Neil to a pulp and then expected him to play? They're literally torturing this boy just to get him to play a sport, then Riko pulls out his knife and gets to work, and like Neil says Riko is “one seriously fucked up individual.” And then he’s home, honestly I think it works well that his time at Evermore wasn’t in the book, it makes it feel more real, I don't know how to describe it but it makes it feel like Neil tried to block everything out and then everything comes rushing back once he’s home. The fact that Wymack dropped everything to come and get him really goes to how how much he cares for these kids, they’re his family. Then coach offered to patch him up which was really nice of him but when Neil saw his tattoo and was literally ready to carve it of his face with a kitchen knife, you really get a peek into how much damage they truly did to him and how much he really cares for this team, that he's willing to put himself in danger just in order to stay with them. He's willing to fight his instincts to stay with his family, and that's what bravery looks like in my opinion. As I’ve said before and will say again, I love this series so much and would highly recommend it everyone.

-maren

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