#maybe more actually. maybe since I moved to edinburgh. fuck if I know

[ace-malarky]

Assassin

Which really would have been the perfect prompt for Sparkles, perhaps, but that is not how the dice rolled so here we are with Ishal; herbologist, medic, researcher.

this setting is not one of the Mist Worlds but a joint project with an old friend that she seems to think? we've finished with? jokes on her; I kept writing even when she stopped responding to letters

~~

 There were supplies missing from her stores. Not much – not enough to be noticeable, if Ishal didn’t know the weights and placements of everything in her shack intimately.

 Whoever had taken it was good; barely anything else disturbed, which very much ruled out Irith. While he wouldn’t remember to say anything, he wouldn’t have hidden his presence.

 “And I suppose you saw nothing,” she said to Mals.

 Her pentaloft rolled her head towards her and burbled, not shifting from her sprawled out position on the roof.

 Ishal rolled her eyes and returned inside to check. The plants that had been taken nagged at her and she wanted to check her notes before she acted on anything.

 It didn’t take long. Ishal knew her stock, knew her plants. She just hadn’t wanted to believe it before, which was nonsense. She was a scientist, a biologist, a botanist. She knew the use of every plant in here, both on its own and in conjunction with others.

 “Shit.” Ishal ran her hands through her hair – loosened from its horsetail already by frequent use of the same motion – and stayed still long enough to work out a plan.

 Then she bolted from the building, running for the main structure, where she prayed to anyone listening that Ilse or Prianthus are inside. She’d take Ari or Jolek, but–

 Ishal ran.

 Oli was just inside the door, and he pulled to the side as she charged in. “Ishal?”

 “Ilse?” she asked.

 “Upstairs,” he replied, “she’s with–”

 But Ishal was gone, launching herself upwards along the curving staircase.

 “Wait, what’s happening?” he called after her as he followed.

 Ishal burst into the sitting room, startling the whole group.

 Prianthus and Ari both reached for their weapons. Nyssa grabbed the knife from zir plate. Jolek turned, shifting as if to run. Ilse flinched back in her seat.

 “Ishal,” Prianthus said, recovering first. “What is the problem?”

 “None of you have eaten anything yet?” Ishal asked.

 “No, Olizaar has only just brought it up.” Ilse frowned.

 “Good. Don’t.” Ishal fought not to bend over and pant.

 “What’s happening?” Oli appeared in the doorway behind her.

 “Poison,” Ishal said. “Plants stolen, nasty–”

 “Malle–” Ilse started to say.

 “She wouldn’t,” Oli interrupted. “Sorry. But. She wouldn’t.”

 “I meant it might be for her, we should–” Ilse flicked a glance towards Jolek.

 “She eats with the rest of the students,” Ari said with a growl.

 “She also isn’t our only high-profile student.” Prianthus kept his voice calm and level.

 “Oh, that wasn’t what I–”

 “Ari,” Nyssa said. “Stop.”

 “It’s far more likely to be someone known to take meals separately.” Ishal straightened up, walked further in, and reached for the nearest dish. “Oli, was there anyone new in the kitchen?”

 “I – you know what turnover’s like down there, they don’t outlast Ari for–”

 “With fewer jokes,” Ishal snapped. She would apologise later.

 “Sorry. Um – there might have been – I thought he was just delivering supplies, but they don’t hang around that much.” Oli hesitated. “Unless he’s sweet on someone.”

 “Ari, stay put,” Prianthus said. “Jolek, you go with Olizaar. If he’s still around, don’t let him leave.”

 Jolek grinned and saluted, peeling away from the wall. “C’mon, kiddo. We can grab some food, too.”

 Ishal set down the plate and reached for the next.

 “We don’t have specific plates,” Ilse said, watching her. “If this is targeted, it seems sloppy.”

 “Yes, but–” Ishal froze, a plate in her hands. “Who was going to eat from this one?” She didn’t have to ask, really; the way it was loaded more to a northern palate gave it away as one of two people, and Nyssa had never eaten that much since she’d known zir.

 Ari frowned. “Me, but–”

 “If you are about to ask why, don’t,” Ilse said, sounding as close to snapping as Ishal had ever heard her. “You are one of the founders. You ride an elemental. Your death would disrupt a lot.”

 “Besides which,” Nyssa said, “as far as anyone knows, you are the sole survivor of the Satar clan.”

 Ari looked at her cousin. “Not Malle, then.”

 “She’s supremely uninterested in the politics of any clan outside the true North of the frozen circle.” Nyssa’s tone was arch, gently mocking.

 “I will – dispose of this.” Ishal covered the plate over with a waxed cloth from her pocket. “I advise that you all get new plates, regardless.

#

 It took longer than she would like to neutralise the poison. They’re far more up Irith’s tree, but he’s nowhere to be found. Again. As usual.

 Ishal ignored that, focusing on picking it apart. No one ingested. That’s good. She should, perhaps, teach them a class on identifying poisons.

 Or get Irith to. Maybe that would get him to focus.

 “Ishal?” Oli poked his head around the door.

 “You aren’t interrupting,” she replied.

 “Good. Because we found the poisoner. Ilse wants you there. If you’re… ready.” He didn’t come any further in.

 Ishal swept the remnants of the food into a pouch and sealed it. “Yes. Sorry.” She joined him at the door. “I shouldn’t have snapped at you.”

 “It was a tense moment.” Oli shrugged.

 “Still.” Ishal squeezed his arm. “I shouldn’t have. I’m sorry.”

 Oli smiled at her. “Well, when you put it like that.” He laughed. “Come on, let’s condemn an assassin and see what passes for justice around here.”

 “Assassin?” Ishal let out a puff of laughter. “Is that what they’re saying?”

 “Well, he did try to kill Ari, so.” Oli shrugged. “It’s accurate.”

 Ishal hummed and followed Oli back to the castle.

 Mals was more alert now, still perched up on the roof above the door but with her eyes focused on the path.

 Oli shouldered his way past the students who were milling about, avoiding their questions.

 “They know something’s happened.”

 “I mean yeah, they’re not dumb. Most of them.” Oli shot her a grin. “Plus, you made a spectacle when you launched yourself across.”

 Ishal hummed again.

 Oli led her into a room that rarely saw use. It was bare stone, thin slits of windows, not quite big enough to be a hall. There had been steps down into it, but not enough to put them fully underground and into the tunnels.

 Ishal started to look for a way down before she realised that the room was already occupied, and snapped her attention to them.

 There was Ilse and Prianthus, standing beside each other, Jolek to the side and Ari in the corner with a cloaked figure that Ishal assumed was Nyssa in her shadow.

 There was one more person; he looked to be from the north, like Ari and Nyssa and Malle, but he was dressed in worn labourer’s clothing and his hair was cropped short. He was standing, arms tied behind him, and was sporting a split lip and a swelling eye.

 “This is our thief?” Ishal asked.

 “Our would-be assassin, please,” Jolek said. “Don’t align him with me.”

 Prianthus shot him a warning glare.

 Their prisoner laughed. “I’d heard the rumours about a criminal in the ranks of these claimed riders. The beast must have been quite desperate. Or an easily led fool.”

 Jolek’s face tightened into a scowl.

 “Don’t,” Prianthus said, and for a moment it was unclear who he spoke to.

 A growl rumbled in through the windows and Jolek frown became a smirk.

 “They’re listening as well. So, you know. Be careful.”

 “Why did you attempt to kill me?” Ari asked. “Actually – why did you come at me like a coward?”

 Jolek muffled a laugh. “Priorities.”

 “Because we don’t want you coming back to claim the throne,” he answered easily enough.

 Ari squinted at him as she parsed his words. “I – I left, I was never in line, you just wanted our whole clan wiped out.” Ari stroked down the haft of one of her axes.

 He tiled his chin up, unafraid or resigned. “That should never have delayed your death.”

 “And then you failed,” Ari said.

 “Did your clan leader send you?” Prianthus asked.

 “He should have.”

 “Is that why you stole supplies from me?” Ishal asked. “No blessing from your clan?”

 “They will award my initiative.”

 “If you’d succeeded,” Jolek said.

 “If you get back.” Ari’s voice was light, noncommittal.

 Ishal shot her a glance; she was still stroking her axe, her face carefully still.

 Ilse shifted on her feet, almost as if she was going to caution Ari, but she didn’t say anything.

 “We don’t have any higher judgement than us,” Prianthus said, seeing Ishal’s glance.

 “Well, the dragons, but I think they’d jut as soon eat you,” Jolek said.

 “This is a Northern problem,” Ari said. “As such.”

 Nyssa placed zir hand on Ari’s shoulder.

 “Are we just here for witnesses?” Ishal asked, folding her arms. “He stole as well.”

 “Would you like his hand?” Ari asked.

 Ishal tilted her head. “What would I do with that?”

 “Don’t toy with your prey, Ari,” Ilse murmured.

 The prisoner snorted. “Children that you are, do you not know how the world works?”

 Ari growled.

 Nyssa squeezed Ari’s shoulder and stepped past her. Ze slipped an axe from Ari’s waist as ze walked on.

 The prisoner frowned at zir. “What are you, her dog? Do you dirty your hands when the failed bodyguard is too much of a coward?”

 Nyssa pushed back zir hood. “No, I’m proof of your failure.”

 He frowned. “You–”

 “Nyssa Satara, heir to the Satar clan.” Ze was smaller than him, slighter, but ze carried zirself with the grace of the whip tailed dog when it knows that a meal is close at hand. “We survive.”

 His eyes widened; he took a step back, as if that would help him avoid what was coming.

 Nyssa drew zir hand back, flipped the axe in zir grip, and sliced it across his throat.

 Ilse let out a gasp and covered her mouth with her hands. Jolek tried to shape his shock into amusement and mostly failed.

 Prianthus and Ari barely blinked.

 Nyssa stepped back to avoid the blood that was spilling down his front, and handed Ari back her axe as the man dropped to the floor behind zir. “I trust no one contests my judgement?”

 Jolek let out a high-pitched noise and then cleared his throat. “Yeah, it’s a – a bit late for that, I think.”

 “What do you intend to do with the body?” Ilse asked, fighting to keep her voice level.

 “Feed it to the dragons,” Oli suggested.

 Everyone turned to him like they’d forgotten he was there.

 “What?” He shrugged. “They’ll be hungry.”

 “That won’t even scratch the surface for one of them.” Jolek flicked his gaze down to the body.

 “Can I have it?” Ishal asked.

 “What are you going to do with it? Your penta can’t possibly eat all that.”

 “Oh, it’s not for her.” Ishal shook her head. “Research. It’s not often I get a chance at a fresh corpse.”

 “Horrifying,” Prianthus said dryly.

 “If Nyssa and Ari have no objections?” Ilse glanced at them.

 Ari shrugged. “Let something good come of him.”

 Ishal nodded. Maybe this would get her brother out of his head for a bit.

[toomuchracket]

elope with me (ross x reader fluff)

day 5 of promptober75!! ross and shy gf have some mad realisations in the backseat of birthday party!matty's car on the way to edinburgh. that sounds dirty but actually this is the fluffiest thing of all time lol. i've missed writing for ross, and i really hope you guys like this as much as i do <3

"and then she says, and this is no word of a lie, that she thinks the cannibalism is romantic. romantic!"

matty's tone is incredulous, and so is his face, visible in the rearview mirror. the car swerves slightly as he looks back at you and ross, both of you giggling in the backseat at your friend and his impassioned rant against some film he'd watched recently. 

his fiancée lightly slaps his arm. "stop bitching about me and keep your eyes on the road, please! honestly. sorry, guys."

you laugh as she turns to you and rolls her eyes, before her attention is diverted by matty picking up her hand and kissing it in wordless apology. ross squeezes your own hand and winks at you, letting the peaceful silence linger for a second before he speaks again. "so do you recommend the film, then?"

"yes!"

"absolutely fucking not."

"it's genuinely a good film, ross, it's not matty's fault he's too much of a coward to enjoy it," your friend glares at matty, then turns to lock eyes with you. "you actually might like it, babe. it reminded me of that ethel cain song you told me to listen to."

"oh, strangers?" you say, straightening up in your seat. "yeah, that's romantically cannibalistic, i s'pose. i might give it a watch once we're home."

"christ, not you as well, babe," matty groans, lightly thumping his head off the steering wheel. "i thought you were sane."

ross laughs. "nah, she's just so quiet that she lulls you into a false sense of security, before she reveals her weirdo tendencies," he says cheekily, snuggling into you as your cheeks heat up. "what's that museum you want to go to, again?"

"the surgeons' hall."

"that's the one. brains in jars, and weird shit like that," ross shudders. "creepy."

"i'm cool not going, if you don't want to," you say meekly. "i just don't know the city, s'all, so i don't fancy going alone in case i get lost. streets on top of other streets and all that."

ross opens his mouth, but matty's fiancée gets there first. "no, i'll go with you, lovely! we could make an afternoon of it, get a drink afterwards. or food, if we can stomach it."

the relief on ross's face is so obvious it almost makes you laugh.

you smile at your friend. "if you're not too tired after your event, absolutely. thank you for offering, babe."

"yeah, thanks indeed," ross grins. he catches his best friend's eye in the rearview mirror. "while the girls are off being weird… pub?"

matty nods. "pub."

"i would also like to go to the pub, though," his fiancée interjects. "s'been too long since i had a drink in a good scottish one. we could meet you after our museum trip, couldn't we, babe?"

"that sounds good," you reply. "i take it you're excited to be back in edinburgh, then? you spent some time here before you moved to london, didn't you?"

"babe, you have no idea how much i'm looking forward to it," your friend sighs. "i'm kinda nervous, though. the book festival is a big deal. and i'm worried nobody will ask me any questions at my talk."

ross scoffs. "oh please, you have more fans than we do - don't deny it, matty, you know i'm right. you'll be fighting off people trying to ask you stuff, mate."

"yeah, it'll be great!" you add, smiling warmly.

she smiles just as warmly in return. "well, i hope you're right. maybe you'd better prepare a question, though, just in case no one else wants to talk."

your eyes widen, and you shake your head. "i love you, but there's no way i'm talking in public."

"i'll do it," comes the voice from the driver's seat.

everyone else in the car rolls their eyes. "anything to pull focus," ross mutters under his breath.

matty hears him, though. "oh, shut up, ross. anyway," he clears his throat. "we're about to cross the border, into the land of the soundest people on the fucking planet."

ross cheers when he sees the "welcome to scotland" roadsign, which makes you all laugh. "you know, i always forget that gretna is literally right on the other side of the border."

you look out of the window. sure enough, you're already driving past houses and shops and little grey stone buildings. "this is the place where people come to get married, right? why is that?"

"oh, history lecture incoming," matty laughs - again, his fiancée smacks him on the arm. "go on, rass."

ross rolls his eyes, but turns in his seat to face you. the warmth in those deep brown eyes of his is so distracting, but you're interested in the history of the place, so you try your best to focus on your boyfriend's words as best you can. "short version is that in the 1750s, you couldn't get married in england or wales without parental consent if you were under 21, but that rule didn't apply in scotland, so people used to sneak off and get married here because it was right across the border. and as long as there were two witnesses, practically anyone could officiate - loads of the blacksmiths performed ceremonies at their anvils, probably because couples needed to get wedding rings somewhere, and now every wedding that takes place in any venue here is done over an anvil. obviously laws are different now, but people still flock to gretna for quick, almost clandestine marriages - total opposite of what the pair of clowns in the front seat have got planned, basically."

"oh, shush, it'll be beautiful. i'm excited," you say, smiling at your friends before turning to gaze out at the town. "and that's interesting, that story. it's also kind of beautiful, i think, the urgency of it all. loving someone so much that you just run away together and get married as soon as you can, no circumstance, no fuss, just love compelling you."

even though you're not looking at anyone as you talk about love and marriage, you find your thoughts focusing on a familiar pair of dark brown eyes, a soft smile, dimpled cheeks, strong arms that feel like home. suddenly a little bit lightheaded, you open your window slightly and turn back to face the rest of the now-silent car's occupants, and immediately wish you hadn't.

ross and your friend have turned to look at you directly, and matty's peering at you through the rearview mirror; all three of them are smiling, but the lack of response sends you into panic mode. 

cheeks aflame and heart racing, you start speaking again, far more frantically than before. "i didn't mean to offend the two of you in saying that, by the way, i know you guys are so in love and it's so sweet to see because i love you and i love seeing you happy, and your wedding is going to be perfect and so romantic and i'm so touched that you asked me to be a part of it, and as much as i find the urgency of a gretna wedding romantic i also think it's very sensible to plan the day out in advance because obviously it's such a huge deal, marriage, and i do see the appeal in marrying surrounded by everyone you like and love, i just don't know that it would be for me, but like i said i think your day will be beautiful and-"

"love, slow down, breathe," ross takes your hand in his, rubbing slow circles into your palm - your breathing and heart rate both begin to regulate merely because of his touch. "nobody's offended."

you look nervously toward the front seat. "you're sure?"

"not offended in the slightest, babe," matty says, in the gentle tone you've learned he reserves for the people he loves most in the world. "my girl and i just like showing off."

"speak for yourself, freak," his fiancée scoffs, but her face softens as she looks at him. "nah, it's not about showing off, for me. i just didn't think that true love - like proper romantic fairytale stuff - existed in my world until i met matty. and i want our wedding to reflect that."

your heart glows for them. "that's beautiful."

she shrugs. "it's just my experience. what's yours, if you don't mind me asking? i love the way you two are with each other. i'd love to know how you describe it."

"well, i'm nowhere near as eloquent as you, but i'll try," you say. but the words come easy - all you have to do is look at ross, and your love for him becomes too much to keep to yourself. "for me… it's all about comfort, safety, dependability. i know some of the great love stories have their drastic peaks and troughs, and love can drive you absolutely insane, but that's not the case for us. that's not what i want, or need. i need somebody who shows up for me consistently, who makes me feel secure enough to be more myself, who loves me exactly the same way every day. ross does that for me so effortlessly without ever being boring; there are always new things to learn about him. and i hope he feels the same way about me. it's a quiet kind of love, i think, but it's definitely deep, and true."

you smile bashfully at your boyfriend, who leans forward as far as his seatbelt allows to kiss you softly. "yeah, i think you hit the nail on the head with that description, darling," he murmurs, thumb gently caressing your warm cheek. "just you and i in our own little world."

your tender moment is interrupted by sniffling from the front seat. "for goodness' sake," matty says, wiping his eyes. "i can't believe the pair of you are making me cry in my own car. illegal move."

"shhhh, baby," his fiancée - also teary, you notice - coos, ruffling his hair. she leans over her own arm to grin at you and ross. "you two are so lovely, you know that? coming here with us to support me, and sharing your thoughts like that. i love you, i love your love, and i love that we're all feeling the love today. it's sweet."

"yeah, it is," ross agrees. you snuggle into him as best you can, breathing in the cologne and fabric softener scent of his hoodie and soaking up his warmth like he's the sun. it's not an inaccurate metaphor, actually - he is the centre of your universe, after all. "are you tired, my love?"

"little bit."

"here," ross quickly unfastens your seatbelt and pulls you into the middle seat, thus pulling you closer to him. he gently makes sure you have your new seatbelt on, before wrapping an arm around you and repositioning you against his chest. "go to sleep, darling, we still have a bit of time left in the car."

"will you wake me up when we get into the pretty part of edinburgh?"

ross smiles down at you, so tenderly you could cry. "course i will."

you smile back, eyelids already growing heavy. "alright."

sleep comes easy to you, cosied up safely in ross's arms. as always, he's the subject of your dreams, but the plot of this particular one is a new one to you. well, not totally. you've dreamt of marrying ross before, but the setting has never been so hyper-specific, or recognisable - little stone grey buildings, your hand and his both adorned with wedding rings, clasped together over an anvil, him in a kilt, you in a long white dress, your friends from the front seat of the car smiling and crying happily in the background.

the dream permeates your brain from that point on, even in your waking hours, too. you aren't sure whether it's the abundance of tartan dotted around the royal mile making you think of dream-ross's wedding kilt, or the grey façades of the buildings in the old town making you think of the far less elaborate ones in gretna, or if it's just ross's hand in your own as you wander around the city making you think of wedding rings, but you can't get the thought about running off to gretna with him out of your mind. 

it's funny, you think; you've only spoken about marriage enough to know that it's something you both want at some point, so your brain's constant defaulting to thoughts of eloping, of all things, should utterly terrify you. but like everything else in your relationship with ross, it feels easy, and natural, and right. the thing that scares you the most, actually, is how best to bring it up to your boyfriend.

as it turns out, though, you don't even have to. because, on your final night in edinburgh, ross mentions it first.

it happens after dinner, after drinks, after a singalong in the pub with the trad folk band playing songs none of you knew. you'd laughed and smiled until your cheeks hurt, and danced until your feet did too. ross carried you the whole way back to the hotel - no mean feat, considering he had to go at the same pace as an overly-tipsy matty and his wife-to-be - and he hasn't really let go of you since; not in the quick shower you took to rid yourself of "pub smell" and makeup, not while you brushed your teeth, and not in bed, where he's curled around you protectively as you lie on your side.

he's straight to the point, as usual, however. "you've been thinking about us eloping in gretna, haven't you?"

if you were any less intoxicated, you would panic. instead, you roll over lazily to face him, smiling shyly. "how could you tell?"

"your eyes lingered far longer they usually would on the window of that jewellers near victoria street," ross smiles, reaching to brush a stray bit of hair from your face. "that, and when you let me use your phone to google taxi numbers the other night i saw 'gretna marriage license rules' in your recent searches."

"you're very perceptive, macdonald."

"i try. so… what are the rules?"

"well," you begin, thinking back to your findings. "you have to apply for one 29 days before you want to get married, so the registrars can do all their checks."

"29 days?"

"yeah."

ross grins. "well, i've waited this long. what's another month?"

"really? you want to elope, too?" your breath catches in your throat as you speak - out of sheer joy, though, not fear.

"love, if we could've, i'd have married you on the way home tomorrow," ross says softly. "i mean, we have witnesses - who i think we should ask to come back up with us again next month, by the way - and semi-nice outfits, and i could get us rings easy. what else do we need?"

"you're right, we're ready," you giggle. "and i agree with you about the witnesses. if only to see matty weep when we say i do, honestly."

"oh, he'll be a mess," ross snorts. he brings your hand to his lips. "so it's settled, then? we're doing this?"

you lean forward to kiss him - softly, but not without an undercurrent of love and passion and desire. "yeah, we're doing this. one month, sweetheart, and i'm officially yours forever."

"looking forward to it, my love."

[tellthemeerkatsitsfine]

So, the other day, I posted this video, because I figured enough time had passed since I last posted one of the clips of the thing I'm inexplicably obsessed with (late-night 00s Edinburgh shows), so I could get away with posting that one again. This led to a conversation with @lastweeksshirttonight, in which they asked me whether old Edinburgh Festival was always that unhinged. To which I would say - I watched a 2-hour documentary on it that went through years of weird shit that's happened there and didn't even mention Cowgate (though I think that's mainly because Daniel Kitson didn't do the documentary, obviously, so they glossed over his era of hosting a bit, and only really focused on him in a clip of one time when he was being a dick to Ava Vidal, for some reason). Maybe more significantly, a bunch of comedians got a collective nickname for pioneering the groundbreaking, so remarkable they got named after it, idea of not getting drunk every night during Edinburgh late-night shows.

Anyway, this made me think of the guy singing in the above video, whose name is Seán Cullen. He's Canadian, I used to occasionally hear him on CBC radio when I was younger. From 1987 to 1998, he was in a band called Corky and the Juice Pigs, with comedian Phil Nichol, and Greg Neale. I actually remember Corky and the Juice Pigs a bit too, from when I was young. They used to play on CBC radio, and I think they had songs on a compilation tape (like, an actual cassette tape) of Canadian comedy songs that my dad used to play in the car when I was about eight years old. Arrogant Worms, Bowser and Blue, Three Dead Trolls - those are the three Canadian comedy bands that I remember well being really into as a kid (and not just when I was a kid - the number of Arrogant Worms songs in my music collection has three digits in it, I last saw them live when I was well into my twenties, and I'd see them again tomorrow if the opportunity presented itself). I only very recently made the connection that Corky and the Juice Pigs - that other band that I used to hear play very Canadian joke songs - is the same as the band that Phil Nichol was in with that guy who sang Oh Edinburgh in that video. Turns out I've known who those guys are for way longer than I'd previously thought.

I definitely remember this song from those childhood road trips:

I fucking loved this song during my childhood phase of thinking Canadians making fun of Americans was the funniest thing in the world (this phase didn't start with Rick Mercer's Talking to Americans but it was certainly fuelled by it).

Anyway, I didn't realize until last month that I've known who Phil Nichol was since I was maybe six years old, when I suddenly made the connection between his band and those childhood cassette tapes. But I did know that part of the answer to "was old Edinburgh Festival always that unhinged?" is "Well, the guy singing the song in that 2001 video that prompted the question was used to be in a band with a Canadian comedian named Phil Nichol, who won the Perrier Award in 2006 for an anti-Iraq war protest show that ended with him removing all his clothes and having about twenty other people on stage with him do the same and encouraging the audience to do so as well, and the in 2008 he called into Daniel Kitson's Melbourne radio show at 3 AM while clearly high to tell him that he loves him, and also that he's just made out with a woman in a car."

Of all the comedians I’ve discovered through my obsession with 00s Edinburgh comedy, Phil Nichol is one of the ones I quite like. At some point after his Corky and the Juice Pigs days ended in the late 90s, he moved to England and has been a comedian there ever since.

He has two old specials on NextUp: Nearly Gay from 2005 and The Naked Racist from 2006 (that’s the one that won the Perrier Award). Nearly Gay is a show that started because of what I think was Corky and the Juice Pigs’ most popular song: The Only Gay [word I, personally, would not use for Inuit people]. Apparently American comedian Scott Capurro repeatedly accused the song of being homophobic, so in 2005, Phil Nichol wrote a whole show about how he can’t be homophobic because he has lots and lots of gay friends and has done lots of stuff that could be considered “gay”, even though he’s heterosexual. And the show is… shockingly, much, much less awful than you’d expect, given the premise. I mean, it’s not perfect. But you know how bad a show you’re imagining based on my description? It’s a lot better than that.

Most of the time, I would say it would be annoying to spend five minutes listening to a straight dude explain how he’s exempt from homophobia because he kissed his male friend as a joke while drunk once and he has gay friends; it would be unbearable to listen to a guy do that on stage for a whole hour. But Phil Nichol gets away with it, because… okay, I have to admit, he’s got a point. He’s got a lot more to his defense than just an “I kissed a guy when I was drunk once” story. He makes his claims and then backs them up. Especially for 2005, when it was way less acceptable for straight guys to do anything that could possibly be perceived as gay. He had me at some point thinking – okay, fair enough, I think this straight guy might actually be sufficiently connected to the gay community to get a little bit of a pass.

It also helps that I don’t think the thing for which he was defending himself really needed defending. He was accused of homophobia over his song The Only Gay [word that I, personally, would not use for Inuit people], and you will notice there’s only one word in that song’s title that I refuse to type, and that word is not “gay”. I’ve heard the song, and I don’t think it is offensive to gay people. Whether it’s offensive to anyone else… I mean, it’s got a racial slur in the title. And I realize that word is not a racial slur everywhere. I realize in some parts of the world, it’s even the term that’s preferred by people it describes. But not in Canada. I was a child in Canada in the 90s, and I knew back then that that word is offensive, so I think it’s fair to say that Canadian band Corky and the Juice Pigs should have known that, even in the 90s. It’s a whole big thing here – we recently had the city of Edmonton change the name of a major sports team because you don’t use that word.

Having said that, there are multiple people in the YouTube comments saying they’re Inuit and they love this song. I do actually know a couple of Inuit people who have no problem with that word, but I know others who absolutely hate it. It’s down to the individual, and I wouldn’t tell any Inuit person not to use it. But overall, I would say the problem with the song that has a racial slur in the title is not that it pokes fun at gay stereotypes. It pokes fun at gay stereotypes, it pokes fun at Inuit stereotypes, and as a gay person, I’m authorized to give Phil Nichol and co a pass for one of those things but not the other. I’m happy to grant the pass in this instance (even though I’m not really authorized, as those are pretty specifically gay male stereotypes).

I’ll admit it also makes a difference to me that comedian Scott Capurro, the guy who complained about this, is on Comedy Unleashed these days. So he hasn’t got a lot of cred in the area of complaining that someone else is being offensive toward his minority status.

Honestly, the song isn’t really about gay people or Inuit people. It’s just an excuse to do an impression of a bunch of different bands, which they do entertainingly. I have to admit, I rewatched it just now and it still made me laugh. Here, watch the video and make up your own mind:

So that’s what Nearly Gay was about. His hour-long rebuttal to Scott Capurro’s claims that he was homophobic because he sang a song about a gay guy being turned on by the North Pole. Some weird beef between a Canadian comedian and an American comedian, that he decided to bring to Edinburgh. Again, I might try harder to see Scott Capurro’s side if he weren’t [I almost linked to a video of him on Comedy Unleashed here, then though better of it, just trust me on this].

2005 was also the year that Daniel Kitson did a show that had a fair bit in it dedicated to refuting a female journalist who called him a misogynist. I guess that was a big year for straight men explaining how people were wrong to call them these things. But I have to say… Phil Nichol made a better case than Daniel Kitson. They both had a point. But Phil Nichol did just happen to have a massive arsenal of stories ready to explain why he might be the most gay-adjacent straight man of the decade.

This was the first Phil Nichol show I saw, when I got into him earlier this year. It certainly made an impression. It takes a while to adjust to Phil Nichol, no matter what you’re watching him do. Just to train your brain to get used to the breakneck pace at which he talks, his relentless enthusiasm. Listening to a Phil Nichol show is like having a conversation with an extremely excitable friend who absolutely cannot fucking wait to tell you about the eighteen different thoughts in his brain at any given second. This is partly because he talks in such a conversational style, if you assume it’s a conversation with someone who’s just ingested a lot of amphetamine-based drugs. “Okay, okay, so then this happened, and okay, I have to tell you this part – yeah, okay, and then, right, he comes up and does this, so I fucking don’t know what to do, right, because what are you supposed to do there, so then I just start screaming, and…” It’s like that. He talks like that. Non-stop. For an hour.

There are a lot of act-outs, both physical and verbal. I’ve never been hugely into physical comedy, and his acts aren’t very physical. It doesn’t really rely on the actions to show you the joke. It’s more than he runs around the stage, he waves his arms around to emphasize his points, every once in a while he’ll bring in a gesture to show you what he means. Like he has more to say than he could possibly say in a lifetime and is trying to get across as much as possible. I like the verbal act-outs, though, if that’s the right term for it, which I’m almost sure it isn’t. There’s probably a word for it. Sound effects? Telling a story, then immediately doing something onomatopoeic to demonstrate how something in the story sounded, then right back into the story. Act-outs with audio description.

It's a wild style, it doesn’t always work. I’m sure it doesn’t work for everyone – I can imagine some people (justifiable) really not liking him. Honestly, I found him a bit of an acquired taste. The first time I watched him, I got about ten minutes in and thought this probably won’t be for me. It took me about twenty minutes to really buy into it. But once I did, I found it very entertaining. He can take up all your attention, draw you right in so you don’t get distracted until he’s done.

Are his jokes well written? Honestly, I have no fucking idea. I suspect not. I cannot, off the top of my head, think of a good joke I’ve heard him tell. Is he using stage presence and delivery to cover for a lack of really strong material? I don’t know, probably. But that should be allowed, shouldn’t it? If it works? If you can still make people laugh? Some people get away with just getting on stage and slipping on banana peels, and because they look funny when they do it, it counts as good comedy (to people who like that sort of thing). So surely Phil Nichol’s stuff counts even if it relies on the way he talks.

He probably does have some good jokes. I don’t know, when I try to pick out individual pieces of his set, thinking too hard about the minutiae of something that intense makes my head hurt. I just sit back, spend an hour with no idea what’s going on, and once it’s over, I realize I had a good time.

The next show I saw him do was The Naked Racist in 2006. Perrier winner. Beat out other nominees David O’Doherty, We Are Klang, Russell Howard, and Paul Sinha for it. I want people to know I wrote that sentence without looking it up, then looked it up, and I was correct. I know too much. The point is that it won this award, and not in a particularly weak year (whether you think it was weak depends on your view of those other four acts, but they’re so different from each other that I think any comedy fan would like at least one of those four - personally I'm partial to all four, at least the 2006 versions of them, they represent four very different sides of what I enjoy about 00s comedy).

This was, essentially, an anti-war show. That was big in 2006. It’s almost weird now, because it’s been so long since the invasions of Afghanistan and Iraq, and advances in technology have made the state of “being at war” so much more nebulous (not that Western countries weren’t attacking Central America and the Middle East and various bits of Africa in covert ways during the twentieth century, but it became a lot more common with increased military technology in relatively recent years), so everyone is always at war. In the early 00s, the idea of the US and the UK being “at war” was a relatively new one, to people who’s grown up in the 70s/80s/90s (again, you do have to ignore a lot of shit to believe that, including some stuff pretty close to home for Britain, but that’s how it seemed), and wanted their countries to continue to be at peace. “Pacifist” was a more coherent political stance then, I think, and more common than it is now.

The Naked Racist is a pacifist show. It’s not a general political show, it’s not a general hippie show, it’s not even only an anti-Iraq war show (although it talks significantly about Iraq) – it’s a show about the specific and coherent political position of pacifism. I find that interesting, just for what it says about the changing political landscape since then.

It’s a show with a pacifist message, but it certainly doesn’t seem like political comedy. It seems like a bunch of stories about doing a lot of drugs and having a lot of sex. Because it is that. It’s a hundred stories all at once, at any given time he’s trying to tell at least eight, before moving on to the next ones. It’s a collection of stories that unfold enough so you realize – okay, I’m pretty sure this is a fairly wild life even for a touring comedian. Sorry, what was that one about the sex club? And it’s not a story of the novelty of the weird time when he walked into a place that turned out to be a sex club. It’s the story of how he likes going to sex clubs and doing drugs and listening to certain music and pushing himself because that makes him feel deeply alive, and it’s something we can all do with our inherent desires to hurt other people, and humanity doesn’t need war, we can all sublimate our violent urges into all this other shit instead. Which might be, you know, a small oversimplification of how deadly global conflicts work. But let him make you believe it for an hour, it’s beautiful.

I should give a warning – there are some N words in this show. Late in the show, at the crux of it. In the most justifiable context that word can have – repeating what got said in another instance while clearly stating that it’s bad that it got said. I just don’t think that particular word has any context that’s actually justifiable. I don’t even want to talk about changing times since 2006, because I don’t think it was any better then than it is now. But also, just because I don’t think context fully absolves him doesn’t mean I won’t consider it at all when judging the show. I enjoyed the show anyway. Just like, I guess, I laughed at the Only Gay song anyway. I will turn against a comedian I otherwise like if I think they say something shitty in a way that clearly shows them to actually be shitty (Alfie Brown). But I don’t think this is that, even though I don’t agree with his choice to use the word. If we start getting rid of anyone who’s ever said that word in any context then we’d have to start with Stewart Lee, and that would be a whole big thing.

The show ends with some other stuff that… completely reasonable people could take issue with. Phil Nichol’s clothes come off, then dancers and other people who are part of the show join him on stage and their clothes come off (that didn’t include anyone I recognized in the DVD recording that’s on NextUp, but the description says that when this was performed in Edinburgh, they had Pappy’s Fun Club and Phil Kay and whatever other comedians they could convince doing it), then the camera pans around to show dancers spread across the crowd taking clothes off, and then they encourage the audience do the same. They don’t, to be clear, try to make anyone do it. It’s a very “join us in this if you want to!” situation. So the audience has a choice of whether to take off their clothes, but not in whether to see a lot of other people do that.

And I do mean all their clothes. Full frontal. I’ve seen a lot of Phil Nichol. I’ve seen all of Phil Nichol, it was on display to the audience and camera.

I think this is a grey area, morally, which can sometimes go from a vague academic discussion into something with consequences. See: Jerry Sadowitz, last year. I should say that I don’t have much of an opinion on the Jerry Sadowitz thing, because I can’t have much of an opinion, I’ve never seen a moment of any of his comedy, much less whatever he did the night he got canceled. I’ve read a bit about what he does, I have an idea of what happened, I’m pretty sure I think the venue was probably right to get rid of him. Probably. But I don’t call that “much of” an opinion because I don’t really know.

I know that last year, part of why his venues canceled on him is they said he took out his dick and showed it to an audience member. And I know that some people defended him by saying seeing dicks is not uncommon at a late-night Edinburgh show, people should know what they’re getting into. And my view on that is… I don’t know enough about it to be sure, I can’t really definitely say. But I know context matters, and my guess is that context is violating. Someone can be okay with the possibility that someone’s dick will come out, without being okay with having it shoved in their face specifically, to humiliate them because the comedian gets mad at them. Phil Nichol got his dick out and jumped up and down for all to see, but he didn’t single anyone out with it.

I have seen enough other Late ‘n’ Live clips to know it is true when people say that sometimes people get their dicks out during late-night Edinburgh shows (or they did, at least – not sure if it’s so common these days). And while full frontal nudity is relatively rare, I’ve seen plenty of comedy things, in stand-up and TV, where a comedian ends up in their underwear. It happens. Sometimes that’s a natural consequence of escalating a bit. And Phil Nichol is nothing if not an escalator of bits.

I think whether it’s okay always depends on context. Is it reasonable to say the audience should have expected the amount of nudity they got? If not, and unsuspecting people had this thrown at them, that’s anything from a shitty and cancel-able comedy show, to a serious crime. If the audience knew what they were getting into, then I think it’s fair to say the comedian didn’t violate anyone. They chose to show up.

I’ve read the description of The Naked Racist (it really is all in the title – I enjoyed this show a lot, but when writing about it, I’ve felt the need to warn people that there is, in fact, nudity and racism in it), and I know a bit about Phil Nichol in general, and I think anyone who’d done those things at the time should have had a reasonable expectation that he might at some point get his dick out. He didn’t spring that on anyone who shouldn’t have known.

Honestly, it looked like fun. I don’t know what the fuck I’d have done if I’d been in that crowd. I mean, I know my clothes would have stayed on. But I don’t know if I’d have been uncomfortable with what was happening around me, or gotten caught up in the excitement of it. Because that’s what it was. That was the idea behind that as the finale – that people should do wild exciting things like take their clothes off, instead of fight wars. Again, an oversimplification of global policy. But it sure looks cathartic.

After that, I went to Go Faster Stripe and bought his 2021 show Your Wrong. That one was very slightly calmer, but no less intense, I think. He was a little older, slightly less animated, but that’s still more animated than most people I’ve ever seen do anything. But the story stayed intense because it was more personal, some fucking striking stories about his family and his upbringing. It explained a lot, to be honest. It was like learning about him out of order. I normally like discovering a comedian’s work in chronological order, so I start with their earlier stuff when they tend to be more autobiographical, and then I get to seeing the person they became as a result of that autobiography. Phil Nichol went the other ways. I heard his wild edgy stories of the wild edgy person he was in 2005 and 2006, and then I skipped to 2021 and heard him tell me how he grew up, and I said, “Oh, that explains a lot.” That he was raised in a hardcore Christian family and then ran off to Britain, where he immediately dedicated his life to drugs and sex clubs to be the opposite of his family.

Well, after having this conversation the other day, I decided to buy another Phil Nichol thing off Go Faster Stripe, his 2015 show that I hadn’t seen yet called I Don’t Wanna Talk About It. I watched it for the first time today. I enjoyed it a lot. He’s still very fucking animated, though a few breaths less mobile than in 2005 and 2006. It’s a breakup show, and I tend to like breakup shows. It’s a show that oscillates wildly between hope and despair, and I tend to like that too. It ends with a traditional really "big finish", including a fakeout and a song, and I like that.

It also had some stuff about Canadian politics, which I really liked. Specific stuff, about our political parties and scandals they've had and the issue of Quebec's separation referendum. I don't see that often. I don't see much Canadian comedy, and political stuff is such a small percentage of any comedy I see. I see huge swathes of British comedy, and still have to pick through just a few comedians to get political stuff. So in my smaller pool of Canadian comedians I'm into, the crossover with political comedy is almost zero. I really enjoyed some jokes about it.

“We had a referendum in Canada – this is true, a true story. I don’t know if you know, but the Bloc Quebecois – a separatist group from French Canada, they want to separate on the grounds that they’re a different people, right – and at one point the Liberal Party in Canada was decimated by a scandal, and so the Bloc Quebecois rose to power, right, and became the Official Opposition in the House of Parliament, against Conservatives, who are right-wing fucking Christian motherfuckers. So, at one point, in the Canadian government, there was all these French guys who wanted to fuck off out of Canada, and a whole bunch of English guys who wanted the French to fuck off out of Canada. It was amazing!”

If you're not from Canada, you should know that extract I just quoted is 100% accurate. He's right, one province's separatist party did become the Official Opposition in our federal government once. People should be making jokes about that all the time.

This show gets into a few specifics of his life that I hadn’t known before. Apparently he grew up in fucking Pickering – I didn’t know that before. I know Pickering well. I live about four hours away from it. There’s a major wrestling team there, and they host several tournaments every year, so I’ve been there to coach a lot. And even when I’m not actually in Pickering, I’ve spent a lot of time with people from there, competing against people from their team in tournaments held in other places.

I kind of love the idea that one of those people raised in that fucking place turned into Phil Nichol. Because that place as I know it is pretty much what he described. Small, insular, reputation-driven, Christian. His show mentions that two of his nieces from that place got pregnant as teenagers, and were shunned by the community as a result (he's the cool uncle in this story, not one of the people doing the shunning). Personally, I know two different people from Pickering who got teenage pregnant or teenage impregnated someone. It’s common there, what with the whole Christian thing, the lack of sex ed and everything that comes with that. I’ve met so many bright promising teenagers from that conservative repressive place, and I've seen how few options they have. I hope every fucking one of them follows in the footsteps of Phil Nichol. I hope they all move to England and do a lot of drugs and make out with women in cars and call into radio stations to tell Daniel Kitson they love him and protest against wars and win major awards for it.

I think I started this post with the idea that it would build up to something, but I can't remember what that thing was anymore, and this seems like as good a note as any on which to end it.

[actual-changeling]

i mean, arguably the job ending also wasn't as great and romantic as people make it out to be.

crowley already has a more or less solid morality compass for himself, he knows what he wants to protect, how to do so, and how to keep himself alive at the same time. he didn't mean to fall, he didn't want to fall, he didn't want any of this, but he is taking it and moving forward.

meanwhile aziraphale is showing us the start of a pattern he will continue right up until the end of episode 6: whenever heaven is being cruel or otherwise undeniably going against what aziraphale thinks of as "fundamentally good", he separates those actions from heaven as an institution—"it's just a few bad archangels"—AND from god.

"i don't think that is what god actually wants" is a, and please excuse the language, fucking arrogantly blasphemous take. aziraphale builds himself a different reality in which god's plans and will always align with his own so he never has to examine his actions or morality because "that's what god wants".

it works because technically no one can outright disagree with him because technically no one actually knows what god does and doesn't want—that is how they stop the first apocalypse, by arguing that the great plan is not the same as the ineffable plan, and since it is ineffable, no one can know what it is except for god. so maybe it was her will that they prevented armageddon.

and since the only other celestial that aziraphale is around is crowley, he can brush off his arguments as "he's a demon, of course he'd say/think that, he's evil". he is never actually around other angels except for a ten minute meeting every few centuries. no one whose opinion he'd consider ever challenges him—because outside of god that being doesn't exist.

it's a perfect denial trap.

"i'm like you now" said by an angel to a demon who went through unimaginable trauma simply because aziraphale lied to his superior after having already lied to GOD is just fucking ridiculous. i'm sorry, but the fact that crowley comforts him and stays with him makes him a better person than i would have been in that situation.

aziraphale lives in a fairy tale world that is always exactly what he needs it to be and in which he can ignore all the pain and torture crowley experiences by shoving all that information into a box labeled "big evil demon". look at job, look at the flood, at the crucifixion, edinburgh and the bastille, the insurance conversation in 1862, 1941 and 1967 and the fact that aziraphale was fine with armageddon because he would not be the one suffering.

at the end of edinburgh—another one of their dates—crowley gets tortured in hell for fuck knows how long. at the end of 1941 crowley is in pain, terrified, and might get pulled down to hell for eternal torture come morning because hell doesn't just let people go.

this got very long but tl;dr if you have a close look at any of their dates, you will discover very quickly that the only one actually having unrestrained summer fun is aziraphale, never crowley—and yet he keeps meeting him because he loves him and wants to make him happy.

combing through the 1941 candlelight dinner like crowley would it KILL YOU to have even the hint of a smile please?????? aziraphale is vibrating out of his skin with affection meanwhile crowley is probably still in shock from shooting a gun at his face

[alastaircarstairsdefenselawyer]

champagne problems (part 1)

here's my first part of my modern no magic "champagne problems" singer-songwriter quarantine thomastair AU! happy birthday to @foxglove-airmid even though I don't think it's your birthday where you live anymore (and I still haven't posted zia's birthday fic, it'll happen I swear)!

no content warnings for this part (besides maybe quarantine), but future parts will include discussions of mental illness, substance abuse, and a suicide attempt

obviously, the song alastair "wrote" in the fic is not mine, it's by taylor swift! and a few of the lyrics have been changed!

Masterlist | AO3

Thomas breathed out a sigh of relief as he lugged his suitcase up onto the fifth floor landing.

“‘Ere we are,” Piers announced as he unlocked the door.

Thomas was utterly exhausted, such was the result of taking a redeye flight across the Atlantic during a global pandemic, but any idea of rest that he’d had was interrupted when he heard the sound of piano flood the apartment.

“Ah, sorry about that,” Piers nodded, “One of my flatmates, the walls are paper thin. He can’t record at the studio right now, but he’s trying to finish his EP, so it’s been a bit noisier around here. He’ll take a break soon, hopefully.”

Thomas shook his head. “It’s no problem. Thank you, again, for allowing me to stay here. I’ll be looking for my own place as soon as the quarantine is up.”

“Of course. You’ve got the couch as long as you need it. Couldn’t just hang you out to dry, could I? Although, you did pick a god awful time to move to the city, if I do say so myself.”

Thomas sat down on the couch and tried to make himself comfortable. It was more comfortable than the flight or the airport, at least. “I know… I considered postponing the move, but the visa was so difficult to get, I just couldn’t pass up the opportunity. They say this will all blow over in a couple of weeks, but borders are closing and I heard talk of them suspending all pending visa applications. I didn't know how long it would be if I waited, if the job was even still here for me at all.” Although at first entrance, the music had seemed to be a nuisance, it now comforted him. It wasn’t bad at all, in fact, it quite reminded him of the days Alastair’s playing had filled their flat…

“Where did you say you were working again? At a record company?”

“Yeah. I’m just doing pretty basic stuff for now, but if I ever do want to record my own music, I’ve got to start somewhere.”

“Hm,” Piers said, gesturing to the room the music was coming from. “Perhaps you’ll get on with him well, then. Would you like some tea?”

Thomas nodded and Piers went to start the teapot. Piers continued, “Though I suppose he's more of the tortured artist type. Very reserved, quite prickly. I didn't even meet him until a couple weeks after I moved in here because he was off in some psychiatric hospital.” Thomas shifted uncomfortably in his seat. He was never one for gossip. “My other roommate’s nice, though, I think you’ll like him. He-”

“How did you end up in New York, again? I don’t think I ever asked.”

Piers dove into the subject change quite readily, explaining his uni - or college - years in New York City and his decision to stay afterwards. Thomas had tuned most of it out, truthfully. It wasn’t that he was trying to be rude, but he was rather exhausted, and Piers was wearing thin on his patience.

As the kettle started to whine, Thomas heard the musician begin to sing, and he froze. It sounded so much like Alastair. But it couldn't be, could it? With over 8 million people living in the city, he would not end up in Alastair's apartment by accident. His Alastair was certainly reserved and prickly, but it wasn't possible. It must be like all those times he thought he saw him on a street he'd never walked or heard his laugh in a café he'd never been to. Just his mind, tricking him. Even if he knew that voice so well, despite not hearing it in so long.

“It’s quite good, isn’t it? His first single just dropped.” Piers asked, bringing over his cup of tea. He hadn’t realized it, but he’d been staring intently at the door.

Thomas took the cup. “Hm? Yeah, I guess. Thanks.”

“You should look it up. It’s called “champagne problems” by Simurgh. That’s spelled- Well, it should come up.”

The name Simurgh sounded familiar, but Thomas couldn’t put his finger on where he knew it from. At Piers’ insistence, he pulled out his phone and brought up the song. As he skimmed through the first few lines, a cold feeling settled in his stomach.

“You booked the night train for a reason So you could sit there in this hurt Bustling crowds or silent sleepers You're not sure which is worse”

“Simurgh,” Thomas realized.

“Yeah, I think it’s Arabic or something.”

It took Thomas a moment to process that Piers was responding to him. “It’s Persian.” He was certain that Alastair would have some very stern words to say if he heard Piers confusing the two, actually. Thomas had admittedly let his Farsi skills deteriorate quite a bit since the breakup, but he was fairly certain the name came from the Shahnameh. There was no doubt in Thomas’ mind now: he was staying in Alastair’s apartment, and Alastair’s first single was about one of the most painful days in Thomas’ life. “I, er, I used to study it.”

“Oh, yes, that’s right!” Piers launched into a tangent that Thomas tuned out as he read through the rest of the page.

“Because I dropped your hand while dancing Left you out there standing Crestfallen on the landing Champagne problems”

“Thomas? Are you alright?”

He realized then that his hand was trembling so badly that his tea nearly spilled. He used his other hand to steady it. “Oh, uh, yes, I’m just tired.”

“Perhaps you should rest. I can ask Alastair to quiet down for a while-”

“No!” he exclaimed rather too forcefully. “No, that’s not necessary. I’d just rather not talk, if that’s alright.”

Piers nodded.

Thomas kept reading.

“Your mom's ring in your pocket My picture in your wallet Your heart was glass, I dropped it Champagne problems”

Of all the songs, why did he release the one about him? Why was it about a memory still so painful in Thomas’ heart, all of these years later? He remembered it so well, standing there, alone, shattered into a million pieces.

“You told your family for a reason You couldn't keep it in Your sister splashed out on the bottle Now no one's celebrating”

He was fairly certain that Barbara had been more excited than even he was, confident that Alastair would accept, and so very proud of her baby brother, all grown up. She’d been furious when it fell apart, but it was her who stood with him during the aftermath, who boarded him onto a train to Edinburgh to visit Eugenia when he couldn’t stand to be in the same city as him any longer, who went through his phone, blocking all of Alastair’s accounts so that he could obsess over him no longer, who comforted him as he wept and held him as he picked the pieces of himself back up again.

And all the more sour was the memory in light of her death.

“Dom Pérignon, you brought it No crowd of friends applauded Your hometown skeptics called it Champagne problems”

He looked up at Piers, who had fortunately become enthralled with something on his phone and was no longer paying Thomas any mind. He lifted the teacup gingerly to his lips, but he felt far too sick to take a drink.

“You had a speech, you're speechless Love slipped beyond your reaches And I couldn't give a reason Champagne problems”

A reason, that’s all Thomas had wanted. Just any explanation. He understood if they were moving too fast, or perhaps he’d misread something, but he just didn’t understand it.

Why? Why can’t you tell me why? I deserve an explanation, Alastair. Please, anything.

I… I’m sorry, Thomas.

Stop it! Stop apologizing! We can just go home and pretend this never happened, please, forget about all of it, it was a stupid idea-

Thomas, stop. I shouldn’t’ve… This was a mistake. I’m sorry I didn’t see that sooner.

That was the moment Thomas felt his heart stop beating.

“Your Midas touch on the Chevy door November flush and your flannel cure "This dorm was once a madhouse" I made a joke, "Well, it's made for me" How evergreen, our group of friends Don't think we'll say that word again And soon they'll have the nerve to deck the halls That we once walked through”

Despite the nearly two decades Thomas had spent in London before Alastair, it was never the same without him. He saw him everywhere he went, despite knowing he was thousands of miles away. After graduating uni that May, he accepted a spot at a graduate program in Spain and didn’t look back.

“One for the money, two for the show I never was ready so I watch you go Sometimes you just don't know the answer 'Til someone's on their knees and asks you "You’re the only one I want by my side, What a shame you’re fucked in the head," you said”

Those were the words that haunted Thomas’ nightmares, even now.

It’s you! It’s only you for me! It was always going to be you! But I can see now that I was never going to be enough for you, you and your secrets and walls and your lies. It’s a shame… it’s a shame you’re so fucked in the head, Alastair. You’ll never truly love anyone, will you? You’re not physically capable of it.

Alastair hadn’t responded. Thomas had wanted a rise out of him, any reaction at all, despite knowing how lethal and volatile Alastair could become when provoked. But there was nothing. Not a flicker of anything in his steeled expression. He’d simply looked down, apologized again for any pain that he’d caused, and left.

That was the last time they’d spoken.

Thomas and his sister left for Edinburgh that night, and when he’d returned to London, Alastair was gone.

“Well, you'll find the real thing instead Who'll patch up your tapestry that I shred And hold your hand while dancing Never leave you standing Crestfallen on the landing With champagne problems”

Thomas couldn’t imagine giving his heart to anyone again, not now and certainly not then. He’d dated in Madrid, but it had always stayed casual. He’d made sure of it. He could see now that he and Alastair had gotten together quickly, moved in together quickly, done all of it very quickly. After all, he’d fallen hard and fast. He gave all of himself to Alastair, and he’d nearly lost all of himself in the process.

“Your mom's ring in your pocket New picture in your wallet You won't remember all my Champagne problems

“You won't remember all my Champagne problems”

Now, he wondered what the rest of the story was. He’d convinced himself that Alastair had never loved him, that he was heartless and cruel, though he’d known that wasn’t true. Could Alastair have written this song if he’d never truly loved him? Perhaps he was a sociopath.

Thomas felt like he should run. Like he should pick up his bag and dart out of the apartment before Alastair could notice him, find some hotel somewhere with undoubtedly extraordinary high rates and just pretend like this never happened. He could get back on a plane and go back home to his parents and delete his phone browser history and pretend like this was all just a bad dream. But he could not move.

He didn’t know how many minutes had passed before Alastair’s door opened. He looked up with a start.

“Thomas,” Alastair breathed. He stood wide eyed, flushed.

“Do you two already know each other then?” Piers asked.

There was a moment of silence before Thomas cleared his throat. “We used to,” he said, looking down.

“I, er, I forgot that your friend was coming today,” Alastair told Piers. “It’s quite a long journey from London, you should have told me, I would have been quieter.”

Thomas considered correcting him for a moment, but decided not to. “Don’t worry about it. I heard you had your first big release. Congratulations.”

Alastair gave an awkward nod. “Thank you. Right, well, I’ll just…” He rushed over to the kitchen and pulled a bottle of water from the fridge. “I’ll try to be a bit quieter.”

“Don’t- It’s fine, really. In fact, I’m sure there’s some hotel in the area I can stay at for now, actually-”

“Well, don’t leave on my account,” Alastair interrupted. “We agreed to let you stay here, and the city’s a bloody mess right now. I’ll stay out of your hair, Thomas.”

Thomas only nodded as Alastair disappeared back behind his bedroom door.

Thanks for reading! Taglist (ask to be +/-): @stxr-thxif @chaos-and-starlight @zosiaenrique @lifewouldbebetteronmars @littlx-songbxrd @dianasarrow @eugeniaslongsword @bookswitchcraftandcats @jamesherondaleofficial @thomas-gaypanic-lightwood @livingformyself @anarmorofwords @foxglove-airmid @writeforjordelia @sapphic-in @jem-nasium @fortheloveofthecarstairs @alastair-esfandiyar-carstairs1 @shadowrunner2000 @thewarthatsavedmylife @fair-childd @itsjusta-j-really

[robynlilyblack]

I’m preparing my ucas application to send off in September and I’m so lost on which unis to choose. How did you choose? Should I apply if I got the slightest grade less for an entry requirement?

I remember how scary this was when I was 17 and applying, being lost is super normal. Here's just my experience and I hope it helps x

Okay x first I can only speak from being a Scot, so I didn't have to worry about tuition fees because my first degree is free here, so I never looked into any unis outside Scotland because it would have been expensive

Anyway x I chose based on which one had the course I wanted to do but also had a great department for it. I also appiled to more west universities (Glasgow ones) because from growing up mostly in Edinburgh and then moving to Glasgow since I was a late teen, the west is generally nicer, and more welcoming (again just my experience i'm not shaming Edinburgers here...but glasgow rules)

What I'd say is depending on where you go and if you do master etc you'll be spending anywhere from 3 to 5 years in that place. So you need to ask where would you be happiest living, do you want to be close to family, where would you live if you weren't etc. It can feel really scary at first, I was terrified, and I actually chose the wrong course, failed everything and then was allowed to switch to a subject I actually feel way more comfortable in.

Thats another thing, again I can only speak from glasgow uni but, unis are often really chill about switching degrees, cause the department's are usually wanting people, they are like yes come join us we have cookies haha (geo department at glasgow shout out, cheryl you were the biggest hype gal when I went to your office)

For entry requirements, I actually was part of a top up program since my school was one of the lowest ranked public schools (calling myself out but in 2017 it was out of 345 or something school in scotland mine was in the 320s...like hardly anyone went to uni and most dropped out at 16 but the teachers were so nice and amazing folk, I still love them so much) and my grades got bumbed up because of that

I'd suggest to apply to the school you want for your first choice, fuck the requirements cause I know people who didn't meet theres and still got in, make sure your personal letter is kick ass, even exaggerate in places cause trust me no one is ever going to ask you about it again (if you are doing anything medicine or vet related then maybe don't do the last part 😅). Now you get 5 choices so make sure you also choose a couple of schools where you meet the requirements so that you can fall back on just in case. I did that, glasgow was my first choice and i think i was just off the requirements but still got a place while stathclyde auto accepted like within a month and even offered me to go straight into second year...ironically my fall back was an edinbrugh school and just like Edinburgh it was the only one not to give me an unconditional...

One last note as someone thats utterly bombed their first attempt at uni because I listened to everyone elses opinions of what I should do when applying. Fuck what everyone else thinks, seriously, if they don't like it, or say it's silly, you'll find people on that course that will appreciate you, or job, or anything you want, uni isn't everything only reason I'm here is because I need that paper for the job I want to do.

Ps x what course you thinking because if you are looking at scottish unis i may know people or places x

Pps If anyone has other questions about uni feel free to ask cause I'll be brutally honest

[serasvictoria]

You said I could so I'm going to.. ask for Chuck and number 35 off that list (a kiss on the space between shoulder blades).. 💜

Hope you’ll like this. Chuck got a bit dominant in this which I don’t think you’ll mind ^_^ (I know I didn't anyway)

“Chuck, we can’t. It’s too cramped in here.”

“I can make it work.”

“What if someone wants to come in?”

“Then they can fuck off.”

“You say that like it’s so easy.”

“You know it is.”

Not giving Cat another chance to object to this again, Chuck put his hands on her ass, lifted her up and pinned her up against the door. She wrapped her legs around his hips a split second later, like she had done many times before. This was a first though, because it had never happened in such a cramped space. When they were in Aldbourne, he usually took her outside. There had been many times where he had pushed her up against a wall or laid her down in a field, but it wasn’t like he had a lot of options available to him now. The way the wood creaked behind her didn’t bode well already, but he wasn’t going to let that deter him.

“You know, this is kinda reminding me of something else.”

“That first night in Aldbourne?”

“Uh-huh.” Cat wrapped her arms around his shoulders and squeezed her thighs around his hips a little bit tighter. “We sure had fun that night.”

“Sure did. More room though,” he replied with a grin. “That why you kept rubbing your foot against my leg? You wanted a do-over?”

“I did not do that. You’re imagining things.”

“Next thing you’re gonna tell me that I was imagining you lifting your skirt up.”

“Didn’t do that either. Just you and your lively imagination.” Pressing her forehead against his, she looked at him with mischief sparkling in her eyes as she trailed her fingertips up and down the nape of his neck. It was more than obvious that she had wanted this to happen and had been pushing him in the right direction for the last hour or so. “I borrowed this dress ‘cause I wanted to look nice for you. Can’t help it that the thing starts riding up whenever I cross my legs. I hardly ever wear dresses anyway so it’s not like I’d know.”

“You trying to tell me that it was unintentional?”

“Well, I definitely didn’t notice it.”

“Baby, you are the worst liar I have ever met.”

“Not lying.” Cat pouted at him briefly, trying to somehow convince him that she was displeased that he wasn’t buying her bullshit. “Not my fault that you’re always looking at me as if you’re undressing me with your eyes.”

“That’s probably because I am.” Chuck pressed his lips against hers hungrily and they moved in unison, like they’d been caught in this dance for many years. It always struck him how natural it seemed, like it had been meant to be this way. “When we arrive in Edinburgh, we are going straight to the hotel and then I won’t let you leave the room for the rest of the weekend.”

“You promised me that you’d take me sightseeing.”

“We can leave the room for a short while tomorrow.”

“That’s it? Just what are you planning on doing to me?”

“I don’t want to spoil the surprise.” Dipping his head down, he started kissing his way along her exposed collarbone since he’d undone the top buttons of her dress moments earlier and murmured against her skin, “But I can tell you that you won’t be wearing a lot of clothes during our stay.”

“Ah. One of those trips.” There was a sharp intake of air when he slipped one hand down her ass so it could rest between the cradle of her thighs. “You know, it would be nice to actually leave the room to eat for once.”

“Eating out is overrated.” He couldn’t stop himself from chuckling over the thought that popped into his head as soon as he had said that. “Unless I’m eating you out that is.”

“That was a terrible joke,” she said with a deep sigh. “Honestly now. I expected better things from you.”

“I’ll make it up to you.”

“Famous last words.”

Cat yelped when Chuck suddenly released her and lowered her down onto the ground. He could see her swallow hard when he placed a hand next to her head and loomed over her. Staying in this position for a few seconds, just because he wanted to see her squirm as she tried to figure out what he was going to do, he pressed his lips against her forehead first before brushing them against her ear and saying, “Turn around.”

Remaining quiet, she did as he asked and as soon her back was facing him, he pushed her up against the door with some force and knocked the air out of her lungs which elicited a breathless laugh from her end. Tilting his head down, he kissed her right between her shoulder blades and stuck a hand under her skirt to pull her underwear down. He didn’t even have to tell her to pull her dress up, she’d done that all on her own already. Slapping her now bare ass first, he then started kneading the flesh in his palm, squeezing her so hard that he’d probably be able to see the imprint of his hand on her skin for days to come. She kept pushing back into him and moaning every time she made contact with his groin.

“Really?” She managed to get out in between her little gasps and moans. “You’ll make it up to me by fucking me up against a door?”

“That’s exactly what I’m going to do,” he growled low in her ear. “I’m gonna fuck you so hard and fast that you’ll never even know what hit you.” Slipping his hand between her legs, he found her wet, willing and more than ready for him. “Then I’m gonna pull out, come all over your ass and then I’ll clean you up with your panties.”

“Messy,” was her short reply, but it was kind of difficult for her to hide that she got even wetter when he said that. “And then I’ll be without my underwear for the rest of the journey. What good will that do?”

“I’ll be the only one that knows about it. It’s all purely for my benefit.”

“I’d argue against it, but I can tell that you got your mind made up already.”

“Yep. And when we get to the hotel, I’m going to throw you onto the bed, lift your skirt up and then I’ll have my mouth on that sweet pussy of yours until you scream my name.” Chuck pressed his hips against her behind so she could feel just how hard he was. “Just let me get this over with already. This was supposed to be quick.”

“Well, maybe if you didn’t get so distracted all the time…”

“And who’s fault is that?” This was already taking too long. He undid his trousers hurriedly and pushed them down so he could free his erection. Putting his hands on her hips, he pulled her back so he could get a good angle to enter her. Seeing her standing there, ass pushed out, hands pressed up against the door, quite possibly made him go even harder. He gave her another sharp tap on her already reddened rear. “Good girl. Now shut up. I don’t want anyone to interrupt us…”

“So just fuck me already.”

“Why’d you have to go and say that, baby?”

“Come on,” she whispered back. “Just do it. Give me something to scream about.” She hissed through her teeth when he finally slipped inside her. “Oh fuck...”

He started pumping into her, hands on her hips and holding her tight. With every rough thrust, he pushed her harder against the door. If anyone would walk past, they would be able to tell what was going on inside in a matter of seconds. You didn’t have to be a genius to be able to figure that out. Her hand was clasped over her mouth so tightly that she wasn’t able to make any noise at all. All that he could hear over the continuous noise that the train was making, was her laboured breathing. That just made him want to fuck her harder. He desperately wanted to wreck her, wanted to make her scream until she had no voice left.

It didn’t take long for her muscles to start contracting around his cock and he snaked one hand to the front of her body so he could press his index finger against her clit as he thrust into her harder and faster than before. She whimpered, clearly audible despite trying to muffle her moans. Her body jerked, muscles twitching the faster his finger circled round her clit. Pressing her cheek against the door, he drew a muted whine from her throat at the same time that her walls wrapped themselves tightly around him.

His frantic rhythm started to falter, his own groans growing louder the closer he got to his own release. He caught sight of her looking at him over her shoulder and being on the receiving end of that intense blissed out gaze was what set him off in the end. He managed to pull out just in time, spilling his cum all over her just like he had said he would. When he was finished, he fell back and sat down on the toilet that was right behind him. It took him a moment to catch his breath, but his eyes were firmly fixed on the pale skin of her behind, the red outline of his hand and his cum which by now had almost reached the top of her thigh as it continued to drip down.

Reaching down, he pulled on the underwear that was bunched up around her ankles and she stepped out of it. Chuck got up, readjusted himself in his trousers and then he cleaned up the mess that he had made, folded her underwear up and stuck it in his pocket. He wasn’t going to be giving her that back anytime soon nor would he allow her to grab another pair out of her overnight bag.

“I’ll just hang onto this,” he whispered in her ear as she lowered her skirt. He looked her up and down quickly. No one else would be able to tell that she wasn’t wearing any underwear. “Should I go out first?”

“If you want to.” Cat moved back and pressed herself against the wall so she was effectively hidden when he would eventually open the door. “After you, sir.”

“Much obliged, ma’am.” He unlocked the door and opened it just enough so he could look out. There wasn’t anybody out there so he was safe to leave. Before leaving, he pulled the door shut again and pressed a searing kiss down on her lips before exiting the cramped space. “See you in a couple of minutes.”

“I’ll rejoin you when I’m able to walk.”

“That bad?”

“Chuck, it’s always that bad.” She swatted his arm when he started chuckling in response. “Don’t act so surprised. You’re pretty intense is what I’m saying.”

“As long as it’s a good thing.”

“Very good.” She pulled him down for a quick kiss. “Do you ever hear me complain?”

“No. You’re amazing. How’d I find you again?” He gave her another quick kiss for good measure and then added, “See you soon, baby.”

Opening and closing the door quickly, he waited until he heard door click back into the lock behind him and then waited for a few more seconds just to see if the coast was indeed clear. When he was perfectly satisfied that it was, he made his way back to their seats and she rejoined him again a few short minutes later. Chuck managed to behave himself for the rest of the trip, even if she did try to unsuccessfully provoke him again a few times. He’d get back to her for her teasing. They just had to get to Edinburgh and the hotel first.

For once in his life, he could wait.

[wiypt-writes]

Stark Spangled Banner

Ch36: I Bid You Farewell And Good Luck, Morons. Part 1- It’s Like A Pirate Had A Baby With An Angel.

Intro: Thor wakes up on a strange ship, surrounded by even stranger people, a talking tree and a rabbit. Meanwhile, back on Earth, the fight to save Vision is won and the group make their way back to the compound to understand what exactly it is that they’re facing. 

Warnings: Bad Language words.

Pairing: Steve Rogers x OFC Katie Stark

A/N: So I HAD to write Thor and Tony’s POV over the IW chapters too, because, frankly, they had some of THE best scenes in Infinity War, and I love that freaking Norse God Himbo and chaotic Stark chemistry so bad! I know this is Katie and Steve’s fic, but Steve had so little screen time in this film all things considered…we were so robbed!!! Once again, I can’t thank @angrybirdcr​ enough for her edits, they’re awesome!

Disclaimer: This is a pure work of fiction and classified as 18+. Please respect this and do not read if you are underage. I do not own any characters in this series bar Katie Stark and the other OCs. By reading beyond this point you understand and accept the terms of this disclaimer.

Chapter 35

Stark Spangled Banner Masterlist // Main Masterlist

Thor wasn’t dead. But he felt like it. Every inch of his body ached and when he was jerked back to consciousness for a moment, just one split moment, he thought he saw Little Stark. Only it wasn’t her. The woman had dark hair, yes, but as he focussed he realised she looked nothing like the woman he loved dearly as a sister. This wench had huge eyes and antenna dangling from her forehead. And, whilst he knew it had been a while since he had seen his friend, she wouldn’t have changed that much.

Finding his feet he looked around, chest heaving, at the band of people stood in front of him; a woman with green skin and red hair, a man with grey/blue skin covered in red designs, a tree creature- a Flora Colossus unless he was mistaken- which was off to the side draped over a chair, some kind of furry, animal thing- a rabbit maybe- and finally a man who appeared to be a normal, human being. That was until he opened his mouth and Thor realised he was probably the most stupid human being he had ever encountered.

His rescuers had offered him soup, and then when he had explained about Thanos, the green skinned lady called Gamora had told Thor what the Titan wanted the stones for.  Which she knew, because she his daughter.

Thanos had a daughter. Interesting.

“Families can be tough,” Thor spoke wisely, placing a hand on her shoulder. “Before my father died, he told me that I had a half-sister that he imprisoned in Hell. Then she returned home, stabbed me in the eye so, I had to kill her.” He shrugged. “That’s life though isn’t it I guess? Round and round, but I feel your pain.”

The human, Peter Quill, pushed his way between Gamora and Thor, and looked at her “I feel your pain, as well, because, I mean it’s not a competition, but I’ve been through a lot. My father killed my mother, and then I had to kill my father. And that was hard. Probably even harder than having to kill a sister. Plus, I, came out with both of my eyes.”

Thor wasn’t paying attention. The man was clearly a moron, and he’d just noticed he had bent the spoon in the bowl of soup and was having a flashback to the time he had tried to bend the Captain’s shield. Little Stark had laughed so much at how annoyed he had gotten when he failed that she had cried. And then, to make it worse, a few days later the Captain had managed to move Mjolnir. Just a fraction, but it moved. No one had seen it, bar Little Stark of course, but there was something there, Thor was sure. Steve Rogers was a man worthy of a lot of things, but his hammer was complicated. You have to prove your worth. That had been explained to him by his Father the day he had given it to him. Of course, he hadn’t realised then that Eitri had actually made it for Hela first.

Eitri… Oh, yes!

“I need a hammer, not a spoon.” Thor mumbled, as the idea took hold and he looked at the pod at the back of the ship. “How do I open this thing?” He began pressing random buttons on the screen next to the door. “Is there some sort of a four-digit code? Maybe a birth date or something?”

"What are you doing?” the rabbit animal, Rocket asked.

“Taking your pod.” Thor replied nonchalantly.

And then there was an argument in which the moron Quill tried to imitate Thor’s deeper voice telling him he could not take the pod, but Thor was going to take the pod anyway because he was the God of Thunder after all, and then the lady Gamora cut them off quite rightly directing the focus back to Thanos by stating they needed to find out where he was going next.

But Thor had already thought of that. “Knowhere,” he answered as he brushed past Quill and over to the refrigerator he had seen Gamora get his soup from.

“He must be going somewhere.” Mantis argued innocently.

“No,” Quill shook his head and Thor noted his stupid voice was back to normal. “Knowhere? It’s a place. We’ve been there. It sucks. Excuse me, that’s our food.” He jabbed,  suddenly noticing what Thor was doing.

“Not anymore.” Thor shrugged, stuffing it into a backpack he found.

“Thor!” Gamora cut across the pair of them again. “Why would he go to Knowhere?”

“Because for years, the Reality Stone has been safely stored there with a man called the Collector.” Thor stated.

“If it’s with the Collector, then it’s not safe.” Quill snorted. “Only an idiot would give that man a stone.”

“Or a genius.” Thor shrugged.

“How do you know he’s not going for one of the other stones?” Gamora asked.

“There’s six stones out there.” Thor began to explain, “Thanos already has the Power Stone because he stole it, last week, when he decimated Xandar.”

He didn’t missed the shocked and horrified look the group shared with one another.

“He stole the Space Stone from me, when he destroyed my ship and slaughtered half my people. The Time and Mind Stones, are safe on Earth. They’re with the Avengers.”

“The Avengers?” Quill asked.

“They’re Earth’s Mightiest Heroes.”

“Like Kevin Bacon?” Mantis called out.

“Errr he may be on the team now, I don’t know.” Thor shrugged, having no idea who the man named after a breakfast meat was. “I haven’t been there in a while. And as for the Soul Stone, well no one’s ever seen that. No one even knows where it is. Therefore, Thanos can’t get it. Therefore, he’s going to Knowhere. Hence, he’ll be getting the Reality Stone. You’re welcome.”

“Then we have to go to Knowhere, now.” Gamora stated, looking around.

“Wrong. Where we have to go is Nidavellir.” Thor picked up the backpack.

“That’s a made up word.” Drax, the blue man countered.

“All words are made up.” Thor smiled, slinging the backpack onto his back.

“Nidavellir is real?” The animal called Rocket’s eyes grew wide and he jumped up onto the table and looked at Thor. “Seriously? I mean, that place is a legend. They make the most powerful, horrific weapons to ever torment the Universe. I would very much like to go there, please.”

“The rabbit is correct.” Thor grinned at Rocket’s excitement. “And clearly the smartest among you. Only Eitri the Dwarf can make me the weapon I need.” He turned to the furry animal. “I assume you’re the captain, Sir?”

Rocket grinned and nodded, “You’re very perceptive.”

“You seem like a noble leader. Will you join me on my quest to Nidavellir?”

“Let me just ask the captain. Oh, wait a second, it’s me!”  Rocket grinned. “Yeah, I’ll go.”

“Wonderful.” Thor beamed.

“Uh except that I’m the captain,” Quill chipped in

“Quiet!” Thor was now beyond bored of the moron.

“And that’s my backpack.” Quill continued pointing to the bag that Thor was stealing.

“Quill, sit down.” Rocket tapped at the pad and keying in the digits to open the pod.

“Look, this is my ship. And I’m not going to - wait, what kind of weapon are we talking about here?” Quill looked round.

“The Thanos-killing kind.” Thor smiled.

Boy, was it going to be a big, fucking weapon like no one had ever seen before…

“Don’t you think that we should all have a weapon like that?” Quill frowned.

“You lack the strength to wield them. Your bodies would crumble as you minds collapsed into the madness.” Thor shook his head.

“Is it weird that I wanna do it even more now?” Rocket asked.

“Erm, a little bit weird. Yeah.” Thor looked down at him, frowning.

“If we don’t go to Knowhere and Thanos retrieves another stone, he’ll be too powerful to stop.” Gamora stepped forward.

"He already is.” Thor shrugged.

“Look, I got it figured out.” Rocket interrupted, looking at Gamora. “We got two ships, and a large assortment of morons.  Me and Groot will go with the Pirate Angel here, and the morons will go to Knowhere to try and stop Thanos. Cool? Cool.”

“So cool.” Thor grinned before he climbed into the pod.

“For the record,” Quill said leaning down to Rocket, “I know that you’re only going with them because it’s where Thanos isn’t.”

“You know, you really shouldn’t talk that way to your captain, Quill.” Rocket smirked, walking backwards and gesturing outwards with his arms. “Come on, Groot. Put that game down. You’ll rot your brain,”

As Rocket sat down Thor nodded out of the pod to the rest of the people on the ship. “I bid you farewell and good luck, morons. Bye.”

******

It wasn’t hard for the team to track Wanda, her red power flashing bright against the dark sky over Edinburgh City Centre, and as the jet followed her movements, the four friends saw her spiralling through the sky with Vision and crashing through the train station roof, just as Sam put the jet on the ground.

Within seconds the Ex-Avengers were sprinting off the jet.  

“Katie, Nat, take the side!” Steve yelled, as he vaulted over the railings at the edge of the road running down onto the bottom half of the concrete ramp which led to the station. “Sam, up high and remember, we protect Vision at all costs!”

“Got em.” Sam spoke over the coms. “Platform seven, near the café.” 

Steve vaulted over another set of barriers, the station now deserted thanks to the evacuation taking place by the local police. As he ran onto one of the walkways over the lines, he was just in time to see two of the aliens crash through the station roof. Weighing up his options, he realised it was going to be quicker for him to hop down onto the platform he was currently overheard, and jump across the lines to help. He swung his legs over the railings and landed easily, looking up. Across from him he could see Natasha and Katie emerging to the right, as Wanda stood and moved protectively in front of Vision, building power in her hands. An express train whizzed past him and he stood still, waiting and it wasn’t long before the taller, blue looking woman spotted him, and she launched her spear over the platform. Steve easily snapped his left shoulder back whilst leaning over his body with his right, catching the staff in his hand.

“Heads up.” Sam muttered, and as Wanda and Vision turned to see Steve step out from the shadows, fury lining his face, Sam swooped in and kicked one of the aliens across the platform and through a closed café’s security gate, causing tables and chairs to go flying, before he spun and started to fire on the other alien.

Steve launched the weapon he had caught across the tracks where Natasha caught it and stabbed the second assailant in the gut as Katie moved in to head off the other who was stalking back towards them. The weapon Natasha had been using flew back into the alien’s hands and Katie ducked as she swung, jabbing her in the back of the leg with an electric powered escrima stick. The alien let out a yell, stumbled slightly and Steve cleared the platform in an easy leap, rolling and scooping up the second assailant’s staff from the floor, holding it up to block the blow that the creature aimed at Katie. He grit his teeth, planting his legs to absorb the power of the hit, as Katie rolled to the side, jumped up and the two of them began to fight the alien, joined shortly by Natasha. Steve had to admit, the woman (if you could call her that) was a force to be reckoned with, but the three of them were just about getting the upper hand when they heard Sam yell.

“DUCK!”

The three of them did so and Sam flew in hard, kicking the woman backwards where she fell and scuttled over to her fallen friend. Sam landed next to Katie, drawing both his submachine pistols on the couple.

“Get up” The alien instructed to her fallen partner, her voice was deep.

“I can't.” His gravelly, robotic voice replied.

“We don’t wanna kill you.” Natasha spoke coolly “But we will”.

“You’ll never get the chance again.” The female levelled them, with a cold glare and with that a beam shot down from the hole in the station roof and the two were transported upwards. The weapon Steve was holding also shot out of his hand. He frowned in surprise for a moment, looking at his hand then upwards as the beam of light disappeared and the ship sped off.

“Can you stand?” Sam asked Vision as Katie replaced her sticks and walked towards Wanda and the android. When Vision shook his head, Sam moved forward to help him up.

Supported by Wanda and Sam, Vision looked over at Steve, Natasha and Katie, electricity shimmering over his surface. He’d been badly damaged in the fight, and as he spoke his voice distorted.

“Thank you, Captain.”

Steve took a deep breath and nodded. His face stern, but his eyes were much softer than his expression and Katie knew why. It had been a while since anyone other than Sam, Nat or Wanda had called him Captain.

Steve looked at the android, he might have been damaged but they had the stone, and that was the main thing. Nodding, he spoke. “Let’s get you on the jet.” His voice was soft and he moved to let Sam and Wanda support Vision on their way past him, Natasha following.

Katie hung back a little, trying to stop the light-headedness she was feeling from washing over her.

“You okay?” Steve turned to her as she blinked.

“Yeah, just took a whack that’s all. “I’m fine.” She assured him as they took up the rear of the group, her fingers lacing into his.

Once Vision was safely settled in a seat at the side, Sam dropped into the pilot’s seat. Katie hit the button to close the ramp as the Jet rose into the air.

“I thought we had a deal.” Natasha spun angrily to Wanda. ”Stay close, check in. Don’t take any chances.”

“I’m sorry. We just wanted time.” The younger woman said gently.

Katie glanced at Steve, he was stood up in the middle of the jet, hands on the buckle of his utility belt, staring seemingly at nothing but clearly contemplating something.

“Where to, Cap?” Sam asked.

Steve looked up, he glanced at Sam then locked eyes with Katie as he spoke one word, one simple word that they had all been waiting to hear for almost two years.

“Home”

*****

After a few hours, with the morning sky being the only thing in sight, Sam started to lower the jet through thick white clouds and Katie couldn’t help but inhale sharply when the compound began to take shape as she watched out of the front window. It looked the same. The buildings, the grounds…she wasn’t sure why she had expected anything to change, maybe because it felt like everything had changed for them, but either way, there it was. The exact same as the last time she had seen it.

Steve noticed her demeanour change slightly as they landed. She stood up straight, her shoulders squaring as if she was about to face an onslaught. And they were, in a way. On their way Steve had called Bruce to tell him that they had Vision and were heading back, but had had no idea what they were heading back to, nor did he care. Be it Ross, police, the army, whatever, Steve was done bowing to anyone’s will, he was over playing other people’s tunes. The two years they had spent hidden had shown them all that they could operate on their own if required, and he wasn’t afraid to fight anyone who got in his way.

They stepped off the ramp and strode over the lawn, Katie taking a deep breath as she looked around. So many emotions flooded her system, she couldn’t explain or identify half of them. Memories flashed in front of her eyes, visions of long summer nights spent outside in the garden and on the BBQ patio until sunrise. Laughs during team dinners. Sam and Wanda collaborating on pranks. Training sessions with the team and Vision reading Tolkien aloud to Wanda before asking questions about humanity’s love of fiction. Walks and picnics and other things in the ground, just her and Steve. Their wedding, God their wedding! Frequent visits from Tony, bringing in new ideas and improved gadgets. Getting back safe after being out on a long mission. Feeling relaxed and at ease.

Feeling at home.

Steve’s arm curled round his wife for a moment before he pressed a kiss to the side of her head as Vision opened the door.

“Still no word from Vision?”  

“Satellites lost him somewhere over Edinburgh.”

“On a stolen Quinjet with four of the world’s most wanted criminals.” “You know they’re only criminals because you’ve chosen to call them that, right, sir? “

“My God, Rhodes, your talent for horseshit rivals my own.”

The sound of the call between Ross and Rhodey echoed down the corridor reaching the group that were making their way through to the lab.

“If it weren’t for those Accords, Vision would’ve been right here.” Rhodey shot back and Katie glanced back at Vision as the sounds the voices grew louder as they neared their destination.

“I suspect it will be a Hollo Call.” Vision said gently, answering Katie’s unasked question.  His suspicions were proven correct as they rounded the corner and the lab came into view. Rhodey was stood across from where the holographic image of Secretary Ross was facing off against him.

"You have second thoughts?” Ross was challenging Rhodey, who smiled simply as his eyes shot sideways. Steve strode forward, his presence as intimidating as ever, and the first thing Rhodey noticed was just how dark he looked. Gone was the upstanding, All American Hero, and in its place was someone much harder, far rougher round the edges. Kiddo looked different too. Her hair was shorter and she looked slimmer.

“Not anymore.” He grinned.

The holographic Ross followed Rhodey’s gaze and his eyes fell on Steve who was stood next to Katie at the front of the group, Natasha, Wanda, Sam and Vision behind them. Steve raised his chin a little defiantly and moved to take his power stance, feet apart, hands on his belt, before he greeted Ross politely.

“Mr. Secretary" 

Katie couldn’t help the smirk on her face as she watched Ross attempting to cover up the shock he had clearly felt at the group of outlaws turning up again. She locked eyes with Rhodey who gave her the smallest of winks before he glanced back at Ross who was shaking his head slightly as he approached Steve, his holographic form almost trying to square up to him.  Steve simply raised his chin further and looked down from the steps he was stood on.

"You got some nerve.” Ross sniffed, staring up at him “I’ll give you that.”

“You could use some of that right now.” Katie shot back bluntly, Ross turned his head to face her for a second. She held his gaze and arched an eyebrow until he turned back to Steve.

“The world’s on fire.” Ross said incredulously. “And you think, you can just walk back in here and all is forgiven?”

Steve levelled the secretary with a firm gaze. “I’m not looking for forgiveness.” his voice took on a threatening tone as he spoke “And I’m way past asking for permission.”

At that point the smirk on Katie’s face grew even wider as she stole a glance up at her husband, pride swelling in her chest as he continued, stoic and unyielding. 

“Earth just lost her best defender, so we’re here to fight. And if you wanna stand in our way,” he stepped down to be at level with the hologram, and stared it square in the eyes “We’ll fight you, too.”

Ross was practically foaming at the mouth as his eyes went to Rhodey and he spat out his order, “Arrest them.”

“All over it.” Rhodey promised nonchalantly before shutting off the hologram, shortly after a beeping noise sounded from the computers.

“That’s a court-martial.” He informed the group as he slapped the back of his right hand into his left palm, though his tone said told Katie that he blatantly couldn’t have cared less for Ross’ demands. There was a short pause as the group glanced down at their friend, Steve smiling softly, before Rhodey’s face split into a huge smile of his own.

“It’s great to see you, Cap.” He stepped forward.

“You too, Rhodey.” Steve answered, taking the last two steps down before he shook Rhodey’s hand. Katie threw herself at her brother’s best friend and he gave her a huge bear hug before he looked down at her.

“You do something to your hair?” He teased.  Katie smiled, stepping back from his embrace while he looked the rest of the group over.

“Well. You guys really look like crap. Must’ve been a rough couple of years.”

Steve looked round, an amused smile on his face as he glanced at his wife then to the rest of the team.

“Yeah, well, the hotels weren’t exactly five star.” Sam quipped back cheekily, the banter flowing between them like no time at all had passed.

“Uh, I think you look great.”

Steve turned at the new voice to see Bruce inching his way into the room nervously wringing his hands together.

Steve and Katie remained silent, exchanging a glance. In the rush around and the fray of the fight, we’d forgotten to explain exactly who it was that called.

“Yeah. I’m back.”

Katie glanced over at Nat, she had her gaze fixed solely on the scientist as she spoke “Hi, Bruce.”

“Nat.” Bruce answered inclining his head towards her slightly as he fidgeted.

“This is awkward.” Sam piped up. Steve and Katie looked at one another, before they both smiled and looked back up at Sam.

“Any news on Tony?” Katie asked gently, interrupting the silence that had fallen.

“Not yet no.” Rhodey said. “FRIDAY lost him when he left the atmosphere. We got NASA running scans and we’re trying to track his trail but…” He shook his head. 

“Typical Tony.” Katie rolled her eyes “Always has to go one bigger and one better doesn’t he?”

Her blasé tone wasn’t fooling anyone.

“Banner.” Steve said gently, looking across the room at the scientist. “Can you fill us in on what we’re up against here?”

“Yeah sure,” Bruce said nodding hesitantly.

Without so much as another word, the group all started to make their way out of the room. As Katie turned to follow Natasha, Steve’s hand gently fell on her shoulder. Without looking at him, she reached up and gently wrapped her fingers round his, giving them a squeeze before she left.

Steve took a deep breath as he glanced around the room once more, before he too followed on, that sick feeling in his gut was getting worse.

**** Chapter 36 Part 2

[crystallinecrimsonmoth]

Moon City Don't Judge - Chapter 1

1983, NSAS Headquarters, Edinburgh, Scotland

“So this is for the newest Jamestown mission, then? What number are these Yankees on now?”

“Jamestown 85.”

“Oh, well I sure am flattered to be allowed in this late in the game. What did they tell you?”

“They’re trying to look international after the Russians had that mission with the French.”

Heather McKay snorted at that, taking the folder from Marcus and flicking through the pictures of the recent mission that had been broadcast on TV for the whole world to see just how friendly Russia were now.

The image of two astronauts with contrasting flags on their arms made her smirk a little. Since unilaterally declaring independence after World War Two, Scotland had become a far more passive nation, leaving larger countries like the US and the Soviet Union to sort out their own scraps unless they were absolutely needed to step in.

“So, they want to make nice with a passive country.”

“Exactly. I’ve been chatting with Molly Cobb, she’s head of astronauts now over at Houston, expecting one Mr McKay, second Scot in space.”

Heather laughed, nodding as she set the folder down and grabbed her water bottle from its resting spot on Marcus’ desk.

“I thought that was just a trick we played on rookie engineers and astronauts, not seasoned professionals.”

Marcus rolled his eyes, leaning back in his chair and shrugging.

“Messing with Americans is just as fun, even if they are fellow astronauts.”

“Seekers of independence from the crown playing pranks on each other. How mature.” Heather grinned, lifting her jacket from the back of her chair and shrugging it onto her shoulders.

The folder was still open on the table as she gave it one more scan, sighing.

“That’s early as hell to be rising, Marcus.”

“You can sleep when you’re dead, you know that better than anyone, astronaut.”

“Sure do, desk jockey.” The younger woman smiled at him when he gave her a deprecating look, offering him a fist bump as a goodbye.

“Have fun in Moon City, kid.”

Flying to America commercially felt like being stuck in a tin can for hours on end, though Heather was sure if she’d tried to fly it alone, she would have fallen asleep and crashed by now. She spent the time with her seat leaned back a fraction and a personnel file in her lap for the people she’d be working with. She knew Margo from a few years before when she had advised her on how to deal with a young Aleida Rosales and they had kept in touch since, so she passed by her file with ease and moved onto the astronaut section without realising she’d skipped the profile of her newest colleague, Molly Cobb.

With so many names to memorise and personal facts to store away in her head to be used at a later date, Heather barely had the energy to look at Cobb’s profile, her closing eyes skimming the information about the death of Wubbo Ockels before finally shutting as she passed out from exhaustion.

“Mrs McKay? Mrs McKay, we’ve arrived at Houston Intercontinental, it’s time to depart the plane.”

Heather came around to find a made-up flight attendant peering at her and shaking her shoulder gently, lacquered brown eyes focused on hers.

She flinched briefly at the sight before nodding when she took in the woman’s words, sliding out from her seat and looking at her once she’d grabbed her carry on from the overhead bins.

“What time is it?”

“Two in the afternoon, Mrs McKay, you’ve gained six hours.”

“Not Mrs, please, I’m not married.” Heather smiled kindly at the woman, nodding when she excused herself and exiting the plane into the fresh air.

At least, she had hoped it would be fresh. Instead, it felt like the Sahara compared to Edinburgh; the heat turned right up in Texas during June. It made her glad the man who put her through security knew who she was and went out of his way to help her through quickly.

She had a feeling that would be a rare thing in a country where nationalism was rampant. If you weren’t an American in the United States, you weren’t worth anyone’s time.

Luggage claim took longer than security for once, chewing the Scot out fifteen minutes later back into the hot Texan sun where a man in a secret service type suit stood beside an entirely black car with tinted windows.

“Miss Mickey?”

“It’s McKay. You would think with a fancy car service, the ability to say my name correctly would be included in the package.”

“Apologies, ma’am. I’ve been instructed to take you straight to the hotel.”

Heather nodded, giving him her suitcase and guitar to load into the trunk before sitting in the back of the car, relaxing into the comfortable leather after hours upon hours in a spiny airplane seat.

With tinted windows surrounding her, the sun was blocked out to make the rest of the journey easier with less heat, so she was fine to actually talk to the driver when he took off from the airport.

“I didn’t expect so much security around my arrival. It’s almost as if I’m a cosmonaut.”

“No, ma’am, the president was only concerned that the Russians may attack you to start a war with your passive nation.”

She sighed in the back seat, shaking her head as she leaned against the headrest behind her.

“I don’t believe they would. Scotland is no enemy of the USSR.”

“I meant no offense, ma’am, only to say that your head of state agrees with the president. He knows the danger too.”

Heather rolled her eyes at the mention of the Scottish leader, remembering the twelfth head of state from a meeting a few months before. She had much preferred the man who saw her off into space six years before.

“The head of state’s a misogynistic prick.”

The driver didn’t say anything in response, only smiling to her in the rear-view mirror which she found amusing. He obviously agreed but chances were there was a wire in the car to make sure he didn’t criticise his own government. How confident that made her feel about being in one of the two most controversial countries on the planet.

She’d researched the distance between the airport and the space centre before she left Scotland, wanting to make sure she knew her surroundings and not exactly thankful that there was an hour between them.

She had a feeling she’d be relying on her driver a lot during this trip if she were to get anywhere other than the space centre.

The rest of the journey was quiet, what Heather would call typical American scenery of square buildings and grey roads passing them by until they finally reached the hotel. She could see the space centre in all its glory across the road, large and looming over the water beside it.

“Much less attractive than NSAS headquarters, wouldn’t you say?”

“No pretty castles to convert in this country, ma’am. We make do with concrete and glass.”

“Looks like a bunch of grey shoeboxes to me.” Heather scoffed as she took the suitcase and instrument from him, slipping on her sunglasses and hat to avoid the sun above them.

“Maybe you can give them some design tips tomorrow, ma’am.”

She nodded, grabbing her backpack from the seat and throwing it over her shoulder with her guitar case, following him into the hotel once the car was locked and sifting in her bag for the hotel information Marcus had given her so she could check in.

“I have a copy of your booking if you can’t find your own.” She looked up at her driver to find a fresh sheet of paper in his hand and grinned, taking it and handing it to the receptionist when they reached the counter.

“Fucking bless you, boy.”

“Of course, ma’am. If that’s everything you need?”

“Yes. No, sorry, do you know where the Outpost is? My head of astronaut affairs gave me that name for the local pub, but I’m all turned around here.”

“The Outpost is across the road and five blocks to the left, Miss Mickey. You can’t miss the sign.” The receptionist spoke up before the driver could, causing the other woman to nod, taking off her glasses now that they were inside and smiling at both of them.

“Thank you. Kid, I meant to ask what your name is. I hate to have you driving me around when I don’t know who you are.”

“Liam Russett, ma’am, at your service and surely older than you so there’s no need to call me kid.”

Heather snorted at that, shaking her head as she hooked her glasses on the collar of her shirt.

“Well, if that’s true, you should get yourself a new job rather than driving around child astronauts.”

“It’s a pleasure, ma’am, really. You have my number for when you need driven somewhere. Have a nice night, Miss McKay.”

“You too, Liam.” She waved to him and grinned when he waved back, turning to talk to the receptionist.

“Hi, sorry for making you wait.”

“I’m used to it, don’t fret. Okay, Miss Mickey,”

That pronunciation wasn’t going away anytime soon.

“…you’re booked in for the next week and two weeks after your return, courtesy of NASA, but you can stay for longer after your mission if you should wish to set that up. Here’s your key and if you’re joining us for the full breakfast tomorrow, we start serving at 8am.” The woman behind the desk smiled kindly, getting another bright smile from Heather as she shifted her bags into the elevator to the side of reception.

“I’ll probably catch a donut at the centre tomorrow, but I will keep the breakfast thing in mind for another day! Thank you!” She called over her shoulder as the doors shut and she started going up to the sixth floor.

Looking at herself in the mirror, she felt like a cat dragged through a hedge backwards. Her hair was sticking to the side of her face with the sweat, the hat plastering part of her fringe to her forehead when she took it off. Her cheeks were red from the sun too and it occurred to her that she’d need sun-cream if she was going to be stuck in America for longer than a day.

As she stepped out onto the right floor and shifted open her hotel room door with a bit of struggle, the phone on the table started ringing.

Heather groaned, shutting the door behind her once her stuff was inside and picking up the call quickly, putting the receiver to her ear.

“Heather McKay, who’s calling, please?”

“Heather, you got there okay, good. How was the plane trip?”

“Hell, I’d honestly prefer a fucking Saltire shuttle.” The young woman expressed to Marcus on the other side as she flopped down on the mattress, glad for the comfort.

Her fellow astronaut laughed on the other end of the call, leaning back on his own armchair.

“Christ, worse than Saltire? Aren’t I glad I volunteered you for this mission and not myself?”

Heather rolled her eyes, staring out of the window that stretched her wall. The sky was a perfect blue with the sun shining down on the city, reminding her of decent summer days at home when she’d kick up sand on the beach. It was a relaxing memory to think about after the long journey.

“Yeah, aren’t you fucking lucky? I’m gonna head for the Outpost tonight with my guitar, try and make friends before I show up tomorrow.”

“Your social skills have come a long way since I met you.”

“And as soon as our leader and their leader aren’t bastards, I’ll be much more sociable!” She sighed, sitting up and going to the window to look across the roofs of the shoeboxes across the road.

“I don’t believe that but you’re Molly’s problem for the next month, not mine.”

Heather grinned at his words. She knew what he meant. Out of the first two Scots in space, she was far more foul-mouthed and quick-witted than Marcus, and it had definitely been a problem in the past.

“Don’t you worry, Marky, I’ll make you proud. Say hi to Laura and James for me.” She bid him goodbye before hanging up, returning the phone to its holder, and skimming through the tourist information book in an attempt at finding a place to eat after the hellish plane ride.

In the end, she had settled for a burger from the van outside NASA headquarters, sitting on a stone wall in front of some flower beds and enjoying watching so many engineers and scientists pass by, chatting away about their work.

Science was one half of her busy life and she loved it. Being at NASA was just the cherry on top of her career now, even if she wasn’t a fan of the politics the agency let itself get caught up in.

She listened to the chatter until her burger was a mere wrapper crushed in her hands and was surprised by the time on the clock outside the hotel. She sure hadn’t realised she’d been sitting there for that many hours but keeping a low profile and being jetlagged clearly passed the time faster than she thought.

Heading back up to her room, Heather changed into a fresh t-shirt and flannel before wandering over to the Outpost bar once she ran a brush through her hair. She could feel people eyeing her as soon as she walked in, clearly sticking out like a sore thumb as someone who they’d never seen before.

No one recognised her yet, thankfully. She didn’t need “socialist Scot scum” comments when she just wanted to drink and play her guitar. She let herself look at the astronaut souvenirs in the glass case by the door then approached the bar, smiling at the woman she certainly recognised as Karen Baldwin from the file about her husband.

“Hi, what can I get for ya?”

“A dram of your best Scots whisky, please.”

“Taste of home coming right up. Haven’t seen you around here before.”

“I’m new, start tomorrow. Thought I’d show my face and try to make friends before going to the moon with this lot.”

Karen nodded, the recognition clicking in her head as she slid the whisky to the younger woman.

“McKay, right? Ed was talking about you. First Scottish woman astronaut, and you changed the law on gay rights, didn’t you? Pretty ballsy.”

Heather shrugged, sipping her whisky and relishing in the burn going down her throat for a moment before speaking.

“And yet folks here in Texas would probably see me hung for it, at the very least fined 500 dollar for kissing a lady in public.”

“Some people never want to let go of their traditions, we’ll get there.” Karen smiled, nodding to the guitar strapped to her back with a slight grin.

“If you’re looking to make friends, you should play. They like music.” She told her with a wink before moving along to serve the newest patron in the door.

The young Scot looked around the bar once before taking her advice, sitting at a table in the corner near the counter and starting to play.

“Ring of Fire, good idea.” Karen mouthed to her from the bar, praising her choice of an American song as the front door opened again, none other than Molly Cobb walking through it and smiling at Karen, giving a brief wave.

“A beer, please, Karen.”

“Love is a burning thing… and it makes, a fiery ring…”

She could feel eyes on her, practically every pair in the bar turning to look at her eventually while she played. Usually, the attention didn’t bother her but the distraction of feet approaching her made her fingers tremble slightly on the strings.

Heather didn’t like being such a close focus of attention. She was used to the crowd having boundaries, being on a stage or a higher platform where they couldn’t reach her, but as she finished the song a few minutes later with every person in the bar staring at her, she could feel a wave of nerves run through her.

Molly was right there, sitting right there with her beer in hand and sunglasses pushing her hair back from her face, blue eyes focused on Heather.

“You’re good.”

“I practice.”

“Haven’t seen you around here before.”

Heather laughed in a light tone, strumming the cords of her guitar slightly. This woman had no idea that they were colleagues, that they had first woman of her nation in space in common. She was looking right through her.

“Oh, I just like the astronaut knick-knacks at this bar, plus I thought I’d try to impress the great Molly Cobb with my playing. Did you like it?” She tilted her head, acting as if she were simply an awestruck citizen and not reporting to duty for the woman the next day.

“Well colour me impressed, though that may just be the alcohol.”

“I’d like to see you do better. Your skills seem singular to flying.” She smirked, wondering how long she could get away with her secret identity.

Taking another sip of her whisky, Heather watched the other woman over the lip of her glass. She sure looked a lot more attractive in person compared to the photo in her information folder, but she wouldn’t act on that fact. It would put them both in danger for her to flirt in public here.

Even friends could turn on Molly if she got that close to another woman, Heather knew that.

“Yeah, and what other skills can you boast, sweetheart? Lemme guess, you can play two instruments.”

Oh, you bitch.

“First impressions aren’t your thing, are they? Don’t worry, ma’am, I’ll report for duty first thing tomorrow morning in your office, even if you’re a smug bitch. My name’s Heather McKay, by the way.” She held out her hand for Molly to shake as an introduction and smiled kindly when the older woman sighed, shaking her hand.

“Heather McKay, first Scottish woman in space. Marcus told me you were a Mr.”

“Wee trick we like to play on new recruits from other countries, he thought it would be funny to play it on a Yank.” Heather downed what remained of her whisky before ignoring Molly and waving to Karen as she left the bar.

“See you tomorrow, boss.”

[sickrentheadcanons]

1 New Message

Simon had desperately tried to mind his own business when Mark's phone chimed obnoxiously from the kitchen counter top of their now fully co-habituated flat. He cast a curious glance in the general direction of the iPhone that Mark had carelessly abandoned ten minutes prior in favour of a shower. “Clean body, clean mind, Si,” He'd called over his shoulder on his way into the bathroom. “Ye should try it.”

Under any normal circumstance he wouldn't give two shits about what Mark Renton's few and far between friends had to say but three texts in seven minutes was enough to pique even Simon's interest. He filled the kettle, fished himself and Mark a mug from the cupboard and came to rest casually against the counter beside Mark's phone where he definitely was nottrying to talk himself out of checking his best friend's notifications. 'Since when dae I give a fuck what the cunt gets up tae?' he had reasoned with himself only to counter his own point seconds later with a 'could be his Da. Could be an emergency like; a better check. Just incase.' and with that Simon found himself pressing a thumb to the side of Mark's phone, eyes scanning the screen as it illuminated.

4 new notifications:

Screen Time: Weekly Screen Report Available

Grindr: 1 New Message

Grindr: 1 New Message

Grindr: 1 New Message

'Fuckin' Grindr? What the fuck is he daein on Grindr?...is he-' Simon was ripped from his thoughts by the sound of the bathroom door creaking open ever so slightly and Mark calling out for help.

“Si? Could ye git us a towel? A forgot tae bring one in wae us.”

“Uh... wha-? I mean.. aye. Aye, I'll get yae one now.” he called back and okay, maybe he sounded weird and maybe Simon was having some what of a hard time convincing his head catch up with the fucking rest of him but... Grindr... Mark fucking Renton was on Grindr.

Their evening was quiet; a Connery marathon and little to no chit-chat. Simon was thankful to say the least. It wasn't that he cared- 'It's no like a mind if he's a buftie.' he thought, unable to focus his full attention on the film in front of him.

'A just wish he'd ae spoken tae us aboot it.' Simon was hurt, that was it. That's all it was; he was hurt that his best friend hadn't felt comfortable enough to confide in him. He was hurt that-

Mark's phone had chimed again in his pocket and Simon couldn't help but stare as the secretive wee cunt across from him fished his phone out of his pocket to read the message. Simon watched as Mark's mouth pulled itself into a modest smirk and he quickly typed out his reply before planting his phone firmly back in his pocket.

“Somethin' funny?” Simon found himself asking, an undeniable bite to his tone.

Mark only responded with a shrug, his eyes barely leaving the TV. 'Oh, aye. Cunt's got time tae look at his phone and reply tae his boyfriends but won't even look in my fuckin' direction when am speakin' tae him.'

Simon wasn't jealous. He really wasn't; he was just... concerned? Mark was his mate, his bestmate. Always had been and it was highly likely that he always would be. Si couldn't shake the cunt and truth be told he wasn't sure he wanted to. He had grown used to having Mark around again, though the Mark he knew now was a stark contrast to the Mark he had known when they were still wains. This Mark was bigger, stronger; both physically and emotionally. He was domesticated and responsible. This Mark was holding down a job, paying his rent on time, keeping their flat clean, cooking dinner, ironing his fucking boxers for christ's sake. This Mark was his.

Simon shoved himself up from his slumped position across their couch and mumbled nothing more than “Am goin' tae bed.” as he retreated to the dark, quiet confines of his bedroom; door slamming behind him before Mark had a chance to respond. Simon needed time alone, time to think and process all of the information he had acquired in the last four hours. 'Fuckin' Grindr. What if he's meetin' up wae psychos? Doss cunt's gonnae get himsel killed.' Simon didn't know much of anything about dating apps; Tinder, Grindr, Bumble, Hinge... 'all ae load ae old pish!' but he knew enough to know they could be dangerous and honestly? He couldn't fucking stand the thought of anything happening to Mark. He couldn't lose him again. He refused to lose him again; Not this time.

That is how Simon Williamson found himself staring down at his own phone, deep in thought as his thumb hovered apprehensively over the download icon for Grindr. He was just being cautious. Just looking out for his best friend and making sure he wasn't being lured in by the Begbie's of the world; 'Meetin' up wae fellas expectin' ae quick shag an' windin' up wae yer heed kicked in instead.'

With a deep breath, he took the plunge and watched as the app planted itself firmly on his home screen, wee yellow face fucking smirking up at him. 'Cunt.'

The sign up process hadn't been as long and arduous as Simon had anticipated; a few minor details entered, location and notifications turned off and a quick photo of his chest uploaded to his profile, he was set. Mark's profile was easy enough to locate; another shirtless torso but Simon knew what to look for, immediately recognising his friend's undeniably attractive torso and the scar from Mark's surgery. Mark didn't have a bad body, Si would give him that. Broad shoulders, toned biceps and a light dusting of chest hair all combined with strong, trim abs; aye... he could see the appeal (not that he was a wee buftie mind).

Mark (48) Online Now.

Bartender, traveller, fitness enthusiast based in Edinburgh.

Looking for mates, dates & anything in between.

Weight: 175lb

Height: 5'10

Body Type: Toned

Gender: Cis Man

Prnonouns: He/Him/His

Position: Vers Bottom

Tribes: Rugged, Daddy, Discreet

Simon found himself biting his lower lip in attempt not to laugh as he read through Mark's profile, thumb flicking back and forth between the other man's photo and his bio. “Never would ae pegged yae as a bottom, Rent Boy.” Simon mumbled, tapping to exit out of Mark's profile with every intention of calling it a night but oh... oh... “Wit the fuck is ae tap?... how do I undo a tap?.. wit have ae done?” Simon's phone buzzed in his hand, altering him to a new message; his first message in fact.

Mark>> Thanks for the tap. Great pic.

Fuck. What the fuck was he supposed to do now? Ignore the poor wee cunt? What was the point in that? He was on here to keep an eye on Mark; nothing more, nothing less. He couldn't do that without at least fucking talking to him... Simon groaned inwardly. Why the fuck did he think this was a good idea to begin with?

Aye. No bother. You look good too.<<David

Mark>> Looks like you're close by. Local?

Somethin like that. <<David

Sorry, am new to all this. A don't really know wit am doin.<<David

Mark>> I get it. I've no been on here long either.

How long?<<David

Have ye met many people off here like?<<David

Mark>> A few. Usually only if they can accom.

Accom?<<David

Mark>> Accomodate. I cannae bring people home. Flate mate.

Is that all Simon was to him? A fucking flat mate?

Oh. A see.<<David

Mark>> Disappointed? ;)

Why would a be disappointed?<<David

Mark>> You tapped me? and there's usually a reason people are on Grindr at 11:44PM.

Aye. Right enough. <<David

Mark>> So, you didn't actually answer my question.

Mark>> Are you disappointed?

Simon took a shaky breath, his palms suddenly clammy as he continued to gnaw nervously as his lower lip. Mark was flirting with him. No, not with him; Mark was flirting with David and it didn't feel bad... It didn't feel bad at all.

If Simon was to be completely and utterly honest with himself, he liked it. He enjoyed this playful, out-going side to his friend that he had rarely (if ever) seen. Maybe Mark had just never felt entirely comfortable around Simon or maybe Mark had spent most of his adolescence too smacked off of his wee ginger tits to worry about flirting and building strong, meaningful relationships. Aye... probably the latter.

Simon stared down at his phone, contemplating his next move. This wasn't right; he knew it wasn't right. He'd heard about this, there was a whole fucking TV show based around the idea. Was he really about to Catfish his own best friend? (or fucking flat mate as Mark would rather have it)...

Aye, fucking right he was.

[faofinn]

I Think I’ve Broken Something - Whumptober Day 12

@whumptober2020

The move from Edinburgh to London was difficult. Of course, Fao was closer to home and could spend time with Finn as he recovered, but he left all of his friends behind. The rugby team especially, lads who he’d been with since his first week of term. They’d all taught him so much, and it had been an emotional (and rather drunk) goodbye. 

Now after a busy summer, he was ready to get back into the flow of Uni again, with lectures and labs and seminars, as well as more placement hours in different areas. He’d loved his time with Steve, but he was looking forwards to learning more in the other specialties. And of course, he’d joined the rugby team. First practice had been daunting, but they were a good group of lads and he soon fitted in. He was rusty, having not played or really worked on fitness for a while since Finn’s injury, but they were open and understanding and always asked after Finn. The socials were pretty good too, though the hangovers were less entertaining. 

It was a Monday evening, and Fao headed out to training after a long day of studying. Typically, it was raining and already dark, and he wasn’t necessarily looking forwards to it. But it would get him out of the house and clear his head and get his blood up. 

Whilst the weather was miserable, as soon as Fao was out and warming up, he felt good. Once he was soaked through anyway, the rain didn’t really bother him. After some skills training and a quick break, they split apart for some gameplay. It was a shortened, simplified game, but enough for them to get some practice. Soon enough Fao’s chest was heaving -  he was sweaty and absolutely covered in mud. But it was good, it kept the demons at bay, made him feel alive. And the team already felt like family.  

It wasn’t exactly surprising when he was tackled - he had possession, after all. They took him out at the legs and he went down hard. He was too preoccupied with trying to score as he went down, but as soon as he hit the ground he knew he was fucked. 

He’d twisted awkwardly, gone down directly on his shoulder. If the sharp, shooting pain wasn’t a big enough clue that he’d done damage, the crack that accompanied it was a sure sign. 

He rolled over, arching his back in pain. “Fuck!” Part of him was pissed he’d not even managed to score. The teammate who’d tackled him helped him to sit up, and Fao ignored how the world span slightly. The pain was really something else, and as the rest of the team ground to a halt, he focused on trying to breathe through it. At least it wasn’t a disolaction. It didn’t feel like it, which was a welcome change. 

In a team full of healthcare students, it didn’t exactly take long to decide it was a broken collarbone. Fao had to agree too, the fingers of his good hand skimming lightly over the injury. Soon enough he was in the back of the captain’s car, and he fumbled for his phone. Sheila was going to kill him. 

Well, when she picked up anyway. The first call eventually went to voicemail, but he didn’t bother leaving a message. He’d try again in A&E, hopefully he’d actually have some more information for her. 

It wasn’t a long drive, and before long he was waiting on an uncomfortable seat in the ED, aware he was soaked to the skin, covered in mud and probably bleeding somewhere too. He was cold now he wasn’t running about, and the pain wasn’t getting any better. He tried calling Sheila again, resting his head against the wall behind him as he waited for her to pick up. 

"Hello, darling. Are you finished rugby now?"

He hummed. “Yeah, I have.”

"Good, good. How was it? Are you on your way to ours tonight?"

“Uh, probably yeah. But I might be a bit late.”

"Going out with the team?"

“Not exactly...”

Her distrust could be heard down the phone. "What have you done?"

“I’m fine, I swear. But I am in A&E.”

"That is not fine!" She hissed down the phone.

“I’m fine, I’m fine. Just a crappy tackle.” He shifted in the chair and groaned. “Nothin’ serious.”

"Head injury?"

“Nothing like that.”

"What have you broken then?"

“Maybe my collarbone? But it’s nothing serious.” 

She groaned, resting her head heavily against the wall. "Are you kidding me?"

“Honestly Mum, I’m fine. Not a big deal.”

"Are you at George's? Who's with you?"

“Yeah, I’m at George’s. I won’t be long. Matt’s with me, he drove me from the club. I’ll get the train home, it’s fine.”

"I'll come get you. Say hi to Matt for me."

“Don’t worry about me, it’s not bad.”

"You're my son. Of course I'm going to worry."

“Yeah, but it’s nothing serious. Jus’ a collarbone.”

"I wish you were right."

“I am right.” He grumbled, but he moved again and it jostled him; his breath caught in his throat.

"I heard that. I'm coming in."

“I jus’ moved wrong and it hurt. I’m fine.”

"Please let me come and get you?"

“Fine. You can come and wait at mine or somethin’. I don't know, help me pack a bag.”

"I'll get Fred to make some meals to put in your freezer too, you won't be able to do that with a broken side."

“Sure. Can I stay with you for a couple days first?”

She managed a laugh. "It's nice you thought I'd allow anything else."

“I’m okay though.”

"I hope so."

“Wouldn’t be stuck waiting in A&E if I wasn’t okay. They’d be treating me.”

"You wouldn't be in A&E if you were okay." She countered.

“But in the grand scheme of things.”

“I know, I know. Are you okay though? Really?” 

He sighed, wincing as it hurt. “‘M cold, covered in mud and soaked to the skin, and it hurts. But I’m fine.”

"We have vastly differing versions of fine, Fao." She laughed. "I'll be an hour. You're doing great."

“I've had worse. I'll live, just fucks with placement and things.”

He had to hang up on her not long after, as they called him through. After some (painful) prodding, they agreed it was probably broken and needed x-raying. So he sat and waited forever for that (still in agony) and eventually it was done and he was called back in. 

It was an impressive enough x-ray, but his doctor was happy it would heal just fine without intervention. So he was given a fairly hefty painkiller prescription, strapped up in a sling, and was told to attend fracture clinic in a few weeks. 

Matt drove him back to his flat, Sheila's car parked outside. He thanked his friend for the lift, struggled to pick his kit bag up, and fumbled with his key. But he made it in eventually. 

“Mum?” He called, glancing around. 

“In the kitchen, Fao. Is Matt with you?”

He headed into the kitchen after awkwardly leaning on the wall to get his shoes off and dump his bag. “Nah, he went home.”  

“You look a state.” She sighed, moving to fuss over him. “You need a shower or a bath, and then bed.”

“A shower sounds amazing. Then food?”

"Already cooking. Go on, go get a shower."

He nodded slowly and headed to the bathroom. Showering took forever, and was decidedly painful, but he managed to get the mud off of him and get some warmth back into his bones. Feeling somewhat better, but exhausted, he struggled into some trackies and a hoodie, and joined Sheila in the kitchen again. 

“What are you cooking?”

“Fred made a pasta bake, it’s not mine, don’t worry.”

“Your cooking isn’t that bad.”

“Oh, come on. I’ve heard you and Finn talking.”

“I’ve had worse, put it that way.”

“Ouch, thanks.”

“It really isn’t that bad.” He said, hugging her with his good arm. 

She hugged him back, rubbing his back. "How's the pain?"

He hummed distractedly. “Could be worse, I had some painkillers at hospital.”

“Did they give you some for later?”

“Yeah, gave me plenty. In my kit bag.”

“Good, good.” She pressed a kiss to his damp hair. “A lazy evening and then we’ll drive back.”

“Sounds good.”

"I'll pack some stuff for you too."

“Thanks. I'll need to bring my kit home too.”

Sheila shook her head. “As if I'd let you leave it here.”

The food didn't take long, and Fao picked at it a bit, not really hungry. He was sore and exhausted, and the pain meds had made him a bit nauseous. At Sheila's insistence he ate a fair amount, and then she fussed getting his stuff packed. 

It didn't take that much longer for them to be ready to leave, and she drove him back home. He fell asleep on the way, head resting against the window. He woke when they got home, feeling worse, and brushed Finn off as he curled up in bed, so tired even the pain couldn't keep him awake. 

[polkadotfairyposts]

Ok, so as an english person living in Scotland 🏴󠁧󠁢󠁳󠁣󠁴󠁿 I now actually really *get* the need for independence.

Here's my brief, foggy and perhaps mildly innacurate because im a bit shit with dates and names but bear with me. I was also drunk when i wrote this but it still stands

So, Scotland is one of the oldest *established* countries in europe, in 843 or 834 it became a recognised country

England, being England, kept on invading and there was a lot of dispute about territory.

You know thoose historical figures you hear about a lot, William Wallace of Braveheart fame, Robert the Bruce of Outlaw King. These guys were about in the 1300s. Contantly battling with England over their sovreinty

In 1314, the Battle of Bannockburn happens, Robert the Bruce pretty much destroys the English army near Stirling

1320, the Declaration of Arbroath is signed, stating the people of Scotland, not a king or leader, but the people theselves are sovereign, in quite a dramatic comparison so England's monarchy and heirarchical system. Yes, the Scots had kings and nobility, but the people were the most important, kings were not chosen by God

It was written in Latin, but says the following:

As long as but a hundred of us remain alive, never will we on any conditions be brought under English rule. It is in truth not for glory, nor riches, nor honours, that we are fighting, but for freedom - for that alone, which no honest man gives up but with life itself".

Boom, right?!

The union of the crown happened, im hhazy on it all, watch Mary Queen of Scots to get a fairly good idea. Its mostly to do with a lot of Protestant/Catholic issues, mostly fuelled by English politics, as far as i can see, but i. Could be v wrong. There was alot of hoo-ha regarding recognising Scotland's monarchy, especially involving the "Auld Alliance" with France, who England was continually picking fights with

1703: The Scottish Parliament passes the Act of Security, under which Scotland will not in future be bound to accept the same monarch as England unless Scotland is accorded completely free trade with England and the colonies.

So, the Treaty of the Union happened in 1707 (thats right, its only just over 300 years old) but lets just look at the curcumstance in which it was signed

In the years (maybe decades) leading up to this, England imposed some kind of tax or restrictions on scottish trading.

5 February 1705: The English Parliament pass the Alien Act, restricting scottish exports and trades. Big economic impact here. Many purses made a lot lighter.

So, the Scottish Parliament (made of nobles and officials, no vote for the people. Rumoura of bribery and threats abound) decide to enter into this Union. A draft is written, its voted in, the Scottish Parliament is dissolved. There was a LOT of anti-union feeling about this. Theres a rumour the Treaty was signed in an actual basement in edinburgh to avoid protests happening around the city. (I obvs dont know the truth in that)

Magically, when the scottish parliament was dissolved, restrictions were removed and scotland was able to trade freely as part of the "United Kingdom of Great Britain"

Now, theres a king, exiled, James, or "the Pretender", hanging in France, decides to rally troops from there and head back to try and sort a Jacobite uprising. This, in 1708, failed.

1715 sees another Jacobite uprising. Defeated

1720 Spain tries to. Help another Jacobite uprising. Defeated.

Honestly, just keep on going through rinse and repeat until the big one.

You all know Bonnie Prince Charlie and the 1745 Jacobite uprising and the absolute massacre of Culloden, especially if youve followed the Outlander series.

This was the last big rebellion. And I'll tell you for why.

Scottish culture was all but outlawed. Kilts, Tartan, Pipes, Gaelic, all punishable offenses. The Highland clearances happened (basically rich people owned the land, decided it was gonna make them more money to feed cattle than people and moved villages and townspeople to the most barren areas, on the brink of survival. A lot of folk were destitute, some left in ships bound for the US willingly , many were sent as punishment for even minor crimes)

Now, im not saying the Scots were angels and innocents subjected to English rule, a good few profited highly from Slave Trade and many oof Glasgow and Edinburgh's city statues are of questionable admirability.

But this Union of Equals is anything but.

In the 1990s, the Scots had to fight tooth and nail to get their own parliament back. This was under Labour and Donald Dewar became First Minister.

In 2014, there was an epic vote for Scots on whether to become and Independent country again. From polling at just 26%a year or so before, the Yes vote went up to 45%. Not enough to win the referendum, but a huge improvement. The Better Together campaign raised questions such as EU membership, pensions, currency, could Scotland afford it?

The DAY AFTER the No vote was announced, David Cameron announces EVEL (yeah, it looks like evil) English Votes for English Laws. Freezing Scottish MPs out of decision-making. So much for "Stay with us, Scotland. Lead us, dont leave us"

2016 the goddamned Brexit vote happens. It was 52/48 Now you know, if that had been the outcome for Yes, the uproar would have been "its too close to call" "thats not a big enough margin!" but because it was what an underlying majority of Tory backbenchers actually wanted, it was accepted. People who voted to stay in the EU were labelled Remoaners and the 16m+ who voted against it were ignored in favour of the 17m+ who voted for. Also worth noting, scotlannd voted 62% to stay in the EU. A much higher margin than to remain ppart of the UK. We were ignored. So much for Scotland staying in the UK to stay in the EU

Oh, and the last decade of Tory austrity has seen oension age increase and pension amount decrease. We've one of the worst ppensions in the developed world. There goes that argument

As a result of the Brexit vote, the sterling decreased in value. Fuck it, a number of Scots wouldnt even mind using the Euro if we were to rejoin them, but we'd be well within our rights to use our own Scots ££££

Also, the Macrone report shows pretty well that Scotland has a wealth of natural resources it would be able to use, we could definitely afford it.

Soooo, we comme to the "once in a generation" arguement. This was said a lot, by both sides. As a turn of phrase. Same as many things. Boris Johnson said he'd rather be dead in a ditch than take an extension for EU talks. He took that extension and thougb ive been thoroughly searching ditches up and down the UK, not spotted him yet.

Nowhere in the Edinburgh Agreement (the document agreement 2014 referendum) does it state "once in a generation". It *does* state that scotland can holld another referendum following "constitutional change". One word. Brexit. Thays one big motherfucking change.

If were talking about a generation, in human terms, thay could be 20/30/40/50 years or so. But if we're talking political generation, its worth noting in talks with Ireland, this was defined as seven years. Since the Edinburgh Agreement was signed in 2012,we're past that. And even if we go by 2014, thay makes 2021 the year we can do another.

12 consecutive polls have shown Yes well ahead for independence. Scotland also allows 16-18 year olds to vote. And EU citizens living in Scotland.

The point is, if Scotlannd wants it, Scotland shoukd be able to choose it.

[nekojitachan]

AFTG fic - Medicine

This is for @sig66, another owed fic from the @aftgremix fic challenge where she guessed correctly which one was mine. She asked for a Clouds fic, so here you go! I hope you like it.

Hmm, think this is pretty safe here, other than the usual Hatford warnings?

*******

Andrew stood still while Neil fussed with the collar of his shirt. “I don’t know why it won’t – ah, there it is.” He smiled as he smoothed his hands over Andrew’s shoulders then stepped back. “You look great.” There was a slight roughness to his voice, a lingering to his gaze as he looked Andrew up and down, and if Nicky and Erik weren’t out in the living room….

Telling his damn hormones to calm down, Andrew clicked his tongue as he reached for his black gown with the fancy sleeves and purple hood, while Neil grabbed the black cap; he wouldn’t put it on until he had to, and wore black slacks with a black dress shirt for his graduation ceremony. Neil was dressed up for once, too, in dark grey slacks with a silvery-grey dress shirt (which Andrew had picked out). They left the small bedroom made even smaller with all the boxes, to enter the living room also crammed with boxes.

Right after graduation, they were moving in together, into a larger apartment in the same building. Andrew looked forward to an office where he could study for his Master’s degree, and a decent sized bathroom.

“There you are! Excited to graduate?” Nicky asked as he jumped to his feet with a big grin on his face; he’d gone back to the US for Aaron’s graduation two months ago, and shouldn’t be so excited to sit through another boring ceremony that summer.

“What, where I sit on my ass listening to a bunch of old people talk way too much until they call my name?” Andrew huffed as he tugged on the cuffs of his shirt. “Only going because Bren promised me decent drinks afterward.”

“But it’s a major life milestone!” Nicky insisted while gazing at Neil. “Aren’t you looking forward to graduating next year?”

Neil shrugged as he leaned down to pet Pita, who rubbed against his shins. “They don’t really do anything for those of us who take classes online. I’ll probably just keep taking classes until I get bored, anyway.”

“But… but… I’d be happy if I were you,” Nicky sniffed, which made Erik give him a big one-armed hug. “It’s a big deal.”

It was just a piece of paper, in Andrew’s opinion. What mattered to him was what happened afterward – the fellowship he’d received which allowed him to continue studying at the university, and the new lease which had both his and Neil’s name on it.

He had a future in front of him, one he’d earned on his own and one where an impossible pipedream wanted to wake up next to him each morning.

“Fine, you go in my place,” Andrew offered as he held out his gown to his cousin. At first Nicky gaped at him and then laughed.

“I’m tempted just to see the looks on their faces,” he hiccupped as he wiped at his left eye. “That’s okay, I’ll be busy keeping your sweetie company.”

Andrew narrowed his eyes at the moron for the ‘sweetie’ comment, but that was mild for Nicky and he couldn’t exactly argue that nothing was between him and Neil when several of the boxes around them bore his name.

“Uhm, we need to leave,” Neil said in a rush as he motioned to the door. “If we want to be on time.”

“Yes, I imagine there’ll be some traffic,” Erik agreed, a proud smile on his face as he held out his arm for Nicky to take; both men were dressed in suits as if attending a formal affair.

They finally left the apartment and went down to the car which Erik and Nicky had rented for their visit. On the way to campus, Andrew’s phone pinged with a text from Aaron – a short message to congratulate him and remind him to call when everything calmed down.

Andrew hadn’t been able to attend his twin’s ceremony since he was busy with classes at the time, but he’d gone back over Easter break to tie up some loose ends (sell the GS, box up whatever he wanted to keep to either bring back with him or mail to the UK, and get rid of the rest) and have it out with Aaron one last time. To his surprise, it had gone better than he’d expected; he doubted that his brother had ever thought he’d just ‘walk away’, would leave Aaron and the States for good, so they managed a sort of ‘détente’.

Distance seemed to work well for them.

Campus was a mess with all of the visitors there to see their family and friends graduating, even if they had split up the classes as much as possible. After they’d parked and gotten to where the ceremony was held, Andrew (barely) allowed Nicky to give him a quick hug and Neil a longer one before he went off to join his fellow graduates, including Prasad. He exchanged a fist-bump with his now former roommate, who updated him on his job search (a couple of promising leads) and once again congratulated him on the fellowship before they split up to go to their seats.

After that, it was as boring as he’d expected, save for Neil sending him texts during the droning speeches; asking him if he was certain that he was related to Nicky (had there ever been a blood test? Neil knew people who could do genetic testing on the sly if Andrew wanted it done, just saying), future menu items at the café (now that was just mean), possible vacation spots for them, and yes/no on accessories for the new ‘flat’ (no on the cat-themed pillows, yes on the new duvet). When it was Andrew’s time to go up for his diploma, he was hard-pressed not to flash the middle finger at the crowd with the way that Nicky and Erik acted like immature morons, yelling out his name and clapping so loud.

When it was all said and done, he was grateful to make his way back to where Neil waited for him; he had to endure a congratulatory pat or two on the shoulder from a couple of professors along the way. As soon as Neil spotted him, he smiled at Andrew and leaned in for a quick kiss once close enough, which somehow made the whole ridiculous ceremony worthwhile.

“Let’s go,” Andrew insisted when they broke apart, and ignored Nicky’s protests about him posing for pictures.

The man really should know better by then.

They waded through the crowd and managed to get back on the road after a short (not short enough) wait, then drove to the Bolthole, which was closed for a ‘private’ party. Andrew would be honored by the event, if he didn’t know how little money the café made on a regular basis and how much some of its ‘regulars’ enjoyed drinking.

Along the way, Nicky babbled on about Andrew and Neil visiting Germany before their classes resumed, maybe the four of them meeting up in Berlin like they’d talked about around New Year’s. It was a possibility, especially after Andrew bought a car so he and Neil could plan out some road-trips.

There were times when it still didn’t seem real, the fact that he’d left the US behind to live in the UK, that he’d be looking for a job here after he graduated with his Master’s, that he’d cosigned a lease and had a student visa (and been told by Bren that it wouldn’t be any problem to get a more permanent one once he graduated).

That he was planning a future with Neil and a spoiled as hell cat.

Okay, he’d never plan on including the spoiled as hell cat. Or the annoying, cloying as fuck family members like Stuart and Will.

Especially Stuart.

That wasn’t even including Ally.

The one thing he’d finally accepted was that Neil was real and wasn’t going away. Not with that signed lease, not with all those boxes waiting to be moved into the new apartment (flat – what the hell was a ‘flat’?), not with all the exchanged texts about what they should buy for their new home (home, what a concept), not with the casual mentions of how they’d get a townhouse (‘terraced house’) when they graduated and figured out where they wanted to live (where they got jobs – probably London but maybe Glasgow or Edinburgh since Andrew liked those cities, too).

Neil cared about finding a place to live where Andrew liked, where Andrew wanted to live.

After all those years of tearing himself into pieces for others… Andrew had found an improbable idiot who worried about making sure that Andrew was happy.

(Well, Andrew and a spoiled furball.)

(Andrew could put up with a spoiled furball who was placated by a full dish of food and a soft blanket to sleep upon, as long as he got Neil most of the time.)

Neil had just told Nicky to send him some ideas of where to stay in Berlin when they finally reached the Bolthole (or at least where they had to park), and everyone got out of the car. Neil smiled at Andrew and held out his hand a little in a gesture that meant he’d like to hold hands but it was up to Andrew, which made Andrew click his tongue and entwine their fingers together.

Such an idiot.

They only had to walk half a block to reach the café, and ignored the signs posted on the door about it being closed for a private party; Andrew actually blinked in surprise to find more than Bren and a glowering Stuart inside, but a smiling Jamie, Henry, Ally (okay, he could do without that cousin), Will, Miriam and a few of the family’s bodyguards and errand runners as well.

They made an obvious sign of brandishing crackers in the air before setting them off (Neil still flinched a little at the noise), before closing in to wish Andrew ‘congratulations’. “How does it feel to be an educated man?” Henry asked as he handed Andrew what looked to be a glass of champagne (it better not be anything cheap).

“Hungry. Where’s the cake?” he asked as he rocked up on his toes to look beyond the wall of Hatfords, which made most of the people laugh.

“It’s over there,” Henry remarked as he waved to a table laden with appetizers and what had to be an entire sheet cake despite the fact that there was less than twenty people in the place; like the rest of his family, he was dressed up for the event (why?) in nice clothes (suits and dresses – but then they dressed up to ‘deal’ with people so no big deal). “So, are you happy with the new flat?”

Despite being drawn to the cake (an entire sheet cake, embellished with his name and lots of buttercream roses), Andrew paused to consider the question and the man asking it. Henry might appear like some mild-mannered twenty-something with his friendly smile, pale grey eyes and blond hair, but Andrew had yet to see the young man without at least three weapons on him (knives in his ankle boots and gun holstered in the small of his back), had heard enough stories from Neil and Bren to know that the Hatford’s heir wasn’t one to ignore. Yet Henry strove to put him at ease, to ‘chat him up’ each time they met… after ensuring that he was serious about Neil.

Hadn’t that been a ‘fun’ conversation.

Yet Henry (and Jamie and Miriam) seemed to believe that Andrew was serious (he was) about Neil and so treated him with respect (what a concept), while Stuart and Will were still a bit standoffish (considering what he’d heard about their sister and her relationship with Neil’s father… well, he’d accept ‘standoffish’).

“I can shave in the damn shower without knocking my elbows into the walls, so ‘yes’,” Andrew remarked after a sip of the champagne (it wasn’t the cheap stuff).

“Well, you know Neil,” Henry remarked with a slight smile as he gazed over at his cousin, who was being hugged by Jamie. “He insisted on the smallest flat in the building, so Dad was rather happy on giving him an upgrade this time around.”

Which worked out for Andrew, didn’t it? “For future reference, tell him ‘no’,” he insisted. “At the least, it’s animal cruelty.”

“Not to mention boyfriend cruelty, no?” Henry laughed as he held up his own glass as if in a toast. “Don’t worry, I believe it won’t be a problem anymore.” He gave Andrew a knowing smile as he walked away, only to be replaced by Miriam who offered her own congratulations and wanted to know if he needed anything for the new apartment (she didn’t seem to trust Neil’s ‘we’re fine’ – the woman wasn’t an idiot by any means).

After spending ten minutes or so going over some vital necessities (Andrew had no issues hitting up Neil’s wealthy relatives for stuff when they were eager to provide them) while snacking on the appetizers since he hadn’t eaten in hours (the croquettes were delicious, as were the mini chicken pies and the Welsh rarebits, among others). He figured any guilt Neil felt over the purchases would be assuaged by how happy his aunt was over making them, so it would work out in the end.

Bren and Davis came over with a few pints to ‘toast’ his graduation, and then he was able to escape to find Neil, who was chatting with Stuart and Jamie. “-seriously, we can put you to work in some side businesses once you graduate,” Stuart was telling Neil, whose body was stiff with tension.

“I appreciate that,” Neil said in a flat manner as he stared at his uncle with a bottle of water clutched in his right hand. “But there’s a lot I can do with the degree, maybe I’ll get a Master’s like Andrew and… I don’t know, see what happens after that. Mathematics and language intersect at some point, which opens up a lot of options for me.”

Stuart frowned as he jabbed his right forefinger at his nephew. “I don’t see how-“

“Neil’s right, there’s potential there,” Jamie was quick to jump in while Andrew rubbed his right hand along his boyfriend’s nape. “Something with security and code breaking, if I’m guessing right, which could be valuable to us… or if he wants to strike out on his own.”

“Exactly,” Neil said in a quiet voice as he slumped against Andrew. “Could set up my own business but still help out the family.”

Stuart eyed him for a couple of seconds before he nodded. “You know you’re free to do whatever you want and we’ll support you, but… but yeah, tell me and Will about this some night, okay?” He smiled, the expression blatantly proud, as he reached out to ruffle Neil’s hair. “Obviously you got all the smarts intended for Ally.”

Jamie laughed at the comment while Neil managed a slight grin, and Andrew felt the tension leave his lover’s lean body; no matter how much Neil struggled to stand on his own, his uncles’ opinion mattered to him. “That’s a classic example of damning with faint praise,” Jamie claimed as she gave her cousin a fond look. “You two are coming to London for a week or two, right? Maybe in another month?”

Neil fidgeted with the left of his shirt while he gave a curt nod. “We need to get everything set up in the new flat and then figure out where we’re all going during the summer break, but we planned on stopping there.”

“Still need to get the car first,” Andrew added as he glanced around for Bren, who was over by the impromptu bar talking to Davis and a couple other Hatford ‘employees’. They’d discussed options for an affordable used car (something not too boring with low miles), but the man had been awfully quiet on the matter the last few days.

“Yeah, right.” For some reason, Stuart gave Andrew an indecipherable look while Jamie smiled, and then the topic switched to how Andrew and Neil better not stay at any cheap hostels again on their getaways (it had been one time, when their hotel had ended up overbooked, and while Andrew hadn’t been happy about it, at least they had a room to themselves and the place had been clean). While an indignant Neil argued with his overprotective uncle (good luck – usually Andrew would put his money on his lover, but not that time), he wandered off to fetch a drink.

Bren gave him a pat on the shoulder while the others wished him ‘congrats’ and handed over at least a double of a very nice whiskey; he was toasted first to a successful Master’s and then a ‘happy life’ in the new apartment (flat). He tried a few times to bring up the car, but kept being interrupted by Davis or Quentin before Bren could say more than a couple of words.

Then Bren pointed out that Ally had challenged Nicky to some ridiculous drinking contest, and Andrew had to go put a stop to it before Stuart and Will decided they didn’t want someone related to such a blithering moron anywhere near their precious nephew.

By then, Neil seemed to reach the limit of his uncles’ fussing and all but glued himself to Andrew’s side, which wasn’t necessarily a bad thing. They sat down at a table to eat (more meat pies, not that Andrew was complaining at all, along with mashed potatoes); Neil nursed a cider while Andrew had a pleasant buzz from the whiskey and looked forward to the cake for dessert. Jamie and Teddy (Wednesday pick-up) sat across from them and talked to Neil about possible places to see in Portugal while Andrew exchanged a few texts with Aaron and did his best to ignore Nicky’s hints about how he needed to make things with Neil ‘permanent’.

Right, he’d just sold most of his belongings (the GS) and moved across the ocean to live full-time with another person (whose family could very easily make him ‘disappear’ if they wanted) and a cat – all on a whim.

Maybe if he asked Stuart very nicely, the man would make Nicky disappear.

(It was a nice daydream.)

At the moment, what annoyed him the most about Aaron was that his twin was thousands of miles away from Nicky. “You need to go spend the summer with Aaron,” he told his cousin.

“Huh? But I just saw him a few weeks ago, that and I can’t take that much time off at once,” Nicky complained as he frowned at the platter of pies before he picked one at random. “Besides, I need to save a week in case, you know.” His left eye did some weird spasm thing, which Andrew took to be a pathetic attempt at winking. “Something important happens with you and Neil.”

“Time to cut him off,” he told Erik, who was already handing a glass of water to his inebriated husband.

Neil leaned against Andrew after he had a sip of his drink. “Can we just go somewhere far away when I graduate? I mean, this isn’t too bad but….” He gave a significant look to the family gathered around them.

Andrew nudged him in the side while pointing to the half-eaten chicken and mushroom pie on his plate before he answered (in German as well). “Not a bad idea.”

His boyfriend smiled and resumed eating while Jamie rattled off all the family events in the second half of the year that they were clearly expected to attend; Andrew inwardly sighed and wondered if he could walk off with whatever bottles of alcohol were left over at the end of the party as Neil’s smile faltered.

He was about to tell Neil to create a distraction while he grabbed the cake and then they ran like hell (well, more Neil than him) when Will stood up and cleared his throat as if preparing to speak. “I want to thank everyone for coming tonight. It’s not a grand occasion, but it’s still an important one.” He nodded to where Andrew sat, a slight smile on his face; Will wasn’t the most jovial of people, but he’d always treated Andrew with respect and politeness even while he made it clear that Andrew wouldn’t live long enough to regret harming his nephew. “Someone we’ve all come to know has reached an important milestone, and so we’re here to recognize that achievement. With that in mind, Stuart and I have a gift for him.” He motioned to Andrew. “If you would, Andrew.”

“If I’m about to be shot, I’ll be very upset,” Andrew murmured to Neil, who’d gone perfectly still during the speech. The look his boyfriend gave him indicated that Neil didn’t appreciate the joke (well, semi-joke), but there was little he could do since Andrew had stood up and went to approach the mob boss (crime lord, whatever).

Stuart stood as well, his expression blank, but Andrew caught the way that Miriam smiled, along with Henry and Davis (who were seated near the men) so assumed that he wasn’t about to bleed in the next few minutes (assumed). Still, he had to force himself to not go for one of his knives and heard Neil mutter in Russian when Will reached into the pocket of his black pants for something, which he held out to Andrew. “A present for you. We heard you might like it.”

“Something better than that used Japanese shite you had Bren looking into,” Stuart muttered; upon seeing the ‘Jaguar’ logo on what was apparently a key fob, Andrew almost remarked what did it matter when the company was now foreign-owned, too… and then he realized that it was a new key fob for an F-type.

Yeah, he supposed it was a bit better than something used that he could afford with the money from selling his GS….

“Are you serious?” he asked as he rubbed his right thumb over the logo; he’d gotten some gift cards (mostly Amazon and one for IKEA from Nicky and Erik) for graduation, while Neil had surprised him with a new laptop. But this? This was….

Andrew didn’t know what to do with this.

He was ready to throw it back at Will when Neil appeared at his side. “You didn’t have to,” he told his uncles with faint reproach.

“We wanted to,” Will explained as he smiled at his nephew. “This way we know that the two of you are driving around all over the place in something reliable.”

While Neil frowned at their usual protectiveness, Andrew clicked his tongue and slid the fob into his pocket, suddenly all right with the extravagant present – it was more of the usual Hatford ‘must coddle Neil’ BS. “It better not be some lame color, like white.”

Stuart’s face grew flushed as he jabbed his forefinger in Andrew’s direction. “Listen, you little shit! You don’t-“

“It’s grey, nothing too flashy,” Will said with a knowing smile as he reached out to tousle Neil’s dark hair. “And the insurance is taken care of, too. Just don’t wreck it.”

“I won’t let Neil behind the wheel,” Andrew promised, only to give his lover a bland look. “What? You think speed limits should be doubled, at a minimum. And you switch lanes at will.” The one time he’d let the idiot drive a rental car was also the last.

“It’s just… what I’m used to is… oh never mind,” Neil grumbled as he rubbed at his eyes. “Cake now?”

Considering how little Neil liked desserts, Andrew knew it was a diversionary tactic yet accepted it, because he wanted the damn cake (and then to go find his new car and drive it home).

(Go home and spend the rest of the night alone with his boyfriend.)

Several other people spoke up in agreement that yes, definitely time for cake, so Miriam and Neil went over to cut the damn thing at last (Neil made sure that Andrew got a huge end piece, and the rest of his own after he choked down a couple of bites). There were more presents, mostly along the way of gift cards (Andrew didn’t complain), though Henry did give him a very nice set of knives and Bren a pair of Doc Martins with skulls on them.

“Just think about it,” Nicky mostly whispered after he sidled up to Andrew after Andrew went back for seconds on the cake. “If they give you a car now, imagine what your wedding present would be.”

The moron made a good point for once. Andrew had a bite of dessert (chocolate layers with the rich buttercream he liked) while he watched Neil make Ally take a piece from a center of the cake – the ends were reserved for Andrew, apparently - and felt a familiar warmth fill his chest.

The moron made a good point, but there was no reason to tell him that, to say that there wasn’t a need to rush things. First, he and Neil had to settle into their new home and then still had to finish their university degrees. Maybe after they graduated and found steady jobs, they’d consider it… or maybe not. After all the changes in the past year or so, the one thing that Andrew had grown certain of was the life he’d found with an improbable pipedream.

Neil looked over at him and smiled, the expression turning into a grimace as he licked a bit of icing off his fingers without thinking.

“I’m just saying,” Nicky continued to harp, “guys like Neil don’t come along every day. Put a ring on it, will you?”

Oh, Andrew knew how rare Neil was, but judging from the smile that returned as Neil walked over to him… for once he believed it would be all right. “Enough,” he warned his cousin before he said something to upset Neil.

“I’m just trying to help you out,” Nicky said with an offended sniff before he returned to Erik’s side, his husband busy chatting with Davis about something.

Probably, but Nicky never knew when to quit. Hopefully he got it all out of his system tonight and wouldn’t bring it up when they visited later in the summer.

Hmm, maybe the Hatfords could do something about that as a future present, Andrew mused as Neil sidled up to him - full of cake and good whiskey, a new car waiting for him, and content to have his boyfriend at his side once more.

*******

So, one more owed fic - I may post the next Ghost in You chapter next week and then I’ll have to see what happens next, fic-wise. Especially since I’ll be out of town the first weekend of December.

[what-is-your-plan-today]

Stark Spangled Banner Ch36: I Bid You Farewell And Good Luck, Morons!

Intro: Thor wakes up on a strange ship, surrounded by even stranger people, a talking tree and a rabbit. Meanwhile, back on Earth, the fight to save Vision is won and the group make their way back to the compound to understand what exactly it is that they’re facing. 

But there’s no sign of Tony, and the more they heard, the more they start to wonder if this is a battle they stand any chance of winning. 

Warnings:Bad Language words.

Pairing: Steve Rogers x OFC Katie Stark

Stark Spangled Banner Masterlist 

This is a bit of a longer update than normal, but I wanted to explore IW using all 3 of the perspectives that were shown, for no reason other than I had favourite bits in them all! And I LOVE writing for Thor and Tony!

As always tags are open and I’m taking suggestions for that lovely 5 year gap post snap/pre time Heist so if you have any ideas or wants, hit me up!

 “It’s like a pirate had a baby with an angel…”

Thor wasn’t dead. But he felt like it. Every inch of his body ached and when he was jerked back to consciousness for a moment, just one split moment, he thought he saw Little Stark. Only it wasn’t her. The woman had dark hair, yes, but as he focussed he realised she looked nothing like the woman he loved dearly as a sister. This woman had huge eyes and antenna dangling from her forehead. And, whilst he knew it had been a while since he had seen his friend, she wouldn't have changed that much.

Finding his feet he looked around, chest heaving, at the band of people stood in front of him; A woman with green skin and red hair, a man with grey/blue skin, bald head, and red lines all over his body, a tree creature- a Flora Colossus he thought- which was off to the side draped over a chair, some kind of furry, animal thing- a rabbit maybe- and finally a man who appeared to be a normal, human.

They had offered him soup, and then when he had explained about Thanos the green skinned lady had told Thor what the Titan wanted the stones for. Which she knew, because she his  daughter.

"Families can be tough," Thor said, placing a hand on her shoulder, "Before my father died, he told me that I had a half-sister, that he imprisoned in Hell. Then she returned home, stabbed me in the eye so, I had to kill her." he said, shrugging "That's life though isn't it I guess? Round and round, but I feel your pain."

The human, Peter Quill pushed his way between Gamora and Thor, and looked at her "I feel your pain, as well, because, I mean it's not a competition, but I've been through a lot. My father killed my mother, and then I had to kill my father. And that was hard. Probably even harder than having to kill a sister. Plus, I, came out with both of my eyes."

Thor wasn’t paying attention. The man was clearly a moron, and he’d just noticed he had bent the spoon in the bowl of soup and was having a flashback to the time he had tried to bend the Captain’s shield. Little Stark had laughed so much at how annoyed he had gotten when he failed that she had cried. And then, to make it worse, a few days later the Captain had managed to move Mjolnir. Just a fraction, but it moved. No one had seen it, bar Little Stark of course, but there was something there, Thor was sure. Steve Rogers was a man worthy of a lot of things, but his hammer was complicated. You have to prove it. That had been explained to him the day it had been given to him. Of course, he hadn’t realised then that Eitri had actually made it for Hela first.

Eitri…

"I need a hammer, not a spoon." Thor mumbled, as the idea took hold and he looked at the pod at the back of the ship. "How do I open this thing?" he began pressing random buttons on the screen next to the door. “Is there some sort of a four-digit code? Maybe a birth date or something?"

"What are you doing?" Rocket asked.

"Taking your pod." Thor replied nonchalantly.

And then there was a row in which the moron called Quill tried to imitate Thor’s deeper voice telling him he could not take the pod, but Thor was going to take the pod anyway because he was the God of Thunder after all, and then the lady Gamora cut them off quite rightly directing the focus back to Thanos by stating they needed to find out where he was going next. But Thor had already thought of that.

"Knowhere," he answered as he brushed past Quill and over to the refrigerator he had seen Gamora get his soup from.

"He must be going somewhere," Mantis argued innocently.

"No," Quill shook his head and Thor noted his stupid voice was back to normal, "Knowhere? It's a place. We've been there. It sucks. Excuse me, that's our food." he said, suddenly noticing what Thor was doing.

"Not anymore," Thor shrugged, stuffing it into a backpack he found.

"Thor," Gamora cut across the pair of them again "Why would he go to Knowhere?"

"Because for years, the Reality Stone has been safely stored there with a man called the Collector." Thor said

"If it's with the Collector, then it's not safe.” Quill snorted. “Only an idiot would give that man a stone."

"Or a genius." Thor shrugged.

"How do you know he's not going for one of the other stones?" Gamora asked.

"There's six stones out there." Thor began to explain, "Thanos already has the Power Stone because he stole it, last week, when he decimated Xandar.”

He didn’t missed the shocked and horrified look the group shared with one another.

“He stole the Space Stone from me, when he destroyed my ship and slaughtered half my people. The Time and Mind Stones, are safe on Earth. They're with the Avengers." Thor stated.

"The Avengers?" Quill asked.

"They're Earth's Mightiest Heroes."

"Like Kevin Bacon?" Mantis called out.

"Errr he may be on the team now, I don't know.” Thor shrugged, having no idea who the man named after a breakfast meat was. “I haven’t been there in a while. And as for the Soul Stone, well no one's ever seen that. No one even knows where it is. Therefore, Thanos can't get it. Therefore, he's going to Knowhere. Hence, he'll be getting the Reality Stone. You're welcome."

"Then we have to go to Knowhere, now." Gamora said

"Wrong. Where we have to go is Nidavellir." Thor said picking up the backpack.

"That's a made up word," Drax, the blue man countered.

"All words are made up." Thor smiled, slinging the backpack onto his back.

"Nidavellir is real?" the animal called Rocket’s eyes grew wide and he jumped up onto the table and looked at Thor "Seriously? I mean, that place is a legend. They make the most powerful, horrific weapons to ever torment the Universe. I would very much like to go there, please."

"The rabbit is correct." Thor grinned at Rocket's excitement, "And clearly the smartest among you. Only Eitri the Dwarf can make me the weapon I need. I assume you're the captain, Sir?"

Rocket grinned and nodded, "You're very perceptive."

"You seem like a noble leader. Will you join me on my quest to Nidavellir?"

"Let me just ask the captain. Oh, wait a second, it's me!”  Rocket grinned. “Yeah, I'll go."

"Wonderful." Thor beamed.

"Uh except that I'm the captain," Quill chipped in

"Quiet!" Thor said, now beyond bored of the moron.

"And that's my backpack," Quill continued pointing to the bag that Thor was stealing.

"Quill, sit down," Rocket said, tapping at the pad and keying in the digits to open the pod.

"Look, this is my ship. And I'm not going to - wait, what kind of weapon are we talking about here?" Quill looked round.

"The Thanos-killing kind." Thor smiled. Boy, was it going to be a big, fucking weapon...

"Don't you think that we should all have a weapon like that?" Quill frowned.

"You lack the strength to wield them. Your bodies would crumble as you minds collapsed into the madness." Thor said.

"Is it weird that I wanna do it even more now?" Rocket asked.

"Erm, a little bit weird. Yeah." Thor looked down at him, frowning.

“If we don't go to Knowhere and Thanos retrieves another stone, he'll be too powerful to stop." Gamora said, stepping forward.

"He already is." Thor shrugged.

"Look, I got it figured out," Rocket interrupted, looking at Gamora. "We got two ships, and a large assortment of morons.  Me and Groot will go with the Pirate Angel here, and the morons will go to Knowhere to try and stop Thanos. Cool? Cool."

"So cool." Thor said with a smile before he climbed into the pod.

"For the record…” Quill said leaning down to Rocket “ I know that you're only going with them because it's where Thanos isn't."

"You know, you really shouldn't talk that way to your captain, Quill.” Rocket said, walking backwards and gesturing outwards with his arms. “Come on, Groot. Put that game down. You'll rot your brain,"

As Rocket sat down Thor nodded out of the pod “I bid you farewell and good luck, morons. Bye."

******

It wasn’t hard for the team to track Wanda, her red power flashing bright against the dark sky over Edinburgh City Centre, and as the jet followed her movements, the four friends saw her spiralling through the sky with Vision and crashing through the train station, just as Sam put the jet on the ground.

Within seconds the Ex-Avengers were sprinting off the jet.  

“Katie, Nat, take the side!” Steve yelled, as he vaulted over the railings at the edge of the road running down onto the bottom half of the concrete which led to the station. “Sam, up high,and remember protect Vision at all costs!”

“Got em.” Sam spoke over the coms “Platform seven, near the café.” 

Steve vaulted over another set of barriers, the station now deserted thanks to the evacuation taking place by the local police. As he ran onto one of the walkways he was just in time to see two of the aliens crash through the station roof. Weighing up his options, he realised it was going to be quicker for him to run down the platform he was over and jump across the lines to help. He swung his legs over the railings and landed easily, looking up. Across from him he could see Natasha and Katie emerging to the right, as Wanda stood and moved protectively in front of Vision, building power in her hands. An express train whizzed past him and he stood still, waiting and it wasn’t long before the taller, blue looking woman spotted him, and she launched her spear over the platform. Steve easily snapped his left shoulder back whilst leaning over his body with his right, catching the staff in his hand.

“Heads up.” Sam muttered, and as Wanda and Vision turned to see Steve step out from the shadows, fury lining his face, Sam swooped in and kicked one of the aliens across the platform and through a closed café’s security gate, causing tables and chairs to go flying, before he spun and started to fire on the other alien.

Steve launched the weapon he had caught across the tracks where Natasha caught it and stabbed the second assailant in the gut as Katie moved into to head off the other who was stalking back towards them. The weapon Natasha had been using flew back into the alien’s hands and Katie ducked as she swung, jabbing her in the back of the leg with an electric powered escrima stick. The alien let out a yell, stumbled slightly and Steve cleared the platform in a leap, rolling and scooping up the second assailant’s staff from the floor, holding it up to block the blow that the creatured aimed at Katie. He grit his teeth, planting his legs to absorb the power of the hit, as Katie rolled to the side, jumped up and the two of them began to fight the alien, joined shortly by Natasha who had stabbed the other one in the gut, taking him out of the fight. Steve had to admit, the woman (if you could call her that) was a force to be reckoned with, but the three of them were just about getting the upper hand when they heard Sam yell.

“DUCK!”

The three of them did so and Sam flew in hard, kicking the woman backwards where she fell and scuttled over to her fallen friend. Sam landed next to Katie, drawing both his submachine pistols on the couple.

“Get up” she instructed to her fallen partner, her voice was deep.

“I can't” his gravelly, robotic voice replied.

“We don't wanna kill you.” Natasha spoke coolly “But we will”.

“You’ll never get the chance again.” The female levelled them, with a cold glare and with that a beam shot down from the hole in the station roof and the two were transported upwards. The weapon Steve was holding also shot out of his hand. He frowned in surprise for a moment, looking at his hand then upwards as the beam of light disappeared and the ship sped off.

“Can you stand?” Sam asked Vision as Katie replaced her sticks and walked towards Wanda and the android. When Vision shook his head, Sam moved forward to help him up.

Supported by Wanda and Sam, Vision looked over at Steve, Natasha and Katie, electricity shimmering over his surface. He’d been badly damaged in the fight, and as he spoke his voice distorted.

“Thank you, Captain.”

Steve took a deep breath and nodded. His face stern, but his eyes were much softer than his expression and Katie knew why. It had been a while since anyone other than Sam, Nat or Wanda had called him Captain.

Steve looked at the android, he might have been damaged but they had the stone, and that was the main thing. Nodding, he spoke “Let's get you on the jet.” his voice was soft and he moved to let Sam and Wanda support Vision, Natasha following as Katie dropped behind to stay with him as they took up the rear of the group, her fingers lacing into his.

Once Vision was safely settled in a seat at the side, Sam dropped into the pilot’s seat as Katie hit the button to close the ramp as the Jet rose into the air.

“I thought we had a deal.” Natasha spun angrily to Wanda. ”Stay close, check in. Don't take any chances.”

“I'm sorry. We just wanted time.” The younger woman said gently.

Katie glanced at Steve, he was stood up in the middle of the jet, hands on the buckle of his utility belt, staring seemingly at nothing, clearly contemplating something.

“Where to, Cap?” Sam asked.

Steve looked up, he glanced at Sam then locked eyes with Katie as he spoke one word, one simple word that they had all been waiting to hear for almost 2 years.

“Home” he said, looking round the jet.

*****

After a few hours, with the morning sky being the only thing in sight, Sam started to lower the jet through thick white clouds and Katie couldn’t help but inhale sharply when the compound began to take shape as she watched out of the front window. It looked the same. The buildings, the grounds…she wasn’t sure why she had expected anything to change, maybe because it felt like everything had changed for them, but either way, there it was. The same as the last time she had seen it.

Steve noticed her demeanour change slightly as they landed. She stood up straight, her shoulders squaring as if she was about to face an onslaught. And they were, in a way. On their way they’d let Bruce know that they had Vision and were heading back, but had had no idea what they were heading back to, nor did he care. Be it Ross, police, the army, whatever, he was done bowing to anyone’s will, over playing other people’s tunes. The two years they had spent hidden had shown them that they could operate on their own if required, and he wasn’t afraid to fight anyone who got in his way.

They stepped off the ramp and strode over the lawn, Katie taking a deep breath as she looked around. She felt a wave of that many emotions she couldn’t explain or identify half of them. Memories flooded in, the long summer nights they sat outside in the garden and on the BBQ patio until sunrise. Laughs during team dinners. Sam and Wanda collaborating on pranks. Training sessions with the team and Vision reading Tolkien aloud to Wanda before asking questions about humanity's love of fiction. Walks and picnics and other things in the ground, just her and Steve. Their wedding, God their wedding! Frequent visits from Tony, bringing in new ideas and improved gadgets. Getting back safe after being out on a long mission. Feeling relaxed and at ease.

Feeling at home.

Steve’s arm curled round his wife for a moment before he pressed a kiss to the side of her head as Vision opened the door.

“Still no word from Vision?”  The holographic figure of Ross looked up from where he sat at a table and glanced at Rhodey.

“Satellites lost him somewhere over Edinburgh.” Rhodey replied. He knew they were on their way to the compound, but hadn’t told Ross deliberately. 

“On a stolen Quinjet with four of the world's most wanted criminals.” Rhodey felt his temper beginning to flare. “You know they're only criminals because you've chosen to call them that, right, sir? “

“My God, Rhodes, your talent for horseshit rivals my own.” Ross said as he stood up. The sound of the call echoed down the corridor reaching the group that were making their way through to the lab.

“If it weren't for those Accords, Vision would've been right here” Rhodey shot back and Katie glanced back at Vision as the sounds of Rhodey and Ross’ voice grew louder as they neared their destination.

“I suspect it will be a Hollo Call.” Vision said gently, answering Katie’s unasked question.  His suspicions were proven correct as they rounded the corner and the lab came into view. Rhodey was stood across from where the holographic image of Secretary Ross was facing off against him.

"You have second thoughts?" Ross was challenging Rhodey, who smiled simply as his eyes shot sideways, as Steve strode forward, his presence as intimidating as ever, and the first thing Rhodey noticed was just how dark he looked. Gone was the upstanding, All American Hero, and in its place was someone much harder, far rougher round the edges. Kiddo looked different too. Her hair was shorter, she looked slimmer too, but her upper body looked stronger. 

"Not anymore." he grinned.

The holographic Ross followed Rhodey’s gaze and his eyes fell on Steve who was stood next to Katie at the front of the group, Natasha, Wanda, Sam and Vision behind them. Steve raised his chin a little defiantly and moved to take his power stance, feet apart, hands on his belt, before he greeted Ross politely.

"Mr. Secretary" 

Katie couldn’t help the smirk on her face as she watched Ross attempting to cover up the shock he had clearly felt at the group of outlaws turning up again. She locked eyes with Rhodey who gave her the smallest of winks before he glanced back at Ross who was shaking his head slightly as he approached Steve, his holographic form almost trying to square up to him.  Steve simply raised his chin further and looked down from the steps he was stood on,

"You got some nerve." Ross sniffed, staring up at him "I'll give you that."

"You could use some of that right now." Katie shot back bluntly, Ross turning his head to face her for a second. She held his gaze and arched an eyebrow until he turned back to Steve.

"The world's on fire." Ross said incredulously. "And you think, you can just walk back in here and all is forgiven?"

Steve levelled the secretary with a firm gaze. "I'm not looking for forgiveness.” his voice took on a threatening tone as he spoke “And I'm way past asking for permission.”

At that point the smirk on Katie’s face grew even wider as she stole a glance up at her husband, pride swelling in her chest as he continued, stoic and unyielding. 

“Earth just lost her best defender, so we're here to fight. And if you wanna stand in our way," he stepped down to be at level with the hologram, and stared it square in the eyes "We'll fight you, too."

Ross was practically foaming at the mouth as his eyes went to Rhodey and he spat out his order, "Arrest them."

"All over it." Rhodey promised nonchalantly before shutting off the hologram, shortly after a beeping noise sounded from the computers.

"That's a court-martial." He informed the group as he slapped the back of his right hand into his left palm, though his tone said told Katie that he blatantly couldn’t have cared less for Ross’ demands. There was a short pause as the group glanced down at their friend, Steve smiling softly, before Rhodey’s face split into a huge smile of his own.

"It's great to see you, Cap." he said, stepping forward.

"You too, Rhodey." Steve answered, taking the last 2 steps down before he shook Rhodey's hand. Katie threw herself at her brother’s best friend and he gave her a huge bear hug before he stepped backwards.

“Hey Kiddo, you do something to your hair?” he teased.  She smiled, stepping back from his embrace while he looked the rest of the group over.

"Well. You guys really look like crap." He said lightly. "Must've been a rough couple of years."

Steve looked round, an amused smile on his face as he glanced at his wife then to the rest of the team.

"Yeah, well, the hotels weren't exactly five star." Sam quipped back cheekily, the banter flowing between them like no time at all had passed.

"Uh, I think you look great."

Steve turned at the new voice to see Bruce inching his way into the room nervously wringing his hands together.

Steve and Katie remained silent, exchanging a glance. In the rush around and the fray of the fight, we’d forgotten to explain exactly who it was that called. "Yeah. I'm back."

Katie glanced over at Nat, she had her gaze fixed solely on the scientist as she spoke "Hi, Bruce."

"Nat." Bruce answered inclining his head towards her slightly as he fidgeted.

"This is awkward." Sam piped up. Steve and Katie looked at one another, before they both smiled and looked back up at Sam.

“Any news on Tony?” Katie asked gently, interrupting the silence that had fallen.

“Not yet no.” Rhodey said. “FRIDAY lost him when he left the atmosphere. We got NASA running scans and we’re trying to track his trail but…” He shook his head. 

“Typical Tony.” Katie rolled her eyes “Always has to go one bigger and one better doesn’t he?”

Her blasé tone wasn’t fooling anyone.

"Banner.” Steve said gently, looking across the room at the scientist. “Can you fill us in on what we're up against here?"

"Yeah sure," Bruce said nodding hesitantly.

“We’ll use the living area.”  Rhodey said, “Slightly more comfortable”

They made their way to the lounge, the same lounge they had all sat in discussing the Accords. Not much had changed; the furniture was different, there was couple of new sofas and the TV was larger, but that was it. 

“So start from the beginning.” Steve looked at Bruce where he stood near the window, one hand on the back of a chair, the other on his hip. He nodded encouragingly, he could see the man was nervous “Who took Stark and what are we up against?”

“I’ll give you the short version and we can plug in the gaps later.” Bruce sighed, “His name is Thanos. He’s a War tyrant, from a planet called Titan. He goes from place to place, destroying worlds, taking what he wants, when he wants. Loki’s attack on New York?” Bruce looked around “Thanos was the one who sent him to attack Earth,"

"But what does he want?” Katie asked.

“All six Infinity Stones…” Bruce supplied.

“Infinity Stones?” Sam questioned.

“Yeah, so erm… the big bang, when it happened, it sent six of these crystals out across the universe. They each control an essential aspect of existence. Space. Reality. Power. Soul. Mind. Time.” Bruce said, rubbing his temple.

“Thor told us about them, after Ultron.” Katie looked round and her eyes fell on Steve’s “He said there were three out there unaccounted for, and three that he could locate. One was with some collector or something, one was housed in the tesseract which was locked in a vault in Asgard and the other…”

"Viz." Wanda murmured, glancing at the Stone in Vision's forehead.

Bruce nodded again. “Thanos came to our ship for the tesseract, which means he already had the Power and Space Stones before he came to Earth looking for the rest. Just that alone makes him the strongest creature in the whole universe, if he gets his hands on all six he could destroy all life as we know it."

“Hang on, the Tesseract was on your ship?” Katie looked at Bruce, “I thought it was on Asgard?”

“It was, but right before Ragnarok…” “Ragnarok?” Katie frowned, her mind whirring “But that’s…that’s the fabled downfall and the destruction of Asgard, I mean....” “I know.” Bruce looked at her. “Asgard was destroyed as part of a battle between Thor and his sister. So was his hammer.” “What?” Steve let out a breath as Katie felt her mouth drop open.

“Thor has a sister?”

“Look, that’s a whole different story.” Bruce said, his tone slightly frustrated. “All you need to know is that Loki –yeah, surprise, not dead, -stole the tesseract from the Vault before we left. Thanos boarded the ship and took the stone. Just took it.” he said, his arms swinging out to his sides before returning with a slap.

The room fell silent.

“So Thor.” Katie took a deep breath and asked the question she wasn’t sure she wanted to know the answer to “Where…”

Bruce dropped his head. “I’m sorry.”

“Oh no.” Steve muttered as he dropped his head, looking downwards. He glanced up and saw across the table that Katie had her right hand against her forehead the heel of which was pressed hard into the space between her eyes in utter dismay.

Thor. Gone.  

“He was no match for Thanos, not when he had those stones.” Bruce said gently. A single tear trickled down Katie’s cheek and fell to the floor and Steve watched as she took a deep breath, furiously wiping at her face.

“So the two we fought came for the mind stone.”  Sam spoke for the first time “I’m assuming the ones you fought were after another one that’s located somewhere in New York?”

"The Time Stone.” Bruce nodded “It was being protected by some mystical arts guy, or a Wizard as Tony called him, Dr Steven Strange.” Katie’s head whipped round to Steve and he took a breath and straightened up, before he glanced over at Sam and Natasha and the four of them shared an instant understanding, they’d heard that name before on top of a multi-storey parking garage in DC.

"A TV anchor in Cairo, the Undersecretary of Defense, a high school valedictorian in Iowa City. Bruce Banner, Stephen Strange, anyone who's a threat to HYDRA! Now, or in the future.”

“But he was taken along with Tony.” Bruce finished.

Katie didn’t even want to think about that right now. She had to trust in her brother’s quick mind and sharp resilience, because the alternative didn’t bear thinking about.

"Well, we gotta assume they're coming back, right?" Rhodey said and Steve looked down again, his mind racing as he tried to make sense of everything Bruce had said.

"And they can clearly find us." Wanda added.

"We need all hands on deck," Bruce said pacing, "Where's Clint?"

"After the whole Accords situation, he and Scott took a deal," Natasha explained, "It's too tough on their families. They're on house arrest."

"Who's Scott?" Bruce frowned.

"Ant Man," Steve answered.

"There's an Ant Man and a Spider Man?" Bruce looked around in confusion, but it was Rhodey who nodded, simply, like it was just perfectly normal. Bruce shook his head, realising that it didn’t really matter at the moment before he continued. "Thanos has the biggest army in the Universe. And he is not gonna stop until he gets Vision's stone." He said the last part softly, almost reluctantly.

"Well then, we have to protect it," Natasha said stepping forward but Vision immediately corrected her.

"No, we have to destroy it," he said resolutely, his gaze focussed on something out of the window as everyone turned to him.  He turned to face them and gestured to the stone in his head. "I've been giving a good deal of thought to this entity in my head, about its nature. But also its composition. I think if it were exposed to a sufficiently powerful energy source, something very similar to its own signature, perhaps" he made his way over to Wanda and held onto her upper arm, "Its molecular integrity could fail."

"Yeah, and you with it," Wanda looked at him, shaking her head "We're not having this conversation."

"Eliminating the stone is the only way to be certain that Thanos can't get it."

Katie noticed Wanda’s eyes flash as she glared at Vision. "It's also too high a price."

"Only you have the power to pay it," Vision said quietly.

Steve shifted slightly. He knew that Vision was right, but the idea of losing someone else in their group didn’t sit well.

"Thanos threatens half the Universe.” Vision persisted “One life cannot in the way of defeating him."

"But it should," Steve argued, his eyes were diverted to the floor as he spoke gently, and it was right. Who were any of them to decide one life was worth less than anyone else? He took a deep breath and looked up and around the room before landing back on the android "We don't trade lives, Vision."

"Captain, seventy years ago you laid down your life to save how many millions of people? Tell me, why is this any different?"

Steve took a sigh and stepped towards Vision, unable to answer because he knew the android had him, but then Bruce did it for him.

"Because you might have a choice," Bruce answered, and Steve could see the Scientist had suddenly had an idea, "Your mind is made up of a complex construct of overlays. Jarvis, Ultron, Tony, me, the stone. All of them mixing together. All of them learning from one another."

"You're saying Vision isn't just the stone?" Wanda asked.

"I'm saying that if we take out the stone, there's still a whole lot of Vision left. Perhaps the best parts."

"Can we do that?" Natasha asked looking back and forth between the android and the scientist somewhat impatiently.

"Not me. Not here."

Steve suddenly began to think, maybe not Bruce, but could Suri? She had fixed Bucky after all, surely she could do this. T’Challa would be happy to help. And with his defences, maybe Wakanda was the safest place for Vision to be.

"Well you better find someone and somewhere fast," Rhodey pipped in.  "Ross isn't just gonna let you guys have your old rooms back."

Steve nodded to himself, his mind made up before he raised his head to look up around the group. "I know somewhere."

His eyes momentarily locked onto Katie’s and he watched as the realisation crossed her face, she knew instantly where he meant.

“Wakanda?” she asked.

He nodded, turning to Sam. “Can we get wheels up in 20?"

Sam nodded and Steve turned to Rhodey. "That enough time for you to load up your suit?"

"Yeah. Should be."

“Ok. “Steve looked round “Banner, I suggest you grab what you need. The rest of us, back to the jet.”

The team began to bustle about and then Katie remembered something.

“Rhodey?” she asked, hopping down off the table, “Where’s Steve’s shield?”

Rhodey paused in the doorway and turned to face her. “I don’t know, sorry Kiddo. Tony never mentioned it.”

“It doesn’t matter.” Steve said gently. As Katie opened her mouth to suggest they had a look for it, he cut her off “And we don’t have time either, we need to go.”

Truth be told he didn’t want the shield back. It wasn’t his, not anymore.

“Fine.” Katie said somewhat stiffly. “I’m going to raid the armoury anyway, pick up a few things…” “Katie!” he called after her as she hurried out of the room. He let out a frustrated groan.

“I’ll go.” Rhodey said, patting the Captain on the shoulder. “I need my suit anyway.” The directions ingrained in her memory forever she headed to the armoury on autopilot and once inside she stopped dead. It had all changed. To the left were the usual lockers, although they now held no names she would lay odds on all the original seven of them still having kit in there. The guns, arrows, widow bites, shock batons were all still there on the racks. Rhodey’s War Machine kit stood in the corner, but what wasn’t was an Iron Man suit, or a Nova suit, of any description. Instead, in place of the the usual glass cabinets that held them were rows of smaller capsules.

“What the…” Katie mumbled, heading closer to examining “FRIDAY?”

“Welcome home Mrs Rogers…” The AI spoke, a hint of amusement in her voice “I believe Pod Seventy-Six is one of yours”

“Tony’s been working on upgrades” Rhodey spoke from behind, making her jump. “Nano-tech, courtesy of some work with Helen Cho.” “Why doesn’t that surprise me?” Katie frowned as Rhodey made his way to the War Machine suit.

“Sevety-Six you say?” Katie’s eyes scanned the wall. “OK, FRIDAY hit me up.” One of the capsules opened and a smaller capsule flew out, opening in mid- air and then out of nowhere a suit formed around her body.

“Woah…” Katie said, as the familiar heads-up display lit up.

“The suit is held in a simple bangle” FRIDAY explained. “I’ll show you once the calibrations are done.”

As FRIDAY rattled through the new features, including a shield, new weapons Katie stole a glance in the mirror. It was much sleeker and less bulky, almost like wearing a cat-suit in a way. It was dark blue and gold, as always, with her Supernova Star in the middle of the chest. She gently reached up to touch it and the suit melted away to a silver cuff with the star in the middle which she tentatively placed around her wrist.

“Impressive huh?” Rhodey asked as he stepped into the War Machine suit.

“One word for it.” She said softly, tracing the outline of her bracelet with her fingers. “I can’t… why did he make it?” she looked up at Rhodey who slid his face plate back up to look at her.

“You know what Tony’s like.” Rhodey said, “Just because you left doesn’t mean he stopped caring.”

Katie looked down at the bracelet on her right wrist.

"Was- Was he okay, you know...after?" She asked, her voice cracking.

"He was as okay as he could be…” Rhodey hesitated slightly “To be honest, nothing was great though. The team was split and…”

Katie looked down “I had to go, I couldn’t stay, not after what he said to me.” Rhodey looked at her. “And have you ever considered why he said what he did?” “Because he hates me?” “No, because he loves you.” Rhodey took a deep breath “He knew full well that whatever choice you made it was going to kill you, but he couldn’t see you sat in a jail, he just couldn’t Kiddo. So he did what he had to do make sure you stayed away.” Whatever she had been expecting Rhodey to say it wasn’t that. His words hit her like a tonne of bricks and she felt her face screw up as she blinked back the tears. 

“Shit…” she managed to mumble out. “I could, you know we could have called him, or he could have called us, tried to …” “You’re both as obstinate as one another” Rhodey said, shaking his head as he started to walk to the door of the armoury “Which is why I know he’s still alive. He’s too much of a stubborn asshole to die. “

*******

Tony was pissed, really pissed. Not only was he stuck on this fucking ship, the kid was still here too. Peter Parker was almost as much of a pain in his ass as Katie had been when she was his age. The thought of his sister brought a pang to his heart, especially when he knew she was more than likely at the compound now after Bruce will have called them. He hoped anyway, he’d thrown the phone down before the fight after all, he just hoped the scientist had found it.

He looked around and glared at Peter before his shoulders fell. Well the kid was here now, might as well use him.

“Come on.” Tony sighed “We got a situation” He lead Peter over to a viewpoint to see the torture going on below. Peter crouched to study the situation, with that damned cloak leaning over his shoulder. “See him down there? He's in trouble.” Tony continued “What's your plan? Go.”

“Um. Okay, okay... uh...” Peter and the cloak popped back up suddenly, a smile playing on Peter’s face. “Okay. Did you ever see this really old movie, Aliens?”

It was a dumbass plan, but dumbass enough to work. Tony blew a hole in the side of the ship which caused a huge depressurization and as such the alien was sucked out of the side. A quick struggle and Dr Strange was rescued from drifting off to space, Tony repaired the side of the hull with nanites and that was that.

“We've gotta turn this ship around” Strange looked at Tony who rolled his eyes. .

“Yeah. Now he wants to run. Great plan”. 

“No, I want to protect the stone.”

Tony walked towards the expansive front view-port and from the way things were moving out there, he assumed they were travelling at some kind of hyper speed. The wizard was irritating him though, if he’d just agreed to get the stone out of the way they wouldn’t even be in this mess. 

“And I want you to thank me now. Go ahead, I'm listening.” he turned to glare at him.

“For what?” Strange snorted, “Nearly blasting me into space? 

“Who just saved your magical ass? Me.” Tony looked at him. “

“I seriously don't know how you fit your head into that helmet”. Strange shook his head as he eyed the billionaire up and down. 

“Admit it.” Tony said, for some reason he felt the need to make this guy admit he was wrong, just like he used to try and do with Rogers. No particular reason for it, other than being the one to come out on top “. You should have ducked out when I told you to. I tried to bench you. You refused.” 

“Unlike everyone else in your life, I don't work for you”. 

“And due to that fact, we're now in a flying doughnut billions of miles away from Earth with no backup.” Tony gestured around him.  

“I’m back up.” Peter said, raising his hand. 

“No, you’re a stowaway.” Tony said, waggling his finger between himself and Dr. Strange “The adults are talking”. 

“I'm sorry, I'm confused as to the relationship here. Wh-- what is he, your ward?” Strange frowned.

“No. I'm Peter, by the way.” Peter said, holding out his hand. 

“ Dr Strange.” Strange replied, looking at him.

“Oh, we're using our made-up names. Um. I'm Spider-Man, then”. 

Before Strange could respond, Tony piped up. “This ship is self-correcting its course. Thing's on autopilot.”

Strange walked closer to where Tony was stood. “Can we control it? Fly us home?”

Home…Thanos…home. 

They’d almost flattened New York once, and then there was Sokovia…no, home was most certainly a bad idea.

“Stark?” Strange’s voice cut across his thoughts. “Can you get us home? 

Yeah I heard you. I'm thinking. I'm not so sure we should.” he said, honestly.

“Under no circumstance can we bring the Time Stone to Thanos.” Strange warned “I don't think you quite understand what's at stake here”.

“No. It's you who doesn't understand, that Thanos has been inside my head for six years since he sent an army to New York and now he's back!” Tony said, stalking towards Strange, jabbing a finger in the air as he pointed towards the ground. “And I don't know what to do. So I'm not so sure if it's a better plan to fight him on our turf or his but you saw what they did, what they can do. At least on his turf, he's not expecting it. So I say we take the fight to him. Doctor. Do you concur?“

Strange had to admit, the guy had a point. Let Thanos destroy his own place, not theirs. “Alright, Stark. We go to him. But you have to understand... if it comes to saving you or the kid or the Time Stone... I will not hesitate to let either of you die. I can't, because the fate of the universe depends on it”

“Nice. Good. Moral compass. We're straight” Tony nodded. Stepping over to Peter he tapped each of the kids shoulder with the edge of his hand, dubbing him as is done at a knighting. 

“Alright, kid. You're an Avenger now”

Tony couldn’t look at him as he spoke, because he knew what he was signing the kid up for. 

******

The jet was filled with chatter as Rhodey, Bruce and the rest of the team were catching up but Katie wasn’t listening. She wasn’t feeling great either, that damned sick feeling was back, most likely this time down to utter fear about what was to come. If Bruce was right, she wasn’t convinced this was a battle they were ever going to be able to win.

“You know,” she said, looking up at Steve and voicing her fear softly, “if he’s already killed Thor, and it’s going to take us, plus a royal army to attempt to fight this guy off what fucking chance does Tony stand?”

Steve didn’t answer, he couldn’t. Because what he was thinking wasn’t going to provide her any comfort. Instead he merely tightened his arm around her and pressed his lips to her forehead.

It was a couple of hours later before they hit Wakandan airspace.

"We're coming up." Sam spoke as Steve focussed his attention out of the front of the jet, one arm hanging lightly against the grab rails on the roof.

"Drop to 2600, heading 0-3-0." Steve instructed.

Sam glanced back over his shoulder before he spoke, "I hope you're right about this, Cap. Or we're gonna land a lot faster than you want to."

Katie gave a small smile as she drew up next to Steve, wrapping her arms around his waist. They both stood, waiting as Sam flew the jet right into the trees, and swore with a loud ‘holy shit’ as it passed right through the hologram barrier into Wakanda. Everyone on the jet moved to get a better look at the beautiful mountains, lakes, buildings as the jet circled and Steve directed Sam to the runway.

They disembarked and Katie strolled off shortly behind Steve, followed by Natasha. Vision and Wanda stayed put, Steve telling them he would get them some help soon.

Bruce, who was at the rear with Rhodey whispered as he shrugged his arms into his jacket, "Should we bow?"

"Yeah, he's a king." Rhodey answered casually without missing a beat.

Steve ignored their banter instead smiling warmly at T'Challa as he reached out to shake his hand. "Seems like I'm always thanking you for something."

T'Challa smiled back and he shook Steve's hand before embracing Katie in a warm hug. “Mrs Rogers, it is a pleasure to see you.” “And you.” She smiled softly, before she stepped back and T’Challa nodded to the rest of the group. The clearing of a throat caught Katie’s attention and she turned just in time to see Bruce bow forward towards T’Challa.

"What are you doing?" Rhodey asked, looking at him.

"Uh, we don't do that here." T'Challa said kindly waving a hand to stop Bruce’s bow. Everyone smiled in amusement expect for Bruce who turned and shot a disbelieving but amused look at Rhodey who grinned back at him, nudging him with his elbow.

Then they turned serious again as T'Challa asked, "So how big of an assault can we expect?"

His guards moved as he spoke, opening up a path that T'Challa took, leading them away. They followed quickly while Bruce piped up politely as he explained, "Uh, sir, I think you can expect quite a big assault."

"How we looking?" Natasha added, addressing the king with a similarly concerned frown on her face.

"You will have my King's Guard," T'Challa listed, "the Border Tribe, the Dora Milaje, and-" He gestured to the side just as a familiar, dark-clothed man stepped out of the building to greet them by the door.

"A semi-stable, one hundred-year-old man." Bucky grinned. Katie smiled back and then glanced at Steve as he walked forwards, that familiar boyish grin on his face as pulled the man into a hug clapping him on the back a few times.

"How have you been, Buck?" he pulled back to look at his friend. He looked as well as he’d seen him in years. Healthy and dare he say it, happy.

"Not bad," Bucky shrugged looking down at his new black vibranium arm, "For the end of the world.” Katie stepped forward to give him a hug and a kiss on the cheek. “You look good Buck.” she said, standing back to look him up and down before smiling, something that didn’t escape Steve’s notice. And yes, he knew there was nothing in it, and this was the most inappropriate time to get jealous but still…

“I feel it.” Bucky smiled as Steve slid his arm around his wife’s shoulder. “Goat farming suits me.” With that, Bucky turned to Sam. “Hey man.”  

“Frosty.” Sam responded with a jerk of his head.

They left Rhodey, Sam and Bucky with some of the guard to keep watch, and the rest of them followed T'Challa up to the labs where the person who was said to be able to safely remove Vision's stone was waiting. Steve could tell that the rest of the group weren’t expecting that person to be T'Challa's sixteen year old sister, Shuri. But T'Challa had full faith in her, as did Steve after she had managed to remove Bucky's programming.  

"Whoa." Shuri blinked as she stared at the hologram of Vision's brain and the stone in awe, "The structure is polymorphic...”

"Right, we had to attach each neuron non-sequentially." Bruce nodded and Shuri glanced at him with a raised brow.

"Why didn't you just reprogram the synapses to work collectively?" She asked looking at Banner. Vision also glanced at the doctor in question.

"Because... we didn't think of it." Bruce admitted sheepishly.

Shuri smiled and Katie had to fight the laugh that was brewing at the Princess’ playful nature "I'm sure you did your best."

"Can you do it?" Wanda asked stepping forward anxiously.

Shuri's smile dropped as she became more serious. "Yes, but there are more than two trillion neurons here. One misalignment could cause a cascade of circuit failures." Her gaze moved to T’Challa “It will take time, brother."

"How long?" Steve asked, straightening up slightly.

Shuri shook her head. "As long as you can give me." She answered honestly and worryingly.

A loud warning siren suddenly started and instantly Katie looked around. General Okoye tapped at something on her bracelet and she looked over at T’Challa."Something's entered the atmosphere."

Seconds later, Sam's voice called over their coms, "Hey, Cap, we got a situation here."

Katie moved over to the floor-length windows of the lab to look out, Steve stood close behind her as everyone followed to see what was going on. In the distance, they could see the plains all around as far as the border stretched to the city. A giant ship descended from the sky and as they watched it exploded high above the city as soon as it touched the shield, causing Katie to jump back slightly. Steve gently caught her, his hands going to her shoulders as his focus remained on the exploding ship which dissipated above the invisible barrier they had flown through.

"God, I love this place."  Bucky’s contented sigh rang over their coms.

"Yeah, don't start celebrating yet, guys. We got more incoming outside the dome." Rhodey warned.

More ships came crashing down to Earth just outside the Wakandan barrier disturbing the dust and sand on the ground as they landed. The lab they were stood in shook slightly and Vision sat up.

"It's too late."  he whispered and both Steve and Katie turned to look at him as he sat up. "We need to destroy the stone now."

"Vision, get your ass back on the table." Nat replied snapping her head back to look at him as she made her way to the door.

"We will hold them off." T'Challa said motioning to his guard.

"Wanda," Steve spoke up, looking at the young woman, "As soon as the stone's out of his head, you blow it to hell."

Wanda nodded with promise, "I will."

Steve turned his attention back to the window, watching the space ships which at the moment were doing nothing. T'Challa meanwhile, turned to his General and her warriors and began barking orders, "Evacuate the city. Engage all defences."

Steve turned to look at him as the king pointed in his directing before adding firmly. "And get this man a shield!"

Steve gave a small nod before he glanced back out of the window. For 2 years his fighting days had been focussed on simple people. Small groups of nobodies. Now, they were being thrown back into the crazy world of Aliens, AIs…and he knew they were going to look to him for leadership.

He might not be Captain America anymore, but he was still Captain Rogers, still that dumb kid from Brooklyn. And he still wasn’t going to run from a fight. 

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Jac & Amelia

Jac: So, you got your room 🙌 What other wins did freshers bring you? 😄 Amelia: Yeah, thank god Amelia: it's been full on enough without adding travel sickness Jac: Never going to fly when class starts either Jac: it's just slightly more inventive than coming down with the 'flu' every Monday morning, but not enough Amelia: bit intense to start crashing on my new friends floors too, I don't want to be THAT gay Jac: 😂 Jac: I doubt they'd mind Jac: but having a base that isn't totally covered in crochet decor is a plus Amelia: now that freshers is over and they're going to 🤞 they never see those hook ups again maybe Amelia: still, not the first impression I'm trying to make Jac: Oh God, tell me about it Jac: I am not trying to have people I've got to avoid for the next 7 odd years Jac: not trying to make it like home like that Amelia: very relatable Amelia: even though I have no need to count that high Jac: Is your course 3? or 4? Amelia: depends if I want to go to Canada, Denmark, Italy, Poland, Sweden, USA or the UK for a year Jac: Oh wow Jac: 🦪 Amelia: that emoji is the gayest Amelia: so yeah probably Jac: Very O'Keefe of you Jac: can't give up the 🎨 quite yet? Amelia: 😂 Jac: I've met THE perfect girl for you, oh my GOD Amelia: because I'm going to travel to Edinburgh for 🦪 after dodging a 3 hour commute Jac: She's American, you could convince her Cork has a lot to offer beside 🦪 Jac: but actually, she is UNBEARABLE, and I'm trying very hard to be nice and give everyone a chance rn Jac: she does Art History, despite the fact she seems to know less about art than I do Jac: doesn't stop her 🔊 Amelia: 💔 you put your mean girl years behind you too soon, I'm SO proud though Amelia: and I'm sure Savannah appreciates it just as much Jac: 😏 I can feel the sincerity Jac: I know though, talk about completely crazy Amelia: if you want sincerity I can totally believe she'd follow you there as if nothing happened Amelia: are you okay? Jac: I think the prestige probably beat the off-chance I'd also be there but I appreciate the belief Jac: Yeah, actually, I am Jac: it went well, better than I could've or would've imagined before Amelia: alright, that's a relief Amelia: not that it's been playing on my mind or anything since the ✨ livened up my feed Jac: I would've got in touch sooner Jac: It did cross my mind, that you'd see Jac: I also didn't wanna encroach on your freshers' experience at all, that idea won out Jac: It must've been a shock for you and all Amelia: I get it, because likewise obviously Amelia: plus you seemed like you were coping, and it's not the same as before, you have people to go to now if you aren't so Amelia: I don't know, it seemed too dramatic to come at you all !!!!!! Amelia: which is why I didn't Jac: I wouldn't have bitten your head off Jac: but I see and appreciate that logic Jac: not to mention previous experience would say I actually would so Jac: She's changed a lot too, in those 2 years Amelia: good Jac: Yeah, turns out she had a pretty rough time of it too Jac: which, obviously, but I wasn't really in a space to think too much about that back then Amelia: was likely to be more 🥀 than 🌹 living with her dad, and everything that happened with her mum Amelia: I'm not surprised even if I couldn't be very sympathetic then Jac: I can't believe I was zoned out Jac: I didn't even know about her mum Amelia: you had loads of your own shit going on, it'd be more unbelievable if you were tuned into hers Amelia: I didn't know how bad it was, or didn't want to hear it, whichever Jac: Jess made it sound like the world and his wife knew Jac: I feel awful Jac: but her mum is doing better now, and they're trying to mend their relationship, so, that's positive Amelia: it always feels like that in my 🏠 but I would've told you if I'd realised Jac: It isn't your fault remotely Jac: like you said, sympathy about it wasn't at the forefront of your mind Jac: and you can't be blamed there Amelia: I'm genuinely glad things are getting better, the last thing she needs is to feel like shit for leaving her mum again if they aren't Jac: I know you are, you aren't a monster Jac: even if you and Savannah had your differences, and the obvious situation from there 'til now Amelia: that's enough sincerity though, the last thing I need is Savannah Moore trying to be my friend again Amelia: you can keep her Jac: 😂 Alright Jac: about that though Jac: things have changed, between us too Amelia: okay Amelia: what does that mean? Jac: Well, I told her, this time Jac: that I'm not straight Jac: and neither is she Amelia: she really has fucking changed Jac: She hasn't also come out, there's no label on it or anything Jac: but she likes me back Jac: you deserve to know, and would, regardless of where we were in our relationship Jac: I'm sorry if it's not what you want to hear though Amelia: thanks, I guess Amelia: for not waiting for the 💍 announcement Jac: Things haven't moved quite that fast Jac: although, yeah Jac: I know Amelia: It's still Savannah, I doubt she's had a TOTAL personality transplant Amelia: you probably wouldn't like her if she had Amelia: so I'll keep an eye out for that post and put my congrats on it Jac: No, she's still her Jac: and I doubt her plans include a 💍 that could be bought on a student budget Amelia: true Amelia: I'll send some 💐 she'd NEVER put in the 🗑 Amelia: just the 💌 I'll actually bother to write, you know, like a normal person Jac: There goes the mystery Amelia: because of course you wouldn't recognise my handwriting Jac: I've checked your homework over enough times Jac: I doubt anyone else is rushing to send us a bouquet so Jac: process of elimination Amelia: there you go then Jac: but I have told my brother and that Jac: on the off-chance you catch him and he's dying not to bring it up Amelia: bit rude of him not to try and gently break the news Jac: Assumedly either thinking I've imagined the whole thing all over, or it'll all fizzle out before there's any need to go there Amelia: or I'm thriving so hard there's no need to bring me down 1 week in Jac: Obviously that too Jac: but you know that wasn't my intention, yeah Amelia: it's obvious you're not thinking about me, don't worry Jac: Okay Jac: do you want me to leave you now? Amelia: Why would I want that? Jac: Plenty of valid reasons Jac: to process, to not, you just don't feel like talking to me at this precise moment Amelia: what's to process? the bit about her not queerbaiting you the entire time is new, the rest isn't Jac: That's not nothing Jac: it changes the whole thing Amelia: not for me Jac: Alright then Amelia: you were hung up on her every second, what's changed for you is that was a least a bit mutual Amelia: I don't need to process any of that, it doesn't involve me Jac: It's still new information, that's all Amelia: not really Amelia: I probably should have guessed anyway Jac: If I didn't, I don't see how you could've Jac: she didn't even then so Amelia: too late to become a 🔮💎💫 gay, I hear you Jac: 🕵 is definitely a better idea Amelia: maybe I'd just really love to be able to say 'it's just a phase, mum' about something Jac: You've had plenty Amelia: name one Jac: [that boy band I said they liked lol] Jac: for starters Amelia: that wasn't a phase that was me lying that I cared Jac: yeah, okay Jac: you knew all the lyrics 'cos you cover was so deep Jac: no need to lie, they had some tunes Amelia: I knew all the lyrics because there was about 5 lines repeated over and over Jac: uh-huh Jac: you had badges all over your school bag Amelia: because you've never fully committed to a lie, oh wait Jac: There's no need to be a bitch Amelia: 😂 Jac: No, I'm not super ready to laugh about that time in my life, as it goes Amelia: okay Jac: I'm going to leave you to it now Jac: Good luck with your first proper day, hope it all goes well Amelia: actually wait though Amelia: I didn't mean that Amelia: I'm sorry Jac: Alright Jac: I know you're upset, or pissed off Jac: but being a better person doesn't extend to being a punching bag for you to get that out Jac: you can feel it, obviously, but that's just unproductive for you, and not gonna happen from my end Amelia: I know Jac: and I know that's what I did to you Jac: so it probably seems fair, or justified at least, that you get to now Jac: but it wasn't right, and an eye for an eye, you know Amelia: no, it's not fair, I wasn't being, that's why I'm sorry Jac: You don't need to stoop to my lowest Amelia: I'm trying, okay Jac: Yeah Jac: and I accept your apology Amelia: thanks Jac: should I not have told you? Amelia: I think that'd be worse Jac: I thought the same Jac: unless you were going to block me on the sly, then you would have seen Amelia: maybe I should now, I don't know Jac: If you want to Jac: to take some time Jac: or more permanently Jac: it's up to you Jac: obviously my offer of being friends still stands but I understand Jac: as I said, this changes things Amelia: yeah, if we let it Jac: You can't help how this makes you feel Amelia: but why should I let her take everything again? Jac: Savannah isn't actively doing that Jac: but if you want to keep trying, so do I Amelia: we worked hard at getting here, me and you, that's not about her Jac: True Jac: You don't have to be friends with her now, that's not it Jac: just accept that she's my girlfriend, and a big part of my life Amelia: does she know? Jac: About what happened between us? Jac: No Jac: she doesn't know a huge amount about those two years, for me Jac: I plan to tell her everything Jac: but it's a lot to throw at her in a sitting, especially unasked, you know Amelia: it'd really fuck with her freshers, for sure Jac: Right Jac: all for having the hard but necessary conversations Jac: but there's a time and a place Jac: I don't want her to feel like I'm trying to make her feel bad for me, either Jac: like 'look what YOU did' because nah Amelia: too 🥀🥀🥀 Amelia: it can wait, neither of you are going anywhere Jac: That's my logic Amelia: she'll get why you waited Jac: I hope so Amelia: come on, it'll be harder for you to say than it'll be for her to hear, she's a LOT of things, but she won't want you to go through that before you're ready to Jac: You're right Jac: it just feels like secrets, and that feels like 10 steps back Jac: but it isn't that Amelia: I'm sure even she hasn't had time to tell you everything, she'd need to be chatting non stop Jac: True Jac: if you're ever done talking about yourself and your life, that's gotta be a sign you need to get out more, right Jac: there's always more to say Amelia: right Amelia: stop being so virgo-ish about it and give yourself a break Jac: 😂 okay Jac: I just need lectures to actually start Jac: so I can freak out on that instead Amelia: same Jac: are you more 😁 or 😱 Amelia: 😕 Amelia: over 😣 Jac: You'll be fine Jac: let me know how it goes though Jac: I'm interested Amelia: okay 🤓 Jac: Well there's a lot of overlap Jac: obviously, you can usually do them as a double discipline but I wanted to go pure Psych Jac: doesn't mean I'm not 🤔 Amelia: yeah Jac: 🤏🤓 fine Amelia: we're not strangers Jac: I remember Jac: so, what are your new mates like then? Amelia: great, obviously Jac: It's a good thing you aren't taking English Jac: that description leaves a lot to be desired Amelia: what do you want me to say? Jac: Isn't there anyone in particular? Amelia: there's a whole course full of people Jac: Yeah, I like one of my profs, he's really cool Jac: but I don't know anyone on my course that well yet either, they all seem nice enough though Amelia: of course you do Jac: it's so refreshing in comparison to the teachers at our school Jac: even if he acted like a base level human, it'd be a step up Jac: but he knows his stuff, and he's down to help me get ahead, what more could I want Amelia: literally nothing Jac: But I'm still not into dudes so I won't commit that cliche, don't worry Amelia: a real weight off my mind Jac: sure Amelia: 😏 Jac: I've already done loads of prep Jac: can basically chill in his class this whole term Amelia: you can but you won't Amelia: 🤓🏆⭐ Jac: we're not strangers Amelia: maybe we are 🤏 because reading's the only prep we were given but I've already done it Jac: Not really Jac: you just pretended you weren't 🤓 Amelia: no, I just actually wasn't 🤓 about school Jac: plenty of other things Jac: you can't hide the 🤓 Amelia: it's not 😳 I literally can Jac: not from me Amelia: that'd be 10 steps back Jac: try 10000 Amelia: no thank you, that sounds exhausting Jac: you've got a 🛏 Amelia: yeah, I don't know who's more thrilled, me or my dad Amelia: getting to pretend he's allergic to pets for another year at least Jac: result Jac: won't have to fake seduce him on your behalf either Jac: I'm most thrilled Amelia: Savannah is Amelia: undoubtedly Jac: Yeah, that ain't something I ever want to explain 😂 Amelia: she'd be less understanding about it Jac: None of us are understanding that Jac: sorry to your father Amelia: 😂 Jac: I think your mum would snap Jac: go full psycho Amelia: probably Amelia: they're very 😍🥰😘 right now Jac: that's nice Jac: bit gross but good Jac: she won't call you every 10 minutes Amelia: she can try but I won't answer Amelia: the friend I like best will be here soon Jac: Sounds promising Jac: I'll leave you to it for now, for real Jac: you better get ready Amelia: you're so Amelia: you Jac: what does that mean? Amelia: I don't need 👗👠💄 Jac: what's that, a humblebrag? Amelia: hardly Amelia: it's a compliment for you, you're cute for caring Jac: It's not cute, I just like to look nice Amelia: oh so you don't think I look nice? Amelia: rude Jac: everyone looks better for effort Jac: that's simple facts Amelia: anyway, I meant it's cute you care about my social life this much Jac: because I really need you being a loner to worry about Jac: no tah Jac: obviously I'm happy for you Amelia: you don't need to worry about me whatever happens Jac: It's not optional Amelia: okay Jac: I never stopped Amelia: you can stop now Jac: That's just what being friends is Amelia: I'm no expert Amelia: have to take your word for it, if anything Jac: I know you care about me too Amelia: but you're thriving so I don't have to worry Jac: I guess Jac: it's not just for the bad times though, is it Amelia: I hope not Jac: it's not Jac: come on Jac: pull yourself together and at least do 1 out of 3 👗👠💄 Amelia: fine, I'll put shoes on Jac: that's what I like to hear Amelia: 🙄 just because I'm ignoring my mum there's no need for you to take over from her Jac: I still can't do any handicrafts so unlikely Amelia: Savannah is unlikely to wear a homemade 🧣 so I think you're fine Jac: she loves anything thoughtful but I ain't gonna start there still Amelia: 💐 Jac: Naturally Jac: both our rooms look like a florist already Jac: makes up for the shabby walls and carpet you can't do much about Amelia: any time you'd like to fully lean into the 👵 I'll do you an embroidery hoop or something Amelia: very chic Jac: they do sell a lot of that sort of thing in the charity shops Jac: I'm sure your 🎨 will be better than whatever the actual 👵 decided to do 🖼 Amelia: SUCH a compliment, I have no idea how I'm not 😳 Jac: Charity shops are in Jac: I'm not going to call it thrifting, I'm not even half-American, wouldn't be able to take myself seriously Amelia: good, please don't Jac: vintage, upcycling, all acceptable Amelia: for my mother Amelia: I'll take how 'modern' my room here is Jac: I suppose that does make a change Jac: I love the buildings though, the architecture Amelia: 🎨 Amelia: yeah, would be inspiring if I had any time Jac: Is Cork by the coast? Jac: I know nothing about that area Jac: I'm like NEXT to the beach, it's incredible Amelia: it's one of the largest natural harbours in the world, if that doesn't make you want to come and visit me, well ?? Amelia: it has it's own lovely architecture Jac: You should work for the tourism board, honestly Jac: good speech, that Amelia: 🤷🏻 Amelia: I'm here for the 🤓 and you're already interested in that Jac: I'd go to Italy, if I were you Jac: but then, Denmark might have the most interesting criminal practices and laws, so that's a good choice too Amelia: you'll visit me there then, yeah? Jac: I forgot about Sweden, but those three are the real ones to consider Jac: and we can sort visiting when we're even a bit settled Amelia: okay Jac: we've only just left Amelia: thanks for that obvious reminder Jac: 😏 Jac: you know what I mean Jac: give me a chance to get my diary in order before you're saying I'm avoiding you or whatever Amelia: give you a chance to miss me, you mean Amelia: you've got one right now, because I have to go get ready Jac: Oh, if we had to wait for that, you'd never see me again 😉 Jac: have fun 👠👠 Amelia: 💔 Amelia: bye

[matildastuartsold]

hshq task twelve: a timeline

it reads as a semi lil self para’s and part news report...bc i didn’t wanna self para as a 3 year old. tw: abortion, implied drug used, mentions of underage, mentions of age differences, image issues, pregnancy, mentions of possible grooming, body image issues, possible signs of bulimia, 

december 19th, 1997

for the third time in the last four, almost five years, the town crier of edinburgh stood just inside the gates of holyrood announcing the birth of a third princess, named matilda. 

june 18th, 2001

at three years old, princess matilda made her first public appearance with her family at the royal highland show. the littlest princess made her appearance well known running off excitedly with yells of “maude-y!” following her, showing off her cartwheeling skills, and waving at everyone who looked especially those with a camera. 

november 30th, 2005 

she doesn’t know a life without the media and having to parade around them. like today, skipping through st. andrew’s day activities some of her earliest memories surrounded people with cameras desperately clicking and yelling the names of her mum and dad, her sisters and her. matilda liked it though, she could simply become the only name they yelled with a simple smile or a wave. she liked it, but she was tired of being called matilda. she didn’t want to be called matilda, she wanted to be called tilly, like her friends all called her. it’s why she turned around with a frown at the reporter who yelled matilda. “i’m not matilda! my name is tilly!” crossing her arms across her chest, she stuck her tongue out annoyed at the her full name. even with her mother and father’s scold of “matilda!” and her tilly let her father scoop her up in his arms making a face at the paparazzi as she was carried away. 

january 4th, 2010

“but i don’t want to go to gordonstoun!” not that even mattered, ever since her mother became a queen last year it was never even worth putting in her own thoughts, not that it ever had been. now though it was going against the queen, not just her mum.  tilly just didn’t want to go to gordonstoun with her sisters. it seemed so boring. still the press release was already out, trunks already in her room ready to be back. “if i have to go someone will regret it!” 

september 19th, 2011

crushes were nice, all the boys in her year, the year above her, some even in margot’s year paying her attention, she’d be dumb if she didn’t enjoy it. so what if she kept sneaking out with them to smoke cigarettes and drink beers on the roof. she likes the attention from it. what was the school going to do? make her do laps? please, she wouldn’t do it and they couldn’t make her. so she found herself giggling at whatever connaugh mcdaniels was saying and took the sip of beer he was offering, because all eyes were on her in a way that they hadn’t been before.

april 31st, 2013

“i’m the fucking may queen!” throwing her head back in laughter, tilly twirled around the flower crown a top her head never moving. sneaking out to go to beltane, was the smartest decision she’d made in a while. falling back against her favorite duke to be she’d been going almost all the way with frequently, she took the flask from her best friend, georgia, taking a far too long sip of the vodka. she was happily drunk, feeling the brisk spring air on the hill hit her. she didn’t care about the obvious presence from people taking pictures of them. it didn’t matter she was drunk and determined for her goal of the night, losing the v card. “richard,” she smirked up at him. “we should head back to the tent, your may queen demands it.” letting out a giggle she moved back going for another twirl as she reached for his hand.

july 27th, 2014

she still doesn’t understand what the big deal is, her mother pacing back and forth going on and on about propriety. catherine looking like a mirror of her mother’s upset. her father’s disappointment. “i’m sixteen, just because i’m under this bloody crown doesn’t mean i’m not gonna go out and have fun!” her eyes glanced at the various magazine and newspaper headlines in front of her. she doesn’t see the issue with it, minus the invasion of privacy, in the picture she’s just pressed against the wall making out with one of her guy friends. she’s hearing the words come from everyone’s mouths but she’s not listening. just blankly sitting there. 

february 3rd, 2015

“you’re what?! tilly you can’t sleep with your math tutor!” tilly turned at the exclamation from her friend, a look of confusion on her face. “why not? i need to pass and he apparently wants to fuck a princess it’s a win win! besides he’s not that old i doubt he’s even thirty.” besides it was better than any of the guys in their class asking to lose it with her. at least it would be good and she’d pass. she didn’t see an issue. plus it felt good to be wanted, to have someone want her and not want her to be like her sisters. who cared if he was a married man approaching his 30s? he wanted her. 

september 10th, 2015

she woke up on her bathroom floor in just the lingerie she wore under her dress before going out. not that she cared after all, she’d probs look skinnier from throwing up all the drinks from the night before. she brushed her teeth, throwing her hair into a ponytail. Wiping off the remnants of her make up from the night before she looked on at the stranger in her bed. “get out before a walk of shame is too embarrassing, for your own well being.” Watching the man leave she shook her head curling into bed ignoring her phone continue to blow up again and again, no doubt people seeing pictures of the night before. 

may 4th, 2016

“fuck! jesus fucking christ i look awful!” seeing the press release photo on the cover of the magazine sitting in front of her on the table, she picked it up and tossed it straight towards the trash can. looking back at her partner for her textile project, she gave her a look. another example of her being the worst of the family.  “tell me why you thought bringing a tabloid where i look awful in would really make a good study environment?” shaking her head, she picked up her phone seeing who could come over tonight, she might be able to convince richard to get on a flight. she’d slept with arthur a few times maybe him? there were more than a few posh boys at oxford she’d met on her visits. shaking her head she motioned at the fabric she brought. “they’re all recycled, should work for what we need.” 

january 3rd, 2017

"matilda herietta annabelle stuart how could you be so wildly irresponsible?!” her mother is screaming, her father looks disappointed. she knows she fucked up because it’s just the two of them. having her parents attention on just her, she could probably count the times that’s happened on just one hand alone. she doesn’t regret flashing the paparazzi though, the magazines printed with trainwreck tilly subtle covering where she’d lifted her top, but it was still obvious she had. “i was drunk, it was hogamany, i must have been black out by that point.” she knew it didn’t matter, watching her mother go into another rant. still, it felt nice for once to be the only person that mattered to her parents. 

 october 31st, 2017

she was didn’t know where she was really not that it mattered. she went up to oxford to party with the posh guys and all her. you could barely call the white lingerie she wore an angel costume, something she thought would an irony. she probably mixed too many liquors and too many drugs together. still she reaches for the hand of the guy she’s leaning on pulls him to a door, hoping one will be a bathroom or a bedroom. with her luck she’ll see what happened tonight on twitter in the morning. 

august 7th, 2018

they told her to be on her best behavior, that she’s technically working edinburgh fringe festival. still she thinks she’s doing a charitable deed. she’s buying these poor struggling actors alcohol and then getting into drinking contests with them. it’s all rather sensible if you ask her. she’s doing a charity besides it feels good being the center of attention. she’s sitting on the actual bar, a rather attractive actor from some play or some shit she watched today has his hand on her thigh. why would she do anything else? 

september 7th, 2019

she knew that the braemar gathering was a big deal, she’d been to it almost every year of her life. still it didn’t mean she wasn’t bored as hell after a day of it, it’s why she’d pulled richard aside at the noble dinner at balmoral later that evening. her own personal playground as a kid, she knew exactly which cupboard to push him in. it would have been so much nicer if her mother’s fucking cheif of staff hadn’t opened the door when she was on her knees. the yelling wasn’t even bad, it was the punishment. her life being packed into suitcases around her as she sat on her bed back in edinburgh 24 hours later. no what hurt the most was her mother’s last words to her before she got on the plane to dubai, “i wonder if you’ll ever stop disappointing me.”

december 23rd, 2019

“you’ve got to be fucking kidding me?! happy birthday, happy christmas, we’re marrying you off to the crown prince of venezuela! how could you do this to me mum? catherine just said-” she doesn’t think she’s ever been more furious in her life. opening the bottle of vodka and lining up the cocaine she said on her. “you know what i don’t care if i was drunkenly with him once, mother it doesn’t mean i want to fucking marry him! you’re ruining my life! forgive me, your majesty. i won’t forget from now on i’m your subject, not your daughter. have a happy christmas, goodbye.” she threw the phone, then threw a shot back looking at the lines she set up. “lola!” she screamed walking towards her suitcase. “i want to look sluttier than a prostitute whose rent is due tomorrow, a christmas present to my mother given my engagement. i don’t want to remember tonight.” 

janurary 21st, 2020

she knew for days, something was wrong. she wasn’t how she always was, then she got sick, consistently, three mornings in a row. sitting staring at the line of positive pregnancy tests that were in her bathroom sink she looked at cora rubbing her back comfortingly. “i need to call or text or- there are only two people i don’t make wear a condom and i haven’t slept with richard since september.” grabbing her phone she  sent a quick ‘come over now’ text. and threw her phone towards the bed. “burn the tests tonight, get them out of her, taking them to the fucking mcdonalds to throw them away if you have to. they aren’t gonna be anywhere near me though, it can not ruin everything. my mother already hates my existance, she’d send me to the fucking gallows if i ruined her one chance at getting rid of me. not a word of this to her spy either or catherine.” 

janurary 24th, 2020

it was cold and she was crying. laying on the chair in the doctor’s office, she held onto cora’s hand like it was her only way of living and she felt so much relief knowing that if she needed it neil would carry her out of the building. “i know, i’m not the model catholic or really any religion, but i still feel wrong, i feel guilty. i don’t know what else to do though.” so she cried, letting her communications advisor and his wife comfort her like they were her parents. sometimes they feel more like parents than her own. when the doctor comes in, tells her its going to pinch and might be uncomfortable, she lets cora distract her with stories of her and neil when they started dating. while she doen’t need him to carry her out, she leans on them both the whole way to car, letting herself come to terms that she wasn’t pregnant anymore. 

march 9th, 2020

“félix, i’m going to get fucking wasted at the beach,” she wasn’t sure when she got fucking domestic. she lives with her fiancé, they share a bed, fucking wedding magazines are sent to her. it feels like she’s in a snow globe. one where she barely recognizes who she is. she still looks in the mirror and remembers that if things had been different her stomach would probably have a bump now, not be the flat as it is. so instead, she’s taken to more day drinking, trying not to think about the thing only 6 people in the world know about and why it makes her feel so empty.