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inevitably-johnlocked · 4 years ago

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Hi Steph! Would you happen to have any fic recs that involve John meeting the Holmes family? I always think that's such an interesting dynamic to see! Also, I think this goes without saying but I love your blog and appreciate your contributions to the fandom! Thanks!

Hey Nonny!

Ah, thank you! I’m glad you enjoy my blog!

Oooo! Yes, I love that dynamic too!! ANNNNND!!! You’re giving me the chance to make a part 2 for a REALLY OLD LIST!!! So YAY!!! I found a bunch on a text doc I haven’t posted yet, so HERE WE GO! Hope you enjoy, and as always, everyone please add your own!

PARENTS AND FAMILIES Pt. 2

See also:

Parents & Family

Meeting the Family With a Fake Relationship

Do You Love Me? by whitchry9 (K, 641 w., 1 Ch. || Friendship, Family, Epic Bromance) – John asks Sherlock perhaps the most important question.

Once Upon A Time by ProfessorSquirrell (T, 908 w., 1 Ch. || Family, Snippets of Life, Romance, Sherlock’s Mind Palace, Implied Drug Use, Angst with Happy Ending) – There is a room in Sherlock's mind palace where nothing gets deleted. And it looks like this...

Crisis Averted by Spartangal22 (T, 2,188 w., 1 Ch. || HLV Fic, Missing Scene After Confronting Mary, Canon Compliant, Sherlock Whump / Mary Shot Sherlock, Family / Friendship, Hospitalization, Sherlock POV, Holmes Brothers) – Lying in the hospital, Sherlock receives some surprising visitors, and manages to deal with two problems he's been having lately. A missing scene from HLV about a formal introduction that was never made and a visit that was never shown.

The Only Available Transportation by blueink3 (T, 5,379 w., 1 Ch. || Post S4, Fluff and Angst, Insecure Sherlock, Caring John, Parentlock, Sherlock’s Birthday, Family, Misunderstandings) – It’s possibly the desperation that’s seeped into his voice despite his best intentions, or perhaps it’s just a mother’s intuition, but she knows that whatever he’s calling about is Serious, hangover be damned. “What’s happened?” she asks, tone soft and as comforting as a hot cup of tea on a cold winter’s night. “Mummy,” he begins, voice catching. “I think John may be moving out.”

On the Steadfast Approach of an Oncoming Darkness by 2bee (T, 7,772 w., 1 Ch. || Apocalypse, Minor Character Death, Sort of Parentlock) – The world is ending. Not fast, but slowly, like falling asleep with a fever.

The Name Game by ItsClydeBitches221B (K, 8,958 w., 1 Ch. || Humour, Family, Platonics / Friendship, Sort-of Parentlock, John/Mary, Mary is Nice, Five and Ones, Baby Watson, Mycroft Loves Baby Watson) – The names that baby girl Watson comes up with for her extended family. Or: how everyone—Watsons, Holmes, and others alike— just learned to give up and embrace their weirdness.

The Burning of the Leaves by blueink3 (M, 15,915 w., 3 Ch. || Post S4, Angst, Reichenbach, Parentlock, Past Jolto, Idiot John, Sherlock’s a Mess, Puppies, Fluff, Possessive / Jealous Sherlock, Pining Sherlock, Sherlock POV, Matchmaker Sholto, Melancholic Feelings, Emotional Sherlock, Domesticity, Love Confessions in the Rain, Kissing in the Rain, Pet Names) – After the events of series 4, Major Sholto invites John and Sherlock to lunch one day. It nearly proves to be too much for their tenuous relationship as the past haunts the present, putting the future that Sherlock so desperately wants at risk.

Permanent Fixture by vitruvianwatson (E, 18,836 w., 9 Ch. || Post-S4, Parentlock, Slow Build, Friends to Lovers, They’re Good Parents, Blushing Sherlock, First Kiss/Time, Explicit Consent, Sexual Content, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Mutual Pining, Big Feelings, Crying, First Kiss, Fluff, Anxious Sherlock, Inexperienced Sherlock, Emotional Communication, Love Confessions) – Now, as Rosie sat curled up against Sherlock’s side, John watched and wondered exactly how he had ended up here. Domesticity had never suited him before, not at any point in his life. His disastrous marriage had been proof of that. But somehow, here in the warmth and safety of 221B Baker Street, here with Sherlock Holmes reading medical jargon to his daughter, Sherlock’s bony feet nudging against his leg, John couldn’t imagine anyplace that would make him happier.

Dropping the Act by jadztone (T, 27,258 w., 10 Ch. || Parentlock, Fake Relationship, Mary’s Family, Post-S4, Cuddling & Snuggling, Bed Sharing, Pining, Christmas) – Sherlock and John are quite happy living together with Rosie in Baker St. They might be even happier if they didn’t act towards each other like their love is only platonic. Mycroft brings troubling news in the form of Mary’s parents wanting to know just what their grandchild’s home life is like. The boys decide to spend Christmas pretending like they are in love in order to seem more like a "normal" family. It's easy enough to pretend when all you're doing is dropping the act.

An Acquired Taste by kinklock (E, 31,059 w., 4 Ch. || Vampires AU || Vampire Sherlock, Misunderstandings, Bat!Sherlock, Pining Sherlock, Humour, Magical Realism, Fluff and Angst, Blood Drinking, Holmes Family, Slow Burn) – At Montague Street when Sherlock was forced to sate his body’s needs, he was at least able to wander about the flat as much as he pleased. At Baker Street, it was mini-bags in a mini-fridge and bedroom confinement.

Chaperones by MissDavis (T, 34,114 w., 7 Ch. || 11 Years Post-S4, Fake Relationship, Parentlock, Disney World, Bed / Room Sharing, Friends to Lovers, Fluff, First Kiss, Obsessive Sherlock, Insecure John) – Right. Of course. Everyone assumed they were a couple and no one would question it. John put his elbows up on the table so he could rest his head in his hands. "You want to pretend to be a couple so we can chaperone a trip to Disney World with Rosie's class and you won't have to share a room with a stranger?" "Exactly." Sherlock beamed at him. "Don't worry about the cost. The Birmingham case last month paid more than enough to cover expenses for all three of us."

Where The Ghosts Have Voices by HappyJuicyfruit (M, 37,691 w., 12 Ch. || Supernatural AU || Ghosts, Magical Realism, Light Horror, Fluff and Smut, John Can See Ghosts, John Whump, Emotional Manipulation, Dark Magic, Coma, Injury Recovery, Blow Jobs, Anal, Happy Ending, John’s Past, Mr Holmes, Powerful John, Holmes Brothers, Sherlock’s Past, Past Viclock, Drug Abuse, Hair Pulling) – John has lived his whole life as an outcast. It is only when he meets Sherlock, that be realizes being a freak might not be such a bad thing, and that the curse he has lived with his whole life may be a gift after all. (TO READ)

Anchor Point by trickybonmot (E, 49,856 w., 80 Ch. || Truman Show AU || Psychological Drama, Suspense, Slow Burn, Dark Characters / Fic, Alternating First/Third Person, Protective John, Anxious/Worried Sherlock, Tender Moments, Love Confessions, Hand/Blow Jobs, Cuddling, Jealous John, First Kiss/Time) – The world tunes in nightly for Sherlock, the ultimate in reality TV: Sherlock Holmes, a real person with a legendary name, unknowingly lives out his life in a staged setting contrived by his brother. Things get complicated when a retired army doctor joins the show to play the part of Sherlock's closest friend. This fic borrows its concept from the 1998 film, the Truman Show. However, you don't need to have any knowledge of the movie to enjoy this story.

The Hollow Woman by ScopesMonkey (M, 51,335 w., 22 Ch. || Post-TRF, Major Character Death, Mystery, Romance, Friendship, Family, Angst, Crime, Reunion, First Kiss / Time, Nightmares, Doctor John, Jealous Sherlock, Jealous John, BAMF John, Angry John, Dub-Con, Rough Sex, Bottomlock, Possessive John, Villain Mary, Open Ending) – Forced to return to London sooner than expected, Sherlock falls into a case too close to home. Part 1 of the Hollowverse series

Repairing the Broken Things by BakerTumblings (M, 75,252 w., 15 Ch. || S4 Compliant, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Medical Trauma, Hospitals, Big Brother Mycroft, Misunderstandings, Realizations, Severe Accident, John Whump, Pneumonia, Medical Procedures, Bed Sharing, First Time, Healing, Happy Ending) – "I'm calling today to notify you that there's been an accident."

Points by lifeonmars (E, 53,791 w., 42 Ch. || PODFIC AVAILABLE || HLV Rewrite / Canon Divergence, Married Life, Pregnancy / Baby Watson, Drinking to Cope, Boxing / Fisticuffs, Clueless John, Angst, Minor Medical Drama, Tattoos, Christmas, First Kiss/Time, Eventual Happy Ending, Love Confessions, Doctor John, Sexuality Crisis, Slow Burn, Case Fic, Drugging, Blow/Hand Job, Emotional Love Making, Parenthood, Passage of Time) – What if His Last Vow never happened? This fic picks up a few months after John and Mary's wedding, in an alternate universe where Magnussen doesn't exist, but Mary is still pregnant. Life continues -- just in a different direction. And slowly, Sherlock and John find their way to each other.

The Monument of Memory by J_Baillier (M, 79,663 w., 14 Ch. || Post S4 Fix It Fic / S4 is Canon, Angst, Family Drama, Guilt, Case Fic, John Loves Sherlock, Complicated Feelings, Mentalism / Hypnosis, Murder, Grieving John, Sherlock is a Bit Not Good, Team Work, Trust Issues, BAMF John, Psychological Trauma, Protective John, Autistic-Spectrum Sherlock, Parentlock, John POV) – A genius traumatised by a past he's only beginning to recall. The psychopath sister that time forgot. A missing woman and a mentalist who may or may not be a murderer. And, in the middle of it all, stands John Watson.

Kintsukuroi by sussexbound (E, 91,823 w., 20 Ch. || S4 Compliant / Post-TLD, Grief / Mourning, PTSD, Internalized Homophobia, Therapy, Past Abuse, Alcohol Abuse, Nightmares, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Depression, Anxiety, Bed Sharing, Love Confessions, Cuddling, Suicidal Ideation, Masturbation, Minor Character Death, Sexting, Frottage, Inexperienced Sherlock, Rimming / Anal / BJ’s, Emotional Turmoil, Finding Each Other) – “I love you.” Sherlock sees the words hit John with almost physical force. He reels back a little, jaw twitching and eyes filling. “I love you,” he repeats, a little softer, a little more gentle, as earnest as he possibly can. Because they’ve been teetering on the brink of this thing for years, and it had become painfully obvious over the last few months that they were at a tipping point. This had to happen. Now it has. Now they can see where they end up. The tears in John’s eyes spill over, and he wipes at them angrily. “Do you even know what that means?”

The Summer Boy by khorazir (T, 94,706 w., 6 Ch. || Post S3/Post TAB/Alternate S4, Friends to Lovers, Asexual Sherlock, POV Sherlock, Flashbacks, Bullying, 1980′s Kid Sherlock, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Inexperienced Sherlock, Grief/Mourning, Pining Sherlock, Case Fic, Sherlock’s Past, Awkward Conversations, Anxious Sherlock) – About half a year after the fateful events at Appledore, Sherlock and John embark on a private case in Sussex. For Sherlock, it’s a journey into his past, bringing up memories both happy and sad that he has locked away for almost thirty years. For John, it means coming to terms with the present – and a potential future with Sherlock. Part 1 of the The Summer Boy series

The Wedding Garments by cwb (E, 105,390 w., 36 Ch. || PODFIC AVAILABLE || Alternate Future AU || Alternate First Meeting, Dating / Arranged Marriages, Romance, First Kiss/Time, Heavy Petting, Cuddles, POV Sherlock, Virgin Sherlock, Idiots in Love, Slow Burn / Falling in Love / Dev. Rel., Nervous/Anxious Sherlock, Jealous/Cranky, Hiking, Vacation Homes / Honeymoon, Sherlock’s Family, Horny John/Sherlock, Patient John, Massages, Hand Jobs, Assassination Plots, Hand Jobs / Oral Sex, Case Fic, Emotional Love Making, Bath Time Fun) – This is the story of a young consulting detective who wants nothing to do with marriage and an army doctor who wants to find true love. It's 2020 post-Brexit England and the British government is encouraging arranged marriages. Candidates meet through state-run agencies and date in hopes of finding love (and tax benefits). Sherlock doesn't need or want a spouse, at least not until John Watson shows up. Hesitant to give in to his more carnal urges because of the way they derail his mind, how will Sherlock progress toward the more intimate aspects of a relationship? The answer lies in a very special wedding gift.

The Bang and the Clatter by earlgreytea68 (M, 137,049 w., 37 Ch. || PODFIC AVAILABLE || Baseball AU || Slow Burn / Dev. Rel., Possessive/Obsessive Sherlock, Jealous Sherlock, Mutual Pining, Body Appreciation, Depression, Closeted Sexuality, Family, Sherlock’s Mind Palace, Ogling Each Other, Anxious Sherlock, Panic Attack, Drunkenness, Talk of Forever, Big Feelings™) – Sherlock Holmes is a pitcher and John Watson is a catcher. No, no, no, it's a baseball AU. Part 1 of Baseball

The Lost Special: Family Matters (As Do Relationships) by ShirleyCarlton (M, 144,688 w., 40 Ch. || S4 Fix It Fic, Unreliable Narrator, John’s Mind Bungalow, Friends to Lovers, Happy Ending) – Sherrinford is not really the name of some high security prison. That was just a figment of John’s frantic coma dream. And Eurus is not actually Sherlock’s sister. That’s just something random she said to John before shooting him. Sherlock and John were never actually estranged. That was just their act to cover up what really happened to Mary – or Rosamund Moran, as her real name has turned out to be. Sherlock does have a secret sibling, though, and his name is Sherrinford. After finally eliminating Moran – though in a rather dramatically different way than they had envisioned – and exposing the truth about Eurus, John encourages Sherlock to delve into his past and to find out whether the reasons to keep Sherrinford away from Sherlock were the right ones, and to discover what really happened in 1981. Along the way, Sherlock and John gradually, finally, stop keeping each other at a distance, and eventually become a proper family of their own.

Proving A Point by elldotsee & J_Baillier (E, 186,270 w., 28 Ch. || Me Before You Fusion || Medical Realism, Insecure John, Depression, Romance, Angst, POV John, Sherlock Whump, Serious Illness, Doctor John, Injury Recovery, Assisted Suicide, Sherlock’s Violin, Awkward Sexual Situations, Alcoholism, Drugs, Idiots in Love, Slow Burn, Body Image, Friends to Lovers, Hurt / Comfort, Pain, Big Brother Mycroft, Intimacy, Anxiety, PTSD, Family Issues, Psychological Trauma, John Whump, Case Fics, Loneliness, Pain) – Invalided home from Afghanistan, running out of funds and convinced that his surgical career is over, John Watson accepts a mysterious job offer to provide care and companionship for a disabled person. Little does he know how much hangs in the balance of his performance as he settles into his new life at Musgrave Court.

#steph replies #johnlock fic recs #my fic recs #parents and families #meeting the family #Anonymous

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teenslib · 4 years ago

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IT’S FINALLY DONE! Every year, the Rainbow Book List Committee has more books to review, because literature is slowing getting queerer, and children’s and YA lit are at the forefront of that change. This year, our committee of 13 people had to review nearly 500 eligible titles, and 130 (well, 129) were good enough and queer enough to make the list. There were so many terrific books that we got a special dispensation to create TWO Top Ten lists--the first time the committee has done so! The Top Tens are below, and please visit the link above for the full list.

I’m proud of our committee’s focus on diversity--along lines of race, ethnicity, queer identity, and even genre. At least half of the Top Ten Books for Young Readers and seven of the Top Ten for Teen Readers are about characters of color, and most of those were written by authors of color. We also tried to feature as many different letters of the alphabet soup as possible. I’ve noted the racial and LGBTQIA+ rep for the books that I’ve read.

Here are the Top Ten Books for Young Readers:

Ana on the Edge by Sass, A.J. Ages 8 to 12. Sports Fiction/Figure Skating. MC is nonbinary and Jewish-Chinese-American. Ana is a champion figure-skater. She hates her new princess-themed program, but how can she tell her mother that, when it cost so much money? And why does it bother her so much, anyway? When she finds the word ‘nonbinary,’ she realizes why the program doesn’t fit, but she still has a lot of work to do repairing relationships that have suffered in the meantime.

The Deep & Dark Blue by Smith, Niki. Ages 8 to 12. Fantasy. One of 2 MCs is a trans girl, all characters appear to be Southeast Asian. A pair of twins flee after a political coup that puts their lives at risk. They decide to disguise themselves as Hanna and Grayce, two girls living in the Communion of the Blue, an order of weaving women who spin magic like wool. What one twin doesn’t know is that, for the other, being Grayce isn’t a disguise. This is a beautiful story about self-discovery, acceptance, and affirmation.

Drawing on Walls: A Story of Keith Haring by Burgess, Matthew and Josh Cochran (Illustrator). Ages 6 to 14. Biography. MC is a white gay man. This colorful picture-book biography traces the life and art of Keith Haring.

The Every Body Book: LGBTQ+ Inclusive Guide for Kids about Sex, Gender, Bodies, and Families by Simon, Rachel E. and Noah Grigni (Illustrator). Ages 8 to 12. Nonfiction/Health. Various identities and races included. Filled with self-affirming information, The Every Body Book uses inclusive language, illustrations, and facts to cover a number of important topics for young people including consent, relationships, gender, sex, puberty, and hormones.

King and the Dragonflies by Callender, Kacen. Ages 8 to 12. Realistic Fiction. MC is a gay black boy, his best friend is a gay white boy. King’s family–especially his father–have strong opinions about what it means to be a Black man, and they don’t allow for being gay. But King admires his friend Sandy for escaping an abusive home and living his truth no matter what. If King comes out, too, can his father learn to change?

Magic Fish by Nguyen, Trung Le. Ages 12 and up. Realistic Fiction/Fantasy. MC is a gay Vietnamese-American boy. A young Vietnamese-American boy literally can’t find the words to tell his parents that he’s gay, but cross-cultural fairytales help bridge the language barrier in this beautifully-illustrated graphic novel.

My Maddy by Pitman, Gayle E. and Violet Tobacco (Illustrator). Ages 4-8. Realistic Fiction. MC’s parent is nonbinary, MC and her parent are white. My Maddy is a heartwarming story about a young girl and her parent. Readers learn that not all parents are boys or girls; some parents are just themselves. In this young girl’s case, that parent is her Maddy, a loving, caring parent who lives outside the gender binary.

My Rainbow by Neal, DeShanna, Trinity Neal, and Art Twink (Illustrator). Ages 4-8. Realistic Fiction. MC is an autistic black trans girl. Autistic trans girl Trinity wants to have long hair, but growing it out is too itchy! None of the wigs in the store are quite right, so Mom makes Trinity a special rainbow wig.

Our Subway Baby by Mercurio, Peter and Leo Espinosa (Illustrator). Ages 4 to 8. Adoption Non-fiction. MCs are white gay men, the baby they adopt is Black. Loving illustrations help tell the story of how an infant abandoned in a NYC subway station was adopted by the man who found him and his partner.

Snapdragon by Leyh, Kat. Snapdragon. Ages 10 to 14. Fantasy. Haven’t read this one yet, so I can’t comment on its representation. Snap gets to know the town witch and discovers that she may in fact have real magic and a secret connection to Snap’s family’s past.

And here are the Top Ten Books for Teen Readers:

All Boys Aren’t Blue: A Memoir-Manifesto by Johnson, George M. Ages 14 to 18. Memoir. Author/MC is a gay Black man. “Memoir-manifesto” is a well-chosen label for this book, which relates stories from the author’s childhood and young adulthood and contextualizes them within a queer Black experience. Although the author’s family is loving and supportive, pervasive heteronormativity, queerphobia, and anti-Black racism threaten his mental, emotional, and physical safety.

Camp by Rosen, L.C. Ages 14 and up. Realistic Fiction. MC and his love interest are gay Jewish boys. For Randy, going away to Camp Outland is a breath of fresh air, a time to be exactly who Randy can’t always be at school. But this year will be different. This year, Randy won’t be the flamboyant theater kid, this year Randy will be exactly the type of bro Hudson would want to date. Changing a thing or too will be necessary for Randy to succeed, even if that means leaving some friends behind.

Cemetery Boys by Thomas, Aiden. Ages 13 and up. Paranormal/Romance. MC is a trans Latino, his love interest is a gay Latino. Yadriel accidentally summons the wrong ghost in an attempt to prove himself a real brujo to his family who struggle to accept his gender identity. Though he thinks he is summoning the ghost of his cousin, he actually summons the ghost of Julian Diaz, and finds himself with not one, but two, mysterious deaths to investigate.

Circus Rose by Cornwell, Betsy. Ages 12 and up. Fantasy. One MC is white and one is mixed-race, one is a lesbian and one is questioning. Ivory and Rosie are twins and half-sisters, born to a bearded woman who refused to choose between her lovers, and raised in their mother’s circus. After a long foreign tour, they come home to find themselves under attack by religious zealots. As tragedy follows tragedy, will Ivory be able to save her circus family?

Elatsoe by Little Badger, Darcie and Rovina Cai (Illustrator). Ages 12 and up. Mystery. MC is an aro/ace Lipan Apache girl. In this OwnVoices novel, Elatsoe is on a mission to discover who killed her beloved cousin, and why. If not for her cousin, then she is doing this for her people, the Indigenous Lipan Apache tribe. Elatsoe has the ability to raise ghosts from the dead, a tradition that has been passed down through generations. On this journey it will take vulnerability, wit, and the legends of her people for Elatsoe to understand all that is hidden in the small town of Willowbee.

I’ll Be the One by Lee, Lyla. Ages 13 and up. Realistic Fiction. MC is a bi Korean-American girl, her love interest is a bi Korean boy. Skye Shin dreams of becoming the world’s first plus-sized K-pop star, and a reality TV competition may just be her chance. To win, she’ll have to deal with fatphobic beauty standards, fierce competition, and intense media scrutiny–as well as unexpected attraction to one of her competitors.

Miss Meteor by Mejia, Tehlor Kay and Anna-Marie McLemore. Ages 14 and up. Magical Realism. (I haven’t read this one, but I think both MCs are WLW Latinas.) Lita is a star – literally. After falling to earth several years ago, she’s now living life as a teenage girl. When the annual Miss Meteor pageant rolls around, Lita decides to enter – but will her ex-best friend Chicky be willing to help her? Will the pageant help her forget about the past and imagine a new future? Lita learns that winning isn’t about being perfect, it’s about showing your true self to the world – even the parts that no one else understands.

You Should See Me in a Crown by Johnson, Leah. Ages 12 and up. Realistic Fiction. MC is a black WLW (woman-loving-woman). In this affectionate rom-com, Liz Lighty finds herself an unlikely candidate for prom queen at her affluent suburban school. Shy, awkward, Black, and low-income, Liz has never felt like she belonged, and she can’t wait to leave for her dream college. But when her scholarship falls through, it seems her last resort is to win prom queen, and the scholarship money that comes with it. Liz’s plan is complicated when new girl Mack decides to run for prom queen also…and ends up running away with Liz’s heart.

War Girls by Onyebuchi, Tochi. Ages 12 and up. Science Fiction/Afro-Futurism. Both MCs are Nigerian, one is a WLW. In a not-so-distant future, climate change and nuclear disasters have made much of the earth unlivable. In the midst of war in Nigeria, two sisters, Onyii and Ify, are torn apart and face two very different futures. As their lives progress through years of untold violence and political unrest, battles with deadly mechs and cyborg soldiers outfitted with artificial limbs and organs, they are brought together again and again and must come to terms with how the war has impacted their lives.

When We Were Magic by Gailey, Sarah. Ages 14 and up. Contemporary Fantasy. MC is a white bi/questioning girl with gay dads, her friends are racially, ethnically, and queerily diverse. This firecracker of a novel follows a group of friends who attempt to correct the accidental murder of a classmate. When We Were Magic combines magic, friendship, and awkward moments to create a captivating story. Each character brings their own uniqueness to the strong group of friends, but despite their differences, their loyalty remains. Author Sarah Gailey has written another page turning novel, with the quirky strange content to boot.

#Rainbow Book List #LGBT literature #queer books #queer YA #queer children's books #Book Recommendations #we need diverse books

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chickensarentcheap · 4 years ago

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Never Gonna Be Alone: Chapter Six

Title: Subway trolls and pancakes

Warnings: none

Tagging: @c-a-v-a-l-r-y , @innerpaperexpertcloud , @alievans007 , @tragiclyhip

They stop at the closest bodega for a cup of take out coffee and a carton of chocolate milk, then hand in hand navigate the snowy sidewalks on their brief jaunt to the subway. Tanner is excited about their morning out. Words rapidly leaving his lips as all his pent up thoughts come spilling out; sentences running together and often making little to no sense as several different topics messily mix together. But Tyler lets him get it out. Tanner often very quiet and shy and finding himself lost in the chaos of their home; unable to get a word in edgewise at times and then finding himself growing more and more frustrated. It always leads to a meltdown; tears and screaming hyperventilating and sometimes even the odd destructive episode. The latter hasn’t happened in a long time; both his parents and Tanner himself recognizing the triggers and the warning signs and able to calm him down before things escalate that far. It’s been a journey to say the least; learning how to both handle and help a kid like Tanner. Specialists and fellow parents of children with Autism and autistic adults themselves have been extremely helpful; they’ve found the strategies that aid him the best and in turn, help him thrive. Music therapy and appointments disguised as play, sensory items that provide him with the ‘break’ that he needs when overwhelmed, deep pressure applied with hugs and weighted blankets and vests. It’s a whole new world that has been both overwhelming and rewarding. Tanner isn’t the only one that’s being helped. It’s an adjustment for the entire family and everyone has had to make changes and sacrifices. But it’s also been a positive thing. What could have broken a marriage has actually made it stronger; working as a team and discovering just how strong and determined the other is and witnessing what lengths they’ll go to help their family thrive under even the most difficult of circumstances.

Tanner is a gift. An extra special one. In a way that his siblings aren’t. He’s opened their eyes to an entirely different existence, bringing out the depths of their patience and compassion. He’s beautiful and intelligent; the depths of his knowledge and information stored away inside that little brain simply profound. And talented; cooking and baking, drawing, playing the guitar and singing. But he DOES struggle. Anything social is a challenge for him; extreme difficulty in making friends, becoming extremely shy and withdrawn and even scared if a stranger approaches him for even the smallest of chit chat. And his fears and triggers are numerous; thunderstorms, needles, too much noise and conversation going on around him at once, the sudden and sharp clattering of dishes, the seams inside clothes. Things that most people would never even notice, are extremely heightened for him. And while most are easily recognized and identifiable and the entire family goes out of their way to accommodate him when possible, new issues seem to arise every day.

But the subway is one of his favourite places. The dark tunnels don’t faze him, nor does the crowd of people during the more busy times. And when the noises become too much he knows to simply put on a pair of sounds cancelling headphones and then concentrate on something else; whether it be a book he’s brought along of a sketch pad or even games and videos on one of his parents’ phones.

This morning he’s in his glory; kneeling on the seat beside Tyler, nose pressed against the window as he stares out into the darkness. The subway is quiet; people choosing to stay in after the snowstorm or already flooding earlier trains in hopes of beating the masses that will flock to malls and boutiques to complete their Christmas shopping. While extremely advanced intellectually speaking, he’s a lot younger in other ways; social skills and emotional maturity putting him around the level of a five or six year old. The difference is most apparent when he’s with his twin; TJ becoming older and wiser with each passing day while Tanner struggles to get to the level at Declan -or even Brooklyn and Takota- functions at. And he’s much smaller than his older brother as well; gifted with his mother’s height and slender body and some of her petite features. But there’s never any problem recognizing the Rake in him. The facial expressions and mannerisms and that Australian accent that he’s developed; much thicker and stronger than any of his siblings.

“Dad?” Tanner pipes up from beside him, one hand tightly gripping the top of the seat while the other keeps a firm hold on his chocolate milk; stomach pressed against the back of the seat, his father’s arm wrapped tightly around his middle.

“Yeah?”

“Do you think the subway trolls are real? Do you think they exist?”

“Subway trolls??”

“Remember the subway trolls? TJ talked about them during the summer. When we came here to visit Ovi. About how there’s trolls living down here. Do you think it’s true? Do you think there’s really trolls down here?”

“Something tells me that’s something your brother made up: to freak Takota out. He had nightmares for three weeks after that.”

“Everytime we come on the subway, I try looking for trolls. But it’s dark and the train is fast and I can’t really see ANYTHING. But it could be true, yeah? There really could be trolls. They could exist.”

“Trolls aren’t real. It’s just something that people made up. A long time ago. They just exist in movies and books. Like in The Lord of The Rings.”

A look of visible disgust appears on Tanner’s face. “Those are Orcs. NOT trolls.”

“Same thing.”

“No, dad. They’re not. You need to read the books again. Orcs and trolls are NOT the same. I mean, they’ve evil, but orcs aren’t much stronger than humans. Trolls have superhuman strength. Plus, they’re HUGE. Orcs are just the size of normal people. Even mummy knows this stuff.”

“That’s because mummy is a nerd.”

“She’s not a nerd! She’s very smart. In a lot of different things. She even speaks three languages. You only speak one.”

“I speak two. English and profanity.”

“Swearing is NOT a language.”

“You’re right, it’s not. It’s an art form.”

“You do have A LOT of swears in your vocabulary. It’s pretty impressive; that you know that many bad words. You know twenty different ways to say the F word. That’s cool. You’re smart in your way and mumma is smart in hers. Is that why you fell in love with her? ‘Cause of how smart she is?”

“It was one of the reasons.”

“I wanna meet a girl one day. Like mum. Mum is super cute and tiny and really funny. She makes me laugh a lot. And she’s got a really nice, kind smile and pretty eyes.”

“Yeah, she does. She’s pretty special, huh?”

“She is,” Tanner smiles.. “You’re a lucky guy, daddy. She loves you a whole bunch. I see it in her eyes, you know. They get all sparkly and shiny when she sees you. Like yesterday when you got home. As soon as you got out of the cab, her entire face changed. Her cheeks got rosy and she had a huge smile and her eyes were shiny. Like she was going to cry but not crying eyes at the same time. I want to meet a girl like mummy. Then I’d be lucky too.”

“You would,” Tyler agrees. “You’d be the luckiest guy on the face of the earth.”

“I’ll ask mummy about the trolls. When we get home. She might know. She lived here before. Maybe she’s seen one. That would be so freaking awesome.”

“Something tells me that mummy hasn’t seen a subway troll. Something also tells me they don’t exist.”

“Why you say that?”

“Have you ever seen one? I’ve never seen one.”

“Just because we don’t see things, doesn’t mean they don’t exist. I haven’t seen a lot of things, but I know they’re real.”

“That’s a very good point, actually.”

A sudden pout appears on Tanner’s face; entire body stiffening. “I don’t like this part of the ride. It gets really noisy and extra dark here. Can I sit on your lap now? You make me feel safe.”

Nodding, he places the backpack sitting on his lap between his feet. It contains everything the ten year old could need during the time out; headphones, weighted lap pad, various fidget items, an extra sweater that’s a size too small but Tanner enjoys wearing because it’s ‘tight and feels like a hug’. Scooping his son off the seat next to him and settles him on his thighs; Tanner wrapping both arms around his neck and sliding his body forward in order to have that comfort of body against body. And he slips his hand up the back of the little one’s jacket, hoodie, and t-shirt; giving him that press of a warm, soothing palm against his bare skin.

“I don’t like this part, daddy,” Tanner whimpers, and tightens the hold on his dad’s neck. “It’s scary.”

“It’s okay, mate. I got you. You’re fine. Close your eyes; I’ll tell you when it’s over.”

“Alright,” he squeezes his eyes shut as tight as he can. “I trust you.”

“I won’t let anything happen to you. Ever.”

“I know you won’t. But it’s still scary.”

“Nothing to be scared of,” Tyler assures him, and presses his lips to his temple; the end of his nose resting against the side of Tanner’s head as he speaks to him in a low, quiet voice. “Nothing can hurt you. Ever.”

“Not when you’re here. You won’t let anything hurt me.”

“Anything or anyone. You’re alright, mate. Just breathe. It’s almost over. Just a couple more minutes. Why don’t you tell me about some of your dreams? The ones you were writing about? Tell me some of them and I’ll read the rest. I want to hear about them.”

“Okay,” Tanner takes a deep, shaky breath, but keeps his eyes screwed shut as he launches into a recap of one of his many dreams.

Tyler’s not sure how many of these dreams are actually real; they’re vivid and often far beyond Tanner’s level of maturity. And he often wonders if it’s just tales the ten year old has conjured up in his own mind; a very detailed and colourful imagination that is often underused AND under appreciated. But he never questions their validity or ‘tunes out’ when his son is sharing his stories; letting him indulge in that little fantasy world of his where things probably seem a lot easier to handle and cope with. And it gives Tanner a sense of confidence and pride in himself; knowing how well he can both tell a tale and how well received it is by the one person he’s always so eager to please and make proud of him.

Today the dreams are about dragons and sea life. Two very distinct ‘dreams’; the first consisting of Tanner being the brave and noble knight that saves the princess and an entire kingdom from an untimely demise. The second he’s an underwater explorer; making friends with all the marine creatures and building a completely self-sustaining and livable underwater habitat for both humans and sea life. And he sees the way people around them react to both Tanner’s story telling and the gentle and calm way Tyler deals with him; the smiles and the comments about how ‘cute it is’ and even the praises of ‘it’s nice to see a daddy out with the little ones’.

“Is it done yet?” Tanner inquires, as the last of his final tale leaves his lips. “Are we past the scary part?”

“Yup. All done.”

“Good,” he heaves a sigh of relief. “But can I still stay here? Can I still stay on your lap?”

“You can stay there as long as you want, Nug.”

“I love you daddy. Thank you.”

“No worries, mate. I love you too.” He removes the hand from underneath Tanner’s clothing and briefly lays it on the back of his head; placing a kiss to his cheek before wrapping his arm around his waist. Even THAT’s been a learning process; expressing emotion and talking about feelings and showing affection. He’d grown up not being allowed to do any of those things; his father only beating him more savagely if he cried or begged for him to stop or if he cried over the loss of his mother. Meeting and marrying someone that craves both giving and receiving affection had been a real eye opener; showing him just how badly the old man had screwed him up both physically and mentally.

“Nug?”

“Yeah?”

“I gotta ask you something.”

“About what?”

“Mummy.”

“I don’t know what she wants for Christmas. She says ‘nothing’ EVERY year.”

“I already got that all figured out. This is about something else.”

“Okay. What is the something else?”

“When I was gone, did mummy seem sad?”

“Mummy is always sad when you go away. She misses you.”

“But did she seem extra sad, maybe? Did it seem like she was having a hard time with me being gone? A harder time than usual?”

“Maybe a little. I mean, she was really sad. She did cry a few times. And locked herself in the pantry once. But that’s ‘cause Millie was being mean and driving her nuts. I pushed tissues under the door; so mummy could wipe her face and blow her nose. We all get snotty when we cry.”

“I’m glad you help mommy out. Especially when she’s sad. You’ve always been good at that; helping take care of her. What about at night? Anything go on at night? Maybe you were supposed to be sleeping and you heard some things? Maybe mummy really upset and crying hard extra hard or…?”

“I snuggled with her a couple nights. On the couch. Because she said she said she couldn’t sleep and that she was feeling lonely. I went down to get a snack. I know I shouldn’t have; that I’m not allowed downstairs by myself in the middle of the night. I’m sorry, daddy. I was hungry though and mummy wasn’t in your room and I went looking for her. She was eating ice cream out of the container and watching Sex and the City. Are you mad? That I went downstairs by myself?”

“No, mate. I’m not. You went looking for mum, right?”

“Yeah, because I was hungry and I knew she would make me a snack. She always makes me an English muffin. Toasted. With a piece of cheese and two slices of tomato on it. With pepper sprinkled on top. And when I couldn’t find her upstairs, I got worried. So I went looking for her. We had snacks and she let me have some ice cream and then we snuggled on the couch watching Sponge Bob. I stayed up until she fell asleep, and then I went and got the big blanket of your bed and your pillow and took them downstairs and tucked mommy in. Then I went back to bed. Once I knew she was really fast asleep and comfortable. I gave her a goodnight kiss. Three, actually. Two on the lips, one of the forehead. Like you do. You always kiss her on the forehead.”

“You are a good son, Nug. A great son. That loves his mumma very much.”

“She’s the best mummy in the whole world. If I could pick mummies, I’d pick her above everyone else. Because she loves me no matter what. She doesn’t care that I’m different. That my brain doesn’t work like everyone else’s. She just loves me. No questions asked. Just like I love her no matter what. Even when she gets mad and yells. But I don’t like when she cries. It makes my heart hurt.”

“Was she crying a lot? While I was gone? More than she’s ever cried before?”

“I guess. TJ and I could hear her the first couple of nights. Crying in the bedroom. We were going to see if she was okay, but we didn’t want to get in trouble. Takota and Brookie went in though and slept with her. She seemed okay in the morning. She likes when we come in to cuddle. She doesn’t like the big bed all to herself.”

“Did she say anything to you? About me being gone?”

“Not to me. But I heard her talking to Desi. He came over every night to check on her and make sure she didn’t need anything. I heard her saying how worried she was about you. That she was scared something would happen and she’d never see you again. That she’d already almost lost you twice before and that she couldn’t take it a third time. Desi tried to talk her down; told her everything would be okay and that you’d be home before she knew it.”

“That was it? The whole thing you heard?”

“Most of it. She also said that she’s never loved anyone the way that she loves you. That you couldn’t ever possibly understand how much she does. That you saved her. In every way someone can be saved.”

“She said that?”

Tanner nods, then reaches inside Tyler’s jacket and pulls out the wool beanie he’d put in one of the pockets for safe keeping. “Will you help me when my glasses fog up?” he asks, and he yanks the hat down onto his head. “They always fog up when we go out in the cold.”

“I will help you.”

“And over the really high snowbanks?”

“I’m going to toss you in those. Have to call someone to dig you out.”

“Daddy…” he crosses his arms over his chest and stares at him pointedly. “...that’s not very nice.”

“I would never do that to you. TJ, yeah. You? Never.”

“You know…” Tanner scrambles off his lap as the train begins its final approach to their station, then curls all of his fingers around three of his father’s “...if I got to pick daddies, I’d pick you.”

Tyler smiles down at his son. “You would, would you?”

Tanner nods. “In a heartbeat.”

*****

Breakfast is a success. A small diner in Battery Park that Tanner had found online three years ago; spending hours online searching for the best pancake spots in New York City and reading all of the reviews and browsing all the menus. He’s very detail oriented. Choosing places to eat and shop on not just popularity and the items being offered, but on the way the food appears in pictures; a keen eye for attractive colour palettes and neat and tidy -and appealing- presentation. He’d put so much research and time into it that Tyler hadn’t had the heart to tell him that maybe somewhere closer to home would be a better fit; no ‘scary’ trips on the subway meant less crowds and noise and almost assured no sensory meltdowns which in turn, would mean an extremely hard day for Tanner. Once something is ‘set off’, he remains on edge and anxious for hours; the mere stress of his brain going into overload causing him to be destructive and aggressive. The latter is always directed at himself; yanking his hair out, banging his head off walls, scratching himself until he bleeds. And while it’s always a worry that something will spark the behaviour, they’ve become better at recognizing the warning signs; identifying triggers and able to remove him from a situation before it becomes too much for him to bear.

The morning had gone well. Tanner had been talkative and cheerful; uncharacteristically engaging with the waitress and carrying on conversations -albeit brief, as too much chatter and eye contact make him extremely uncomfortable- with fellow diners. He’d only had difficulties twice. Needing his weighted lap pad and some fidget toys when the wait for food was longer than expected, and a flight to his father’s lap when a larger group of diners came in and their voices were needlessly loud and obnoxious. A tight as possible embrace and encouraging and comforting words whispered had quickly soothed him, but he’d still insisted on staying perched on his dad’s thighs while he finished the remains of his breakfast.

After a quick trip to the Cartier store -a little something for mummy as a form of both apology and an excuse to spoil her- and to pick up some novels to read at Tanner’s favourite used book store, they returned home and onto the final ‘event’ of the morning; time spent at the private park. It’s cold and the wind brutal, but Tanner is in his element; loving the way he can ‘crash’ into the snowbank at the bottom of the slide, tend to building his own snowman without interference from his well meaning but way too hyper younger siblings, and time on the swings. And while he has two of his own hanging from the ceiling in his bedroom, he prefers being outside; leaning as far back as he can and staring up at the sky. It’s gray and dreary today, but he’s in his glory; catching snowflakes on his tongue and giggling the entire time.

That laugh -one he’d inherited from his mother- is more than enough to tolerate the frigid temperatures; a hot cup of coffee and the hat and gloves Esme had both nagged him about taking along -and had resorted to shoving into the pockets of his coat before he stepped out the door- enough to stave off the chill. And he’s leaning back against the wrought iron fence and sipping the strong brew -two shots of espresso helping to fight off the lingering exhaustion from jet lag- when the gate to the park swings open. It’s a highly controlled and private area. Only those who live in Gramercy Park have access; given keys when they take up residence. And while he isn’t necessarily worried about the stranger joining them, that old inkling of hyper-vigilance never fails to make an appearance when he spots an unfamiliar face. It’s the years spent on the job; burning bridges and stepping on toes and making a lot of enemies along the way. Revenge is par for the course; dirtbags sticking up for other dirtbags and seeking vengeance for fellow drug lords, rapists, murders, child predators. The list is vast and seemingly endless; he’s gone up against the lowest of the low and somehow lived to tell about.

The worry is always there; that someone will come looking for him and then use his greatest weaknesses to destroy him. It’s why he’s extra careful now; willing to do anything in his power to keep his family safe. Five years ago had been bad enough; if word got back to the wrong people that it was his business employing the mercenaries sent to clean up messes, the result wouldn’t be pretty. Far more devastating and widespread than what happened at the hands of Mahajan and Asif’s remaining people. And while he highly doubts that the woman and child stepping through the gate pose a threat, his brain immediately tends to think of the worst. Especially when one of his children -arguably the most vulnerable of them all- is with him. But he manages a polite smile in the woman’s direction, then shuffles his weight from foot to foot when she approaches; an attempt to keep warm and his discomfort at the idea of having to be social. It was one of the things that sold on him buying the brownstone; no one bothered with him and likewise didn’t seem to give a shit that he mostly stuck to himself.

“It’s amazing how they can stand being out like this,” she comments, as she sidles up next to him.

It’s way too close his own comfort; the sleeve of her fur lined coat brushing against him. He sidesteps; putting just enough space between them to let her know she’s invading his space, yet enough to come across a complete asshole. She’s new to the area; a face he hadn’t seen last Christmas or during the month they’d spent in the Big Apple over the past summer. Tall and slender; shoulder length blond hair sticking the bottom of the black and gray knit beanie and too much make up on her face.

“My daughter LOVES the snow,” she continues, nodding in the direction of the little girl attempting to make conversation with Tanner. It can go either of three ways; Tanner acknowledging her presence and actually speaking in return, completely ignoring her and acting as if she doesn’t even exist, or he’ll be so anxious that he’ll flee to his father’s side for comfort. “It’s why she took moving here so well; used to the weather in Utah I guess. I’m Natalie,” she offered a slender hand encased in a lambskin glove.

“Tyler. You just moved here?”

“Couple weeks ago. Took a job with Goldman Sachs. I’ve always wanted to live here, mind you. A dream going back to my childhood; Central Park, Broadway shoes, shopping at Bergdorfs. A lot of stuff on my to do list. Your accent; you’re a long way from home.”

“Our second place is here. Kids love coming to stay. Especially during the winter. They love having a white Christmas.”

“Must be a change. Going from somewhere hot and sunny to this. Why go from the ocean and the sand to snow and slush? And most of all, why New York City?”

“My wife spent some time here. Fell in love with it. Always wanted to get back. And our oldest lives here. In Queens. He’s in his first year of med school.”

“You have a kid old enough to have done four years of undergrad and is now in med school?”

Tyler nods. There’s no need for specifics. No reason to tell a complete stranger about Ovi and his background and how he’d wound up going from Mumbai to Colorado and then onto Australia. That part of their lives is firmly rooted in the past; Dhaka, Asif, Mahajan Senior. And it’s not something either of them enjoy revisiting. The years have gone by excruciatingly slow; leaving mountains of mental and physical issues behind. “I’ve got grandkids too.”

“Seriously?”

“Two of them. Boy and a girl. Three and eight months.”

“You’re a grandpa?”

“As much as I hate being called that, yeah. I am.”

“Makes you feel old? Being called that?”

“Just thinking about it makes me feel old.” He takes a swig of coffee; watching as Tanner abandons his snowman and his new playmate in favour of returning to the swings. The ten year old is doing better than expected; not growing agitated or anxious when the little girl immediately follows him and once more attempts to make conversation.

“How old is he?”

“Ten. Eleven next month.”

“He’s shy. Or he’s already playing hard to get when it comes to girls.”

“He has Autism. Aspergers. It’s one of the things he struggles with; making friends.”

“I’m sorry, it must be hard. It must be…”

“There’s nothing to be sorry about. I mean, look at him. He’s healthy. He’s happy for the most part. He’s beautiful. He’s a good kid. A REALLY good kid. We’re lucky to have him.”

“And are those your only two? The med student and him? Quite the age gap.”

“Actually, I have six more at home.”

Natalie’s eyes widen. “You have eight kids?”

“I do. Well, technically the oldest one isn’t mine. Not by blood. We took him in when he was fifteen. But I do have six more at home.”

“All biological?”

Tyler nods.

“All with the same mother?”

“Every last one of them.”

“I don’t know whether you’re crazy or brave. Or a mix of both.”

“Guess that’s up for debate. It’s a pretty full house.”

“God help the woman who got pregnant SEVEN times.”

“It was actually only five times. We have two sets of twins. Ten and five.”

“Wow,” Natalie laughs. “That’s quite the brood. You don’t see that very often these days; big families like that.”

“Once we started, we couldn’t stop I guess. We were supposed to be done at four, but…”

“Things happened.”

“That’s one way of putting it. You said you just moved here?”

“Number thirty-three. You?”

“Eleven.”

“The one right on the corner? With the two dogs? A shepherd and a…”

“Australian shepherd. Mac and Saju. Two major pains in the ass.”

“They love to stand on the couch. Look out the front window. My daughter always waves to them. She keeps hoping one day they’ll be outside. So she can meet them.”

“They’re standing on the couch because they like to spy on the neighbours. And growl and bark at the squirrels. They’re used to koalas and kangaroos. Not squirrels. They’re not the brightest, but they’re loyal.”

“I walked by the other day and when I saw all the kids out front, I thought it might be a daycare. That was a nanny with them? Cute little thing with dark hair. Didn’t look old enough to be their mom.”

“That IS their mom,” he confirms. “My wife is very tiny and cute. And I agree; she does NOT look old enough to have that many kids.”

“It would be nice to meet some of the other families around here. There aren't many with young kids, so it was a relief to see people at the park. My daughter’s always looking for new friends.”

“Well, she’s got a lot to choose from at our house, that’s for sure. I don’t think the wife would mind if you popped by. She’s the social butterfly. Complete opposite of me.”

“I don’t know, you seem to be holding your own in this conversation. A little gruff at times and straight to the point, but…”

“This is me on my best behaviour. It doesn’t get any better.”

A smile tugs at the corners of her mouth. “I think it’s perfectly fine how it is.”

Smirking, he downs the remains of his coffee and tosses it in the nearby trash. It’s a line that’s been crossed. Not appreciating little smiles and flirtatious comments and the insistent way she keeps stepping even closer to him; not realizing that he grows more agitated and uncomfortable each time he moves away. It’s annoying; unwanted attention even AFTER you’ve told someone that you’re married. Most women -and some men- seem to take it as a challenge; an extra thrilling chase to land someone that’s declared themselves unavailable. And maybe it’s worked for them before; landing a guy that claims to be happily married and getting him to abandon all his morals and betray the one person he’s supposed to love more than life itself. But that sure as hell ISN’T him. He doesn’t need or want anyone else. Perfectly content to spend the rest of his existence with just one person; happy to wake up to the same face every day, kiss the same lips and make love to the same body , and hear the same voice and laugh.

“Daddy!” Tanner calls as he bounds through the snow; wrapping both arms around one of Tyler’s thighs. “Can we go now? I’m getting cold. And I miss mum.”

“Yeah, we can go. I bet she misses you too.”

“Hey there, cutie.” Natalie smiles, and crouches down to the little boy’s level.

“No,” Tanner shakes his head and slides behind Tyler, hiding himself behind his father’s legs. “Please don’t.”

“He doesn’t like eye contact. Not with people he doesn’t know. Scares him. It’s okay, Nug.” Reaching behind his body, he lays a hand on the back of Tanner’s head and gently pushes; encouraging him to come out of hiding. “Don’t be nervous. I’m right here. Nothing’s going to happen. Just people trying to meet you. Wanting to be friends.”

“That’s all?”

“That’s all. Just someone being nice. Can you come on out? At least say hi? There’s nothing to be scared of.”

“You sure?”

“I’m sure. Come on…” he lifts one leg, allowing Tanner to slip between them. “...can you just say hi? I won’t ask for more than that.”

Tanner nods, both arms once more wrapping around his father’s thigh; body leaning into him, needing that comfort and support. “Hi.”

"I’m not trying to scare you, I promise,” Natalie says. “Just trying to make friends. What’s your name?”

Tanner glances up at his dad. Looking for reassurance. And permission.

“It’s okay. You can tell her.”

He looks back at the woman in front of him. “Tanner.”

“How old are you?”

“Ten. Almost eleven.”

“I hear you have a lot of brothers and sisters.”

He nods. “I have a twin. He’s older than I am. His name’s Tyler. Like daddy.”

“And is he as handsome? As you and daddy?”

“I don’t know. I guess. He’s really tall. And strong. Like daddy. He’s almost taller than mummy already!”

“Well your mum’s pretty tiny,” Tyler reasons, and straightens out Tanner’s scarf and hat; pulling the beanie down over the tops of his ears. “Speaking of mum, want to go see her?”

“Yeah,” Tanner nods enthusiastically. “I wanna see her. I miss her. I want to give her a hug. And her goodies. We got mum her favourites,” he addresses Natalie. “Mummy loves croissants. From a certain place. So daddy and I took the subway to get them. And he got her something really nice. From a really expensive jewellery store. There was lots of sparkly stuff in there. Mummy likes sparkly stuff but never lets daddy buy her any. She says he spoils her too much.”

Natalie smiles. I’m sure your mom deserves to be spoiled.”

“Oh, she definitely does. She’s the best mummy. And the prettiest. She puts up with a lot. Especially from Millie. That’s my oldest sister. She’s a bitch.”

Tyler frowns. “Tanner….”

“I’m just sayin’. Millie is really mean. She’s almost a teenager. That’s why. They get mean at that age. Girls. That’s what daddy says.”

“And on that note,” Tyler chuckles. “I think we should go home. You’re gonna wanna pee soon, aren’t ya.”

“Yeah. And you can’t drop your pants and go in the bushes here. Wayyyy too cold. I got snow in my boot. My sock is wet. I can’t walk in wet socks.”

“You could if you wanted to. It’s like a hundred feet away.”

“Naw. I don’t like it. The feeling. My foot is cold. And wet. My sock is too squishy.”

“You’re demanding.” Scooping Tanner up with one hand, he settles him on his hip, then reaches for the bags he’d hung earlier on the rungs of the fence. “Ready to go? Go and see and mummy?”

“Ready, Freddy. I’m hungry.”

“Me too.”

“You’re ALWAYS hungry. Giants eat a lot. Bye” ! Tanner waves a mitten in farewell in Natalie’s direction. “I like your hat, by the way. I like the panda bear pin on it. It’s sparkly. And I like panda bears.”

“Well, I like your glasses. You’re awful cute, you know that.”

“Cute like daddy, smart like mummy,” Tanner declares, as he curls an arm around his dad’s neck. “Bye new friend!”

“Bye, kiddo. You be good. Although something tells me you always are.”

Tanner giggles. “You’ll change your mind once you get to know me. I can be really annoying.”

“Something tells me you’re more cute than annoying.”

“Just you wait,” he singsongs, and then gives one final wave before being carried out the gate.

#Tyler Rake #Tyler Rake fan fiction #Extraction fan fiction

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hptruefan-cheekytorah · 5 years ago

Text

Nano-vember | The Glue

Part XVII & Part XVIII

Tagging my Drarryville friends: @drarryruinedme7 @keyflight790 @cassiaratheslytherpuff @dewitty1 @hdanalyst @moose-1967

Thank you to the very wonderful @keyflight790 for Beta Reading this story! ❤️❤️

If anyone else would like to be tagged for updates please let me know!

The Glue Masterlist

~*~

Part XVII

Harry spent the night at Luna’s, mostly staring up at the ceiling of their guest room and thinking about both Draco and Neville. He wondered if it ever came down to telling Neville, would he just want one of them. Would they all survive that? If he chose Draco would Harry be strong enough to share Draco the way Luna shares Rolf? Even worse, would he become jealous of Draco?

He went to Ron and Hermione’s house the following morning, apparating to chaos in their flat. Of course Rose was in the middle of a meltdown and Hugo was squawking. Hermione was crying to console the baby while trying to talk Rose down.

“Oh Harry!” Hermione gasped, hand pressed to her chest in surprise. “I didn’t expect you so soon. Ron has vanished to the joke shop, of course, and poor Rose is having a really hard time, aren’t you sweetheart.”

“Sensory?”

“Overstimulated,” she nodded.

Rose had been diagnosed the year prior with Autism, and though the potions helped, they weren’t the cure the world was looking for. Though Hermione has become quite the advocate for autistic people. Harry had to admit, she didn’t seem much different to him. And she was pretty great for a six year old.

He bent down in front of her and waved. He didn’t touch her. He waited patiently till she looked up at him before he spoke and didn’t get annoyed when her eyes didn’t quite meet his.

“Hey Rosie!” He smiled. “Wanna know something cool?”

Rose Granger-Weasley has a love for learning, even at six, she was just like her mother in more than just her dark skin. Harry would often pull her out of an episode with just sharing some new information with her. She nodded slowly, staring at her toes. Harry sat down beside her and began telling her all about the many invisible magical creatures that existed in the world, or, well, that Luna had said existed. He tried his best to believe her; she was really smart.

When Rose was settled, eating her favourite snack and reading her favourite book, Harry curled up on the couch beside Hermione with a hot cup of tea and a frown.

“What’s bothering you Harry?”

“Nothing much.” He sighed. “Have you and Ron ever, i don’t know, experimented outside your relationship?”

“You mean as a couple, or separately?”

“Either, or.”

Hermione set down her tea and raised a brow. “You really want to know about what kinky shit your best mates are up to?”

“Oh, for the love of Merlin,” Harry groaned. “I just mean--fuck it. I have--I am curious about someone, and Draco is too.”

“Threesome’s can be fun,” she said carefully. “But I have a feeling that casual sex, even with Draco, isn’t exactly your style.”

Harry nodded and sipped delicately at his tea. He took in the aromatic steam, savouring the calm that always settled over him when he had a cuppa with his best friend. It wasn’t a threesome that he was after. Draco understood that much, didn’t he? Hell, until last night, Harry hadn’t even realized what he wanted, what he or Draco could have—if Neville felt the same about one, or both of them.

It all boiled down to what Neville wanted. How Neville felt. None of it mattered, if Neville didn’t feel the same way about either of them.

“It’s not,” Harry said finally, pulling himself from his thoughts. He looked up into her curious gaze and smiled tentatively. “Mione, I’m falling in love with Neville.”

~*~

Part XVIII

“How are your parents?”

“Oh, splendid. Father’s just a riot with his barely concealed—meaning not concealed at all—desire for a good wholesome Pureblood female match for his sole heir. Then there’s mother who hides her disdain for my father and her drop in the circles which she socializes, by drinking copious amounts of wine, hiding in the sitting room or attending to the gardens,” Draco’s sneer is obvious, even through the fire call.

Harry grimaced. He��d never want to help Lucius Malfoy, of all people, but Narcissa he actually sort of liked. She had helped him, so Harry would likely always have a soft spot for her. It was the second time a mothers love had saved his life.

He thought of her as trapped in a marriage with a monster but Draco had always admonished Harry for those thoughts. Insisting that his mother loved Lucius dearly, and he was enraptured by her very existence. He’d tell Harry stories about catching Lucius holding Narcissa close, and dancing with her in the late hours of the evening when Draco was supposed to be asleep.

“Hopefully-”

“Don’t, Potter,” Draco smirked. “I only care because I’m forced to deal with it right now. Once I’m ho—back at Hogwarts, I don’t have to deal with it any more, therefore it will not be any of my concern.”

“You almost said—you called Hogwarts your home!”

“Yes, well, no one would ever believe you, wayward son.”

“Never should have let you listen to muggle music.”

“I find it brilliant, though some much better than others. I will never understand the allure for this Electric music.”

“Electronica, Draco.”

“That’s not even a word.”

“It is, it’s the name of that particular musical style.”

“You, and the entire muggle musical industry are a horde of illiterate buffoons.”

“Right, it’s us with the issue.”

“My thoughts exactly.”

“Git.”

“Prat.”

“I have to go, Ron’s trying to push me into a game of Quidditch with the Weasleys before I head back. Oh hey, I visited Luna, and she is dating this guy named Rolf. Whose also dating, Oliver Wood.”

“Sorry, what now?”

“Rolf, Luna’s boyfriend, also has another partner. I’ll tell you more about it when I see you tonight. Polyamorous, that’s what they called it.”

Draco got very quiet and just mumbled incoherently in response. Then he too was dragged away to return to his mother.

Harry didn’t know how, he didn’t know why, but he had to talk to Draco about the Neville problem. He knew in the end, somehow, he would still have Draco. He didn’t want to lose Draco, and no matter what he would hold on to him. That, though as strong as anything Harry had experienced before, didn’t negate his strong feelings for Neville and his desire to at least acknowledge that it was more than just a fleeting crush. That it, too, meant something to Harry, even if it didn’t go anywhere, Neville needed--no DESERVED--to know.

He just had to be strong enough to make such a ballsy move. Though he wanted to tell Neville, and tell him soon, he wouldn’t do anything without Draco knowing. He didn’t need Draco’s approval or permission, but Draco was his partner now. He wasn’t the sole person affected by the decisions he made, and he had to start acting like it.

#drarryville #drarry #lemon #draco malfoy #harry potter #neville longbottom #triad #harry x draco #draco x harry x neville

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noddytheornithopod · 6 years ago

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Looking back, 2018 was a pretty wild year for my media consumption:

Star Wars Rebels ended, and it ended great. Especially dug the stuff with the World Between Worlds, aka probably the wildest freaking things they've done in Star Wars like ever.

I began watching Star vs the Forces of Evil. I wasn't surprised to find it was far from perfect, with much of the first season being unbearable. But it slowly grew on me with time, to the point I was fully invested post-Toffee. That finale was fucking emotional, damn.

Steven Universe is as amazing as ever. So much awesome stuff. Pink Diamond being Rose Quartz (I STUCK BY THAT THEORY FOR AGES HA) and the Ruby and Sapphire wedding were the big stand-outs as to be expected.

Not everything is good of course. I read The Rosie Project and found it rather meh, especially since the portrayal of an Autistic protagonist was so trite. It's one reason I want to see more Autistic creators get to truly shine.

Solo A Star Wars Story was fine, but the twist with Maul as the villain was just ridiculous to me even as a huge Maul fan (I felt his story concluded great in Rebels). In terms of "most unbelievable media moment of 2018", seeing him come back on the big screen probably qualifies.

I got to meet @hbomberguy when he visited Melbourne, which was great. Main things I remember are him seeing the Neighbours tour, being kicked out of the Robot Bar for being too much and me not trying to go insane over the previously mentioned Solo twist.

It's not something actually released, but The Clone Wars got confirmed for an extra season and that alone was great news.

Oh, The Phineas and Ferb Effect. How I had such high hopes for you, only to crush them to not only give me a sub-par special, but something so carelessly handled it ended up fucking up the fabric of the entire universe of Phineas and Ferb and Milo Murphy's Law.

Oh yeah and MML Season 2 ended up proving it wasn't just a colossal one time fuck up, but an actual decline in quality for the show. I take great amusement in the irony, though: everything that can go wrong will go wrong, even the very show itself.

I've been continuing to help my friend @jaaychaan in writing her novels which has been lots of fun, but seeing me referenced in freaking interviews with her was quite surreal as well.

Star Wars Resistance came out, and while things are going as expected, the character of Neeku stuck out to me as very Autistic coded... and I've yet to feel like they've done him justice so far.

Voltron ended. Season 6 was great, but well Season 7 showed a few small cracks even if I liked it overall, cracks that would reveal themselves during Season 8. It still had good episodes, but the way it was wrapped up is so unsatisfying.

The Spyro Reignited Trilogy came out, and it was a blast. Hope a few technical issues get fixed, but overall I'm more than happy with what we got.

Crash Team Racing also got a remake announced, aka the one remake I actually wanted. :P

I started playing Undertale but I suck at it so I've been absurdly slow at completing it. I left Undyne for months only to realise what the solution to beating her was. :v

I rarely read comics but the Darth Vader series by Charles Soule was so amazing I continued following it right to the very end with the completion of Fortress Vader and the dark side Mortis-esque finale. So much great stuff, and now Momin is one of my favourite Sith of all time.

Last but not least, I will never forgive TTV for sparking a Danganronpa obsession. Great LP of course, but even if it's far from perfect the story and characters are so gripping. Also Kyoko Kirigiri is my daughter and she's amazing, she's like teenage girl Thrawn except like well good and also giving me major feels FUCK YOU JUNKO YOU MONSTER.

#personal

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bibliophilebookreviews · 4 years ago

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The Rosie Result

The Rosie Result by Graeme Simsion

This is the third book in the Don Tillman trilogy. Though this review will be mostly spoiler-free, it may contain spoilers for the second book, The Rosie Effect.

Here’s the spoiler-free premise: Ten years later, Rosie is offered a job she thought she would never get. The only problem is that it’s back in Australia. Their son, 11 year old Hudson, doesn’t want to go, of course. Change is hard for him, especially now that he’s in a school where his teacher and principal believe he is Autistic and are pressuring Don and Rosie to have Hudson professionally tested. Meanwhile, Rosie is experiencing issues at work with “Judas” and Stefan, and Don has his own problems, specifically the “Genetics Lecture Outrage” which prompted him to take some time off from work, subsequently allowing him to focus on “The Hudson Project.” Between Don’s work at his new bar, his attention to his ailing father, and making a new friend at Hudson’s school, he’s certainly got a lot on his plate. Luckily, Hudson has inherited some of Don’s problem-solving skills and is taking “The Hudson Project” head-on, coming into his own and surprising everyone along the way.

This was a great ending for this trilogy. What I liked the best was the resurgence of “regular” Don -- more of his unusual quirks, thought patterns, and (mini-spoiler) even the return of the Standardized Meal System...mostly. I thought it was interesting to see Don still struggling with appropriate social behavior while knowing more the social conventions than before. He’s a lot better at picking up on subtleties, though still not great, but he still approaches everything logically, rationally, and sometimes even scientifically.

Naturally, a major theme in this book is Autism -- and to some extent, differences and disabilities in general. It’s sort of comical to see Don deal with Hudson’s possible Autism and still not seeing his own. He does come to understand Hudson pretty well though by recalling his own experiences as a kid in an effort to relate to Hudson and show that he (Don) is the best person to help Hudson overcome his social problems.

—————— THIS PORTION CONTAINS A SPOILER —————

I didn’t like the university suggesting that Don get an official Autism diagnosis to account for the “Genetics Lecture Outrage.” I felt that the entire situation was, as usual, a result of Don’s lack of social competence. But also that’s just wrong. I also didn’t like Hudson diagnosing himself and Don just identifying as Autistic. I mean, I get the point being made, but I’m just the type of person who needs to know: are they Autistic or not?! Since you mentioned it...

—————————— SPOILERS OVER ——————————

Don and Rosie seem to have their marriage figured out and are functioning really well as a team, especially as parents. There are a few surprises in the book regarding Don’s friends and family (and I won’t spoil it for you) but overall, everyone’s appearances felt natural and necessary. It was a great way to wrap up and let readers know where everyone is and what they’re doing these days without feeling cheesy or forced.

I think probably the best thing about this book was that along the way you start to have your own thoughts and opinions and ideas but you can feel them begin to shift and change as the book continues. Things (and people) aren’t exactly as they seem to be in the beginning; people change, new information becomes available, and situations arise that force us to adapt.

Overall, I think this book was wonderfully written and if you start the series, you should definitely finish it. I saw a question posted as to whether a person could (or should) just read this book in isolation. Obviously, as it’s part of a trilogy you probably shouldn’t but I think you could, though it was be much ore enjoyable having at least read the first one.

World’s Best Trilogy ;)

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silver-spider-art · 7 years ago

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Okay... so I had horrible writer's block and couldn’t work on the other projects I had going so I decided to make this self-indulgent AU that no one asked for. All because I had a really good idea for Rhys and the other story is a Tim story. I’m going to actually try and finish the whole thing before posting it to AO3 for once, but I thought I’d put a teaser up? Maybe if someone is interested in being a sounding block for ideas hmu. I love talking this stuff out with fellow fans. ^^;;

It's going to be a modern AU (slightly future tech), domestic, assassins/spies, transgender coming out story, autistic characters (POV who doesn’t know he’s autistic yet), fake marriage, pinning, slow burn, awkward flirting, secrets and betrayals, faked deaths, misunderstanding... basically just all the shit I love combined with a stupidly personal exploration of my own identity issues. I’m by no means an expert but the aspects relating to autism and transmasculinity are based on my own experiences and research. I say this because they both will play major roles in later plot points. I have everything but the ending plotted out.

This will eventually include Rhack (fake marriage), Rhysothy (pinning), Rhysha (pinning), Okay Dad Jack, Trans!Tim, Trans!Rhys, Atlas!Rhys, Dark!Rhys, autistic teenage Angel, side characters or cameos from most the rest of Tales, BL1, BL2, and the PreSequel

Anyway... for your interest:

a teaser that is 4k words >_>

tw for death, blood, and dubious morals

featuring Rhys, Zer0, and Sasha

(the title comes from The Village by Wrabel)

unbetaed, edited while tired

Written In Blood

Ch 0.5 (there's something wrong with)

Rhys really did love his work on days like these. It certainly wasn't what his parents had wanted for him when they'd dreamed up the future plans for their rosy-cheeked child. Hell, it wasn't even what he'd wanted for himself when he'd gone off to college to get his double major in business and computer science. Back then, fresh-faced and full of hope and ambition, Rhys had dreamed of owning his own company. He’d practiced inspiring speeches into the mirror and designed business cards for his future company, dreaming of tech mobiles or ambitious startups in Silicon Valley. So full of boundless ambition and idealistic dreams. Even as the reality of it had set in, unpaid internships and a soul-crushing entry position in one of the big five, he’d still longed for more. That one day, if he worked hard enough, he’d be the one making decisions in the huge cushy corner office with a view over the entire city instead of filing meaningless paperwork… or getting his boss coffee… or fending off lewd sexual advances…

But life tended to take strange turns. Back in those days, this had been one of the companies he’d applied to. In another life, he could be on his way to one of the many cubicles right now. Funny, how life goes.

Leaning back against the elevator wall, Rhys inspected himself in the mirrored surface, smoothing back a few stray strands of auburn hair that had escaped the expensive product holding it all into styled perfection. Sharp and dangerous, if he said so himself. And he did. Rhys didn’t care what Yvette said, he looked cool. His charcoal suit fit like a glove, all long lines and tailored seams, making his already long legs even longer. Heeled boots pushed him just over six feet and frankly made his ass look great. Carefully he adjusted his skinny tie (which was also very in style, thank you very much Yvette), focusing on maneuvering his prosthetic arm through the sensors attached to his chest and shoulder. The best money could buy and it had been worth every penny. None of the other arms he'd ever owned could come close to matching its fine motor control and while some were put off by the obvious robotical nature of it, Rhys reveled in it. It was more than human. A symbol of how he was rising above the limitations of his own body. Function and beauty in one. Exactly the aesthetic he was striving for. Unlike his left eye which was entirely cosmetic. A vanity purchase his *supposed* best friends still mocked him for. The iris of the prosthetic eye was inhumanly blue made tiny sapphires set in a gold ring. It twinkled and sparkled under the harsh fluorescent light as Rhys smoothed down his suit jacket, eyeing the elevators numbered lights. As the doors opened, he was moving before they’d even stopped, sliding out into the group waiting to descend.

Keeping a sneer etched into his face, Rhys passed men and women in corporate approved orange, blues, and greys who peeked nervously up at him as he strode past their cubicles. A raised eyebrow and his clearly too important for this building wardrobe sent them hurriedly back to work, trying their best to avoid his further attention. No one wanted to make eye contact for fear he was the boss's boss or some other unknown overlord. Rhys really did feel he had the look of it, with the Maliwan tie clip and crisp orange waistcoat. He’d never minded Maliwan’s colors, he would have fit in well here… in another life. But never one of them, he overlooked the terrified office drones with a frown, eye scanning the room for his goal. He was made for more than that unappreciated drudgery in too loud and overcrowded spaces.

It had been quite the wakeup call during his first internship out of college, to discover just how grey the morality of the corporate world really was. He knew the giant megacorps didn’t value human life, not when there was money to be made, and Rhys had wanted that money. He really had. But it had been something else entirely to realize that competition amongst his fellow workers not only included manipulation, bribery, embezzlement, and social backstabbing… but literal backstabbing as well. Anything went… as long as you increased the quarterly profit margin and met your deadline (and didn’t get caught). Rhys’s moral might have been loose, but that was a step further than he could handle. When his internship had ended, he hadn’t sought employment.

How funny, the way things could change so quickly.

Weaving his way through the sea of cubicles, Rhys neared the corner office. He couldn’t afford to linger long. The security clearance badge pinned to his vest had easily passed a cursory inspection and his hacking program had gotten him added to the list of visitors for the day, but the longer he stayed the greater the chance he’d been seen through. Pausing at the water cooler he rolled up the sleeve of his jacket to fetch the lock picks stored in his arm's hidden compartment, barely able to contain the smug grin that fell over his features. He'd beeped, of course, when he'd passed through the metal detector so many floors below but wouldn't he, with that obvious metal arm. He'd laughed and flirted with the guard while they'd hand scanned him with the wand, with them apologizing but, "rules are rules, you know?" Rhys sympathized with them in easy comradery, showing off his technological wonder of an arm for their amazement before being waved on through. Really, it was all too easy sometimes. Maliwan should be ashamed of themselves.

Letting his eye wander the room to make sure his path was clear, all that remained between him and files worth a very cushy paycheck was one locked door. If everything had gone to plan, Mr. Vertis would be tied up downstairs with Sasha for another hour at least, leaving Rhys plenty of time to get through whatever paltry security protocols where in place. Sliding in close to the door and blocking the lock with his body, he kept his shoulders relaxed. Nothing to be alarmed about, nothing out of the ordinary. He hoped if he chanted it in his head loud enough, somehow all the eyes in the room would remain at their computers. He strained to listen for any approaching footsteps over the click-clack of typing all around him. As he worked his picks into the lock, he felt more than heard, his phone go off, vibrating against his leg. Cursing under his breath, Rhys focused on twisting the lock open with deft movements, all was still within Mr. Vertis’s darkened office so whatever issue Sasha ran into could wait until he wasn't in the open. God, he hoped they hadn't miscalculated the mark's tastes. He still recalled all too vividly the time he'd been flat out rejected by a previous mark for being a twink. As much as Rhys had been relieved to stop flirting with the asshole, the mistake had cost them over five grand as they’d scrambled to improvise.

~*~*~

As the lock finally clicked open, Rhys slid gratefully into the darkened office. His sigh of relief, however, was cut abruptly short by the knife suddenly pressed against his throat. Behind him, he heard the door seal once more, blocking out prying eyes… and escape.

"Uninvited guest, you just set off my trap card. Your death approaches.”

The cooling body slumped over the desk with the dark stain seeping ominously into the carpet should have been enough to quell Rhys’s fool mouth, but he *knew* that voice. Or at least the trademark speech pattern tinged with a robotic warble.

"Oh- ooh my god," Rhys whispered, his heart pounded loudly in his ears, "I... um..." he fought to keep still as his body went to war with itself. Fear dropping out his stomach even as he felt his face heat, "I just- I just want to say, I think you’re really cool."

That was probably the least professional thing he could do in this given situation... but Zer0 was a *legend*. The mysterious assassin, known only as a number, lived and breathed aesthetic. It was anyone’s guess if Zer0 actually was Japanese, but the assassin certainly borrowed heavily from the culture, wielding a chokutō inspired sword and speaking in haiku. According to rumor and fan site gossip (which Rhys in no way followed at all), Zer0 was skilled in complicated origami and could write kanji. Even Zer0's gender was hotly debated by fans. Everything about the person beside him, Rhys admired.

But truthfully, right now, he really wished the assassin hadn’t snuck up on his blind side. It was making getting a good read on the killer quite difficult. The blade shifted, making Rhys’s breath catch. As quick as his reflexes had gotten over the past years, there was no way he could pull out the hidden knife from his prosthetic and turn before Zer0 opened veins. It had barely touched him but the finely honed edge simple exuded sharpness and death. This is why Rhys avoided combat in general. Being one-eyed was a fatal disadvantage in situations like this. Actually, there wasn't ever a good time to lack depth perception. But there was a time and place for cursing his body and this really wasn't it. Not when it felt like the blade might nick his throat with every shallow breath.

“Praise won’t stay my blade, bathed in blood is just as good. Fool to be a fan.”

"Fan? Oh god, no" Rhys squeaked, cursing his vocal cords for their utter betrayal. He forced laugh that sounded too harsh. He wasn’t an obsessed fan… it was… professional interest, "I just admire your work is all, your craftsmanship. I mean, everyone in the business knows of Zero," his laugh pitched up, was that blood running down his chest or sweat? His hand trembled, the flesh betraying him in a way that the metal never did. His mouth joined the betrayal as he babbled, words flowing out without filter, "Not that I’m even close to being in your league.”

He must sound like a panicked idiot. Which... he was. He was going to embarrass himself *and* die. Rhys wasn't entirely sure which one was worse. And Zer0 hadn't said anything or moved. Was he just going to stand there? This was lasting too long. His shirt was already sticking to him with what Rhys truly hoped was just sweat... though that was bad enough. And the walls. The walls were too thin, Rhys could hear the oblivious idiots on the other side of the wall still typing away on their keyboards, the sound burrowing its way into his skull as he strained to get a read on the assassin.

“I mean-" Rhys blurted, "I’m just here for the computer. No mind to me if the guy is dead right? I mean… my client won’t really be happy… but it doesn’t bother me,” he quickly assured, unable to stop the stream of words from leaving his mouth, “Ha ha, I’ll just hope he pays me in full before reading the new, right? Have to roll with the punches in this business,” Rhys’s awkward laugh trailed off as he tried to catch a glimpse past his own nose of the assassin that held his life in judgment. His phone vibrated against his thigh like he didn’t already know that the plan had crashed and burned horribly.

The blade at his throat lowed an inch and Rhys sucked in a greedy lungful of air, turning his head enough to finally glimpse the near featureless black helmet that covered Zer0’s face. A red [ . . . ] glowed faintly within the dark mask, changing into [ ? ] as Rhys watched.

"Such a gilded thief, shadows could never hide you, you are not common."

“Thank you? But I’m not a thief,” what was he supposed to say to something like that. The robotic pitch made it that much harder for him to tell if the tone was sarcastic or accusatory or simply observational. Rhys moved to cross his arms over his chest, brows furrowed, but the shimmer of light flashing off the dark blade as it was flicked back up, aborted the motion leaving Rhys’s arms hanging uncomfortable outstretched and decidedly uncool looking.

Uncertain if it would actually help his case, he filled the potent silence regardless, “I’m an assassin. Like you? I mean, obviously not as awesome as you are. And I don’t just do assassinations… but…” his left hand gave a nervous twitch as he resisted the urge to tug at his hair. He finished lamely, “…yeah… I steal stuff… sometimes,” or most of the time.

The blade swished through the air and clicked back into its sheath leaving Rhys’s legs feeling like they were made of jello. Sagging, Rhys hurried to put distance between himself and the dangerous assassin before him.

"Has anyone told, it’s a fool who runs his mouth. Prattling on and on, benefit to me alone. I claim the victory here."

He really didn't need Zer0 to tell him that. Rhys was painfully aware of his flaws. If he wasn't already, he had Fi and Sash to point them out regularly as reminders. He scowled in what wasn't a pout no matter what anyone said. He still felt off kilter. If anything, being free from the blade only made it worse, the adrenaline leaving his limbs shaking with nothing to do. Rhys carded his fingers through his hair, the gelled locks breaking apart under his fingers, but the simple repetitive motion did more to calm him than anything else could.

"I shall have your name, if trust is broken after, I shall hunt you down."

Damn this was still going sideways but he couldn't think fast enough to work out any other options. Scowl deepening, he complied, “Rhys Oliver, of Atlas.”

The [ ! ] that appeared on the assassin’s mask filled Rhys with a modicum of smug satisfaction. Five years ago Atlas was all but a footnote in history. Yet now Rhys, with the help of his friends, had raised it like the proverbial phoenix. Slowly but surely, the name Atlas was becoming relevant again. Though… maybe admitting to being from what could be seen as a rival organization wasn’t the *best* move Rhys could have made in this moment. If Fiona was here she would have smooth-talked her way out of revealing so much, she was always better at improving than Rhys was. Or she’d have gotten shot at already. That was nearly equally likely some days.

“I have heard of this, its corpse thought rotten away. Yet you claim it yours?”

“Atlas was never dead,” Rhys huffed defending his tiny operation, “We’re small right now but growing,” did he just volunteer too much? Ugh, he wished he had Yvette on a radio line but they hadn’t been able to get the headset past the security checkpoint. He felt naked without his support line. Her calm reassurance and direction in his ear.

Zer0 tipped his head, only serving to remind Rhys how much taller the lanky assassin was comparatively. Idly he wondered what was under that suit… Rhys bit his lip, his mind trailing back the myriad of speculation he’d read on that subject. Sucking in a sharp breath, he snapped his eyes back up, feeling his face heat. This was so not the place. Real spies never bought their way out of death by offering sexual favors. Or at least Rhys was fairly certain that was the case. He wasn’t going to risk his neck offering. He crossed his arms tightly over his chest, a protective barrier to his own wild imagination. Which hurt more than it should… that could cause issues if they did fight. But at least his hand was nearer to his weapon now.

“Atlas is reborn, this I must see for myself. You’ll introduce me?”

“What? Oh, I mean, yeah, sure. Anytime,” Rhys stammered. This was so not good. He was acting like a blushing teenager. Maybe it was actually a good thing no one had eyes on him. Sasha would never let him live this down.

“An intriguing talk but time presses ever on, I shall leave you now.”

Zer0 turned toward the large window behind the desk, a sheer drop down 53 stories, and glanced back only briefly. [ <3 ] lit up on the helmet as Zer0 gave Rhys a cheery, “Goodbye.” The assassin’s suit seemed to shimmer, an active camo making the edges harder to distinguish in the dark. Taking a half step forward, Rhys could still track Zer0’s movement as the assassin pushed open the window and dove out. Gripping the edge and peering down was enough to seize Rhys’s stomach into knots. Too high. He squeezed his eyes shut and staggered back like the fucking armature that he apparently was. He was never going to be as cool as someone like Zer0. It was hopeless. Just a dork dressing up and pretending to be James Bond.

Running his left hand, Rhys sighed heavily. When that didn’t work, slapping his own cheek, Rhys berated himself, “Focus, you still have a job to do, dum dum.”

~*~*~

With a great deal of distaste, he nudged the cooling body aside. That was certainly unfortunate. Fi would have her work cut out for her, but with luck, the data might be even more valuable to the right buyer because of the inevitable shift in power dynamics. If they acted fast enough. They might even get more than originally offered.

Careful as he tried, Rhys couldn’t get to the computer terminal without stepping in the blood. The carpet squished wetly around the slick soles of his leather boots. He wasn’t dressed for bodily fluids today. It was going to stain. Or worse seep into his socks. He was not walking around with wet socks. It was bad enough his shirt was binding up and clinging to him with drying sweat making just standing unbearably uncomfortable. He took a deep breath through his mouth, trying to ignore the ripening scent, and plugged in his flash drive to activate rhys_winz.exe. While the hacking program did its thing, he browsed through the unsecured files for important keywords, copying anything that looked promising. He could sort through it all at leisure later when he wasn’t hovering over a smelly corpse. Preferably with a cup of coffee or some ice cream. No, definitely ice cream. Today deserved ice cream.

God, the smell really was unpleasant already. This is why he refused jobs that required handing bodies after the fact. Speaking of which, he took it all back. He hated this job. This wasn’t supposed to *be* a messy mission. Yet because no one in all the city had worse luck than he did, here he was, standing in blood and the download *still* wasn’t done. Rhys was sure even the corpse would agree that Rhys’s luck was worse. The dead guy didn’t have to deal with his own stink.

His endless list of complaints stalled as the popup informed him of the download’s success. Slotting the drive back into the watertight storage in his arm, Rhys was left with only one pressing problem… bloody footprints. His bloody footprints. He hated that there was really only one solution. Standing at the door, he held his bloody leather boots in hand. Real leather, mind you. He’d had to import them! Real leather was so rare nowadays. And even if they hadn’t been god awful expensive, he couldn’t just leave them at the crime scene either.

Rhys walked out of the office distinctly less cool than he’d entered. Face beet red, he prayed no one questioned the garbage bag clutched in his fist… or his brightly colored fish socks now on display. God, how many people were *in* this damn building? Every set of eyes crawled over his skin but he refused to meet their questioning gazes. It was probably all in his head anyway. Either that or security was going to be waiting with an armed escort when he got off at ground level. He jabbed the elevator button with prejudice, shoulders tense.

~*~*~

Fuck. His phone. He’d forgotten all about it after the Zer0 debacle. He pulled out the disposable burner, opening up the deluge of texts he’d gotten from an unsaved number.

>> greet & meet failed >> still no luck, be safe!! >> getting odd looks, have 2 bail >> where r u? >> Hey dork, u alive??? >> if u r making me worry for nothing I’m going 2 kick ur ass >> if ur dead im taking ur pc >> don’t be dead, I dont know ur password

Cradling his bagged boots to his chest, Rhys chewed his lower lip, chuckling under his breath. I’d been just over three years now since he’d first run into Fiona and Sasha but now he couldn’t picture his life without them in it. They could be brash and rude… but they really did care. In their own way. He liked to imagine it was what having a sibling was like. Yvette seemed to think so and Rhys took her word for it seeing as both he and Vaughn were only children. But Sasha, Rhys was especially fond of her. Fond was likely underselling the soft feeling that curled in his chest when he thought of her, but Sahsa had made it abundantly clear that she wasn't interested in anything serious. Which… which was fine. Good even. It meant that Rhys didn’t have to worry about any awkward explanations or reveals later down the road. Just friends was fine. They clicked and she was fun to work with even though she terrified him at times.

One handed, he typed out a quick reply. Left thumb moving with practiced ease.

<< not dead, call off the funeral << done & done but messy << so ready to bail

He watched the eclipses dance as the other side of the conversation typed. Sasha must have been waiting for his reply. With luck, she’d already fetched the car.

>> tnx 4 the heart attack dork!! >> outside

Never trusting their messages not to be intercepted, they always avoided anything incriminating or too descriptive. You could never be too safe, after all, but he had to laugh that their secret agent spy code was just vague text speak and knowing each other well enough to read between the lines. It really dispelled the glamorous spy mythos. Real life had far more bloody shoes and aching ribs than cocktails and fast cars.

~*~*~

As it turned out, clutching a trash bag and brooding in an elevator didn’t gain as many strange looks as he’d feared. A woman in a crisp suit gave a snorting laugh as she entered the elevator with him, though Rhys wasn’t sure if it was his face or his socks that drew her humor. And that had been the most notable reaction. Most simply turned a blind eye to him. The purposeful sort or ignoring that likely meant they were filing away future blackmail (what little good that would do them) but it served Rhys well enough. Apparently leaving a head office in an embarrassing state wasn’t all that surprising. All the more reason to be glad he’d missed out on such exciting corporate affairs.

It was a struggle to remember to walk as he exited the elevator, pulling away from the business men and women. Security was going to be a whole new issue. They *would* open the bag. Then they’d see the blood. Then there would be questions he couldn’t flirt his way past. With a heavy heart and cursing his completely shit luck, he turned toward the ground level food court. Selecting a very full trash can he stuffed his bagged boots deep into the mess of greasy burger wrappers and paper cups. Rhys said a brief farewell to his boots, parted from this world too soon. His closet would be all that much emptier without them. The world that much colder. He blinked back a tear.

~*~*~

“Nice socks,” the guard’s barely held back smirk was beyond punchable. They were the same two guards as when he’d entered the security checkpoint what felt like ages ago. The other leaning casually back on their shared desk.

Holding his arms up, Rhys breathed through his nose. He was almost out, “Thanks.”

The other one had the audacity to wink, “Maybe if you’re naughty next time we can have a cavity search.”

What even was that? Was that supposed to be a pickup line? His head frazzled from the careful plan falling apart, Rhys was too tired to piece out what the hell was going on. He scrambled for some semblance of a script and hoped the flirty executive role still worked sans boots, “Next time, cowboy.”

It seemed to work. At the very least they laughed and released him. He couldn’t be bothered to care more than that he was leaving. All that much closer to his own room and chocolate cookie dough ice cream. After he cleared the obstacle that was his concerned friends… he sagged, staring down at his toes as he exited onto the city street. His socks really were ruined at this point. There was going to be no salvaging them from the sidewalk dirt, not when he could feel the grit from the office building still clinging to them. The purple and red fish mocked him as he glowered.

“I gotta say, that’s quite the fashion statement you got going there, dork,” a punch to his fleshy arm signaled Sasha’s arrival.

Her words mocked, but he knew her well enough to understand that she really cared. It was unlike any of the friendships Rhys had previously, but it felt stronger for it. Besides, he often felt sarcasm was greatly underappreciated and Sasha always seemed to get when he was joking. Unlike Fi. She was just scary mean sometimes.

“Ha ha,” Rhys rolled his eye, “Come on, I’m starving.”

“Uh, huh. Don’t pout, it couldn’t have been *that* bad,” Sasha pointed out.

He was in one piece so she was right on the account. But he wasn’t going to admit that, “I’m not pouting.”

“So is that why you could land aircraft on your bottom lip then?” her laugh was utterly fake, though Rhys doubted anyone who didn’t know her would be able to tell. It’d taken him long enough to learn the difference.

She steered him easily through the crowd and into the twists of side streets to their getaway car. Casual as could be. Just two friends giving each other shit. Rhys followed without thought, it was so much easier to navigate when someone else led and he could follow her anywhere.

“I hate you,” he didn’t.

~*~*~

#rhys the company man #zer0 the assassin #tales from the borderlands #fanfiction #my writing #wip #sasha the kid sister #borderlands

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drreporting · 7 years ago

Text

To My Eldest...

(You’re probably gonna see some pics of people you know, but this is how I imagined Ryan would look.)

You didn’t cry much when you were born. I thought there was something wrong with you, that the drugs I’d so recklessly taken with your father were affecting your life. This wasn’t the first time I thought that, by the way. Come to think of it, I can’t recall a time where I’ve heard you cry more than just a few whimpers of protest. You were an easy kid; the easiest kid a parent could ask for, actually (imagine my horror when Rosie came along). The hardest thing I had to do for you was find food for you to eat that was gluten free. You smelled like babies and lavender and all the sweetest things in the world. Your hair was dark like your father’s, but you had blue eyes like mine, and your skin was porcelain. I loved you from the second I saw you and have ever since.

Your hair got brighter as you grew older. I took this photo the Christmas we spent in Minnesota. At the time, Owen and I were engaged and I was pregnant, but you wouldn’t have known about the pregnancy until later on. This was your favourite haircut because it was short like Owen’s and you wanted to be just like him. You also wouldn’t have known that you were skipping a year of pre-k and going straight to elementary school next year. This was the second time I thought that I’d somehow screwed up with my drug abuse and made you autistic or something like that. Not that there was anything wrong with you being autistic but if there was something different about you, I wanted to know so I could act accordingly. But you were just always naturally smart. I was never even that smart. Education was your hobby. And I loved seeing those bitchy mothers look on in jealousy as I picked you up from school. Thankfully, Rosie followed in your footsteps in this aspect. I don’t know what I would’ve done with a rebellious and uneducated child.

You finished high school when you were 14. Everyone in your class was either 16 or 17, so you definitely stood out with your baby face but you didn’t seem to care. All you could talk and think about was going to do pre-med at this college which had specially requested you. I can’t even remember the name of it now, but you were beyond excited. That is, until we actually got there. I remember it was me, you and Owen. We left the other three with Meredith and Derek in Seattle.

You’d been unusually quiet all day, but I thought it was because of the jet lag. After we helped you unpack and we were about to leave, Owen and I asked you for a picture, to keep with us while you were away. You threw on your new college hoodie and stood in front of Owen’s iPhone and we took the picture. This was the picture. You looked so sad and lost, like this wasn’t what you wanted at all. I remember looking at the picture on Owen’s phone, then looking at you. There were tears forming in your eyes. I hugged you before they could fall and it was the tightest you’d ever hugged me back. I could feel all you felt in that hug. I remember the two of us laughing at each other when we pulled away, because we were both crying. I held your face in between my two hands and told you, “I’ll be waiting for you. Go be extraordinary.”

I took this picture of you the summer you finished college. You were 18 and looked so much like Ryan, it took my breath away. I missed a lot of things while you were doing pre-med. The summer after your first year, your squeaky voice had disappeared and been replaced with this dark, gravelly voice that I didn’t recognise. I cried in Owen’s arms that night, complaining about how you were growing up over there and I wasn’t there to see it. The summer after your second year, you’d gotten at least five inches taller. I remember hugging you in the airport and crying, and having you criticise me for doing so because it made you look ‘uncool’. Gone were the days when we’d cry together in public and laugh about it. You stopped growing after your third year, you were barely taller than Owen, and after your fourth year, you started growing a beard and I took this photo. Owen joked that you were growing more of a stubble, because there was barely any facial hair on you.

I’m sorry to say, but this is my least favourite photo of you. You sent me this photo the summer after you finished med school. I think you were in Maui with some other friends and I hadn’t seen you since Christmas. That man bun nest you had growing on your head drove me up a wall. It was messy all the time, and you abused it when you combed it. At least you were finally growing an actual beard and not that stubble you tried combing once. For months, during your intern year, I complained to Owen almost every day about it and he kept telling that it was your life and you could do whatever you wanted. But I gave you that life, and it should not be squandered on silly, messy hairstyles like that. Thank god you shaved it all off in your second year, after that crazy patient grabbed you by your hair. I remembered fighting off a smile as we sat down in front your old bedroom mirror and talked about what had happened while I took satisfaction in shaving off the horrid hairstyle. I slept like a baby that night.

You were 27 when you became a board certified neurosurgeon, making you one of around 20 of the youngest neurosurgeons of all time. I remember Owen and I were at your ceremony, and instead of doing the usual ‘I’d like to thank my parents, my teachers…” blah blah blah, you said, “I am just a man who was lucky enough to be raised right.” I’d held my hands over my heart and our eyes met each other. You said, “For being my mother and my father, when I didn’t have one.” And you mouthed, “Thank you.” We both smiled at the same time and our dimples flashed at each other.

I took this photo on the day of your first surgery as an attending. You were in the scrub room and I was on the other side of the door. You were nervous because everyone was looking at you, wanting to see if you were as extraordinary as the two Shepherd surgeons that came before you. You had your hands on the sink and you were bent over, breathing deeply. Then you stood up and copied my superhero pose. I don’t recall ever telling you about it, but there you were, doing it. I came into the room and you looked at me with a hopeless expression.

“Tell me something,” you asked me, “Anything.”

“I will still love you, even if you kill this person,” I told you. You opened your eyes widely at me but we both ended up laughing.

“Thank you,” you said. Then I smiled at you and pulled out my phone. I took this picture of you right before you put on your scrub mask. And, although the patient had died, I had never been prouder to stand in the same OR as the child I gave birth to all those years ago. You have never disappointed me, Ry (except when you grew your hair out). Happy Birthday, from your #1 biggest fan.

#rymelia #rymeliafics #amelia shepherd #owen hunt #ryan shepherd #rosie shepherd hunt

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inevitably-johnlocked · 5 years ago

Note

So most of us hate S4, so can you recommend any fanfictions where they completely ignore its existence, or even re write it?

Certainly can, my Lovely! AND I have enough fics to start a new list, so here we go!

POST-S4 / S4 FIX ITS Pt. 4