#writing ellie this happy is still weird but i like it it suits her | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

callmelola111 · 10 months

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color me purple ♡ part two

✄ - - - - part 1 , part 2 , part 3 - - - - soundtrack - - - - ♡

synopsis: it’s summer and you’re back at camp stillwater. as a counselor you mean serious business and you’ll do whatever it takes for your cabin to come out on top. the only thing in the way of that; ellie williams and her crazy antics.

| 𓆣 | pairing & wc: ellie williams x reader. wc: 3.3k

| ❀ | cw (by part): 18+ themes (MDNI), modern au, fem reader, some fluff but mostly angsty, HEAVY sexual themes on the verge of smut, swearing, slight mention of marijuana, ellie is kinda a perv, ellie calls foot fetishes weird so if u have one i'm sorry lol not trying to kink shame its just for the plot !!

a/n: happy wednesday y'all!! i was literally kicking my feet while writing this hehe. i love being a delulu lesbian on paper. also i've never played poker before so if i worded something wrong i am so sorry lolz. sending hugs and kisses 2 you all ♡~ lola

Mrs. Campbell seemed taller this evening as she stood waiting to confront you with your fate. The moon shone brightly casting her long, mangled shadow across the dirt. As she spoke, your gaze remained locked to it, avoiding the disappointed look you knew was written all over her face.

“What do you two think you’re doing?!?” she yelled. You struggled to form any words with the large lump consuming your throat. Your stomach would’ve dropped too but you were pretty sure you had lost it during your barefoot dash through the woods. Ellie stood next to you just as silent until your devastated face clued her into your current state. She quickly tried to rationalize, speaking for the both of you.

“Mrs. Campbell, we're so, so sorry. Seriously, it was all my fault, please don’t blame Y/n!” You softened hearing Ellie so quickly take the fall. Feeling compelled to finally join this tense confrontation, you looked up from the ground. Your eye’s met with the wardens but they were filled with concern rather than fury as you had expected. Your injuries had alluded to a situation that she felt needed a bit more context.

“I’m just trying to figure out how you two ended up here bloody, wet, and 2 hours past curfew!” she said. With the guidance of Ellie you calmly explained the situation. Of course, it wasn’t the full truth. You took extra care to leave out the part about your little smoke sesh. And after what felt like hours of questioning and nagging, you and Ellie were given the benefit of the doubt, remaining counselors for the summer.

Mrs. Campbell gave her final say, “You girls better count your blessings. I’m feeling nice tonight. But, I can’t let your behavior go unpunished. Neither of you will be participating in tomorrow's first round of games. I'll take your campers under my wing while you two think about your behavior back at the cabins. Alone.” Tears welled in your eyes as you came to terms with the consequences of your actions. Ellie shifted her gaze to your heartbroken expression and the corners of her mouth turned down. Sure it was just one day of sitting out, but she knew how much the competition meant to you and felt like a total piece of shit for making you miss out. Even if it wasn’t completely her fault.

“That’s final. Now both of you please go wash up and stop making me worry!” Mrs. Campbell concluded.

You and Ellie made the 5 minute walk to the showers in silence, still shaken up from the recent events. Despite the water’s icy temperatures, it felt nice to wash off the evidence of your night living on the wild side. However, Ellie showered one space over with little emotional relief, too consumed by you. She just stood idle as the sharp drops of H2O hit her back. Questioning how you felt about her, if you were mad, and what you were thinking but wouldn’t say.

She couldn’t take it anymore and quickly switched off the water, drying off with a rough gray towel. You followed in suit, stepping out wrapped in your pink towel. The textured fabric wrapped tightly over your breasts hoisting the mounds up to peak over the linen. They sat pretty like a Victorian woman in a tight corset. Ellie, now in a fresh pair of clothes, kept her head forward but eyed you from her peripherals before finally speaking.

“I’m so sorry… I don’t even know what to say. I never wanted to get you in trouble.” She looked absolutely miserable, so convinced you hated her. You’d never seen this side of Ellie before. A side that was real and vulnerable. You had always pinned her as this impenetrable tough guy, never seeming bothered by anything. And now here you were, bothering her. What was so special about you, why did she care?

“Ellie, I’m not mad at you, just a little sad. This was my choice as much as it was yours.”

Ellie turned to you, voice breaking, “Wait… really?” Part of her felt like an idiot for bringing it up now, considering it was all in her head, but you didn’t think twice about giving her the reassurance she seeked.

“Yes, really.” Ellie gave a timid smile slanting to one side and breathed a sigh of relief knowing that her assumptions were just a product of overthinking.

“Now please, stop being so melodramatic and help me patch up all these stupid cuts.” You took a seat on the long bench placed in the tiled bathroom and Ellie followed like a humble servant. She got down on her knees like she owed it to you. Taking a wet cloth in her right hand and carefully cleaning your cuts one by one. Her touch was gentle, almost too much, but she didn't want to hurt you. You took pleasure in Ellie’s tender care and couldn’t help but wonder if she’s like this with all her friends. Even more, you questioned if it’s something you should be enjoying as much as you did. Ellie took her sweet time rinsing out the dirt from your wounds that you had acquired as an unwanted souvenir. Tending to your injuries gave her more time to study all of your nooks and crannies. Something she had only dreamed of. Ellie enjoyed every second until she reached your thighs, your gorgeous plush thighs. She observed as your pink towel bunched at the abdomen before splitting down the sides of your legs in a triangle-like formation. Mind hazy with desire, she couldn’t help but yearn for the other body parts under that towel that she wished to tend to. Ellie internally slapped herself for the heat that followed her nasty thoughts and her tour of your body was cut short. Following the clean, she took some Neosporin to smooth across the bigger gashes that covered your knees and elbow. You winced at the friction.

“It really got you good huh,” she teased, “maybe you can lie and say you got attacked by a bear or something.”

“No, not a bear,” your eyes rolling, “just Ellie Willaims and her antics.”

“Oh shut up, you had fun.” You didn’t say anything back, just gave a smile, because you knew Ellie was right. As much as you wanted to be upset about how everything went down and how you were so easily influenced by her, you just couldn’t. Maybe because you knew she had no ill intent, or maybe you were beginning to realize that breaking rules wasn’t so bad- perhaps, it was even a little fun.

You woke up early the next day with everyone else, despite your impromptu grounding. Although you yearned for sleep, the sun shone too bright and the girls chatter, too loud. You pulled the scratchy covers of your twin bed up, making it semi-nice for your next sleep. A sleep you looked forward to, as it signaled the end of this awful day. But, with the cabin overcome by girlish excitement it was hard to remain in such a sour mood. You ventured to the top of an empty but rickety bunk bed to observe the members of team red from above. It was like watching a village of little ants running around prepping for the day ahead. Some flew out the screen door to shower, a few braided each other's hair, and all of them finished dressed up in color coordinating outfits.

As 9:30 am approached, you wrapped up your finishing touches to the last few stragglers with silky hair ribbons and red face paint. By 9:40, the once bustling room was empty and the silence was loud. In an attempt to occupy your wandering mind you cracked open a Nancy Drew book, the 3rd in its series. The crisp pages slid between your fingers as the mystery consumed you, but it wasn't long before your peace was interrupted.

A peculiar knocking sound tore you from the novel opened in your hands. Setting it down on your green and pink bedding, you ventured to your dirty window to scope out the inexplicable noise. On the other side of the glass stood Ellie, like a kid, throwing rocks at your window. You stared out the gray panes that divided her in four, rolling your eyes at the audacity of it all. She continued her little performance pulling out a janky sign written in dried out blue marker. It read I'm bored… You pretend to be distraught at the news, playing into her little game. Ellie then flipped the sign over to show you the back where she had scribbled the words Do U wanna hangout? and then some idiotic smiley face to complete the message. Ellie’s own face mimicked the emoticon as she displayed all her teeth like a child on picture day. It was stupid and cheesy and it was kinda working.

The sign continued to waver in the wind as you consulted the imaginary angel and devil that lurked on your shoulders. You finally answered Ellie (whose arms were getting tired) through the window with a simple middle finger and yanked the curtains closed knowing you weren’t supposed to be leaving your living quarters that day. And although you maintained a tough exterior for the sake of the bit, you felt just a little bit giddy being invited over by Ellie. That same giddiness nagged at your morals until finally you sided with the devil. Besides, everyone will be gone and too busy to catch you guys slacking off.

You rushed to the sink to brush your teeth aggressively and then changed into a red cropped shirt with a wide neck and black biker shorts that sculpted your ass perfectly. You weren’t sure why, but you had this sudden need to impress her. Her opinion now carried a weight that was foreign to you. That weight then influenced a smear of the same cherry flavored lip gloss from the night before, remembering Ellie’s thoughts on it. You slipped the tube into your bra just in case and then skipped over like the girl next door.

Ellie opened up with a smirk. Her hair was messy and despite waking up hours ago her lounge wear remained on. You didn’t mind though. Something about her toned body in a black wifebeater tank and gray sweats made you excited.

“Well hello there.” She gestured for you to come inside. You sat in the middle of the room on an old, sage green rug. Anticipating Ellie’s next move, you pulled your scuffed up knees to your chest. She plopped down next to you and began to poke.

“I was starting to think you weren’t gonna show up.”

You scoffed, “I mean, I hate you Ellie, but not that much.” You straightened out your right knee and gave her a little kick in the shin.

“Shut up dude. I know you love me.” Ellie nudged your shoulder and you gave a simple chuckle in response, but inside you were questioning the past feelings of distaste you once harbored for her and the new ones that replaced them. You needed a distraction.

“Sooo.. how are you gonna entertain me??” Your question sent Ellie’s mind to all kinds of places, some dirty most dirty.

“Oh? So you wanna be entertained? How about a little game of poker?”

“Poker?” you said, becoming suspicious of Ellie's seemingly normal answer but the tone of her voice was a dead giveaway to the mischievous plans.

“Well… not just any poker. I play a little differently.” You urged her to continue.

“Like different how?”

“Ever heard of strip poker?” she questioned, scrunching her freckled nose in anticipation of your response. She wouldn’t think twice about indulging in this game with other friends but it was something about you and the unspoken homoerotic nature of your relationship that made the request much more daunting.

“Oh my god Ellie,” you gave a long sigh, “Do you really wanna see me naked that bad?” Usually her face would go bright red at a comment like this but today she was prepared for your little quips, having taken the leap to propose such a game in the first place.

“No. I wanna watch you lose.” she stated bluntly. And with her words, a jolt of that familiar cutthroat attitude surged through your body along with a little arousal that you ignored, pretending it was just adrenaline.

“Oh you’re on.” you spat. What had Ellie Williams done to you? Just days ago you would have opposed such a scenario like sneaking over to play strip poker but her dangerously seeming presence was exhilarating to you. She was a drug you just couldn’t quit. And before you could even think twice, that drug was pulling out her playing cards and popping a mixtape ← into her old cassette player.

You grew quiet and the music grew loud as you anxiously waited for Ellie to shuffle the deck. She had a classic one with the red patterned backings. The cards slotted into each other as Ellie thumbed the split stack from bottom to top. It made a satisfying noise that repeated a few more times before she dealt them out between the two of you.

The rules were simple, each chip signified an article of clothing, whoever had the worst hand lost a chip and a little bit of dignity along with it. A stack of 4 old poker chips sat in front of you balancing on the ridges of the rug. 1 for your shirt, 1 for your shorts, and 2 for each sock. Ellie had the same. You could practically feel the sweat gathering on your brow as the game began. The first round was close, Ellie with a straight and you with 3 of a kind.

She quickly snatched up one of your chips before saying, “You lose!!”

“This is just the first round, don’t get used to it.” you replied, peeling off your left sock. Quickly you placed your other foot on top of the now bare one, hiding it from Ellie like it was something to be embarrassed of. She took note of your behavior and clarified her intentions.

“You know, I don’t have a weirdo foot fetish if that's what you’re thinking.”

“Oh my god. Shut. Up. I don’t think that, I just don’t want you looking at my feet.” You turned your face away from her, putting your hand up theatrically. Your embarrassment amused Ellie.

“Just wait till you have to take your top off.”

“That won’t be necessary.” You tried seeming confident in your reply but your face felt hot and your hands were clammy. You didn’t want to imagine being so exposed in front of Ellie. What if she doesn’t like it? Why did it matter if she did?

“Right, we’ll see how that goes…” Ellie’s voice trailed off, letting go of your stubborn ramblings. The game continued as so; round 2: you won, round 3: you won again, round 4: Ellie won. At this point there were no more socks to take off. Your stomach twisted and turned thinking of the next possibilities. Part of you wanted to give up and take off but the other part of you wanted to stay around and see what Ellie looked like without a shirt. This confused you.

During round 5 you could hardly focus, but luck was on your side when all Ellie could present was a pair against your straight, leaving you a winner. Without a second thought she crossed her arms grabbing at the hem of her tank. Her biceps flexed with motion as she pulled it over her head revealing a black sports bra. You stared unintentionally, mouth agape.

“Like what ya see?” Ellie remarked. Your cheeks flushed red and your head shot down into your lap like a reflex.

“Relax, we’re just friends having fun. You can look.” she continued. Right… friends. You took a deep breath in trying to calm yourself. There was still more of the game to play and a craving for victory that lingered.

The next round was brutal leaving you with a measly high card, the worst hand you could get. Before Ellie even revealed her hand, your mind was at war deciding if you should remove your pants or shirt first. This felt like so much more than a simple game of cards with a friend. I mean here you were in front of half-naked Ellie, questioning if she was more of an ass girl or if she liked tits better. After your losing cards were revealed you took a pause, twirling a stray thread around your finger that you had pulled off the rug. Just as you were settling on pants Ellie interrupted.

“If- If you dont wanna, you don’t have to. I don’t wanna make you uncomfortable.” Ellie was starting to feel guilty for roping you into her games. For her, this wasn’t about winning, it was about pleasure and that's what made her feel so bad. You were here to play poker and Ellie was just waiting to see what panties you wore that day. Such a perv.

“NO,” your voice raised, halting Ellie’s skewed thoughts like your life depended on it. “I want to.” You stood up slowly trying to steady your shaky hands. Gently, your long fingers rimmed around the waistband of the shorts. Ellie sat criss-cross looking up at you like a god. The black spandex peeled off your wide hips and down your thighs at an agonizingly slow pace for Ellie. Finally reaching your knees they fell the rest of the way down, pooling at your ankles. The cool air tickled your pantie-clad privates, sending you back down to the warm spot you left on the floor.

Ellie couldn’t even speak. It was like a wet dream seeing you dressed in nothing but a crop top and some lacey, pink underwear. The heat between her legs was almost unbearable and she could feel as her slick seeped straight through the plaid boxers hidden under her sweats. Too busy with her downstairs, she failed to give you any sort of sign that would hint to the pleasure your body was giving her. You felt stupid for even wanting that from her and flipped to lay on your stomach trying to hide your nakedness. Without Ellie’s approval or encouragement you felt ashamed.

Wanting this moment of awkwardness to pass, you reached for more cards to continue to the next round. Ellie grabbed the deck before you could even reach it.

“Actually uh- we should just stop.” she said, not even able to make eye contact from how overwhelmed she was with lust. Of course, you didn’t know this and a downward spiral of thoughts began. Have you done something? Said something? What happened?

You stuttered out a “Wha- why?” Ellie continued staring down at her crotch. Her stupid crotch- that was the reason why. She knew that if she lost the next round, her sweatpants that shielded her from embarrassment would have to be removed. The large and growing wet spot of your doing was something Ellie refused to let you see. She assumed that if you were to ever discover the amount of arousal a friendly game of poker caused, you’d be disgusted and never speak to her again.

“I just- I think you need to leave.” You blinked hard and fast, trying to swallow back any tears being provoked by Ellie’s response.

“So… I’m that ugly, huh?” you said, voice now shaking. You felt humiliated.

“No, no!! It’s not th-”

“Save it Ellie,” you yelled, tears beginning to run down your cheeks. “This is the last time I let you make me out to be some loser idiot who falls for all your tricks! I am not ending up like all those stupid girls who you’ve fucked over!” You kicked open the swinging door taking one look back at Ellie. Her face was dumbfounded, confused, hurt. What were you saying? What was all that supposed to mean? She thought of chasing after you but knew it would be no use. You were too stubborn and upset to be talked to by Ellie, and it was quite clear that neither of you had realized what this game had meant to the other.

✄ - - - - part 1 , part 2 , part 3 - - - - masterlist - - - - ♡

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clementine-writes-things · 7 months

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Hostage With Benefits

Summary: Y/n is taken captive by Hans Gruber and is easily seduced by his charm.

Contents: Smut with barely any plot, degradation, gun kink, spitting, choking, BDSM, bondage, power kink, humiliation, strong language.

Word count: 3.7k

A/N: sorry if it's formated weird or too short or something like that, I spent a long time writing it and it's 1 am right now, I'm so tired. I hope you guys enjoy it though!

Christmas music played throughout the 30th floor, the party was alive and the people were cheerful. Everyone was wearing their finest attire, men in their tuxedos and suits, women in their dresses and skirts. Today was Christmas Eve, and naturally, Mr. Takagi thought it would be a good idea to have a party at work. It served a double purpose, the party, as the company had just made a big sale.

It was typical of this company, to have parties for the workers, booze and drugs in almost everybody's system. However, your position in the company determined if you got to join in on the party as well. This is how y/n got stuck working during the celebration. She was an intern. Not that she cared about the party, she actually found it to be rather boring.

"Y/n, be a doll and get some more booze, would ya? You know where it is." Ellis said, his voice slurred.

Y/n grimaced, Ellis was a creep. He constantly did drugs at work, flirted with any woman who breathed, and worked his way into the company with his daddy's money.

"Yeah, sure." She said.

The girl stood up from behind her desk, where she had been sorting out files, stapling them, and then putting them in alphabetical order in the filing cabinets. Ellis had disappeared as soon as he had arrived, which was a relief for y/n, as his presence made her physically ill. Straightening out her skirt and tugging on the bottom of her button up shirt, she grabbed the walkman off her desk and hooked it onto her hip. Placing the headphones on her ears, she clicked the play button and smiled as 'Rebel Yell' started to play.

Y/n was fairly young, only 24, the youngest person in the building. Even though she didn't get treated like an actual member of the company, people still found her presence to be comforting. A young, optimistic and innocent aura was a huge contrast to the dark and dreary feeling of working in an office. She took pride in how friendly and approachable she was.

'Let's see…the drinks should be on the 15th floor, near the cafeteria.' She thought to herself.

Having to go through the crowd of people, y/n paused her Walkman and lowered the headphones. Although she didn't feel like participating in the party, it would be rude if she didn't say hi to a few people. Passing by a couple workers, glances were cast at her, obviously critiquing her outfit. She knew she wasn't going to be a part of the party, so why would she dress up? She still looked nice in her opinion. She wore a white, slightly cropped white shirt with short sleeves. It was a little too tight for her, but she didn't really think much of it. The skirt she had on was a soft teddy bear brown with two black buttons, some frilly white lace underneath the skirt, showing only slightly. White socks with small ruffles were on her feet as well as shiny black flats.

"Y/n, nice to see you! How's your night going?" Ms. Gennero asked.

"It's fine, Ms. Gennero. Thanks for asking. Sorry, I need to get some more drinks for the party." She excused herself.

Reaching the elevator, she felt relieved. The crowd of people around her was nearly enough to suffocate her. She pressed the button to the 15th floor, placing her Walkman back on her ears and continuing to listen to music. When the doors opened, she stepped inside, popping a piece of gum she had into her mouth as she waited to arrive at her destination.

Around 15 minutes later, a group of men had taken over the 30th floor. Guns in hand, ready to shoot and kill on command. The party that had once been so alive and happy, was now dismal. A man stepped forward, a small book in his hand.

"Ladies and gentlemen! Ladies and gentlemen!" He declared with a strong accent.

The room grew quiet, everyone afraid to make a sound.

"Due to the Nakatomi corporation's legacy of greed around the globe, it is about to be taught a lesson on real power. You will be witnesses." The man cleared his throat, looking down at his book.

"Now… Mr. Takagi? Where are you? Where is the man who used to be in charge around here?" An arrogant smile spread across the man's face.

He strolled through the crowd of people, glancing around at their faces occasionally as he looked through his book of notes. Everyone he saw had fear glazed over their eyes, hands shaking, knees trembling, brow sweating. As he came near the end of the crowd, he glanced down at another man.

"Enough!" A voice said from behind him.

The foreign man turned around, his movements fluid and calm.

"Ah, Mr. Takagi. How nice to meet you. I am Hans Gruber. Let's have a little chat.."

~skipping the interrogation scene cuz I don't want to write about takagi getting shot lol~

"See if you can dispose of this.." Hans gestured to Mr. Takagi's dead body.

"Karl, you go back up and watch the hostages. Theo, get to work on the vault. I shall like to look around the building in search of any stragglers."

Once assured that everyone had understood their tasks, Hans left the room.

Y/n had made it to the 15th floor quite some time ago, but she had decided to make herself a snack in the cafeteria. Her shoes were held in her left hand while a slice of the PB&J sandwich she had made was in her right hand. She had taken her shoes off because they were far too tight, no one would care if she didn't wear her shoes. Groaning, she opened the fridge, remembering that she was supposed to bring back more alcohol. She put her sandwich in her mouth, holding it in between her lips as she grabbed a bottle of vodka with her free hand.

'I hate this job.' She thought to herself as she walked out of the cafeteria.

As the doors swung open, she nearly fell over. It was difficult to open doors when your hands were full. Her Walkman still was over her ears and she started to dance a little when Dreams by Fleetwood Mac started to play. Her skirt flowed as she twirled around, the smoothness of her socks allowing her to slide across the floor. Turning around the corner of the hallway she noticed a man at the elevator. She waved at him - or - tried to as she had her hands full. The man looked surprised, but his facial expression softened as she approached him. He noticed she had her shoes in one hand, a bottle of vodka in the other, and a sandwich in her mouth. Y/n placed the bottle on the floor and grabbed her sandwich with her now free hand.

"Hi! I'm y/n! Sorry, I just got back from the cafeteria. Getting some more drinks for the party!" She stated, her voice a happy tune.

"Hans. Hans Gruber."

Hans put two and two together and concluded that y/n was referring to the Nakatomi Christmas party. This was perfect for him.

"I'm supposed to be at that Christmas party right now. Would you mind showing me the way?" He questioned.

Nodding, the girl bent down to pick up the bottle but was stopped by the man. He grabbed it.

"Allow me."

Smiling, the girl took a bite out of her sandwich and entered the elevator with Hans. Bending down, she pressed button 30 and started to balance back and forth on her heels. Hans was taken aback by her behavior, but found it slightly entertaining.

"I'm an intern! I don't really like my job, but I can't do much about it." She bluntly explained.

Hans just nodded in response.

The elevator doors opened and y/n walked out. As she looked over the room, everyone's heads turned to her. Confusion and fear spread across her face as she saw men with guns aiming at her. Turning around, she attempted to run but Hans had dropped the bottle of vodka, letting it shatter on the ground, and quickly grabbed her by the back of her neck.

"Not so fast, liebling…" He murmured against her ear.

"Y/n! Leave her alone!" Ms. Gennero shouted, accompanied by a few other protests.

Smirking, Hans looked at his men. He chuckled in y/n's ear as he pulled her closer to him.

"Well, if she's so important, perhaps I should keep her. Make sure you all behave, unless you want your poor intern to perish." He mocked, a fake frown on his face.

Everyone began to scream and wail, y/n accompanying them. Ignoring the cries, Hans dragged y/n to the office he had claimed. Shoving her down on the ground, he closed all of the blinds. Straightening his tie, he approached her slowly.

"Let me go!" She exclaimed.

Hans merely laughed at her pathetic excuse for a plea.

"Mmm, I'm afraid not. Taking a whole company hostage and leading a heist is a very stressful thing. I think some company would do me good, and you're quite entertaining." He mused.

Y/n, though not restrained, felt like she couldn't move. She was worried that if she moved even an inch, she would be killed instantly. Hans looked her over, raising an eyebrow once he realized how she was dressed.

"Rather slutty for a Christmas party, don't you think?" He teased.

She furrowed her eyebrows.

"At least I don't show up in a suit and tie to hold people hostage. What, you think you're a part of the mafia? Hoping to be in The Godfather Part III?"

Hans whipped his head around, lowering himself to her level and grabbing a fistful of her hair.

"I think you shall find it wise to mind..your..tongue. Just because I find you entertaining does not mean I won't hesitate to shoot you between the eyes. So I suggest you watch your attitude, young lady."

His words were like honey. Venomous honey that coated her body. The pressure of her hair being pulled and the intimidation that filled her while he was glaring at her sent shivers through her spine. Hans noticed this and scoffed. He tugged at her scalp once more, harshly. A soft anguished moan left her throat. Hans stood up.

"Your outfit matches your mind. Perverted and whorish."

Leaning back against the desk, hands gripping both sides, he tilted his head at her.

Raising his hand, he used his finger to gesture for her to come to him. Reluctantly and cautiously, she obeyed. Standing directly in front of him, she felt her knees get weak. He brought his hand to her face, using his thumb to wipe off jelly from the corner of her lip. Sticking his thumb in his mouth, he sucked the jelly off. Her heart raced, baffled at how attractive she found the man in front of her to be. Smirking, he grabbed a chair and put it next to the chair behind the desk. He took his seat in the office chair.

Y/n backed up slowly. Hans rolled his eyes.

"Sit down!" He roughly demanded.

Y/n scurried over next to him, frightened by his tone of voice. Sitting in the chair, she started to button up more of her shirt, realizing she was showing way too much. Hans brought up a hand to stop hers.

"Obviously you were more than comfortable to dress so promiscuous today, so I don't expect you to change anything now."

Hans slowly removed his hand from over hers, making sure to run his thumb over her nipple as he did so. Y/n's thighs clenched together and she bit her lip. Smirking, the man removed his hand completely and grabbed his radio.

"Theo, process on the vault."

"Halfway there."

"Good. Stay on schedule. If anyone needs me, radio in. I do not want to be bothered."

With that, he put the radio away. Slowly, he turned towards y/n, his hand gripping his pistol on the desk.

"Tell me, dear y/n, are you afraid?"

She nodded.

"I see. Do you wish you weren't here? That I wasn't here?"

She nodded again.

He raised an eyebrow, glancing down at her thighs. On the seat, he could see a shimmering wetness. Chuckling, he used the tip of his pistol to lift up her skirt, revealing her soaked panties.

"Mmm, I think you're lying to yourself my dear."

A blush spread across her face as she attempted to stand up, ready to march out the door. But a strong hand on her shoulder forced her back down.

"Sit. Down. Do not make me tell you again." His voice was stern.

As she sat back down, Hans pulled her chair closer to his. A smirk was plastered across his face and a mischievous glint lingered in his eyes. Gently, he placed his large hand on her thigh, rubbing the inner part with his thumb.

"I find you fun, liebling. You're very entertaining to watch."

Y/n squirmed in her seat, gripping the sides of it firmly. The feeling of his hand on her thigh drove her crazy in a way that made her feel dirty. Hans noticed this.

"Do you know what Stockholm Syndrome is?" He questioned.

She nodded.

"I-Its when a hostage or a victim of kidnapping grows dependent on their kidnapper. Or form a bond."

He nodded.

"Do you feel a bond with me, my dear? Are you dependent on me?"

Y/n grimaced, shaking her head. Though, secretly, she was thinking about him in ways that she shouldn't speak out loud. Hans smirked, moving his hand up her thigh, thumb tracing her panty line. Her breath hitched and she let out a small yelp.

"Say yes. Say yes and I'll make you feel the best you'll ever feel in your life." He said lowly, sincerity lined his tone.

Somehow, y/n believed him. This man looked like he could fuck you for a day straight and not get tired or even break a sweat. He looked like a Greek god chiseled in marble, like a work of art. She thought about this for a moment, maybe, letting him have sex with her would guarantee that she would live. It was worth a shot. And, as a plus, she'd be getting amazing sex.

She nodded slowly. Hans rolled his eyes and gripped her chin harshly.

"Words. Use them while you still have the ability to make coherent sentences." He hinted at what was to come.

"Yes." It came out like a gasp.

Without another word, Hans grabbed the girl by the bottom of her thighs, lifting her up and placing her on his lap. His raging hard-on was noticeable in this position, as y/n felt it poking underneath her skirt. Hans chuckled at her reaction, a gasp leaving her mouth.

"Tell me, young lady, have you ever been fucked before?"

"Yes. Only once, but it wasn't that good.." She answered.

Hans smirked, trailing his thumb up her thigh and planting his thumb over her clothes clit. Y/n moaned softly, gripping the sides of chair.

"So, you're an innocent young lady who just chooses to dress like a whore? Why is that? Do you crave attention? Or, maybe you just enjoy it."

His words caused her core to gush. She had never been talked to like this before, and she found it oddly hot. The way his rough hands against her skin felt, along with his rough words. It was a sinful combination.

"Answer me." He growled, bringing his hand up to her throat.

She coughed, clawing at his hand.

"Y-Yes, I want the attention!" She sputtered.

Releasing his grip from her throat, he gave her face a light slap.

"Don't worry, you'll get lots of it. Let's just hope you can handle it."

In one swift movement, Hans stood up and placed y/n on the desk, pushing her skirt up slightly. He let out a low moan as he saw how soaked her panties were. With his left hand, he pushed her down so her back was on the desk and her legs were hanging off. Yanking her panties to the side, he licked his lips at the sight of her bare center. He roughly pressed his thumb against her clit. A shrill whimper left her throat and Hans took pleasure in the noise.

"Who knew you Americans were so kinky? Finding the idea of being fucked by your kidnapper hot. Or, is that just your own twisted fantasy?" He mocked.

As she was about to speak, he shoved two fingers inside her. He curled them as soon as he got knuckles deep. Her back arched and he used his left hand to slam her back down, groping her left breast.

"I'm getting you nice and ready for me. If I didn't prepare you, then you would suffer greatly. And that wouldn't be fun for either of us-"

He leaned down to her ear, nibbling on her neck.

"-because I love hearing you moan in pleasure."

Y/n, as if commanded, let out a pathetic moan. The feeling of his fingers inside of her flooding her mind with lust. She was lost in the sea, and only he could bring her back.

"Fuck, yeah, just like that…"

Hastily, he started to undo his belt, holding it in his hands when he finished. He let his pants fall to the floor and grabbed her hips. Flipping her over, he forced her to lay on her stomach across the desk. Y/n's ass was on full display to him underneath her skirt. Out of nowhere, a sharp sting landed on her ass and she let out a groan in pain.

"Oh, the dirty whore likes that too?"

He landed another firm whack against her cheeks, which were surely red by now. Leaning down, he planted kisses on the bare skin, biting down on it too.

"Fuck! H-Hans!" She moaned.

The feeling of leather wrapped around her throat, and she suddenly felt herself being pulled back, her back arched. Hans had wrapped the belt around her neck, almost like a leash. It was humiliating to say the least, but that made it all the more hot.

"You shall call me Mr. Gruber, is that clear? Do you call all of your superiors by their first name?" He asked.

She scoffed.

"You're not my superior."

Once again, she was flipped over. Now, she lay on her back, Hans hovering directly over her. His tie hung loose and his eyes were narrowed. Leaning down, he planted a soft kiss against her lips. His tongue slid in her mouth, claiming it as his own. As they pulled apart, a string of saliva connected between them.

"In this room, I am."

Quickly, he clamped his hand down on her mouth as he roughly pushed himself inside her. Y/n's eyes widened and she clawed at his back. The feeling of being stretched out was so sudden and raw that she couldn't handle it. Angrily, Hans roughly pulled out and pushed all the way back in.

"This suit is worth more than your education, I suggest you unhand it you filthy whore." He spat.

Afraid to disobey, she did as she was told. Instead, she wrapped her hands around his neck. Smirking, Hans unbuttoned her shirt slowly while keeping himself still inside of her, taunting her. He was surprised to see she had no bra on. He bent down and licked a stripe from her navel all the way to her collarbone. Nipping at it gently, he whispered in her ear.

"Now, let's see how much you can take."

Without another word, he began to fuck up into her at an animalistic speed. Moans tried to leave her throat, but she choked on her own words. Ecstasy and lust clouded her senses, and all she could think about was him. Him and his dick. Her walls clenched around him as he spit on her chest, as if he was telling her that she was disgusting for this. And, in a way, she was. But she didn't care. For this was the best sex she had ever had. Hans brought his hand down, prying her jaw open and shoved two fingers in her mouth. She began to suck on them, swirling her tongue around them. Hans moaned at the sight, his movements becoming more harsh.

"So pathetic, letting me fuck you. I could kill you right now." He grinned, bringing his gun up and pushing it against her head.

Y/n's heart raced, fear and adrenaline coursing through her veins. She felt herself getting closer to her release, and she whimpered around his fingers, signaling this. Placing his gun down, he grabbed both of her hips and raised them slightly, giving him a better angle. Her hands dangled off the desk and flailed around aimlessly as he continued her merciless onslaught on her cunt. His head flew back as he felt himself get close. Quickly he pulled out and grabbed her hair, yanking her towards him. Without warning, he turned her around, so her head was hanging off the desk and shoved his dick deep down her throat. As he did this, he leaned over and continued to fuck her with his fingers. Not even a few seconds later, y/n felt her orgasm wash over her and she arched her back as her arousal coated Hans hand and arm. Seeing this sight pushed him to his limit, and his cum filled up y/n's mouth. Pulling out, he sat back in the chair, watching as y/n breathed heavily. Her mouth full of his cum, trickling down her face and onto the carpet, her tits perked up from the cold chill in the building, and her legs dripping with her own arousal.

"Merry Christmas to me…" He chuckled to himself.

"I've had better… Mr. Gruber.." she smirked, jokingly.

"Oh? Then let's go for round two."

#writers #fanfic writer #hans gruber #die hard #alan rickman #smut

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plegdoctor · 10 months

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WIP WFriday

MY LAPTOP IS FIXED!! It spontaneously died a few days ago but now she is back and we can do the WIP motivation game. It was technically a three way tie until @artificialortega said she hadn't voted and casted a last minute vote for Letters of Lost Love, so that is what I've done. Pls enjoy this short extract. No it will not be coming soon, I am not that consistent I fear.

By the time Ellie has managed to drag the ring light up the ladder she has a script of sorts formulating in her head, a desired order of the letters to tell the story. The account is made quickly, fingers flying across the screen as she types in the first username she thinks of: LettersOfLostLove. She battles with the tri-pod to set her phone up, blinds herself with Aurora’s ring light, and it’s only by that point that she realises she doesn’t know what letter to start with.

Where do you start when telling someone’s story? A story that is incomplete. A story that consists only of inky scripture of a teenage romance, a silent rebellion in the form of their love.

Ellie picks a letter at random, hits record and starts reading.

My dearest Veronica,

First of all, all of the girls want to know how you’re doing!! They might’ve made fun of us but there’s soemthing romantic in your departure, something mysterious about the fact that you’re no longer here. Some of them are saying that your family moved because you’re poor I’ve told them that you’re well and that you’ll be coming to visit over Christmas (still so far away!) but of course I’ve kept you very close to my chest. They don’t need to know everything. And some of them are definietly doing it for gossip.

Talking of gossip (I am no better than them, truly) you will never believe what’s happened! Phillipa has dropped out of school to become a secretary for her father’s company. It’s a shame really, I always thought she might go to university, but she’s gone just like that. And Josephine (who now goes by Joe) has gone full Beatnik!! It’s a sight to behold but she really suits it. There’s rumours that a girl in the form below is pregnant (!!!!!) and I can say with certainty that your friend Ella from the lower form is dropping out soon to get married.

My sister shall be announcing her engagement soon I think, and whilst I did hope that she wouldn’t be married so young, I do like her boyfriend. Isn’t it weird to think I’ll soon have a brother? Although you’ve grown up with Tony so it can’t be that weird – I laughed so hard at your story of him in the supermarket!! I’m glad he’s doing well. And Heather too.

I miss you a lot. It had gotten better because of Phillipa becoming my friend but now she’s gone….

I’m happy to hear that you’re doing well. Your new friends sound wonderful, I very much hope to meet them someday. Maybe next summer? Mum has been meaning to write to your mum to ask if your family want to join us in Cornwall next summer, perhaps their families could come too? It would be good to kiss you hold you like I’ve dreamed about tell you I lov see your face properly and not just through pictures.

From your Tia xx

#wip motivation game #letters of lost love

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hypnotisedfireflies · 1 year

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Prompt: Ellie comes out to Tess and Joel. This could be either from Tess or Ellie's perspective and basically be the fallout from her “Boys, girls, whoever looked good” comment at the Jackson spring festival.

That may or may not have been the first time Ellie has ever heard an adult admit to kissing someone of the same sex/gender before, but either way it had to be the first time she heard someone say it so nonchalantly and she is, as the kids say, shook. I imagine she would be happy and relieved to have someone she could talk to about this (in that weird awkward way that teenagers feel when dealing with adults they look up to and are part of their new family unit). All these details are up to you, of course, but it could be a conversation she has with Tess alone (perhaps during Drifter's Dusk), before telling Joel (with Tess there) at a later date.

I LOVE this prompt but I am not so confident writing Ellie that I feel I could do this scene proper justice in a full story. So I hope you don’t mind that I address this here instead.

“What, you like, kissed boys and stuff?”

“Boys, girls, whoever looked good.”

“What?”

“Say that again?”

I am SO thrilled that that was your take on the scene in Chapter 5 of Dusk because that was exactly my intention. Ellie’s still young and figuring herself out and yeah – she has definitely never heard an adult speak candidly about this kind of thing before, especially not an adult whom she actually esteems. I put that in there to give myself an opening for a potential conversation about sexuality between Tess and Ellie. But it didn’t eventuate. Dusk is Tess and Joel’s story, ultimately. And while there’s a fair whack in there about the budding familial relationships, I felt like I would be cheapening something very important to both Ellie and the canon overall to just wedge it in.

But it is in there.

Ellie has a conversation with Tess in Dusk before they all get sick. Chapter 13:

Joel frowned at her. “How do you know anything about who Tess was living with?”

Ellie’s mouth twitched and she turned away with a shrug. “I don’t know, it just came up.”

I do also wonder if Ellie was even out to herself at this stage. I’m not sure what the canon says about this, but I don’t know how far along Ellie really was with her sexual identity. We know about Riley and her feelings for her. But she’s still like, 15 by this point in Dusk, and I don’t believe she necessarily had all the information to absolutely define herself. Maybe she did! But I find the idea of her having a conversation with a liberal adult about sexuality as she works it out compelling.

So Tess inadvertently gives Ellie a window to start the conversation while she’s just fucking with Joel with her bi wife energy and then Ellie finds the right opportunity to start talking about it. And Ellie’s being very hypothetical and casual and thinks she’s not giving herself away ... but she’s talking to Tess, right? The conversation happened in two parts – when they reset the traps in chapter 11 and when Joel woke up to find them downstairs together in chapter 12:

“Who had the nightmare?”

“Nobody. We were just talking.”

“Everything all right?”

“Yeah, she’s just working some things out.”

Maybe the first conversation went something like this:

Ellie reached up and tugged at a branch. “How about this one?”

“No, it’s too young.”

“You just said the other one was too old.”

“It was too old. It’s gotta bend, not break. And it has to be strong enough to hold up whatever it traps.”

Ellie looked at Tess for a moment. The woman was bent over, sweeping the forest floor. She came up with a stick that suited her purpose and straightened up. She frowned at Ellie.

“What are you standing there for? Check that tree.”

All the trees in the very general direction Tess had pointed to looked the same to Ellie. Okay, so not too young, not too old. A bendy sapling. Ellie pulled at a few until one looked about right. She drew it to the ground and then slowly followed its natural urge to stand upright again.

“This one.”

“Okay, good. Now get over here. You’ll need your knife. We’re gonna make a hook.”

Intrigued, Ellie pulled out her switchblade and sat opposite Tess. Any excuse to learn something new with her little blade was most welcome. She flipped it in anticipation. Tess explained that the hook was carved in two pieces, one to go in the ground and another to attach to the noose. She got Ellie started on the piece for the latter and they whittled away in silence.

“This would’ve been fuckin’ useful months ago,” Ellie muttered.

“Oh yeah, how so?”

“When I was out there on my own. I was shooting at rabbits. How’d you learn this stuff?”

“Books,” Tess explained. “All trial and error. Let me look at that – that’s good. It’s got to fit with this, right? So bring it in a little more there.”

“Here?”

“Perfect.”

Ellie started scraping away at the stick with her blade again, mindful not to nick her thumb. Tess was quiet, like Joel had been, but there wasn’t that same thick wall around her. This was just comfortable. She alternated her gaze between stick and Tess, making sure she didn’t get caught staring.

“Sooo … you used to go to a lot of parties and stuff.”

“I did. I would’ve been around about your age when I started.”

“What was it like?”

“Loud,” Tess glanced at her, smiling faintly. “Crowded.”

“That doesn’t sound like fun.”

“It was different then. It was nothing for a hundred people to be jammed together in a tiny space in the dark, lots of flashing lights and thumping music. Everyone drunk or on drugs, all happy together and jumping around. It’s like a totally different planet. I think you would’ve liked it.”

“Just dancing and stuff.”

“Yeah. Too loud for deep conversations. You’d have to shout so loud to be heard that you could actually feel the vibration of their voice in your ear.”

“And like, hooking up with people.”

Ellie focused very hard on her stick and knife. She thought she might have lost Tess there, but when she chanced to look her way Tess was just studying her progress with her piece of the snare.

“Sometimes,” Tess agreed. “Does that sound like a good time to you?”

“I guess? I don’t know. Wasn’t that weird with like … strangers?”

“No,” Tess smiled. “That was what made it fun. Something sexy about being anonymous, something quite … liberating, I guess.” Her gaze sharpened on Ellie and she pointed her knife at her. “But that’s no reason not to be careful.”

“Right, careful. Of course.” Ellie nodded once, firmly. They whittled a little more – or Tess did, Ellie just held on to her knife. “So that’s why you could kiss, you know, whoever?”

Tess blew on the stick. “I guess that’s one of the reasons.”

“What’s the other reason?”

“Because I wanted to.” Tess glanced across at Ellie, smiling just a little. “How do you know what you like until you know what you like?”

… something like that would get the ball rolling.

(There is some inconsistency between what Ellie tells Joel about what she knows about the relationship, and what Tess tells Tommy. Ellie is a born exaggerator. You can take Tess’s word on this one. ;) )

And as for when Joel’s in the picture? I don’t see that happening until later (four years later…? :/ ) and it probably dropping very, very casually and Joel being annoyed but not surprised that Tess has known for literally years. And Ellie leaves the room and Tess is just innocently sipping her tea:

“When did –“

“Dubois.”

“ … seriously, Tess?”

… ugh now I want to write this.

#driftersverse #tlou fanfic #asks #tlou fanfiction

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yegarts · 1 year

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“I Am YEG Arts” Series: Alyson Dicey

Photo by Brianne Jang, BB Collective Photography

For Alyson Dicey, there’s only moving forward. And she knows there’s strength in not doing it all alone. That collaborative spirit and positive attitude are but two of the many amazing qualities that have made her not only accomplished, but happy. Luck for us, making people laugh also brings her joy, which she pays forward as part of the fabulous sketch comedy troupe, Girl Brain. When she’s not writing and performing you’ll likely find her directing, producing, and encouraging other women to have confidence in their voices and abilities. This week’s “I Am YEG Arts” story belongs to Alyson Dicey.

Tell us about your connection to Edmonton and why you’ve made it your home.

I moved to Edmonton in 2007 in the hopes of getting into the BFA acting program at the University of Alberta. Like many teachers, my high school drama teacher, Rhonda McCarthy, was instrumental in encouraging me and helping me plan my future. She advised me that this acting program was one of the best in the country, and I think to this day she is right! Eventually I did get into the BFA acting program, and it shaped who I met, how I know myself, and set me in the direction for where I am today! That’s why I came to Edmonton.

Why I stayed? Because of the arts community. The people who work in the arts here are some of the most accepting, creative, and inspiring people I’ve ever met. I have always felt a “yes, and” attitude here. Whenever I wanted to create something, there was always a friend who wanted to collaborate, a festival application open, and chats-till-dawn over wine about how and when we can make art happen!

When you were first starting out, what was it about the arts that made you feel like it could be your community?

The festivals in Edmonton are how I started out. We have so many great festivals, including one of the largest Fringe Fests in the world (of which I proudly work for now as KidsFringe Coordinator during the summers). NextFest gave me my first pay cheque in the arts, handed to me by one of my heroes, Steve Pirot. Found Fest, Fringe, SkirtsAFire, Expanse, and so many others allow artists to experiment, audiences to engage in a wide range of theatre and other art forms, and the arts community to come together! I love the buzz of a theatre lobby during a festival. I’ve done some weird shows in festivals!

How did Girl Brain come to be? And what is it about sketch comedy that suits your strengths as a storyteller?

Girl Brain started when Caley Suliak moved back to Edmonton after living in San Francisco for a few years. We (Ellie Heath and I) had missed her, and the catching-up sessions turned into writing sessions when we realized how many hilarious stories we had. We were all auditioning constantly, and our hopes and dreams seemed to always be at the fate of some director-man who pulled the strings. We were all a bit over this and wanted to write our own stories to put on stage. This coincided with our friend Byron Martin opening up the Grindstone Comedy Theatre. I recall a late night party in a hot tub where he mentioned needing more acts, especially shows that weren’t improv. And I thought, I have a pitch for you! I brought it back to the girls, and the rest is herstory. All we needed was a name for our troupe, and Caley had that covered. “Today I have girl brain” is what she always says when she’s feeling like her head is in the clouds, or her mind is on a certain someone she shouldn’t be flirting with, or her heart is fixed on something she’s absolutely obsessed with. A feeling of overwhelming, heart-fluttering, joy-inducing mania! And I love it because our girl brains are powerful! Intelligent women taking over positions of leadership! Watch out, world!

Sketch comedy is our current form of storytelling because it’s short and sweet. You can easily pack houses with people who want to have a fun night out and still leave them with a message you care about. Caley and Ellie and I spend most of our time together laughing, and I think that’s kept me going these last few years. It feels good.

What is the writing process like for you? Where do you usually begin, and how do you develop an idea?

I like writing when we have a theme for the show. When we did our monthly shows at Grindstone in 2018–2019, we were generating a ton of content. It felt easy coming up with sketches for a Valentine’s Day show or a Christmas themed show. We’ve done what feels like one hundred themed shows. Once we did a back-to-school theme that was so fun—we interviewed young girls heading back to school and played films of their answers during the show.

Sometimes the writing starts with a funny idea that came up in our chats, sometimes with an annoying thing we experienced (often in ourselves), or from characters we see out in the wild here in Edmonton. Hypocrisies are the best in for me—when I catch myself or someone doing the opposite of what their whole M.O. is. Then you also have to have a point of view and decide who’s relaying the message. We love writing for each other and coming up with characters we want to see each other dig into.

Top: Girl Brain, photo by Brianne Jang, BB Collective Photography; Bottom: Kids Fringe team, photo provided by the artist.

Tell us a little about your role with Thou Art Here Theatre and what makes it special to you and the city.

I joined Thou Art Here in 2013 after Andrew Ritchie and Neil Kuefler founded the company in 2012. I was a big Shakespeare nerd and wanted to get on stage and strut my stuff! Thou Art Here was doing Shakespeare in unexpected places—taking the bard to the streets with site-specific theatre. I thought this was the coolest thing I’d ever seen at the time. Now Thou Art Here (TAH) has transformed, and I’m still on board helping out where I can as an Artistic Associate. We’ve shifted away from the Shakespeare angle and instead try to represent Edmonton the way we see it—amplifying Edmonton artists, community, and neighbourhoods.

Immersive theatre is so interesting to me because it doesn’t allow the audience to check out. They are right there with the actors, they are a part of the story, and integral to the experience. I’ve been inspired by immersive theatre like Dead Centre of Town and Found Festival for a long time. I’m inspired all the time by Andrew, who is now Artistic Director of TAH. He works so hard and has grown this company from us weirdos running around in LRT stations yelling sonnets at people to a non-profit that’s making important work in our city (We’re still weirdos though).

Who’s someone inspiring you right now?

I’m inspired by Sheiny Satanove, the Managing Director for Punctuate! Theatre. I recently started working as a producer for Punctuate!, and I’m learning so much. She’s many people’s go-to person for all things producing in the city. Sheiny is a powerhouse—she’s smart, witty, and fierce as hell.

Tell us about a lesson you’ve had to learn more than once.

There are too many to put down in words. One is instant forgiveness for myself when I mess up, rather than beating myself up for something that’s in the past. There’s only moving forward. I’m trying to be more patient.

When you think YEG arts, what are the first three things, people, or places that come to mind?

Artists and artist-run centres. Harcourt House, Latitude 53, SNAP, and VASA are where you should be if you want to see art in Edmonton/St. Albert.

The Festivals! This is Festival City, and people go cuckoo for them! Folk Fest, Shakespeare in the Park, Fringe, Found Festival, Expanse, Flying Canoe, Winterruption.

CKUA Radio because it’s where you go for all your arts info, news, and music. And I love the hosts!

Tell us a little about what you’re currently working on or hoping to explore next.

Girl Brain has shows at the Roxy Theatre, Dec 16 to 18, with special guest Sissy Fit! Sissy is a Glamdrogynous Gender Fluid Glamazonian Gladiator Drag Performstress, and they are going to rock the stage with us this holiday season. We are taking over the beautiful Nancy Power Theatre, and we are stoked to get jolly! You can get tickets here.

We also have a project with the Girl Brain girls and Bradley Moss (Artistic Director of Theatre Network) coming up. We can’t say much yet, but stay tuned! We’re cooking up something very cool.

What makes you hopeful these days?

I see art happening in our city that is important and reflects who lives here. Like Evandalism, by MC RedCloud, that just happened as part of the Fringe season. And Identity, by Matthew Wood (a.k.a., Creeasian), as his City of Edmonton 2021-22 Indigenous Artist in Residence final showcase. Or the upcoming Punctuate! Theatre show, First Métis Man of Odesa, by Matthew MacKenzie and Mariya Khomutova, that tells a real-life love story in the midst of a pandemic and war in Ukraine. The Shoe Project, which acts as both a community-building and English-language-learners’ support system, as well as a phenomenal show that tells first-hand immigration stories of women new to Canada. I see my nieces and nephew growing up as smart, curious people who are going to make this world a better place (no pressure, kids). And teachers and healthcare workers who persevere even when they have very little support from the powers that be.

Want more YEG Arts Stories? We’ll be sharing them here all year and on social media using the hashtag #IamYegArts. Follow along! Click here to learn more about Alyson Dicey, Girl Brain Sketch Comedy, and their upcoming shows at Theatre Network!

Photo by Brianne Jang, BB Collective Photography

About Alyson Dicey

Alyson Dicey is an Edmonton-based performer, writer, director, producer and graduate of the BFA Acting class of 2012 at the University of Alberta. She is a founding member of Girl Brain Sketch Comedy and is proud to write and perform with a troupe that celebrates and promotes the strength of women. Alyson is also an artistic associate of the Edmonton immersive theatre company, Thou Art Here Theatre, a producer with Punctuate! Theatre, and Volunteer Coordinator/Administrative Assistant for the multidisciplinary arts festival featuring women-identifying and non-binary artists, SkirtsAFire. During the summers, Alyson can be found at the Edmonton International Fringe Festival in her role as KidsFringe Coordinator. Alyson believes strongly in encouraging young women to take on leadership roles, set and achieve goals, and develop confidence in their voices and abilities.

#yegarts #edmonton #edmontonarts #IamYegArts #artistfeature #yegtheatre

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popculturebuffet · 3 years

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New X-Men Xtrospective Part 2: Germ Free Generation (Annual, #117-120)

Hello all you happy mutants! And welcome back to my look one of my faviorite runs of one of my faviorite super teams by one of my faviorite comic book writers!

For those of you just joining us.. it’s been a while. I did the first instalment of this retrospective back in early January as a present to my friend for christmas, as he had never read E is for Extinctoin and what with this run being vital to the current, utterly brilliant Krakoa era of X-Men. But with both Black History Month and Valentine’s day, February had no real room for this one and march ended up being just as crammed with me doing essentially the entire della arc of ducktales in one month. I didn’t mean for this retrospective to get pushed so far back, but since I gave up doing weekly coverage of Final Space I had some room on the schedule so this retrospective is back with a vengance with two entries this month and hopefully at least one a month afterword to keep it at a decent clip.

Last time I covered the background of this run and didn’t really find much for the issues after, so I won’t have to spend as much time on background.

So since i’ts been a few months, a refresher is probably in order

PREVIOUSLY, ON X-MEN: Our merry mutants enterted a marvelous new era. As Charles redidciated to the dream with new equipment and a new uniforms our hero encounter a new villian: The Mysterious Cassandra Nova, a powerful telepath who used an uwitting patsy from the trask family and a defucnt sentinel factory to slaughter the mutant nation of Genosha, killing 16 million mutants in the most horrific act of genocide against mutants ever known. And the fact there has been more than one genocide against mutant kind MIGHT, just MIGHT be the reason they blackmailed for peace with life saving drugs instead of helping willingly and freely in the current comics. Just maybe.

Cassandra was captured by the X-Men soon after but escaped and nearly got a hold of Cerebra only to be stopped thanks to a combination of former enemy, genoshan resident at the time of the genocide, and that bitch Emma Frost who snapped her neck and Charles himself who uncharacteristically shot Cassandra in the head. That night Charles took a bold step over that would change the X-Men forever and told the world on live tv:

While all of this was going on we got caught up on the team’s personal struggles, currently consisting of Cyclops, Jean Grey, Beast and Wolverine with Emma joining as of the issue we’re about to cover. Beast is grappling with a secondary mutation that makes him look like Aslan, the jesus of narnia and all lions. Meanwhile Scott and Jean are grappling with their non existant sex life as Cyclops possesion by Apocalypse shortly before this story has severely rattled him and caused him to close himself off emotionally.

So that’s where we pick up. Our heroes are now no longer hiden saftely in the shadows from a world that hates and fear them but are out front and center with the world watching. And we’ll see both how that helps their cause and how it puts them directly in the cross hairs under the cut. Content Warning: This review discusses Transphobia and a scene involving a school shooting. If either of these are a trigger for you or something you do not want to read about please skip this part of the retrospective for your own well being. Thank you and have a lovely day.

The Man From Room X:

We have three stories today: an annual that introduces our final team member and the main villians of our next arc, a one off that moves the main plot for the first 12 issues along, and a three part arc about said villains. Before we get into the Annual, I have to talk about it’s weird gimmick: The issue is entirely sideways. I don’t mean it’s bad though some parts are problematic I mean when bought it’d be on it’s side and in my trade I have to flip the whole thing over on it’s side to read it. It’s just a .. weird choice. Not the weirdest thing about this issue somehow but not unexpected from Grant as they like to play with the formula.

We open in said Room X, a location in China where a mutant named Xorn is kept and showed off to a mysterious group of dickweeds in suits representing “Mr. Sublime”. His jailer, General Aao Jun,, shows him off as most bad guys would : By undoing his helmet and thus disntegrating two innocent children just by looking at them. Sublime says they have a deal.

Meanwhile also in China the X-Men are there for a funeral and Emma and Scott trade insulting questions back in forth: She mocks him about his lack of sex with Jean lately and he brings up her criminal past. As for why Emma’s still with the x-men.. it’s out of pragmatisim. WIth Genosha gone, the x-men are the saftest faction to throw in with.

As for why the X-Men are in China, Charles has rapidly expanded his operations now he’s public by setting up X-Corps, a multinational humantarian aid organization dedicated to helping mutants in need wherever they sprout up. He’s set up offices in Hong Kong, Amsterdam, Mumbai and Melborne.

He’s also half assed it, at least for the Hong Kong office and only gave them two employees: Domino, who those of you not as familiar with the comics may remember from deadpool and Risque.. who I honestly had never heard of before New X-Men and frequently forget existed. I just looked her up for the first time and she’s a minor mutant who was an associate of X-Force and Warpath’s love intrest. She could compress matter causing it to implode. My assumption here is that Morrison simply picked a minor mutant at random for the job.

But yeah naturally with only two mutants charged with, according to domino “All of asia” went horribly and the x-men are there for Risque’s funeral and to find out what happened. Unsuprisingly it’s tied into our cold open: Risque had found evidence of a mutant trafficking operation and died fighting them off and Dom is naturally f eeling in over her head since said operation involves the chinese goverment, who according to her exccute most mutants at birth and John Sublime and his cult.

We soon see a press confrence from this asshole and find out what his deal is: Sublime is the head of the U-Men, a group that belivies they are a “third species” of mutants trapped in human bodies that deserve to have the surgery to make them into mutants, and thus wear weird suits until the world is pure and allows them to have surgery for it.

Yeahhhh this.. this is really fucking uncomfortable and is going to be present throughout today’s piece so let’s just go ahead and rip that band-aid off: The U-Men come off as HIGHLY transphobic. They use terms similar to trans people call themselves trans species and are trapped inside a body they don’t belong in. It’s VERY uncomfortable to read as a result and something that hadn’t really sunk into till thsi reading but once it had.. oh god does this not age well.

The one thing that keeps this from runing the run and Grant Morrison as a whole for me.. is that I do not think for one second it was intentional. Grant themself is genderqueer, nonbinary and a cross dresser. None of this means they CAN’T be prejudice, being Queer does not magically make you immune to being prejudiced. But before this Grant had the genderqueer sentient street Danny the Street over in doom patrol and a trans main character in his book the invisibles, Lord Fanny. And given New X-Men’s biggest flaw as a whole is clumsy early 2000′s unforutnate implications such as a good chunk of the things about Cyclops affair with Emma, we’ll get to that at the right time, Angel in the next arc and Dust, who was introduced as from afganastan wearing an outfit not seen in the country and speaking a language not spoken in the country. Grant didn’t make these mistakes TWICE, it’s why I still have respect for them, and this won’t be the first or last comic i’ve forgiven for being stupid for it’s time. But I will still call Grant out when I see it. Just because I respect an author just because they changed my life does not mean I won’t call them out when they fuck up. And if they prove to be truly vile, have harmed someone or what have you I will cut them the fuck out of my life. I’ve done it with JK Rowling, Warren Ellis, Brad Jones and Joss Whedon. I would do it with Grant if I truly belivied they were transphobic and instead didn’t just write something very stupid without thinking the metaphor through 20 years ago.

So anyway back to the comic book bollocks as Wolvie and Dominio prepare for an infiltration and flirt a bunch. We also find out Jun is a mutant himself with a power only Grant could dream up: his skin, hair and what have you that falls off him turns into a naked golem for a bit before expiring. And if you hadn’t read this issue before reading this review, yes that actually happened. While the first arc had a BIT of Grant’s trademark batshit insanity, the series REALLY starts to pick it up from here: This issue has a mutant with functioning star for a head, a poorly thought out bucnh of sci fi new age organ theives, and a general whose power is “makes naked clones out of his dandruff”. Oh and his fondest wish?

I just... I don’t know how to respond to that. I don’t know how you respond to an old man’s weird murder fetish that he tells a somehow even creepier cult leader while said cult leader is paying him to buy a star man, and their both surronded by the creepy old guy’s skin golems that weirdly look like mudokons. Look i’ve read Grant’s entire utterly bonkers run on doom patrol. I’ve seen a man who looks like a question mark use a bicycle that makes everyone high like their on LSD for president. And THIS is what breaks me.

So while.. THIS is going on, Dom and Wolverine plan to do it all night long on the professor’s credit card, no really he gives all his professors carte blanch to use school fun, and inflitrate, Dom through the elvator this horrorshow just took place in and Wolvie james bond style. Also I gotta say I REALLY love how Morrison writes Domino. She’s wittiy, entertaining and her power is as awesome as always, super luck if you didn’t know. It’s a real shame he didn’t add her to the team: She wasn’t on any other x-teams, with X-Force having been rebranded into X-Statix by this point. She would’ve been a fun addition to the cast.

Naturally wolverine is found out.. but that was the entire plan, for him to serve as a distraction then cut his way to domino while she steals something from the vault. As for the rest of the X-Men, Cyclops, Beast and Emma are all downstairs in the parking garage and find a secret entrance. Jean is not on this trip and that’s a major plot point for this run. This is where Risque died.. and it only get’s worse when Hank goes inside, finding a bug like child, basically htink a giant caterpillar but with tons of human arms inttead of legs with her wings cut off.

Thankfully as Logan and Dom escape above, the U-Men are dumb enough to storm down bellow.. and while they incapacitate beast with some launched tiny knives, designed to incapcicate but leave them in tact for harvest, Emma beats the shit out of them and get the info out as only she can....

Granted she could’ve just turned back to normal and used her telepathy.. but what fun would that be? Plus they have blockers and you know CUT UP A FUCKING CHILD. SO yeah fuck them, let emma have her fun.

Thanks to her they find out the U-Men are a front for illegal organ harvest, and while they can’t prove sublimes attached Emma suggests killing him. Good idea but Scott suggests the lighter approach and we find out what Dom stole, a key, something Emma can psychcially scan. She warns it might take her a bit to get something.. only to be flooded instantly and we find out who the man in the box was. Shen Xorn... i’ll let emma tell you more herself.

It’s stuff like this why, despite some serious flaws like the U-Men debacle and some stuff to come, some I mentioned above other that’s just with the plot that i love this run. Morrison just gets how to really tell an x-men story and the real tragedy of being a mutant. That just for being diffrent, you get shut out, or in this case thrown into a box when you could’ve and should’ve been something more. As emma turns herself to diamond to deal with the psychic backlash, Beast has some solemn words to share.

That night Scott rests in his bedroom while presumibly hearing some truly horrific and sexy things next door while talking to jean before clocking out.. only for Emma to head in in a sexy dress with champagne. What happened? Well we won’t know for sure for most of the run.

The next day the U-Men prepare to load and we get some scrap of what the idea was supposed to be: John talks to Ao Jun about his procedures. We see wings crudely sewen to his back and his throat implaants hurting “But one day I will fly”. THe IDEA is their supposed to be lunatics, people who envy mutantkind but don’t actually respect their culture or their sense of personhood. It’s not the worst idea and had Grant not used trans termnology for htis, it would’ve been a great one. I think he INTENDED for them to be coopting the idea of being trans and what not to maks their true intentions.. which is problematic due to debates like the ones on bathrooms where a lot of transphobic asshats make the bad faith argument a bunch of people are going to pretend to be trans to assault people.

We’re.. we;’re not even to the main storyarc yet.

But things soon go wrong as Xorn’s starhead starts to collapse into a black hole, with no solution as the x-men took the key to his helmet.. and assault the compound. Turns out the star collapse thing is Jun’s revenge on humanity for lockig him down here and he gets his neck snapped. Scott has a solution though.. and it’s stuff like this why I fucking love Scott Summers and get annoyed when people call him “boring”: He realizes Xorn is comitting sucicide.. so he’s going to talk him out of it. Not just for everyone else but he deserves to live. And while Emma points out only logan among htem knows chinese and she can’t get through to Xorns’ head due to the way his brain works, Scott has a simple workaround: Use the nearest chineses speaker to teach Scott chinese. So.. with that he talks to Xorn.

And that my friend is Scott Summers. A man who faced with powerful man whose given up, whose lost all hope... convinces him he can still go on. That living’s better than dying.. and that it does get better. The issue closes with Xorn basking in the sunlight for the first time in decades while Domino sweats having an extremley powerful unknown mutant out in the world. Scott’s already thought of that.. and signed him up with the x-men. Granted it won’t be until our next article that he actually fully joins the team, but w’ell get to that next time.

This issue is great... while the U-Men stuff is pretty bad and isn’t going to get better, the tale of xorn is excitiong, Aao Jun is an intresting antagonist and the sideways gimmick suprisingly works. So now we’ve finshed our apitizer let’s get on to the main course.

Danger Rooms:

We open in well.. the Danger Room with Beast training a new student.

This is Beak. Beak is my faviorite character Morrison came up with and one of my faviorite X-Characters. Beak is a bird like boy who can fly, it’s just a struggle and due to looking diffrent and not having the most impressive power has very low self esteem. It’s also part of something Morrison took a concerted effort to do: introduce more mutants with genuinely odd apperances and drawbacks. Like we saw with Ugly John last time and Aao Jun in the previous issue, Morriosn really likes adding weird mutants but he also uses it to give a genuine downside to being one. While this isn’t NEW to x-men, Morriosn upped the scale and number of characters like this with weird powers and apperances. We see a bunch of human passing ones too but the backgrounds just jammed with all sorts of unique designs and students. It’s also the point where the school became far more crowded like the movies, a good call on my part both to help those coming in from the movies, and to help sell the mutant baby boom going on. After all it wouldn’t make sense if the school was just about 5-7 students and a bunch of grown adults doing superhero stuff like usual would it.

But we get to see that Hank is a good teacher, as he reminds the boy that he’s getting better and won’t be an x-man overnight, and worries about him to the professor, wanting the boy not to slip through the cracks, figuratively, and not to feel like an outcast.. especaily here. But Hank dosen’t feel blue for long, metaphorically he was blue long before he became the lion minus the witch and the wardrobe, as he has a date to night.. and so does Charles.

Or rather he did.. his girlfriend trish, a long time love intrest of his and a reporter.. breaks up with him. Over voice mail. While in washington. And the reasons she gives are not great

Yes Hank’s transformation is radical.. but not only was it not his choice... she’s being a coward, sending the message it’s okay to dump someone because hteir a mutant or because they happen tobe diffrent and that efffects your career. Again it’s moments like this that make the run soar over the more awkward bits.

Meanwhile Logan’s off doing logan stuff, i.e. gazing at a deer. Wow. Jean followed him. Both notice a space ship: Despite recently outing himself as a mutant, leading to an increased number of students and a bunch of rioting morons at the gates, Charles has decided NOW’S a good time to take a vacation to the Shiar empire. As for why Jean’s really out here, her marriage to Scott isn’t doing so good and while Logan encourages her to stay it’s just not that simple: Her telekenisis is coming back, stronger than ever. She feels the most alive she’s been while he’s shutting her out and feeling his deadest. She tries to turn to logan for comfort but he shuts her down. Just wait two decades jean... he’ll open up to a threesome. In all seriousness though having Jean try and come onto Logan .. will backfire slightly on later storylines. But we’ll get to that eventually.

In the basement Hank is studying Cassandra or rather a virtual version of her since her body is naturally in storage. And he’s found out something disturbing: She’s Charles Genetic Twin.. oh and it gets way worse. The Professor’s weird behavior? Barely staffing the hong kong office, leaving suddenly with rioters t the gates, outing himself? About that...

Cassandra tourtures Hank with the possiblity he’s devovling and then tries to mind controlli him into cleaning himself with his diploma when Beak enters. The good news is this allows hank to shake off her control and tackle her, showing off why hank mccoy is fucking awesome in the process.

That is the Hank McCoy I know, love.. and miss dearly. The one we’ll probably never get back sadly after what others did and what Percy’s had to do to reconclie with all they did.

Unfortunately beak being around means cassandra can force him to beat beast into a coma with his bat. She plans to tear Charles dream down around him and make him watch.. and cryptically says he tried to kill her. She then cheerfully leaves Jean in charge.. and talks about just how much damage one could do with an entire interstellar empire in the wrong hands....

This issue is also excellent and sets up the next two arcs nicely while giving us a nice peak in hank’s head. Great stuff. The artist also hid the word sex in a lot of the images see if you can find them.

Germ Free Generation Issue 1:

So now we get into our main story for today. This story and the one before it were drawn by Ethan Van Sciver whose a talented artist.. but also highly contrversial for being a conservative. I myself.. don’t know what he’s said or did, though calling himself “Canceld Superstar’ on twitter really isn’t a good sign. So I really can’t comment on it but I also know someone would mention it if I didn’t bring it up and if you know what he did please enlighten me.

So we open with a school shooter who also scooped out a guys eyes and is part of the U-Men. He get shot by the swat team while making his speech> it’s an effective opening but one that’s become more uncomfortable to read with each passing day due to school shootings going up and up in number. And mass shootings in general and I... I need a second. I need something to relax me

Thank you Stoopy. Your doing Odd’s Work.

So the news reports on this and we soon see how Jean watches the news.. by using Cerebra to read the minds of every person on the planet. Neat. Everyone’s talking about them. We also get a hint for later as we hear on the suicide of one martha johanson who wrote the note in her own blood. She’ll be important later.... and I mean that both in the context of this retrospective and for the fact she’ll go on to be part of x-men in perpetuity.

This is also where another great concept of Morrison’s pops up: Mutant culture. After all mutants are a minority, they should have their own culture. It’s something Hickman’s era has taken and ran with, but it’s a damn good idea and one that it shoudln’t of taken almost 20 years for someone else to use given Decimation was undone way back around 2012 in Avengers Vs X-Men, aka that event half hte articles on the mcu around the fox sale used as either their image for the article or asked about happneing. And yes that is a pet peeve of mine: while I do think like Civil War AVX could use a movie version to make it better, I don’t think it’s an event that could be done right away and would have to be almost entirely redone anyway given the context for AvX is entirely couched in decimation i.e. something NO ONE wants in any x-adaptation.

So it turns out while watching the news in a next level way Jean is also talking to Logan. “Stay out of my personal fantasies”. Yeah I .. I don’t think your ready for a hairy canadian dry humping a transformer.. specifically killbison. And yes.. that is an actual transformer and why yes, I have been waiting to bring him up.

And he is , and I am not making any of this up, part of a group of decpticons known as the breastforce. Your life is better for knowing that and you are welcome.

Anyway as you’d imagine a genocidal old woman in her brothers’ body leaving the X-Men to fend for themselves after having a teenager bludgeon one into a coma after publicly outing them with a rabid bunch of bigoted morons at the gates has not gone great. Henry is still out and despite the short staffing Jean needs logan to stay where he is as he’s close to an emerging mutant and within range to go get her.

Emma of course has never been so fucking irate in her whole life and is plotting various forms of psychic tourture with the help of her proteges the Stepford Cucokoo, 5 teenage mutants who functoin best as a unit and are easily some of MOrrison’s most prominent additions to the x-cast. Unlike a lot of the x-kids, they’ve been featured prominently in every era of x-men after this including the current one.

Jean decides for a less “Make them hate us even more” approach, but no less pissed off, opening the gates and going out directly to chew out the assembled bigoted morons, pointing out the ones carrying “Mutants Go Home!” signs are especailly dumb as this IS her home. And while she dosen’t point this part out, it’ the same for all of them: most of the mutants are either adults who choose to live here, teenagers who along with their parents choose to live here, or in the majority teens who have no where else to go due to either being abandoned by their families or it being way to dangerous for said families for them to stay due to bigoted assholes like the ones holding mutants go home signs.

A member of the press asks if she’s willing to talk to the media and she refutes most of his bullshit allegations: He asks if their building an army, she and Scott respond they are not and are simply educating mutants and protecting them. When he counters with the fact their living weapons and wearing uniforms... she counters with the fact she’s wearing them to protect herself, rightfully, from people like her, and the x-men are an aid orginzation going where needed to protect the world and while asshole points out no one apointed them.. jean shuts him down by pointing out there are no mutants in goverment and a genocide just happened, so someone has to do the job. Another random asshole tries to pipe up with “Genosha declared war on us” and Emma senses this is just going to go round and round and round and simply presses the assembled mob’s “bliss buttons” in their brains to knock them out. Non violent but honestly warranted: A dangerous part of bigoted assholes is they’l bring up racist bullshit to try and couch it like an actual conversation. None of these complaints really hold water if you looked at the x-men’s history for more than 5 minutes. Yes Charles is training them to fight and yes hte ingial class was an army but every class since has only been trained for self defense: they still got into adventures and what not, but it was usually by their own choice or because they were thrust into them by circumstance. Xaviers is exactly what jean said and endudgling these morons, while good on paper, only makes them seem legit.

Jean retreats to the infirmary where she’s on the verge of breaking down from the sheer weight of everything. Cyclops proves that despite not being the best husband right now... he still loves his wife, offering to go look into Sublime with Emma and hoping Hank wakes up. Turns out his mind for now is a big blank room.

So she can’t get any info off his skull, and neither of the two think what happened with Beak adds up. Something is up here. Their also coming down with colds which will be important later. And just as important.. Magneto is becoming a symbol among people and merch sales with his image are on the rise. We then get this.

So Jean is trying to be a supportive, honest wife, and while the questions incredibly insulting.. his answer is equally so. Spoilers, as mentioned we do get an answer long after this.. and they did not. So Jean is wrong to be suspcious, at this point, but is at least trying to be polite about it and gave him the benifit of the doubt.. and Scott basically said he slept with her without actually saying it despite not having to. You could’ve said “no we did not have sex, we simply talked all night”. It’s not ENTIRELY better given the horrible state of their relationship right now, but it’s still better than HEAVILY implying he rocked her body to the break of dawn for no damn reason.

So we meet our next major addition to the cast Angel Salvador, an abused teen who is a mutant.. and whose abusive and molesting step dad beats her and throws her out over this. The scene’s a bit overdone, coming off like an after school special.. but it’s what happens AFTER that’s truly heartwrenching.

A poor scared teenager clutching herself, finding herself homeless alone and desperatly wishing she wasn’t what she was. It’s just a striking image and shows how well Grant uses the mutant metaphor. I could easily see myself in that position had my parents not been good peopl and had I come out far sooner as bi. The idea of desperatly hoping your not what you are simply becaus eof what hell it brings, despite all the joy it can bring too. . it’s heartbreaking to hear.

Naturally though things don’t get much better as the next morning the U-Men have found her, calling her a freak and successfully kidnapping her.. if only because while she uses acid spit to escape, she flies into a power line.

We then get Sublimes meeting with Emma and Scott and a BETTER use of teh u-men as while Grant made the horrible mistake of calling them “transpecies”, seriously what the fuck were you thinking, the way sublime frames it here is a MUCH better, much less accidently bigoted concept.

The idea isn’t bad: A group of humans jealous of the mutants powers, blatantly ignoring the horrible downsides and mountain of persecution that comes with being one. Grant just made the mistake of couching in in Trans metaphors, clearly trying to have the U-Men steal from Trans People too as a way to make themselves seem legit. And I say if you want superpowers.. fine.. wanting to be a superhero or a mutant is fine, the issue with the U-Men is their copoting a culture, trying to be part of mutantkind without having any of the drawbacks and by actively butchering them. It’s why the concept HAS shown up elsewhere; it’s not TERRIBLE, Grant just made a bad creative choice that’s only gotten worse as Transphobia has ramped up further and further.

Sublime denies it when our heroes bring up Hong Kong.. but naturally he’s simply just keeping them talking long enough to bring out his trump cards, an army of u-men and a brain in a jar he uses to incapacitate them.. and announces his plan to use the school as an organ farm for his third species.

Meanwhile Logan finds the U-Men in their truck preparing to rip angel apart.. and given he snikit’s soon after.. i’ts very clear whose REALLY about to get ripped apart.

Germ Free Generation Part 2:

Part two begins wth Sublime monologoging about how Mutantkind are just cattle to them and reveals the brain is martha’s, her sucicide having been faked and her brain currently being controlled to use as a weapon.

So while Johnny monlogues we find out what happened with Wolverine last issue he didn’t cut up the guys yet as they fired their little flichete guns at him... it was about as useful and effective as you’d expect and the massacre you were expecting occurs. Though in a nice bit of reality the fact wolverine’s soaked in blood and just killed a bunch of blood shockingly does not make the already frighttend teen feel he’s safe and she spits acid on him. Logan pours some stuff on the acid, figuring rightly a black ops murder farmacy would have something to counteract it and tells her she’s safe now .. and tells the guy behind him not to try it. He’s stupid and does anyway and likely gets a claw to the head off panel.

They go to a diner to eat and find a local asshole who threatens them with a shot gun to leave once angel uses her power to digest and goes on a rant about how he snapped his own son’s neck to prevent him being born a freak. Just.. fucking hell this arc is not good for my depression. We get some more angst from Angel and whiel her dialouge is not the best, i’ts a too bit mark millar flavored edgelordy for my taste and if I wanted that i’d go read Ultimates or Ultimate X-Me, her pain is real and Logan helps her through it.

Back at the Mansion the U-Men are on their way to strike, whlie Jean unaware continues to buckle under the weight of all the shit she’s had to deal with, feeling SOMETHING is making them weak with the colds and something worse is going on and thus tries going to Beak’s mind instead and gently helps talk him through it, showing her grace and empathy.. and in return finding out Charles was the one responsible. The alarms flair up and Jean tries calling the police now that’s an option.. but it goes exactly how you’d expect.

Also a second artist took over for this issue and the next Igor Kordey. He’s fine, but not nearly as good as Quitely or Van Sciver and it shows. Meanwhile Beast awakens and heads for the body drawer with Cassandra’s body, and professor’s mind in it.

However Jean’s finally had enough and got her second wind. She’s outgunned, outmanned and left to her own devices. And she’s fucking fed up with it. She steels herself and assembles the students. This is obviously a last resort.. but some of them can defend themselves and their going to need to. But today they won’t be learning.. they’ll be teaching and as the U-Men call them defensless Jeans simply asks “Are you sure about that?”

Germ Free Generation Part 3:

So we come to the finale of this arc. Angel is once again an ungreatful brat to logan and he opts to just leave her there if sh’es going to be like that pointing out being a mutant sucks, it’s going to keep sucking.. and she needs to deal with it instead of lashing out at him and herself over it.

We get back to the U-Men, one of whom is utterly flabergasted they want to him to cut of Cyclops head... only for Emma to awaken.. and take back her regular form meaning she has her telepathy back. The only reason they were able to get her ealier is she was in diamond mode which is stronger but lacks that, a nice way to check and ballance her new powers. She quickly takes them out and disables Martha.

Back at the school we get one of Jean’s definting moments for me and a true chance to show how badass she can be. Before this while Morrison wrote her well, and his version’s still my favoirite, she didn’t really get to do much and was motly in the background. This arc has been her time in the limelight, having trouble grappling with all the stress of running this place by herself.. and emerging from it stronger, more capable and ready to kick some racist weirdo ass. She tries a few diffrent tactics first, having a mutant with a voice power project it to make them think their san invisible army and having the cuckoos fuck with their heads but when both fail, Jean REALLY gets to show off. Thier blade ammo gets turned into a cool looking 3 dimensioinal shape with her telekneisis, and in a cool moment and a wise use of something gross makes the only one of them with useable powers throw up, before issuing a badass boast, wreathed in flames all while she crumples their guns into uselessness. and tears open their suits.

Bad ass.. and logan and Angel arrive just in time for the cecendo as hte u-men flee in terror

The Phoenix has been Reborn. Jean Grey has risen from the ashes and returned to full power.

Meanwhile Sublime is pankcing.. and it gets worse when Emma shows up, fully enraged after all of this and has some words for him.

Iconic. Emma prepares to drop him out of a building but Scott rightly tries to get her to back off, pointing out the pr nightmare it’d create and the fact that they have enough evidence ot shut him down. Martha however has other ideas and gets him to let go of his own accord, falling to his death.. but given he’d aranged a stunt for the press apparently this gives our heroes deniability and Martha her revenge.

So we end this three parter as Jean revels in her new power, and Beast returns with an announcment:

Final Thoughts for Germ Free Generation: This arc is pretty good if forgetable. The struggle of Jean to run the school herself and her rising from the ashes of her own pain at the end with the power of the phoenix at the end is fantastic, finally both giving her a chance to shine.. and a worrying sign for her friends given what her phoenix force copy whose memories she has a copy of, long story, did is awesome. The other parts are okay and ehhhhhhhhh though. Scott and Emma’s investigation into the u-men while having a really good climax, is pretty standard x-men stuff, and Wolverin’es trek with angel is just okay with Angel being highly intolerable during this arc, with Morrison trying a bit TOO hard to make her a “realistic” teen instead coming off as horribly unplesant. She’s supposed to just be lashing out but comes off obnxious as a result. That said this arc does furhter a lot of Morrisons best idea and introduce more, and is a great setup for our next arc, which we’ll get to in two weeks. Soooo

Next Time On X-Men: We find out just what the hell Cassandra Nova is, what her plans are, and what happened with her and charles as our heroes come down with a cold as the might of the shiar empire bears down on them. It’s IMperial in two weeks.

Next Time ON This BLog: Speaking of long Delayed Projects, I finally return to The Life and Times of Scrooge McDuck as a young Scrooge starts his prospecting career, learning the ins and outs from a rich new mentor, and finding the price tag striking it rich comes with. Raid a copper hill with me tommorow.

If you liked this review, subscirbe for more, join my patreon, and if there’s a comic you’d like me to cover suggest it in the comments or outright comission a review from me via ask. See you at the next rainbow

#new x-men #grant morrison #cassandra nova #shen xorn #beast #hank mccoy #jean grey #cyclops #scott summers #wolverine #logan howlett #angel salvadore #beak #barnell bohsk #the stepford cuckoos #the u-men #john sublime #marthan johanson #ethan van sciver

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Marry Me

A/N: I decided to take a stab at doing a songfic. It is MontyxOC and I hope you guy’s like it. I based it off of Thomas Rhett’s Marry Me. This part is from the bride’s perspective. For this part, I recommend listening to the bride’s perspective linked below. There will be another part from Monty’s perspective coming soon. This is a long one. I hope you like it as much as I do. As always, much love. Word Count: 7963

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xqxEYUcW-cU

My fiancé, Evan, and I finally made it to San Fran International Airport, after a long day of traveling from Atlanta. I managed to get some more wedding planning done on the plane from Dallas. My parents were throwing us a second engagement party at home, so we made the trip out early on after he popped the question. Once we had left baggage claim with our bags, I led him through the airport to pickups.

He insisted on holding the bags while I looked for Scott. My parents weren’t able to get off work, so he had kindly offered to pick us up in San Francisco. I searched the crowd and spotted him standing off to the side, near a vending machine. “Scott!” I called as I waved and broke into a run towards him. He caught me in his arms and twirled me around.

“There she is.” He muttered into my hair as he put me down. I felt Evan put his hand on my back and I leaned into him. “You must be the one who stole her heart. I’m Scott.” He said, sticking his hand out.

“Evan.” He replied, shaking his hand firmly.

“So, let’s see the ring.” I smiled brightly at him and showed him my round two carat pave ring. He whistled when he saw it. “That’s nice. It suits you. Did she pick it?”

“No, I looked at her Pinterest.”

“Smart man.” Scott said as he picked up my bag and walked us out to the car, Evan’s hand firmly in mine the whole time.

On the way back into town, Scott shared stories of all the trouble I used to get my friends in and out of in high school. “There was this one time none of us had studied for a midterm coming up and so Ellie here called us all over to her place, and sat us down with colour coded notes, charts, the whole thing and spent the whole weekend tutoring us.”

“Only because you all had to pass that exam to stay on the team.” I interjected.

“El, it’s not like they would have kicked the whole team off the team. We were all pretty antsy by the end of the weekend.”

“But they could have cancelled the rest of your season. How happy would you have been then, hmmm?”

“Fine, fine. You win. But what about that time Monty and Bryce decided to climb in that old treehouse in Bryce’s backyard and you had to call the fire department?”

“You mean the time they almost fell out a tree? Yeah, I remember that. I also remember not speaking to either of them for like three days afterwards.”

“Oh, don’t think I forgot that detail. Monty wouldn’t shut up about it until you finally talked to him again.”

“Not my fault genius one and genius two climbed into a treehouse they hadn’t been in since they were like eighty pounds lighter. Bryce cried, Scott.”

“You didn’t talk to them because they went in a treehouse?” Evan asked.

“No babe. I didn’t talk to them because they got stuck in a treehouse. And I couldn’t climb up there to save their genius butts because any more weight would have sent the whole thing tumbling to the ground. And then Coach would have had my ass for breaking them.”

“I’m guessing there was alcohol involved in these shenanigans?”

“Oh yes.” Scott laughed, “they were drunk off their asses. Monty hugged one of the firefighters.”

“Ellie mentioned something about him not being a hugger.”

“He isn’t. Took him like 4 years to hug me. And I’m his best friend. We had food poisoning together when we were younger, and he still wouldn’t do it.” I shuddered at the memory.

“Lovely.”

“Yeah, but anywho. They barely made it into the pool house before they passed out.”

“We don’t call her Mom for nothing.”

“Okay designated Dad friend.”

“At least when we hung out after homecoming we didn’t-” Scott started. My eyes widened. Are you serious Scott?!

“Trip and fall flat on our faces in front of the whole school?” I cut him off quickly.

He gave me a weird look in the rear view. Thankfully, Evan was looking out the window as we were getting closer to town. I gave him a what the fuck look back. “Uh, yeah. That was pretty funny actually. Matt and Garrison were so excited we won that they tripped over their own feet and faceplanted.”

Evan didn’t appear to be listening anymore. Scott drove the rest of the way and when we got into town, I texted Monty. Hey you. I just got into town with Evan for the weekend. Are you free tonight?

He texted me back a few minutes later, yeah I’m free. What’s up?

“Don’t worry about showing him the noteworthy spots. We are going to look around after church on Sunday.” I mentioned to Scott, not looking up from my phone. I replied to Montgomery swiftly, drinks or coffee? Just you and me. My parents are going over some details for tomorrow with Evan that they don’t want me around for.

Sure. Meet you at Monet’s at six?

I’ll save you a seat. Usual order?

You know I don’t change things Elliebear. I smiled affectionately at the nickname and put my phone away. Scott had pulled up in front of my parent’s house.

“See you tomorrow Scotty.” I told him, reaching around the driver’s seat to rub his hair.

“El, not the hair. I’ll see you. It was nice meeting you Evan.”

“You too, Scott. Have a good night.”

The door opened as soon as we set foot on the front walk and my mom poked her head out. “Hey Mom. I’ve missed you.”

“Oh, come here and let me look at you.” She cooed, pulling and prodding me to get a good look.

“Mom, relax. I haven’t changed that much since the last time I saw you.”

“Hello Mrs. Davis. How are you?” Evan asked her as he pulled me closer to him to stop her examining.

“I’m lovely dear. Robert set up the guest room for you. Ellie, you’ll be in your own room.”

“I know Mom. Wasn’t expecting anything less.”

As we walked into the living room, dad looked up from his newspaper, “hey sweetheart, Evan.” “Mr. Davis.” Evan greeted and shook his hand firmly.

“Now now, what have we told you? You will be family soon enough. It’s Robert or Dad.”

“And Jillian or Mom.” My mom added.

“I know. Habit.”

“Well Ellie-muffin, what did you want to do tonight for your first night back in town?”

“I thought you had to talk to Evan about stuff. And I understood from mom that I wasn’t supposed to be there. So, I kind of already made plans….”

“That’s right. I told you about it last week Rob. We have to go over stuff for tomorrow.”

Dad thought for a moment, trying to remember the conversation, “that’s right. Sorry Jill, I’ve been busy with work and stuff that it must have slipped my mind.”

“What are you doing tonight, beautiful?”

“Just going to get a coffee with Monty now that I’m back in town.” I told him, casually. It’s just coffee and catching up with a friend.

“That sounds like fun. Let him know I’m looking forward to meeting him tomorrow.”

“I will. I’m going to run upstairs and change. You guys have fun down here.”

“What about dinner, Ellie?”

“It’s okay mom, I’ll just grab some soup or something at Monet’s.”

At about twenty to six, I decided to head out. I chose a cute, casual ensemble. I had thrown on one of Monty’s old baseball shirts, that I stole in the ninth grade or something with some jeans and sneakers. It was comfortable and he never asked for it back, so I kept it. Sometimes I wore it to run errands or when I was running late to class in college. “Bye guys. Love you Evan.” I called from the door. My family had holed themselves up in my dad’s office to talk about the party tomorrow, and I had strict instructions not to disturb them. I heard a chorus of ‘bye’s from the house as I left.

I beat Monty to the café but that wasn’t surprising really since I had left so early.

“Hey, what can I get you this evening?”

“Can I get a-”

“She’ll get a skinny vanilla bean latte with only one pump of vanilla, a dash of cinnamon, and extra foam in a for here cup. I’ll get a regular black coffee. And she’ll also have the chicken and spinach sandwich.” I heard Monty say behind me. The barista looked at me, unsure if she should ring it in or not. I nodded at her and turned around to face him. Before he had a chance to say anything, I jumped into his arms for a hug. I did manage to salvage some dignity and not screech in his ear.

“Hey Elliebear.” He said after grunting from the impact.

“I missed you.”

“I missed you too.”

Our orders were finished quickly as it was surprisingly slow for a Friday night. Luckily, that meant our table was free. We sat down and conversation flowed easily. It was almost like we had never been apart.

“The ring is nice. It suits you. Bigger than I thought you would like but it’s nice.”

“It is nice, yeah. That reminds me, Evan said he’s looking forward to meeting you tomorrow.”

“So am I. See who finally caught your interest.”

“I was interested in other people before Evan.” I told him, scandalously.

“Ellie. That guy from drama class doesn’t count. And neither does your chemistry partner.”

“I was not interested in Adam. And Zach was my chemistry partner. I can assure you I was not into him.”

“Please, enlighten me as to these people you were interested in before Evan.”

“There was,” I paused. You. “Dylan from sophomore English was cute. Ian. Couple other guys in high school. Peter from my first year anthropology class was… very attractive, and smart.” I’ll just leave out that Peter was the professor.

“One guy aside from Evan? University of Georgia is a big school. There’s no way you only had eyes for two people.”

“I was busy. I practically lived in the library when I wasn’t in class or my dorm. What about you?”

“What about me?”

“Is there a girl I should be hearing about? Or should have heard about?”

“Nah. Nothing important or anything to write home about. I was busy.”

“Oh please Monty, you played ball at OSU. You honestly expect me to believe there was no girl in your life?”

“No, no. There were girls. Just nothing really serious.”

“Uh, huh.” I replied, sarcastically. When I reached for my cup, he reached for his, and our hands brushed. I was immediately transported back to the day of homecoming in senior year.

Flashback

“Remember students. The homecoming game is tonight at 6:30. You’ll want to be there early as our Liberty Tigers take on the Hildebrandt Mustangs if you want good seats. It’s sure to be a nail biter.” Principal Bolan’s voice boomed from the intercom during the morning announcements.

“In order for it to be a nail biter, our team would actually have to have a chance at winning.” Alex muttered to Clay and me.

“They are playing Hildebrandt. We could literally not show up and still win.” I told him, as I adjusted my bag on our walk from Alex’s locker to mine, where Zach was meeting me before chemistry.

“Maybe they got good over the summer. Didn’t Bryce spend the summer in Greece or something? Relaxing and drinking poolside?”

“I think it was somewhere in Italy, actually.”

“Either way, I don’t think he spent his summer bulking up and practicing for the season.”

“I mean, they have Monty.”

“And? What did he spend his summer doing Ellie?”

“When I wasn’t at camp, we spent the summer together. There was no poolside drinking. When I was at camp he hung out with Scott and did boy stuff. They also worked out a lot.”

“How was camp by the way?” Clay asked.

“It was good. Learned a lot from my campers. They learned a lot from me. Only one incident of blood. It was pretty good.”

We had made it to my locker, and I was arranging my books when I felt myself being pulled into someone’s arms and lifted off the ground. “Montgomery, put me down!” I laughed, feeling my whole body shake.

“Never.” He laughed, evilly.

“I have to grab my chem book. And go to chemistry.”

“I’ve got it.” Zach’s voice drifted over to me, “you carrying her to class today?”

“Nah, I thought about it but since I had to come find her this morning, I figure she can make it there on her own.”

“I was running late. My alarm didn’t go off when it was supposed to.”

“Excuses, excuses.” Monty replied, putting me down and shaking his head. I turned my attention back to my other friends.

“I’ll see you guys later? Zach and I are running late.”

“Sure. Justin said if I don’t go to the game tonight, he’d tell mom and dad about Ani. And I don’t want to deal with that.”

“Someone has to keep Clay company, so I have to go too.” Alex said, pushing clay lightly.

“Great. I’ll see you then. See you at lunch Monty.”

Lunch seemed to take forever and a half to arrive. I knew sleeping in would mess with my day. The guys were already at their usual table when I arrived and sat next to Monty, no closer than we usually did. “Ellie, think you could pray for us to not lose this game tonight?” Bryce sniggered from the end of the table. I only rolled my eyes in response.

“Hey, quit being a dick.” Monty told him. Bryce responded by chucking a grape at him.

“It’s fine Monty. Not like he hasn’t done it before.” I didn’t have to look up from my lunch to know he was sporting a displeased face. “It’s going to take a lot more than God to help you win if you don’t learn to throw better than that in the next six hours. But sure.” I made a show of getting myself ready to pray verbally, but not with intention, “Lord, please help the guys win tonight. Give them the ability to not trip over themselves when they make plays. And God, please show Bryce how to make the ball go where it’s supposed to and not hit some poor kid in the head again. Maybe, just maybe, then he will get laid tonight and we all know that’s really why he asked me to pray.”

The boys laughed hysterically around me as I smirked at Bryce.

“You need to quit hanging out with Monty, he’s rubbing off on you too much. And I was serious.”

“I know. I’ll do it for real after lunch. You can sit with me if you want.” I offered but knew he would decline.

I ran home to change after school for the game. “Mom, have you seen my baseball shirt?” I called, searching my room for Monty’s shirt.

“The last I saw it, it was on your dresser.” I dug around on my dresser for a bit until I found it.

“Thanks Mom.” I called, shrugging it on. I quickly fixed my hair and grabbed a sweater before bolting back out the door to meet Alex before the game.

I met him in the school parking lot, at about six. “Hey Lex.”

“Hey El. Clay should be here soon and we can go find a seat.”

“That’s good.” We made small talk for a few minutes before Clay pulled up in one of the Priuses. Pri-i?

“Hey guys. Ready to go watch us get our asses handed to us on the field?”

“Your brother is playing Clay. Have a little faith.”

“I guess you’re right. I can’t say he isn’t a good player. But even still. Justin and Monty can’t carry the whole team all night.”

“Scott and Charlie help. Zach is good.”

“Oh goody. Five of forty-seven players are good. That makes me feel so much prouder of them.” Alex joked as we found a decent seat in the middle of the stands at the beginning of the row.

“Well, just think, if we do win tonight, then the team will be too busy celebrating to give anyone a hard time for a few days.”

“Now that you mention celebrating Ellie, if they win are you going to go with Monty after the game?” Clay asked

“I told him I would meet him at Monet’s with the rest of them whether we win or lose.”

“Okay. Can you keep an eye on Justin? I don’t really feel like going out with the football team for the evening.”

“No problem. Is everything alright?”

“I think he’s just trying to figure out where he fits now that he’s doing better and on the team. I don’t think he thought he would get this far.”

“That’s fair. I’ll make sure he sits with us for a bit. See if I can make Monty play nice.”

“See if you can? Ellie. He would jump off a cliff if you asked him to. I don’t like him, but I know he likes you.” Alex argued. Likes me? I mean sure, as his friend. Right? I brushed off the thoughts and where they could lead and have occasionally led in the past.

“He doesn’t really like heights. But I guess you’re right. He’s my best friend.”

“Sure. Best friend.” Alex said, shaking his head. I watched him share a look with Clay.

“I’m going to go grab a water, you guys want anything?”

“No, I’m good thanks.” Clay said, his eyes scanning the crowd of arriving students, likely for Ani.

“Nah. Mom sent me with some kind of weird protein thing. It doesn’t taste half bad, so I’ll just have that.” Alex said, shaking a bottle. I nodded and ran down the bleachers to the concession.

After getting a bottle of cold water, I ran back up just before the game started. The teams had just gotten on the field and had lined up. As expected, the game was in our favour most of the first half. I waved at Monty occasionally when he was on the sidelines and he looked over at me. He smiled and waved back. During the second half Hildebrandt seemed to find their groove and the game was at least interesting. It wasn’t really much of a nail biter as Principal Bolan had promised this morning, but it wasn’t really boring either. Everyone knew that regardless of how we played, we would probably win. The game ended and the team and the crowd were excited. Matt and Garrison were so excited by the win, they tripped over their own feet and faceplanted on the sidelines. The excitement died down for a moment until they shot up and went on celebrating. As the team filtered off the field, students began leaving. “See you Monday Ellie.” Alex said as we hugged goodbye.

“See you. Have a good weekend guys. I have to go catch up with Monty.”

I spotted him waiting for me by the locker room, gym bag on his shoulder. “Good game.” I said as I walked up to him.

“Of course, it was. I was on the field.”

“Modest as ever I see.”

“Do you expect anything else at this point Elliebear?” “Not really. But I can hope, maybe one day.”

“Maybe, but not likely.”

“Oh hey, while I’m thinking about it, Clay asked me to keep an eye on Justin tonight.”

“Is everything okay?”

“I think so. Clay said something about him having issues adjusting and stuff. Do you think you can play nice with him for a while?”

“I suppose, since he is your friend, I can try and be nice for a while. But not all night. I want some Ellie time.”

“And you’ll get your Ellie time. After you make nice with Justin.”

He sighed and was about to respond when Bryce called us, “are you two going to stand there and chit chat all night or are we going to celebrate?”

“We’re coming. Give us a minute asshole.” Monty called back to him. Bryce waved him off and walked away, leaving us alone.

He turned his back to me, “hop on”, he told me as he bent down slightly. Once I was secure against his body, he began to walk us out to the parking lot. Because he wasn’t paying attention, it was the perfect time to steal his hat. Plucking it off his head, I placed it on mine. It was slightly too big, but I didn’t mind.

“That’s my hat El.”

“I know. I happen to like it though, so I’m wearing it.”

“I’m not getting it back tonight, am I?”

“Nope. It is now mine. Might even write my name in it.”

“You do that Ellie. I won’t care when I steal it back who’s name it has in it.”

“Fine. Then I’ll readjust it.” I smirked.

“You wouldn’t dare.”

“Oh, I would.”

He laughed as we arrived at our cars and he set me down. “No, you wouldn’t.” He shook his head for emphasis, calling my bluff. I pushed him lightly and rolled my eyes.

“Whatever. I’ll see you at Monet’s in a few with your precious hat.”

True to my word, I arrived at Monet’s a few minutes later, Monty’s hat placed firmly on my head. The place was packed with students celebrating the win. I went to the counter and greeted Skye, placing our usual orders and adding whatever Justin usually got. Once placed, I turned to look for a table. Luckily most students knew where Montgomery and I sat so our table was clear. Making a couple of trips, I placed the drinks on the table and pulled out my phone. I texted Justin quickly, hey Justin. I grabbed you a coffee. Feel free to sit with Monty and I when you get here. Don’t worry, he agreed to be nice. He replied with a thumbs up. The sound of a chair scraping the floor next to me startled me. “I see you told the truth. Can I have it back now?”

“No. I think it looks quite fetching on me, if I do say so myself.” I spoke regally, swiveling my head to show him from multiple angles.

“Fetching?”

“Yes. Do you disagree?”

“No, I think it looks good on you.”

“That’s what I thought.”

Monty and I chatted quietly before Justin showed up. “Hey guys.” He said, standing slightly awkwardly to the side of the table.

“Justin! You made it.” I exclaimed, smiling. Monty shot me a tone it down look. He smiled back at me as I stood and moved next to Monty. “Make room.”

“Can do sweetheart.” He charmed, patting the chair next to me. I rolled my eyes and tried to ignore the flutter in my stomach when he called me sweetheart, before sitting down.

“Thanks for the coffee Ellie.” Justin told me, taking a sip.

“No problem.” The three of us chatted idly for a while. Monty was nice to Justin and even laughed a few times at one thing or another he said.

Somewhere along the line of our conversation, our hands drifted towards each other under the table. I felt his hand wrap around mine and I felt my cheeks flame. The flutters were back, and I looked at him from the corner of my eye. He acted like he hadn’t noticed that we were holding hands. “Hey Justin, come over here and look at this.” Charlie called over to our table. He was looking at something on Garrisons’ phone. Justin waved to him and stood up, taking his coffee with him. I wonder if he noticed we are holding hands. Maybe he’s leaving us alone for a reason. Maybe….

“And then there were two.” Monty spoke, pulling me from my thoughts before they could go any further.

“Then there were two.” I echoed.

“That shirt looks good on you. It’s pretty familiar too.”

“Oh, yeah. There may be a reason for that.”

“Need to go talk to Mike?”

“Not if you don’t have a problem with it. I think he would agree it was simply borrowing, rather than stealing. No need to involve Jesus.”

“I am. So now you’ve got my shirt and my hat. Anything else you intend on taking of mine?”

“Possibly. Depends what else you’re willing to offer.” I flirted slightly, moving my hair behind my ear.

“I think there’s a thing or two I could offer you Ellie.” He flirted back, leaning in slightly. Oh my goodness. He’s going to kiss me. My thoughts immediately began flashing forward at a rapid pace. Us going for innocent coffee dates. Introducing him to dad as my boyfriend. The possibility of church on Sundays. Introducing him to Pastor Mike. Our first fight. Making up from said fight. Getting accepted to the same college. Graduation. College. A ring. Coming home and getting married in the little white church just out of town. Marriage. Kids. Sitting on our porch when we are old and grey. Before he could kiss me, Bryce called him from across the room. He stopped just short of my lips and looked over at him, “what?”

“My place, half an hour.” He called back. Monty nodded in response and turned back to me. I was smiling at him, trying to hide the fact that I was mildly hurt he stopped short of kissing me. Or that I was annoyed that my mind had gone so far once again. I chuckled and took a drink of my coffee. I looked at my watch and saw that even though it wasn’t necessarily late late, it was late enough that I could get away with leaving on account of the time.

“Shoot. Is that really the time? I have plans with my mom in the morning. I should get going.” I said, getting up and grabbing my bag.

“Oh, okay. Are we still on for waffles Sunday afternoon?”

“Yeah. Be at my place around one? I need to talk to Pastor Mike about a few things after service.”

“I’ll be there. Text me when you get home.”

“I will.” I said, trying to keep the hurried tone out of my voice. I just want to get out of here. I took my cup back to the counter and made my way to the door, trying to keep an even pace. I didn’t look back as I left the café.

End Flashback

Shaking the memory from my mind, I pried some more. “What about the blonde girl you told me about briefly?”

“Sara?”

“Yeah.”

“She was nice. Very peppy and chipper though.”

“Ah yes. Need to keep up that stoic exterior. Can’t have someone too chipper, lest people think you have a soul or something.”

“Exactly.” He laughed. He took a long sip from his cooled coffee. “Can you imagine if I brought her home?”

“Well, knowing your mother, I would probably be attending your engagement party tomorrow instead of the other way around.”

“Oh probably.”

“How is your mom doing, by the way?” “She’s doing okay. After dad died, she was pretty out of it for a few months. She’s gotten better with time though. Really started to come into her own and forge her own path.”

“I’m glad to hear it.”

“Not going to ask how I’m doing Ellie?”

“No. I know how you’re doing.”

“Oh really?”

“Montgomery. I am your best friend. Your dad was never a parent. DNA doesn’t make someone your family. You’re doing the same as you did the day you left and vowed to never speak to him again.”

He looked surprised at me. “Sometimes I forget how well you know me.”

“I know. That’s why I have to remind you all the time.”

“Yeah, yeah. How did Evan react to Scott on the way from the airport?”

“I’m not totally sure. I don’t think he realized how things worked at Liberty and exactly what you and I being friends meant. Scott told him about the treehouse.”

“Oh no. Ellie. I need to look the guy in the eye tomorrow.”

“I know you do. Don’t worry. He didn’t seem upset or anything. I think he found it amusing actually.”

“Did he tell him anything else?”

“About you?”

“Yeah.”

“No, mentioned how you guys fucked up and didn’t study for midterms and I singlehandedly kept you all on the team. And how Matt and Garrison managed to keep themselves above their feet until after homecoming senior year.”

“Of course, he did.”

“Don’t worry. Evan will like you.”

“How do you know?”

“Because I like you. And even though you think you are, you really aren’t a bad guy.” We talked for about another hour or so, just catching up, before we decided to call it a night.

“I’ll see you tomorrow?”

“Three o’clock sharp.”

“Good.” I said squeezing him in a hug. When we pulled apart he looked down at me, seeming to finally notice my shirt.

“Is that my shirt?”

“Yes it is.”

“I thought I lost that years ago.”

“You never asked for it back. We agreed that I technically borrowed it, remember?”

“Yeah but I also thought you would have given it back by now.”

“I mean, I can give it back to you tomorrow if you want it.” I offered.

“No, no. You keep it. You seem comfortable in it.” I smiled at him in response before he hugged me again and we said goodbye.

The next morning was somewhat hectic in the Davis household. My mom was up at a time God himself would shake his head at, doing last minute cleaning. My dad was up shortly after, making sure the yard hadn’t disappeared overnight or something. I woke up around ten and before I could even get a sip of coffee in me, I was already being bombarded with questions about what I was wearing or how I was doing my hair by my mom. Jeez Louise, if the engagement party is like this, what will the wedding day be like? “I have a white dress with flowers I was going to wear. It’s strapless and cute. Dressy enough for a party.”

“Strapless?”

“Yes Mom. It is strapless. I brought a cardigan to wear with it before you have a coronary.”

“Well I suppose that is alright then. And your hair?”

“A simple curled high ponytail. I have an elastic with a bow on it to use. I have thought about this you know.”

“I know dear. It’s just all so exciting, isn’t it? My only daughter is getting married.”

“Very exciting, yes.” I grumbled. “Now will you please let me go get a cup of coffee?”

“Can’t that wait darling? We have so much to do.”

“She will be much more of a help after a coffee Jillian.” Evan spoke from the hall upstairs. “Give her a few minutes to wake up and she will be ready to go, won’t you El?”

“Yes, I will.” I replied, moving towards the kitchen in search of the rich black liquid. Evan came down and grabbed the milk from the fridge to steam for my latte. “Thank you, I appreciate that you did that.” I whispered to him, gratefully.

“Of course, Buttercup.” He muttered into the top of my head and measuring out the perfect amount of milk into the pitcher, before half emptying a packet of Splenda into my mug. I set to work grinding and packing the espresso powder. I enjoyed my latte over my Bible while Evan got ready for the day’s events.

Shortly after I had gotten dressed, the caterers arrived, and it became even more hectic. They were finishing various dishes and trying to make room in the fridge. I watched on from the sidelines and tried to stay out of the way as much as possible. Evan came over to me and placed his arm around my waist. “You look beautiful.”

“You look great too, handsome.” I blushed, placing my arm around his waist too. Finally, around 2:30, the caterers had finished all of the food and set up. Cupcakes had been delivered and were set out on cake stands. Balloons were up and fairy lights lined the crown moulding around the living room. The room looked perfect.

Guests began arriving just before three. Justin and his girlfriend Sasha were the first to arrive. Justin and Jessica had broken up halfway through their first year of college, the strain of long distance becoming too much for them. They were still amicable in social situations though.

“Hey Justin. Hello Sasha. How are you guys?” I greeted them, warmly.

“We are good.” Justin replied, his hand firmly placed in hers.

“Hey guys.” Evan greeted them. The pair waved in acknowledgement.

“Let’s see the ring Ellie.” Sasha gushed. I held out my hand while she examined and fawned over the ring. I caught Evan and Justin share a look. Oh boy. This could get interesting for the man.

We continued greeting guests, accepting congratulations and gifts, and smiling as they arrived. Monty showed up right at three, as promised. “Hey you.” I greeted, beaming at him.

“Hey Elliebear.” He said, pulling me into a quick hug. Evan stood to the side, giving us a moment. I pulled away and turned towards Evan.

“Evan, this is Monty. Monty, this is Evan.” I motioned. They shook hands.

“So, you found the way to Ellie’s heart, huh?”

“Yeah. She is something special. I thank God every day that she decided to give me a chance.”

“Don’t I know it?” Monty replied, almost whistfully.

My mom called me over and I decided it would be a good idea to perhaps not leave the boys alone together. “Coming Mom. Scott is over there by the cupcakes.” I said, pointing him out. “Try to keep him from eating himself to a sugar high?”

Monty laughed, “can do Ellie. It was nice meeting you Evan. Congratulations.”

“You too Monty. Enjoy the party.”

I watched as he walked over and greeted Scott, taking a glass of champagne and a cupcake for himself. My mom called me over again and I ran over to see what she wanted. The party went off without a hitch. The only thing that concerned me was the way my eyes sought out Montgomery all afternoon and not my fiancé. Not to mention the all too familiar fluttering in my belly whenever I was near him or made eye contact with him.

The day had finally arrived. After a year of meticulous planning, it was finally my wedding day. All of the stress and details and late-night crying had all led up to this one day. The church was beginning to fill with guests. The loving memory sign was placed near the altar. I thought of how my granddad would have been the one to preach the service if he was still with us when I decided on the placement. My bridesmaids had already left the room to line up to walk down the aisle. Evan would be at the altar by now. I stared at my reflection in the mirror. I couldn’t shake the feeling of fear that was becoming harder and harder to ignore.

My off-white wedding dress was on, my veil in place on my head, and my makeup and hair looked flawless. Everything was perfect. Almost everything. I shook in the bridal room, waiting for the planner to call for me. You can do this Ellie. I fiddled with my engagement ring for a moment before I heard Melissa knock on the door, “we are ready for you Ellie.” Forcing a big smile on my face, I nodded to her and walked out of the room where my dad was waiting to walk me down the aisle.

“You look beautiful sweetheart.” He told me as I handed him my engagement ring for safe keeping and took his arm. The chapel doors opened, and Evan turned to look at me from the altar. I could tell his eyes were wet with unshed tears and when he saw me, he covered his mouth and looked up, trying to hold the tears back. The crowd was standing watching our reactions. My bridesmaids smiles beamed from the altar, brightly. I trained my eyes on him as my dad walked me down the aisle. My dad gave me to Evan and Pastor Mike began the service.

“We are gathered here today, before God and those closest to Ellie and Evan to join them in in celebrating their love and commitment to one another.” He continued speaking, “when Ellie called me to announce her engagement, I was thrilled for her. By the time they got around to coming back to Evergreen County from their home in Atlanta, and they asked me to officiate, I knew my answer would be a resounding yes. Getting to know Evan and see these two together over the last number of months, has opened my eyes to how these two help each other in their journey to seek to know and have a relationship with the Lord. Ellie mentioned early on in planning to me, that her favourite verse in the Bible is 1 Corinthians 13:4-8 and expressed the importance of including it on this special day. I would like to read you that verse now. 4 Love is patient and kind. Love is not jealous or boastful or proud 5 or rude. It does not demand its own way. It is not irritable, and it keeps no record of being wronged. 6 It does not rejoice about injustice but rejoices whenever the truth wins out. 7 Love never gives up, never loses faith, is always hopeful, and endures through every circumstance.

8 Prophecy and speaking in unknown languages[a] and special knowledge will become useless. But love will last forever!”

Pastor Mike continued speaking, but my eyes had begun to scan the crowd. They swept from one side of the church to the other. Near the back on the right side, next to the door, I spotted some of my friends. I saw Scott and Justin, along with Sasha, sitting with Charlie and Zach. Bryce surprised me and RSVP’d yes, even if part of me knew he knew I only invited him out of politeness. He was sitting next to Charlie, sandwiched next to Clay and Alex. As my eyes continued to scan the room, I didn’t see him. When they landed on Scott and I maintained eye contact for a moment, he shrugged, and frowned slightly. He isn’t here. He didn’t come. Tears filled my eyes and I turned back to Evan, my hand still resting in his. I made sure to smile so it appeared that I was merely overwhelmed with joy and not feeling my heart be crushed with despair. “Evan Andrew Taylor, do you take Ellie Marie Davis to be your lawfully wedded wife, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, till death do you part, according to God's holy ordinance?”

“I do.” Evan replied, wholeheartedly.

“And do you Ellie Marie Davis, take Evan Andrew Taylor to be your lawfully wedded husband, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, till death do you part, according to God's holy ordinance?”

I took on last look at the crowd gathered around us and made eye contact with Scott before turning back to Evan, “I can’t. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” I spoke quietly, letting go of his hand. I looked back at Scott and nodded to him. He turned to Justin and Zach, as the crowd gasped. I stepped down from the altar and it seemed to kick my friend’s butts into gear.

“Shi-” Scott started before realizing he was in a church. “Shoot.” He amended, quickly. He stood up and met me at the end of the aisle as my friends joined me in running out of the church. To our surprise, Bryce tossed Scott his keys and Zach picked me up to carry me to the car. “Zach drives.” He said, giving me a thumbs up.

We were in Bryce’s car before Scott spoke again, “did that really just happen?”

“Yeah. Yeah it did.” I was still in shock.

“Why?” Justin asked as we drove away from the church.

“He wasn’t there.” I said simply, staring out the window. “I couldn’t marry Evan knowing that I was in love with someone else. I couldn’t stand up there and say I do to him when I was praying for someone to stand up and object. Or to be up there with me instead.”

The boys were silent for a while as we drove around. Scott was in the front, looking for Montgomery’s car in every lot we passed. Justin was holding my hand tightly, trying his best to soothe me.

“You should know that he was. There.” Zach advised, “he wanted to be, but he couldn’t mess things up for you and he couldn’t sit and watch you get married to someone that wasn’t him.”

I didn’t respond, I merely tried to absorb the information I was being given. He was there. Why didn’t he come and tell me anything? Why didn’t he mess things up? I was pulled from my thoughts when my phone vibrated, alerting me I had a text. It was from Bryce. Monet’s. Your table. I never thought I would see the day where I would honestly thank Bryce Walker and mean it once, let alone twice. “He’s at Monet’s.”

“How do you know?” Zach asked, glancing in the rear view to make a lane change and turn us around.

“Surprisingly, Bryce.” I watched as my friend’s brows all raised. They couldn’t believe it either.

I was silent as Zach drove the rest of the way and parked across the street from the coffee shop. I scanned the building quickly, searching for any sign of him. I spotted him in the window, at our table, just like Bryce had said. Monet’s had become licensed a couple of years back, so they could serve alcohol. Monty was sitting alone, in his black suit, nursing what appeared to be a tall bourbon, neat. “Go get him El.” Scott encouraged me. I nodded and checked for traffic before opening the door and stepping out of the car. Damning laws at this point, since the street was clear, I half ran across and yanked open the door. The few patrons and baristas looked up and appeared slightly annoyed at the sudden, rude intrusion, before they took note of my attire. White dress, veil, hair and makeup applied. It became clear that I was here on a mission and it wasn’t only coffee or a quick shot of liquid courage. Picking up my dress slightly so I didn’t trip on the stairs, I walked over to his table. “Is this seat taken?” I asked, softly.

He looked up at me, his eyes widening in surprise and full of unspoken questions.

“I couldn’t do it if you weren’t there. You’re my best friend Monty.”

He scoffed quietly before replying, “it’s not taken, no. Sit if you want,” and taking another drink from his glass, not looking at me.

“Hey,” I started, reaching for his hand. He looked at my hand and after a pause let me take it, “I mean it. I couldn’t marry him.”

“Why not?”

I was quiet while I thought over how to explain my feelings. Noticing he had about fingers width of bourbon left in his glass, I grabbed it, downing the rest of it.

“Hey. I was drinking that.” He protested. That was all the courage I needed.

“I couldn’t marry Evan because he wasn’t you. And you weren’t there to say anything by the time I walked down the aisle. You were just going to give me away and live the rest of our lives wondering what if.” I told him while I stared into the bottom of the now empty glass, too afraid to look him in the eye.

“You- really? How did you know…?”

“Zach told me.”

“I know I wasn’t there Ellie. I just. I couldn’t sit there in that church and watch you marry him. And I knew I was and would be too much of a coward to stand up and say something when I saw you standing up there with him. I had to let you be happy.”

“Don’t you get it Montgomery? I wouldn��t have been happy. Not really. Or at least not for long. Not with Evan.”

“So why did you agree to marry him?”

“Because I thought it would be easier? My friends liked him, my family liked him, I liked him. I just thought that it would be easier to ignore my feelings. I could marry him, officially move to Atlanta, come home a couple of times a year, have a couple of kids. It all seemed easier than admitting to myself that I was in love with my best friend and if I really, truly wanted to be happy, I would need to be with him instead. And that admitting that would change everything. But I’ve learned over the past year that easy doesn’t always mean happy. And sometimes what we think is easy in the short term, isn’t always easy in the long term.”

He chuckled lowly, “took you long enough.”

I furrowed my brow at him, “what is that supposed to mean? I just confessed my love for you, and that’s all you have to say?”

“Yeah. It took you long enough to come to that conclusion. You were what? Half-way through the ceremony before you put a stop to it?”

“Not exactly. I knew a while ago. I spent the whole morning shaking and waiting for you to come and tell me that I was making a mistake. When you didn’t come, I thought… that you either didn’t feel the same way, or that you were going to do the kind thing for once and not say anything, but I thought at least you would be there. When I saw that you weren’t, I knew I couldn’t marry him. Even if it was the easy choice.” When he didn’t say anything I added, “you picked a great time to do the kind thing.”

“Yeah, well. You knew it would happen sometime. You owe me another shot by the way.”

“Oh please. There was barely a fingers width in your glass.” I told him, sighing dramatically.

He looked at me through his impossibly long eyelashes, “they won’t serve you that small an amount.” I rolled my eyes and stood up to go order him another shot. You owe me another shot… men. I was surprised when he grabbed my wrist to stop me, before pulling me into his lap, rather gracefully given the fit of my dress, and kissing me deeply. Monty pulled away first and turned to look out the window. Our friends had gotten out of the car and were clapping and high fiving each other.

“How about that shot now?” Monty smirked.

#monty imagine #monty x reader #montgomery de la cruz x oc #montgomery de la cruz #monty de la cruz #monty x oc #Marry Me #thomas rhett #montgomery de la cruz imagine #montgomery de la cruz x reader #scott reed #Alex Standall #clay jensen #justin foley jensen #zach dempsey #charlie st. george #Bryce Walker #original character #scheduled

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glitchvault74 · 4 years

Text

You May Think the Author Made Typos, but if it's in Rig's Dialogue, Then No, He Just Talks Like That

[Previous] [AO3]

It’s late into the evening when they make it to Echo’s place. Rig follows along, growing less aware of his surroundings as they go. Hmm. Weird. There’s that dizzy feeling again. Perhaps not dizzy... Something more like...

“Getting sleepy, Rigsby?” Deacon asks from where he’s lounging on a couch.

...when did a couch get there?

Rig looks around. Actually, when did they get inside a building? He blinks and rubs his eyes. Ugh... What is this...?

“Rig?”

He looks up again. What was the robot person’s name...? “Nick,” he says.

Nick half-smiles, amused but unsure about it. “You can take the bed in that room over there.” He points. “You look like you’re about to collapse. Do you need to eat first?”

“Not hungry.” Rig wanders off to the room and lies down on the bed. He flips onto his back and stares at the ceiling and then closes his eyes... When was the last time he slept? Was it really when he was in that vault...? Was it really for over two hundred years...? What happened? That doesn’t make sense. No one can live that long, right? Well. Ghouls can, apparently? But—

Something jumps onto the bed next to him, and his eyes flutter open and he looks to see the cute German Shepherd lying there. He smiles and flips onto his side to pet the dog. Dogmeat or something... Weird name, but whatever. Not like “Rig” isn’t any weirder.

...No offense to the original Rig...

Dogmeat nestles in beside him and he closes his eyes again, arm ending up draping across Dogmeat’s back...

Glowing yellow eyes peek into the dark of the room, and a hand slowly closes the door... Nick wanders back over to where Echo prepares a late dinner and Deacon has moved to sit at the counter.

“So,” Nick says. “That is not Rig Miller.”

Deacon gasps in such a way that could be described as “sarcastic”. “You mean he’s been lying to me this whole time?”

Echo lifts her brow. “If you already knew, why have you been going along with it?”

“Oh you know.” Deacon shrugs. “With the Institute taken down, there’s been less to do with the Railroad. Saw this guy causing a ruckus claiming to be Rig Miller out in Buttonwood and then saying he’s going to prove ‘he’ was framed for a pre-war murder Rig commited. Figured I’d keep an eye on him, see how long it takes for him to admit the truth.”

Nick frowns. “If he’s anything like you, you’ll be waiting forever.”

“Well, sure,” Deacon chuckles. “It’s like a magnet, right? Liars attract each other.”

“Magnets attract opposite poles.”

“You know what I mean!”

Echo hums a little as she dropped sliced carrots and tatos into a pot of water. “I figured he wasn’t. He doesn’t respond to the name right away.” She gives the pot a gentle stir and taps her wooden spoon against the side. “So, Nick, you mentioned a pre-war case involving our ‘named’ guest?”

Nick takes a seat in order to lean back in his chair dramatically. “Well, he wasn’t any Eddie Winters, but Rig Miller was the name attached to several different crimes committed in the areas surrounding Boston. The weird thing about the case is, aside from the name, no one could find any evidence connecting the only ‘Rig Miller’ in the area with those crimes. I don’t know what this murder was about—must have happened after the brain scan—but having met the original Rig, I wouldn’t doubt if he was being framed by someone else.”

“Yeah?” Deacon hums. “So what was the original Rig like, and who’s this guy pretending to be him?”

“For one thing,” Nick says, leaning forward almost conspiratorially. “Blond.” He taps his fingers on the counter. “Had a job working with computer repair. He was a fairly popular man, had a lot of people supporting him and vouching for his innocence even when the rumors spread about him being involved with crimes.”

“So the complete opposite of a dark-haired, sweaty man who broke his Pip-Boy by accident.”

“Exactly,” Nick nods. “Whoever this is, it’s not Rig Miller. Don’t know how he got the name... He said he...” He clears his throat and looks at Echo. “Came from a vault...”

Echo pulls a face and groans. “At least he’s not wearing his vault suit still... What vault...?”

“113,” Nick says. “And he says he’s from pre-war but doesn’t remember how he got to 113 or how he got out... For all we know, he got high on chems, stole a vault suit and a broken Pip-Boy, and picked a name that coincidentally someone recognized and is too embarrassed to admit the truth.”

Deacon claps his hands together. “Mystery solved! How much do I owe you?”

“Deacon,” Echo scolds. “Keep that up and I’ll give you a bowl of stew with no vegetables in it.” She looks up from her cooking and glances at the next room where Rig’s fast asleep under Dogmeat’s watch. “I could always find out for myself what his history is...”

“Only if you feel you need to,” Nick assures. He looks at Deacon. “In the meantime, can I trust you not to lie about what you know about him?”

Deacon holds up his hands in surrender. “Okay, so considering he acts and how much he doesn’t know about the modern age of man,” he nods at Echo, “and woman, I don’t think he’s lying about being from a vault. It’s weird he doesn’t know anything about 113 or how he escaped, but apparently he was really out of it when a caravan found him and brought him to Buttonwood, so who knows.”

“Why’d he pick Rig Miller specifically?” Echo points her spoon at Nick. “You think he was close with the guy?”

“Maybe...” Nick hums. “But how? If he actually is pre-war, then how did he survive so long? Unless he’s a synth...”

Deacon hums and taps his chin. “He has a weird relationship with Fancy Lads, I’ll say that much... Gave him some for breakfast today and he said they were disgusting but that he loves them.”

Echo wrinkles her nose. “Did you... Offer him any food after that...?”

“He keeps saying ‘I’m not hungry’, so...”

“That’s—” She sighs. “Well, he’s asleep now, so we’ll just make sure he eats in the morning...” She tastes her stew and then reaches for the spices. “In the meantime, we should figure out where we’re going to be heading for this ‘case’. If we’re going to be figuring out whether or not the original Rig was framed for a murder that happened before the bombs even fell, then we need to figure out where to start. Maybe that ghoul lady who accused him in the first place?”

“You mean Lady?” Deacon grins.

“...Yes.”

“Are we looking into this?” Nick asks. “If this man isn’t even Miller...”

“It clearly means a lot to him, either way,” Echo points out. “If he’d be willing to follow ‘Tim’ to Diamond City for this...” She turns the heat on low and scoops out two bowls of stew and slides one over to Deacon. “Besides. This isn’t the only mystery about this guy we need to solve. What better way to figure out who he is and where he came from than by keeping him around and finding out secrets while in his shadow?”

“Aww,” Deacon coos. “You learned something from me after all. I’m touched!”

“We probably shouldn’t bring him back to Buttonwood,” Nick reminds. “I don’t want to leave him on his own, so we’ll leave someone with him while the rest of us go talk with Lady.”

In the other room, “Rig Miller” stares at the wall, noting how thin they must be for him to have heard all of that. He lets go of Dogmeat to flip onto his other side, lets Dogmeat curl up against his back, and he closes his eyes and this time actually falls asleep.

———

Night parts away to morning sunrise. Nick leaves for a quick run to the office to let Ellie know what the plan is, Deacon slips out for his own, unknown business, leaving Echo to take Dogmeat out for his usual morning walk. She looks into the guest room Dogmeat awake, tail wagging expectantly as Rig sleeps soundly.

She could leave Rig to sleep while she and Dogmeat head out, but with Nick and Deacon both gone, she doesn’t want to leave a stranger alone in her place. Especially one who, if he actually did come from a vault—she shudders at the thought—won’t know what’s what should he wake up alone...

“Rig,” she says, just loud enough to try and wake him, but the man’s dead to the world. Dogmeat jumps down from the bed, and that doesn’t wake Rig either. Dogmeat trots up to her and sits at her feet, and she smiles at him. “You’re right,” she whispers. “It would be two birds with one stone...” She looks up at Rig again, making sure he’s asleep. She walks over, silent and tense as she prepares herself for what she might see... “Rig,” she whispers, and she reaches out for his shoulder. “Time to wake up...” Her hand lands on his shoulder, and the world changes around her.

It’s a bright day, in a relatively clean house. Well organized, surfaces clear of clutter, perhaps a bit dusty but there’s only so much a human can do. It’s not like every household can afford a Mr. Handy, thank you very much. Dinner is cooking in the oven, the window curtains are open to let in the summer light, and he’s content to sit at the table and write in one of his journals. The front door opens and there’s the sound of keys dropping in their holder in the foyer followed by a call of a joking “Honeypie, I’m home!”

“Dinner will be ready soon!” he calls back without looking up from his writing. This is just their little game of pretend. That he’s the househusband instead of just a roommate. “Did you have a nice day at work?”

He jumps when hands slam down on the table in front of him, and he looks up to see his roommate’s grinning face. “Rig? What’s wrong?”

Rig, a blond man in a polo shirt and business khakis, laughs, sunny and full of pride. “Why do you ask that when I’m clearly happy about something, huh? You know that raffle at work? To get places in Vault 113?”

He blinks. “I thought you said the drawing wasn’t until Friday—”

“Yeah,” Rig smirks and leans forward. “But I know who the winners are going to be...”

“...And?” he asks. “Didn’t you say most people bought, like, dozens of tickets? You said you could only afford one for each of us...”

“We only need those two tickets, buddy.” Rig practically lies on the table as he reaches to hold his cheek. “Your genius roommate figured out how to rig the raffle so our tickets will be two of the ones drawn.”

His eyes widen, he gasps. The sentence processes in his mind... And he grins and dives in to hug Rig. “You did! You got us covered! We’re in!”

“You know it!” Rig laughs again and holds him tight. “I couldn’t let anything happen to my favorite poet, after all...”

Something shifts under her hand, tethering her back to reality. She pulls her hand back as Rig flops onto his back and stares up at her, a lack of recognition on his face.

“Sunglasses?” he mumbles.

Echo reaches for her eyes and quickly turns away. Fuck. Shit. She forgot.

“You have nice eyes,” he yawns as he sits up. “Gray. S’nice color.”

“Uhhhhh, thanks.” She looks to Dogmeat who runs around in a circle before exiting the room. “I have to take Dogmeat for his morning walk. Nick and Deacon are out right now too. Did you want to come with me?”

“Oh... Sure?” Rig rubs his eyes and then gets out of bed. “Hm. Wonders of the universe. Sleep really does help people be people. I’m a person.”

She looks back at him, squinting in suspicion. “Do you not sleep normally?”

He shrugs. “I try, but I don’t always fall asleep... But I try.”

She hums and eyes him cautiously. “...What about eating...?”

“Not hungry,” he says, just like Deacon says he says.

“...What about water?”

“...Not thirsty.”

She frowns. “When was the last time you ate something? Had some water? Or anything to drink at all?”

Rig stops and looks around as he thinks. “I had... Fancy Lads yesterday? And... water the.... afternoon before?” He stares at the ground as if gears are finally turning in his head. “...That’s bad, isn’t it? Hmm...”

Dogmeat returns to Echo’s side and nudge’s her hand. She looks down and takes the sunglasses he fetched for her. She wipes the dog drool off and then puts them on.

“You’re going to eat some fruit,” she orders. “At least for now. We’re going to get you an actual meal after we get back from Dogmeat’s walk. Make sure you’re fully fed before we leave Diamond City.”

Rig sighs but nods. “Yeah...”

“And in the meantime,” she smiles. “You and I are going to talk.”

“...Okay?”

———

Rig watches the streets and paths they take on the walk with Dogmeat. Dogmeat runs around, exploring the area around them, and runs back as a fluffy baby full of energy. It’s almost enough to distract Rig from the fact Echo is asking him questions.

“So, where are you from?”

“Hmm?”

“Where are y—”

“South,” he says.

She turns her head towards him, mouthing something he doesn’t catch. He needs to learn to read lips. “...South what?”

“South of Massachusetts,” he says. He hesitates. “Uh... Florida...?” He reaches to rub his neck again, but this time catches himself and switches hands before he hits his head with the Pip-Boy again. “I don’t know if Florida would have... survived the war. Scary to think about. Florida was frightening before...” He waves his hands around. “This. But bloodblugs...” He grimaces. “Would be worse, down there. Gators. Spiders. Snakers. ...Locals.”

“...Sure,” she says. “And when did you move up here?”

“1842.” He sighs and buries his face in his hands. “2062,” he corrects. “Came up for school... Didn’t... last long. But I stayed anyway. Moved in with a friend...”

“What’s the friend’s name?” she asks, watching Dogmeat root through a discarded box.

“Ricki.” He sighs and slumps his shoulders. “Wonder what happened to her... She was... more my later roommate’s friend...”

“Oh?” Echo tilts her head. “A laaaater roommate?” she emphasizes as if prying for information.

“I don’t...” Rig looks away and holds his arms. “Want to... talk about him...”

“Hmm...” Echo watches him a bit more. He continues to look away, hoping she can’t read minds... She shrugs at him. “Fair enough. So we’re going to head back to Buttonwood today. Should take a half a day—”

“What?” Rig asks, finally looking up at her. “It took one and a half days to get here from there.”

Echo wrinkles her nose. “Deacon took you on a run-around, didn’t he? I mean, sometimes it takes me that long if I lose my sense of direction, but Deacon has no excuse.”

“...So it doesn’t take that long to travel places here normally?”

“Assuming you don’t get lost or attacked by something, not usually.”

“Huh...” He looks at his Pip-Boy and switches the to map, hoping that it miraculously fixed itself aaaaand nope that’s a screen filled entirely with green. “...How did I mess this up this badly?” he mumbles. “What did I do? When did I even break this?”

“I have a friend who could fix that for you,” Echo says, snapping Rig out of his thoughts. “I’ll introduce you to him sometime, and we can get that taken care of.”

Rig looks down at the Pip-Boy, up at Echo, and then shakes his wrist. “I don’t like it. Take it off. I don’t want it on me.”

“I mean, it’s kinda useful when it’s not broken—”

“I’m left-handed,” Rig says. “It’s in the way.”

“Oh...” Echo chews her lip and then points off in a direction. “When we get back to my place, I’ll help get it off of you.”

“Please, I’ve been suffering for six hundred years.”

Echo grins. “Really? It’s been a millennium for me.”

“Tragic, truly,” Rig says. “Centuries of pain. Centri— Centrions of— Of buffering.”

“Sleep not enough for you?” Echo laughs. “You still have a loading screen in your mind?”

“It reads ‘flargent system plerror.’”

“Sounds like a glitch to me.”

“I am very much nonsensical.”

“You don’t say.” Echo chuckles and then whistles for Dogmeat to come back up to her. “Alright, let’s get back and get you some actual breakfast.”

“Bokay.” Rig looks down and pokes his stomach. “Still not hungry... Weird... Am I dreaming?” He looks up at Echo. “Am I dreaming?”

“This is reality,” she says. “If you’re delirious, though, that’s on you.”

He furrows his brow. “Hmm.” He blinks when something nudges his hand and he looks down to see Dogmeat. He smiles and crouches down to pet him. “I like your dog,” he says. “He’s a good dog.”

“He’s his own man,” Echo nods. “Let’s get going.”

Rig nods and stands back up, and he follows after her.

“Do you think this is just a dream?” Echo asks, tilting her head towards him. “Is that why you’re taking it so well? If it’s only been a few days...”

“All that we see or seem,” Rig utters on impulse. Well, on a more substantial impulse than most of his other impulsive dialogue. “Flargent system plerror” and all. He shakes his head. “It— Buh. It started to sink in on my second day? But I... I mean...”

He darts his eyes around, at the structures cobbled together with scrap and good intentions. At the people going on their early morning business. Everyone still living despite all the destruction that occurred... Everything and everyone that seems to know what they’re doing with experience far exceeding his own. Even children run around, giggling with more confidence as they play tag on streets familiar to them than he has in any ounce of his body. The brunette and the man with black hair and sunglasses she’s chatting with probably both have some purpose or direction with their life that he never had, even before a war he doesn’t remember happening...

He sighs. “Don’t know what to do,” he says. He tiptoes through his word choices. No impulse, this time. He needs to put thought behind what he says, at least every now and then. He motions at his head. “Very. Not in the right mindset to figure out anything. Just want to prove I’m not a murderer and... put off finding a place for myself as long as I can... I can’t work with— With a big, scary goal like what— what my life is going to be like now. Everything’s changed but... I haven’t yet. I’m like...” He clasps his hands together. “In a bubble. Just— Bloop— Floating around. But...” He pulls his hands away, mimicking an explosion. “Boom. Pop. Something’s... gonna happen. Bubbles burst. I don’t know enough to say if I’ll be fine when it does...”

“Hmm.” Echo hums. “Poetic.”

He blinks and then smiles. “Yeah...?”

“What did you do before the war?” she asks. “After we clear your name, that will help figure out what you can do now...”

“I...” He stops and stares ahead, mind racing as he thinks back to the conversation from the night before. Does he say what Rig would say? Does he say the truth? Does he lie? He can’t fix computers. He broke the one on his wrist just by trying to take it off. Stupid— Stupid— He’s so stupid—

“Rig?” Echo asks, and he jolts and looks at her. “Do you... not remember what you did, or...?”

“...I cleaned,” he says, falling back on what he told Tim— Told Deacon. “I cooked and cleaned. Didn’t get out much ‘less my roommate took me to hang out with his friends. I, um...” He wiggles his hand as he tries to remember the right words. “Followed instructions to do things? Like... putting together parts to... make things. Didn’t really... Learn to do big things...”

“What about school?” she continues. “You said you came here for school?”

His lips thin. Lectures in large rooms full of a hundred or more strangers. Struggles to write papers in different formats for similar classes. Sickness from stress over fear of wasting money by failing classes. The lack of relief from passing every class, knowing it’d start all over again next semester... Quitting before getting far enough for it to matter... “No,” he says, quiet and kicking at dirt and lost dreams. “Failed and had to drop out. Didn’t learn anything.” Lies, lies, lies.

He had a 4.0.

He learned math and science.

He was going to be a scientist.

He gave up and became nothing...

He glances to Echo to see her watching him again. She looks... What is that? Sympathy? Oh, because he’s... sad he failed, right... That makes sense...

“That’s alright,” she says, smiling at him in comfort he doesn’t deserve from a stranger. “We’ll find something for you to do. But first, we’re going to prove your innocence. I promise.”

He swallows and nods. “Thank— Thank you.” He looks up at his surroundings again...

They’re back at Echo’s place and he didn’t even realize.

———

Rig spends a good amount of time flexing his wrist after Echo gets the Pip-Boy off of him. He doesn’t know what she did with it, nor does he care. He’s just happy to have his wrist free from the imprisonment of a big bulky thing and not having to use his right hand for stuff he rather use his left for.

Floating under cover — I feel like I’m in a bubble

He eats the breakfast Echo gives him, drinks the Nuka-Cola she passes him, feels no different about if he’s hungry or thirsty, yet feels better somehow...

Floating undercover - Feeling like I’m in a bubble

Nick gets back. Deacon gets back, in new clothes. Weird, he looks like that man with the dark hair he saw earlier... They head out of the city and make their way back to Buttonwood, first past the skeletal remains of old Boston buildings... This was once Boston, that’s why it looks familiar...

Floating in a— No wait...

Floating undercover - Feeling like I’m in a bubble Safety hidden— No, hmm...

Safety missing from the picture - Bad luck could lead to trouble

“So, Rigsby,” Deacon says, and Rig jumps and looks at him. “You got a dreamy look on your face. All soft and quiet, like something’s running through your mind. Thinking of someone special?” He frames his fingers around Nick and Echo up ahead. “Because, telling you now, if it’s a certain detective or his partner, both of them are working their legs off running in each other’s minds already...” He moves the finger frame to Dogmeat sniffing at things up ahead. “Dogmeat, though... That pup has enough energy to—”

“Cadence,” Rig says.

“That’s a weird name, but I’m not here to judge.”

“I like your cadence,” Rig clarifies. “It’s a good...” He twirls a finger around. “It’s a good sound— words— thing. All— All, uh...” He makes a click with the tip of his tongue. Exactly where the word he’s looking for is supposed to be. “It’s dry but... springy. Like— Like a mattress. I could lay on— lie on? Lie—?” He sighs and motions at Deacon with a stiff gesture. “I like how you talk.”

Deacon chuckles, sounding a bit nervous, and takes a step to the side, away from Rig. “Coming on a little strong there, huh?”

Rig blinks. “What?” He pauses a moment, thinking of nothing as he tries to wait for whatever Deacon means to manifest in his mind. “What?” he asks, even more confused than from all the comments from the other day.

“You mean you’re not...?” Deacon looks over Rig. He blows air past his lips and chuckles again, just as nervous as before but this time with an added embarrassment. “Oh, right, of course you wouldn’t be— So you just say things without thinking about how weird it sounds, huh?”

“Gee,” Nick calls from over his shoulder. “It’s not like we know anyone else who does that.”

Echo snorts.

Rig frowns. “I... speak... not good.” He groans and face palms. At least he can use his left hand and not have it be uncomfortable now.

“Hmm.” Deacon smirks. “What I would give to see what it’s like in your head if this is how you talk.”

Echo turns around to point finger guns at him. “If you want me to track down Whisper—”

“No.” Deacon crosses his arms and sweeps his hands out. “N-O. I don’t want her in my head. You know this.”

“You say that like I can stop her,” Echo smirks and turns back around. “She loves her soaps, after all.”

“Ugh,” Deacon shudders. “I’m going to be self-conscious about what I think for, uh... life.”

“What?” Rig asks again.

“Don’t worry about it,” Echo says.

“There are people with psychic powers?”

“Don’t worry about iiiiit,” Echo says. She looks back at him. “Also, yes.”

“Wow...” Rig taps his chin in thought and then points as he thinks of something. “What about aliens?”

“Oh, absolutely,” Deacon grins. “Met several myself. They were all...” He puts on a higher voice, “‘Deacon, you’re so cool and charming, you should come with us to our home planet’ and I was all...” He uses a manly, heroic tone, “‘Sorry, I have a duty to the Earth’.”

“Lucky,” Echo huffs up. “The ones I met tried to kill me.”

Nick sighs. “Don’t listen to either of them.”

Dogmeat barks.

“Exactly,” Nick says. “Thank you, Dogmeat.”

“You can talk to dogs?” Rig gasps.

“Sure, I can,” Nick says. “Now, understanding them, that’s another story...”

“Oh...” Rig looks away in disappointment.

“I can understand him,” Echo counters. “Nick, Dogmeat was agreeing with me.”

Nick sighs. “I just don’t want to give Rig the wrong idea about things.”

“I dunno,” Deacon says. “He’s met a ghoul, he’s met a synth, why not introduce him to an alien too?”

“Well, if you know any that won’t try and steal his brain or something, then be my guest.”

“Oh, sure, Rig want to ditch these two and go meet—”

“Shh,” Echo hushes.

Deacon shuts up immediately and reaches for something. Dogmeat is alert, Nick watching for something, Echo listening...

Rig glances to them, tensing up but in no way knowing what to do or what’s going on.

“Deacon,” Nick whispers. “You hang back with Rig. Get under cover and wait for us.”

“Rigsby.” Deacon motions for Rig to follow.

Rig swallows and nods and shuffles after Deacon. They duck into a building, just as Dogmeat growls and charges off behind them, and just as Echo and Nick shout and take off after.

“Hey.”

Rig looks up and sees Deacon leaning against a long forgotten desk, gun drawn, but grinning at him.

“Don’t worry about it, okay?” Deacon motions for Rig to step out of the way. “You’re in good hands. I mean, I get that pre-war values ‘killing is wrong’ and ‘I’m not a murderer and I’d never kill anyone’ and all, but things are a bit more laissez-faire here... We’re the good guys, though. It’s self-defense or because someone is doing terrible things...”

Rig thins his lips and walks around looking at what’s there to find in the office they’re camping in... “Don’t know if I could... Y’know...”

“It’d defeat the point of proving you didn’t commit a murder,” Deacon nods. “I get it, don’t worry. Besides, I don’t think you could hurt a bloatfly even if you wanted to. And trust me, you want to before they get you.”

“Hmm.” Rig spies what looks like a magazine tucked between a filing cabinet and the wall. He tugs it out and brushes some of the dirt and grime off the cover... His eyes widen and he thumbs first to the table of contents and then to the correct page...

“Find something?” Deacon asks.

“Mm-hmm.” Where is...? There. Perfect. Still readable.

He tears out the page and tosses the rest of the magazine onto the top of the filing cabinet.

“You want just the one page?” Deacon cranes his neck, but Rig gently folds the page and slides it into his pocket. “What’s on it?”

“...A poem,” Rig says. “By, um... Apollo Ray.”

“You a fan or something...?”

“...Yeah...”

“What’s the poem about...?”

“...Love poem...”

“Aww, the sappy, romantic type, huh?”

“Oh.” Rig shakes his head. “No, it’s terrible. Superficial and bubblegum.”

Deacon lifts his brow. “But you’re still taking it?”

“...Because it’s by Apollo Ray,” he says.

“Sure, okay.” Deacon grins. “Let me tell you about my favorite poet, Leslie ‘Pit Boss’ Hamilton... Wrote great works such as ‘Put the Gorilla Back in the Cage or So Help Me’.”

“A classic,” Rig says as he explores more. “Apes belong in cages, not loose on city streets. Put it back behind its bars or so help me, I’ll feed you to it as treats.” He finds a few pens and a piece of dirty paper and tests the pens out and pockets the ones that work. He realizes how quiet it is after a moment and looks up to find Deacon grinning madly at him. “...What?”

“You make that up on the spot?” he asks.

“...Yeah.”

He laughs. “Wow. So you’re a poet too, then?”

Rig shrugs. He opens a drawer and something jumps out at him, and he immediately leaps out of the way, his arms flinging up to protect himself from whatever monstrous creature that was, only to watch its guts explode seconds after. He looks at Deacon and his smoking gun.

“Radroach,” Deacon shrugs, nonchalant. “You okay?”

Rig nods and just. Closes the drawer. If there’s anything in there, he doesn’t want it. Terrifying. Absolutely horrible. If this is a dream, he’d like to wake up now, please.

“If you think that’s scary, wait until you see a Deathclaw.” Deacon motions with his hand above his head. “Big, scary meatheads. Twenty feet of scaly skin and murder claws. Not friendly.”

Rig grimaces. “Right...”

“But, you know, not impossible to take down! Echo went toe-to-claw with one a while back. That’s how she got that wicked face scar.”

Rig thumbs the scar under his lip. That’s a cooler story than how he got his... And Echo’s is... down the side of her face, and very visible, even with the sunglasses on... Probably was really painful... “Yeah?” he asks.

“Yep. Good ol’ Echo. I could tell you loads of stories about her and Nick.”

Rig perks up. “Yeah?”

———

Echo and Nick make their way back to Deacon and Rig, with Dogmeat trotting along just ahead of them.

“Well, that’s going to slow us down getting to Buttonwood,” Nick groans.

“Yeah,” Echo sighs. “So much for it taking half a day...”

“I was expecting more a day and a half anyway,” Nick says. He smirks and gently nudges her. “Especially with you leading us.”

Echo groans. “I get it, I get lost.” They lapse into silence for a bit, enjoying the peace of the now empty streets. “So...” she starts.

“So,” Nick replies.

“Soooooo...” Echo chews her lip and then decides the best course of action is to just say it. “Rig really is from Pre-War.”

“You got an ‘echo’ from him?” Nick asks.

“Mm-hmm,” she hums. “Saw him in a Pre-War home talking to the original Rig...”

“So he’s not a synth,” Nick says. “I— hmm...”

Echo gives him a look. “...What?”

“Nothing,” Nick says. “Deacon and I have a little bet, that’s all...”

“That he’s a synth?”

“No, not specifically,” Nick chuckles. “Deacon bet he could sleuth out who or what this Rig is before I can. If you know, don’t tell us. That’s cheating, apparently. Synth was my best guess so far.” He hums. “Maybe a clone...”

“We’ll workshop it,” Echo grins. She looks ahead at the sound of laughter. “Sounds like those two are having a good time.”

“Too good a time, if you ask me,” Nick says. “Those two get on a bit too well. Like peas in a pod. Not sure how I feel about there being two Deacons.”

“Except one has all the charisma and intelligence, and the other has all the style.”

Nick laughs. “Rig’s the one with the style, I’m guessing.”

“Mm-hmm.” Echo giggles and then walks into the office where Deacon and Rig are chatting. “Hey.” She pauses to let Dogmeat squeeze past her and run up to Rig who eagerly pets him. “We’re back.”

“Eeey!” Deacon grins. “There’s my favorite sharpshooter. We were just talking about you.”

“Oh no,” Echo groans. She looks at Rig. “Whatever he told you, it’s probably a lie.”

Rig shrugs. “I mean, I figured. He said you took on a Deathclaw on your own and that’s how you got your cool scar?” He motions up and down the right side of his face.

Echo’s hand goes to the right side of her face, where her scar is. “Oh, uh... that one is true...”

“Oh!” Rig blinks several times. “Wait, so then what about the story about you kissing a synth detective in a heat of passion after narrowly escaping death?”

Echo’s face turns red as she turns to glare at Deacon’s smarmy grin.

“Oh look at the time!” Deacon looks at his empty wrist. “Is it time to pick up lunch already? I’ll be right back—”

Nick stands in the doorway, a light dusting of blue on his cheeks, and gives Deacon a look. “With all the lies you’ve been feeding the kid, I can’t imagine he’d be hungry now.”

Rig smiles and covers it with his hand as he looks away. In his other hand, he feels along the spine of a book. Echo looks at it and hums.

“What did you find?” she asks. Dogmeat walks back up to her and sits at her side.

“Hmm?” Rig looks at her and then down at the book in his hand. “Oh... Journal. Mostly blank, slightly damaged...”

Deacon shakes his head. “I asked him what he was going to do with it and he said write. Can you believe it? Like some kind of writer.”

“Not a bad idea,” Nick says. “Anyway, this pitstop really slowed us down. We ought to get moving again if we want to be somewhere safe by nightfall.”

“And you.” Echo points at Rig. “Whatever Deacon tells you about us, unless Nick or I say otherwise, assume it’s a lie. Actually, assume most things he says are a lie.”

“Guilty as charged.” Deacon chuckles. “But that’s part of my charm.”

“Compulsive lying isn’t very charming,” Nick says.

“I’ll win you over eventually,” Deacon grins. “Just you wait. Echo’s got competition.”

“No, she doesn’t.”

Dogmeat barks. Echo grins and pets him.

“That’s right, Dogmeat,” she says. “I don’t have competition. Alright.” She stands straight and whistles, and Dogmeat stands back up. “Ready to go, boys?”

“Hey, first?” Deacon asks. “Do you want to see the cool radroach I killed earlier?”

“No!”

“C’mon, it had a cool hat and everything.”

“...What kind of hat?”

Nick rolls his eyes. “Rig, Dogmeat, let’s leave these two to poke dead bugs on their own.”

Rig hurries out after Nick with Dogmeat following behind.

Echo looks after them and then at Deacon. “So...?”

“He likes a poet called Apollo Ray and can write his own poems too,” Deacon says. “That’s all I’ve got for you so far. What did you and Nick...?”

“Ferals.”

“Ah. ...Now, seriously, do you want to see this radroach?”

Echo wrinkles her nose. She turns and heads out after the others.

Deacon grins and stands there a moment. “No?” His smile drops and he sighs and shoves his hand under his sunglasses to rub his eyes. He takes a breath, plasters a smile back on his face, and then hurries to catch up.

———

Echo belongs to @falloutglow who also helped with writing this story.

#Rig Miller #The System is Rigged #story #Echo Gray #deacon

3 notes · View notes

ecfandom · 5 years

Note

okay so in that case... food/grocery shoppin' before christmas. feat. ellie on lexa's shoulders, picking out things from the top shelves.

I am incapable of writing anything less then utter ridiculousness, so here’s this drama fest.

Also, I didn’t have Ellie on Lexa’s shoulders, but they DID go shopping. So.

And finally, these last few months have been a rough one, financially, and while I love writing, it is incredibly time consuming. So, I’m linking my Kofi page here, which I hate doing, but alas, it is what it is. No need to feel any pressure. It’s there if you’re interested.

Sunday was usually a busy day for shopping at the local grocery store in the tiny town of Polis, Maine. The only one for miles, it was the practically a staple, a beloved gathering place. However, it was a particularly dreary day that kept most residents home, leaving the store nearly deserted save for the few brave Christmas Eve procrastinators.

Trisha, the only cashier on duty, sat at her stool, cringing every time the doors slid open letting in a gusty, winter wind determined to freeze everything in its path. Shivering at the thought of it, she turned up the small heater at her station and hunkered down in her oversized sweater.

Christmas music echoed through the empty aisles of the store, the wind howled, and colorful lights flickered happily on the small Christmas trees set just inside the door, oblivious to the storm that raged outside. A mechanical Santa danced merrily by the produce, greeting the gusts of wind and the patrons with equal abandon.

Trisha leaned her elbows on the surface next to her register, her chin upon her hands, and surveyed the quiet goings on around her. She liked this new town of hers. It was cozy and pleasant, just like the people. A flash of light from a car’s headlights cut across the doors, blurred by the heavy snowfall as a truck traipsed up the ramp from the side road and into the parking lot. Trisha tracked it lazily, wondering whose wife it was this time that had sent their thoroughly scolded husband out in the storm to pick up the Christmas turkey they should have grabbed days ago.

The truck swung carefully into a parking spot outside the front of the store and idled for a moment, its headlights lighting up the flurries of snowflakes slanting down in unrelenting volume. A figure hopped out from the driver’s side, tall and dressed well for the storm. A native, no doubt. A Florida transplant herself, Trisha had no concept of what winter wear truly meant. She’d thought her sweater and p-coat would be enough. She had been wrong. This figure though, dressed in dark wash jeans and a heavy Lumberjack coat, looked entirely unperturbed as they jogged around to the back door of the truck and leaned inside.

The store doors jingled as they slid open and the new arrivals ran in, one large, one miniature. She watched them with the curiosity of a newcomer getting to know her new neighbors as the woman-- not someone’s husband, then-- stomped snow free from the heavy boots she wore. Trisha smiled, almost laughed, when the pint-sized thing next to her watched for a moment, then quickly followed suit. The routine went on, well practiced and utterly endearing. The woman twisted herself to and fro, shaking snowflakes from her coat, pretending not to notice the young girl copying her every move. It was only when the woman moved to her hat, pushed it back, and shook water out of her hair that she finally made a show of it for the little girl. Pitching herself forward and shaking her head like a shaggy dog, the woman let out a sound resembling that of a motorboat until the little girl could no longer copy, too overcome by a fit of giggles.

Trisha was entranced, in love with the display of unbridled affection. It made her happy that she had a place to call home, happy that it was Christmas--white and festive and wonderful. So unlike the place she’d just come from. Lost in thought, Trisha barely noticed when the display stopped, but when she did, she was momentarily caught completely off guard by the warm eyes that drifted over to her, and the mesmerizing grin she received at having been caught watching the adorable exchange. The woman was stunning, an unfamiliar and breathtaking combination of handsome lines and beautiful features. The little girl was just as gorgeous in the way that some children had wonderfully expressive eyes, a beaming smile, and a passion and enthusiasm for the world around her. As they passed, Trisha was nodded at by one, waved to with a tiny hand from the other, but all she could really do was stare after the enthralling pair as they disappeared down an aisle.

“So, baby--” Lexa said as she pushed them towards the baking aisle.

“I’m not a baby!” Ellie squealed. “I’m a big girl! Henry is a baby!”

“You’re right. Please forgive me.”

“You’re forgiven, Mommy.”

“Phew!” Lexa wiped the back of her hand over her forehead in exaggerated relief, and grinned at her little girl. “Thanks, big girl.”

“You’re welcome,” Ellie said seriously before returning to her eagle-eyed perusal of the shelves. “We need sugar.”

“You’re correct. Anything else?”

“Flour and butter and...sprinkles?” She added at the end, sounding a bit unsure of herself but looking hopeful.

Lexa smiled down at those inquisitive blue eyes and felt a pang for her wife, the resemblance even more uncanny now than it had been when Lexa had first met the two of them nearly three years ago. They’d been gone for less than a half-hour, and already Lexa wanted, maybe needed, to have Clarke in her arms again. They’d spent all morning cuddling to the sounds of the winter storm rolling in before being awakened by the distressing calls of their five-year old, who--upon a rushed arrival into the bedroom--promptly through up all of the Santa cookies she’d snuck down to the kitchen to eat. With that, the day reared into action and hadn’t looked back. Three night shifts in a row this past week, and Lexa longed for the comforting feel of Clarke tucked into her arms where she could keep her safe and warm. She smiled and shook her head, running her hand through Ellie’s wind-swept hair.

“Yeah, we can get sprinkles if you’d like. We need icing too.”

“Yes! Icing!”

“You have to promise not to eat this batch though, sweetheart. You’ll get sick again and Santa won’t have anything to eat. We won’t have time to run to the store again before he comes.”

“I won’t,” Ellie swore, eyes wide and earnest. “I promise. I really, really won’t.”

“Okay, love. I trust you.”

“What’s trust?”

“It means I believe you.”

“Oh. Thanks, Mommy. I trust you too.”

“That’s good. You can always trust me.”

“ I know. You’re a good truster person. Mommy, I did not feel very good from those cookies.”

“That’s because you ate twelve of them.”

“Yeah.” Ellie nodded and rubbed at her stomach. “That was not good.”

“No, I imagine not.”

“But I’m not going to do that again!”

“That’s a good idea.”

“Do you think Santa will still come?”

Lexa paused. “Why wouldn’t he?”

“Because I was bad,” Ellie murmured, her head downturned.

Lexa smiled at the sweetness of her little girl. “You weren’t bad sweetheart, you just made a questionable decision.”

“What’s quest--questio--” she stumbled on the word and frowned. “What’s that?”

Lexa grabbed a bag of chocolate chips off the shelf and hesitated in thought. “Questionable,” Lexa repeated, sounding it out. “It means something that is probably not a good idea because it raises a lot of doubt.”

“What’s doubt?”

“Like disbelief.”

“Oh.”

She handed the chocolate chips to Ellie to store in their canvas grocery bag and pushed them along. “Does that make sense?”

“Yes.”

“Okay.”

“So, not bad?”

“The decision wasn’t a very good one, but that doesn’t make you as a person bad. Sometimes, we make bad choices, but that doesn’t mean we are bad because of it. We have to make mistakes in order to learn. You’re a smart girl and you know better than anybody else what feels good for your body and what doesn’t. Now you know that twelve cookies is too much. Next time, you can remember that and it will help you make a better decision.”

“No more cookies ever,” Ellie groaned, looking up at Lexa with such earnestness, Lexa couldn’t help but grin.

“I think maybe one cookie at a time would be okay.”

Ellie pondered it. “Yeah, that’s maybe okay. Just one cookie. Can I have one cookie tonight?”

“Let’s see how you feel. Does your tummy still hurt?”

“No, but it still feels a little weird.”

“Yeah, I bet,” Lexa commiserated, and pushed them down another aisle.

“But if I feel better, can I have one cookie?”

“Let’s see what mommy thinks when we get home. She’s the smarty doctor.”

“And you’re the smarty firefighter!”

“You got it, kiddo.”

“And I’m the smarty baby!” Ellie cheered, completing the chant that had at some point become ritual in their household.

“I thought you were a big girl?” Lexa teased.

“Oh yeah.” Ellie frowned in thought. “Can I still be the smarty baby?”

“Of course you can, smarty baby. You can be whatever you want.”

“What will Henry be?”

“He’ll be the noisy baby.”

“Oh. Is that bad?”

Lexa grinned. “We’ll have to wait and see.”

“I think he’ll be good.”

“I’m sure you’re right. What’s next?”

Ellie furrowed in thought, then brightened. “Can we get some juice?”

***

It was half past noon when Clarke found herself rousing from a nap she hadn’t intended to take. She blinked sleep from her eyes, but made no effort to move. The couch beneath her was soft and plush, the air pleasantly warm from the crackling flames in the fireplace. The sky outside was a dark grey, despite the early hour, and the lights inside her home glowed wonderfully against it. The tree was lit, the garland across the mantle dotted with lights as well. It was beautiful and cozy, and her lids felt heavy once more. Clarke let her head drop back and curled her legs up further beneath the heavy knitted blanket atop her.

She checked her watch, mildly concerned that Lexa wasn’t back yet, but the storm had likely put road speeds at a crawl. Lexa was no novice when it came to navigating through a winter storm, and so she told herself to be patient, and gazed out the French doors to the backyard, watching the flurries come down around her. Her hand drifted to her stomach and rubbed at the swell, smiling softly to herself.

“They’ll be home soon,” she mused, smiling down at her stomach. She loved being pregnant, more so than she might admit out loud. Her first time around, things in her world had been so dark and uncertain. On many days, it was only Ellie’s constant companionship inside of her that got her through. This time, everything was different. Life was happy and safe. She had a wonderful home, a wonderful extended family close by, and a wife that made her world go ‘round. It was nothing like the first time--except for the joy of carrying the little life inside of her. That was exactly the same.

While this pregnancy, like Ellie’s, had not been without its scary, and sometimes painful complications, Clarke cherished these moments. In no time, Henry would be here. The love would be the same, would grow tenfold the second she saw him, but nothing quite compared to the nine months of growing their child inside her, nourishing and protecting him with all that she was. She could hardly stand to wait any longer to meet him, but their connection would be forever different, and she knew that a part of her would grieve this time with him for a little while, just as she had with Ellie.

A flutter in her stomach made her smile as she continued to stroke her belly, pausing each time to catch the fleeting motions.

“Oh hi there,” she cooed fondly, a laugh in her voice. “Did you have a good sleep?”

A small limb pressed against her from the inside and she imagined him stretching, blinking awake slowly just as his sister did, just as she did.

So much of Ellie was from her. There were moments, extremely rare and not so often now, when Clarke thought she’d seen Jack in the shape of a gesture or the curve of an expression. That had been when Ellie was younger, mostly a baby. These days, what wasn’t Clarke, or an Ellie original, was entirely Lexa. While Ellie resembled Clarke physically in every way, it had only taken three years for Ellie to morph into a tiny version of her wife. They moved the same way, spoke the same way, their facial expressions nearly identical. It was incredible to watch, if she could keep from tearing up long enough to do so. Recently, Clarke had noticed that they had the same smile these days, and that was perhaps the loveliest part. Lexa had saved their lives and had introduced a love and happiness Clarke had never in her wildest dreams imagined she could have. She adored seeing Lexa in their little girl, and couldn’t wait to see how they would continue to rub off on each other.

For the first year or so of Ellie’s life, it had mostly just been the two of them. Henry would be born into a world full of family, all making up important parts of his life. As her due date loomed closer than ever, she often wondered what wonderful combination of the people she loved she would see in him. Would he take after Lexa, as Ellie had? Would she see her father in him? Her mother’s eyes, maybe? When fitful, he settled for Lexa’s voice. At the sound of Ellie’s, he launched into excited flurries of movement. At her own voice, he stirred gently, as if listening, as if responding. Already, he seemed so attuned to all of them. It didn’t really matter who he ended up resembling most, or even if he was entirely his own, she was just excited to meet him.

“You are the most beautiful thing I have ever seen,” Lexa said quietly from the opening of the front hallway, her shoulder braced against the wall. When Clarke sat up and turned, she was instantly breathless by the immensity of love and attraction in Lexa’s eyes. It was the way Lexa always looked at her, and every time, it made Clarke’s heart swell. Lexa strode into the warm living room and took Clarke’s face into her hands, kissing her soundly.

“Hi, baby.”

“Hey,” Clarke breathed, content now that her people were home. “Where’s Ellie?”

“Taking off her boots.”

“Is it still crazy out there? We missed you.”

“It’s not so bad.” Lexa placed a warm, sure palm on Clarke’s belly, holding her and their baby, and kissed her again. “I missed you too. How do you feel? You doing okay?”

“Yes. I’m fine, sweetheart.”

“Good,” she said and ran her fingers through Clarke’s hair, pressing a kiss to her forehead.

“Mommy?” Ellie called, plodding down the hall.

“Where’s my sweet Elliebean?”

Ellie rounded the corner from the hall, her cheeks flushed from the biting air, her hair wild from the hat she’d plucked off and thrown somewhere. Her red and white polka dotted socks left wet footprints in her wake, slipping and sliding across the hardwood until Lexa stepped around the couch and caught her by the arm, steadying her.

“Say hi to mommy, then let’s go change your socks before you get cold.”

“I’m already cold,” Ellie reasoned, handing her grocery bag to Lexa before skipping over to Clarke.

“Hi baby,” Clarke greeted, humming happily at the kiss she got to her cheek and belly.

“Everyone keeps calling me a baby,” Ellie sighed. “I”m not a baby, I’m a big girl. Henry is the baby. Hello Henry,” she said in a muffled greeting, her face pressed to Clarke’s stomach for a moment before pulling back up.

Clarke chuckled at her and then turned to Lexa with an inquisitive smile. Lexa watched on from the kitchen with a grin and a shake of her head. She shrugged at Clarke’s look. Clarke turned back to Ellie and brushed the hair out of her face.

“You will always be my baby, but you are also a big girl, you’re right.”

“Will I be your baby even when I’m big like you and mommy?”

“Even then.”

“Really?”

“Forever and ever.”

Ellie seemed to ponder this for a moment before deciding with a nod that she liked the sound of that. “We got cookie stuff!”

“That’s great! Are you going to save them for Santa this time?”

“Yes, I promised.”

“That’s good.”

“Do you truster me?”

“Trust,” Lexa corrected from the kitchen. Clarke laughed and looked over at her again, wondering what on earth their conversations must be like when she’s not around. Lexa just grinned and continued putting things away.

“Oh yeah,” Ellie corrected, “do you trust me?” She asked, pulling on the front of Clarke’s shirt for her attention.

Clarke turned back and was caught almost breathless by the beauty of her sweet, inquisitive face. “I do trust you,” she said, taking Ellie’s cold hands. She rubbed them between hers, warming them up. “I trust you very much.”

“Thank you,” Ellie responded, matter-of-fact, making Clarke laugh once again.

“You’re quite welcome, you silly goose.”

At Ellie’s shivering, Clarke frowned and pulled her into her lap, snuggling her close. “Let’s take those wet socks off. Are your boots leaking?”

“No, I did a snow angel at the store and the snow crawled in my pants and then it slid down my leg!” Ellie huffed, yanking her socks off.

“Oh no! You’re going to turn into a snow man!” Clarke exclaimed, laying back and tucking Ellie into her side as Ellie giggled and insisted that would not happen. She drew the knitted blanket over them, then the velvet one that rested over the back of the couch. In no time, they were both flush with the shared heat of their bodies pressed close. Ellie’s thumb creeped towards her mouth, a habit they’d still not managed to kick, as her head grew heavy on Clarke’s shoulder.

“Mommy?”

“Mm?”

“Can I have one cookie tonight?”

“How does your tummy feel?”

“It feels okay.”

“Yeah?”

“It’s a little bit grumbly.”

“I’m sorry, baby.” She slipped her hand beneath Ellie’s shirt and rubbed the soft, warm skin there until her little eyes began to drift shut. “Maybe after dinner. Too much sugar isn’t good for you.”

Ellie nodded, nuzzling her ice cube nose into Clarke’s neck. “Twelve cookies is too many for my body.”

Clarke laughed quietly and pressed Ellie close. “Is that so?” She asked, but Ellie was already out. Clarke kissed the warm top of her head and closed her eyes, following her into sleep soon after.

***

Lexa sat at the kitchen table, watching her girls nap as she read the news on her new iPad, courtesy of Roan. She barely understood how to use the thing, but she had to admit that the accessibility to any news article she could possibly want was nice. She watched them for an hour, occasionally checking on the turkey they had roasting in the oven for dinner with the gang later that night. A dinner she would have to miss thanks to her fourth night shift, on Christmas Eve no less. Sighing, she stood and crossed to the kitchen, pouring herself a cup of coffee. She’d have to be up for another thirteen hours and could use all the caffeine she could get.

She got through another three articles on the current state of veteran affairs before Clarke began to stir. She watched her run her fingers through Ellie’s hair and kiss her head. They looked so incredibly cozy in their cocoon of blankets. So soft and warm. Lexa ached just looking at them. The storm had yet to let up, and though the air inside the house was toasty, a chill passed through her at the sound of the howling wind. She got up, poured herself another cup of coffee and fixed a mug of tea for Clarke.

“Good nap?” She asked quietly, handing the mug to Clarke who sat up gently and resituated Ellie into her lap. Ellie nestled herself further into her mother’s side and stilled again.

Clarke took the mug and cupped the back of Lexa’s neck, running her hand through the hair at at her nape, loving the solid warmth under her palm. Her eyes went sad, and Lexa frowned.

“What is it, sweetheart?”

“When do you leave?”

“Mmm.” Lexa scooted closer on her knees. “I’ve got to get going pretty soon. After Ellie and I make the new cookies.”

She ran the back of her fingers over the smooth skin of Clarke’s cheek. She was so warm. So soft. Lexa couldn’t get enough of her or the bundle in her arms. They had changed her life so much in the last three years. There were days when Lexa walked around their home with so much love in her heart it threatened to send her to her knees.

“You know how much I love you?”

Clarke smiled and scratched at Lexa’s nape, chuckling when Lexa nearly went slack. “Almost as much as we love you,” she whispered, and pulled her in for a kiss. The angle wasn’t great, with Ellie between them, and Lexa’s knees were going numb, but Clarke’ lips were so warm and soft. They were perfect. They were hers. They were home.

***

“Be sure to keep your lights on, and keep your defroster running.”

“I will.”

“And go slow, you know how the stop lights are in the storm.”

“I know.”

“And take the corners easy because the--”

“Sweetheart.”

“Yes?” Clarke paused with Lexa’s jacket in her hands.

Lexa grinned up at her from the floor where she knelt, tying her boots. She stood and rested her hands on Clarke’s hips, pulling her forward until her belly stopped them from getting any closer.

“Everything will be fine, love. I’ll be home before you know it.”

Clarke helped Lexa into her jacket, then slid her hands up her arms and rested them on her shoulders. She gazed at her wife, taking in the strong line of her jaw, the beautiful color of her eyes, that unbelievably charming smile. There had been a time when Clarke swore she didn’t have any more love or trust to give to someone after her father had died and she’d wound up in an abusive relationship. Then, Lexa had come along with her endless charm and bottomless reserves of kindness. With Lexa, everything had changed. Clarke brushed her hands across Lexa’s chest, smoothing down the uniform beneath the coat.

She went to speak, but a pair of lightning-quick feet came skidding down the hallway, slamming into them, and arms wrapped around Lexa’s legs in a tight, little grip.

“There’s my girl!” Lexa scooped Ellie up and gave her a bounce, looking for a smile that didn’t come. “What’s wrong, honey?”

“You’re leaving.”

Lexa frowned and tapped the full bottom lip of Ellie’s pout. “I have to go to work, babygirl. You know that, we talked about it. I’ll be back before you wake up.”

“But what about Santa?”

“What about him?”

“He can’t come unless everyone is asleep!”

“As long as you’re asleep, sweetheart, Santa will come.”

“You sure?”

“I’m sure.”

“Okay.”

“Are you gonna be a good girl for mommy?”

“Yes!”

“Good. You’re such a sweet girl.”

Ellie threw her arms around Lexa’s neck and buried her face in Lexa shoulder. Lexa could feel the tiny kisses being pressed there and she closed her eyes, holding Ellie tight. She hated night shifts--the missed dinners and bath times, the bedtime stories over the phone and the sleepy whines for her to come home. When the holiday shifts had come down from the chief, she could have passed off her shitty hand to someone beneath her who had no say--that new douchey lieutenant who thought he was hot shit, maybe--but Lexa wouldn’t do that. She couldn’t. Clarke had known that, had told her that, had asked only one thing of her: come home safe.

“Ellie, sweetheart, let’s say our good nights. Mommy has to go to work,” Clarke said gently, rubbing Ellie’s back.

Ellie peeled back her head and looked up at Lexa, big puppy eyes tearing her heart wide open one eye-lashed blink at a time.

“Are you coming back?”

“Oh,” Lexa cooed, brushing back Ellie’s hair, “I always do, don’t I?”

Ellie nodded, then let her head sink back to Lexa’s shoulder and began to thumb at the metal name tag over her breast pocket. Lexa met Clarke’s eyes over Ellie’s head and furrowed in concern.

“She’ll be okay,” Clarke said, voice intentionally chipper, “Right, Elliebean? You’re okay. Let’s give mommy kisses and then get ready for dinner. Grandma and your aunties are coming over soon! Are you excited?”

“Yes,” Ellie murmured, head still tucked firmly in place against Lexa’s neck.

“Alright, then, let’s get our kisses and let mommy go.”

Clarke walked Lexa to the car, their hands clasped until Lexa pulled open the door to her truck and slid in.

“She’ll be okay. It’s just because it’s Christmas Eve. It has her a little thrown off.”

“I hate this,” Lexa sighed, starting up the engine. She leaned her head into Clarke’s breast, her cheek pressed to warm, plush skin where Clarke’s sweater dipped down.

“I know.” Clarke threaded her fingers through Lexa’s hair, gently combing while she held her close.

“You gonna be okay getting the presents under the tree tonight?”

“I’ve got mom and the girls. We’ll be okay.”

“Okay.” Lexa leaned up for a kiss, smiling against Clarke’s lips as she got one, two, and a third for good luck. “I love you.”

“I love you too. I’ll see you soon. Be safe.”

***

Lexa walked into the fire station to a round of laughter in the loft. Sagging out of her coat and bag, she climbed the stairs to the lounge, her chest aching a little with every step at the thought of what she’d just left behind.

“Hey, Cap!”

She gave a nod in greeting, then sniffed the air. “What’s that smell?”

“Alonzo’s got cookies in the oven. Tryna’ bring a little cheer around here tonight.”

Alonzo, a large black man with a beautiful smile and sparkling eyes, came around the corner from the kitchen with a tray of still steaming cookies. Lexa smiled at the cheers that erupted, but her heart sat heavy at the reminder of her little girl. All she wanted to do was take care of tonight’s calls, get everyone home safely, and be with her family when the sun rose.

“Evening, Cap. Cookies?” Alonzo crossed to her with the oven pan, looking ridiculous, but charming in his oven mitts and apron slung over his uniform.

“No, no, I’m good, thanks.”

He shrugged and turned to the rest of the crew who were on him like sharks at a feeding.

“You look down, Cap,” Lincoln said from where he sat on the back of the couch, XBox controller in hand.

“Nope. I’m good.”

She stood with her back to the loft railing, watching them play video games, destroy the foosball table, and stuff their face with cookies. There were a lot of new faces thanks to their annual holiday hiring boom. With trees burning down houses every day, tourists inexperienced in winter road conditions sending their car into telephone poles, and storms snowing people in, they needed all the help they could get. Despite the new recruits, the camaraderie filling the fire house was full and boisterous. It made her smile to see them all enjoying themselves, but she couldn’t bring herself to get there with them.

Her gaze flicked across them and landed on the blonde woman in the corner, quietly murmuring into her phone. Alanna was their newest recruit, a driver engineer from LA who’d quickly made a reputation for herself as being calm and competent behind the wheel. Lexa liked her, saw a bit of herself in the young driver, and perhaps kept a closer eye on her than she did some of the other newbies. Alanna was driven, determined, and would make an incredible captain, maybe chief one day, if she kept at it.

Roan joined her on the railing, surveying the group. “You think we’ll have a slow night?”

Lexa drew her gaze away from Alanna and back to the rowdy group settled around the couches. She grinned, not looking at him as she spoke. “On Christmas Eve? Not a chance. You know the all hell breaks loose on holidays.”

“And full moons.”

“Yep.”

“You good?”

“Yeah. Just. You know.” She shrugged and folded her arms across her chest. “Thinking about home.”

“How’d Ellie take it when you left?”

“She was clingy. But she understood.”

“Uh huh. Annie was the same. Christmas makes it hard. You want to be there for all the excitement just as much as they want you to be. How’s the Mrs.?”

The corner of Lexa’s mouth twitched in a smile. “She’s good,” she said, a softness and fondness to her voice that Roan had come to associate only with the people Lexa called family. He considered it a great honor, a privilege, to have that tone directed at him from time to time.

“And the baby?”

She smiled, full and unrestrained this time. “He’s perfect.”

Lexa dug into her pocket for her wallet and pulled out a folded picture. She unfolded it and handed it to him. The sonogram, though the date at the bottom put it at only a week old, was well worn from the constant folding and unfolding. Despite the love, the picture was clear. A little fist rested below a round cheek, sweeping nose and tiny, closed eyes. He looked healthy and strong, and--if Roan dared to say--took after the kid standing next to him. His heart gave a slight lurch at the thought of how far she’d come.

Roan let out a low whistle. “That’s a handsome kid, Lex.”

He handed it back to her and Lexa took it, nodding. She carefully folded it up again and stuck it back into her wallet.

“I think Clarke’s about done being pregnant,” she said with a chuckle, “she’s exhausted.”

“Mm. The small ones have it tough.”

“Don’t let her hear you calling her small. She likes to think she’s big and scary.”

“Wonder where she gets that from.” He shot her a knowing grin as she just shook her head, biting back a smile.

***

Lexa had just finished FaceTiming with Ellie for bedtime when the alarm bell rang through the fire house, signaling a call. She pushed back from her desk and grabbed her coat, navigating the halls and the stairs like a seasoned professional as she rounded people up and got them to the truck.

The bite of the wind tore viciously through flesh, even with the sixty pounds of PPE on their back as the truck weaved through the empty, snowy treats. It was a ghost town. Street lights flickered and lit as best they could, but were dwarfed by the black expanse of the night. Cars left parked on the road sat beneath piles of snow. A few lit store fronts dotted the otherwise grey expanse around them, but not a person stirred as they passed through the usually bustling part of town.

Lexa leaned over and pointed at a road on the navigation screen.

“When you make this turn, I want you to ease up on the brakes.”

“Okay,” Alanna said, eyes on the road. “Why?”

The question was out of a desire to learn, and not out of defiance. It’s what Lexa liked about her--her drive and dedication, her desire to learn, to do her job and do it well.

“We’ll be coming up on McArthur Bridge. It’s going to be a sheet of ice on top. The call pinged off of a cell tower near by and we’ve got arial up there to help locate the incident, but I’m willing to bet it’s on that bridge. People spin out and hit the rails every year. When you make the turn onto it, ease up on the gas, but don’t hit the brakes.”

When they came to it, Alanna did as she was instructed, her breath coming in concentrated puffs of condensed air.

“Easy,” Lexa murmured, her gaze bouncing back and forth from the road ahead to the rearview mirror where she kept an eyes on the back of the long truck, ensuring that it was staying on track. “Easy, easy, there you go.”

The truck made the turn, it’s tires slipping once or twice before gripping again.

“Keep her at a crawl,” Lexa said, voice calm and steady.

The McArthur Bridge, a looming six-thousand foot bridge, stood stately at the edge of town. Cutting across the bay, it was a popular route during the summer, leading out of town towards the cape where people vacationed for the three months of their warm weather. It was a beautiful drive in nice weather. In the winter, it was a death trap.

“Cap, I think...holy shit.”

Alanna pulled the truck to a stop, and looked to her, eyes wide. Lexa sat forward in her seat, peering through the heavy snowfall. About a hundred yards ahead, she could just barely make out the flashing read taillights of a silver car, pitched at an unusual angle above the ground.

“What am I looking at?” She muttered, gesturing for Alanna to ease forward. As they did so, the picture came into focus and Lexa’s blood went colder than the air around her. “Stop,” she ordered, hard and unwavering.

Alanna, unfamiliar with ice and panicked by what she saw, hit the breaks with too much force, sending the rear of the truck whipping around beside them. Alanna turned the wheel hard the other direction, trying to overcorrect before Lexa could worn her not to. The truck axles groaned under the pressure as the cab lurched, and began to tip. Lexa cursed and gripped the handle above her head as the truck went sliding across the ice on two wheels. It scraped and moaned, rattling its occupants around like marbles in a tin box. Lexa forced her eyes to stay open and her breathing to remain calm.

“Oh shit, oh shit, fuck, Captain--” Alanna gasped, desperately trying to regain control of the truck. “It’s gonna flip! It’s gonna flip--”

“Let go of the wheel!” Lexa shouted over the roar of rattling metal. “Get your hands off the wheel!”

Just as Alanna did, the truck crashed to it’s broadside with a sickening slam, torquing the wheel so hard it practically tore off. Had Alanna’s hands been there a second longer, it would have ripped her arms out of the sockets. As the truck groaned to a halt, Lexa undid her seatbelt, and turned herself around, checking on the crew in the back.

“Everyone okay?”

At the collective “Yes, Cap”s, Lexa turned back around and let her head fall to the window.

Alanna turned to look at her, eyes wide and chest heaving.

“I’m so sorry,” she whispered from where she sat above Lexa, held in place by her belt.

Lexa peered up at her and offered her a sympathetic smile. “I’ve been through worse.”

At Alanna’s questioning look, Lexa didn’t elaborate. Instead, she hauled herself out of her seat, reached over Alanna, and shoved the driver’s door open, giving them a way out.

When Lexa climbed out of the truck and peered down the bridge, her reasoning for stopping the truck all came back to her. Her brain could barely make sense of what she was seeing. The silver car, pitched at the odd angle, sat perched atop a destroyed retaining wall. It’s nose hung over the side of the bridge, threatening to plunge it into the water below, while the rest of it hung on only by the back tires caught on large pile of ice.

“Holy shit,” Roan muttered, coming up beside her. “Looks like a clogged drainage pipe.”

Lexa stared, heart pounding in her chest. The car tipped back and forth with every gust of the wind, threatening to send it over.

“I want everyone to stay right where they are,” she ordered calmy, her gaze travelling the length of the sheet of ice they stood on to where it connected up with mound of ice holding the car back. One wrong move and it might all crack. “Roan, get the Coast Guard on the phone. Tell them we need a bird here right now.”

As he disappeared, Lexa took one careful step forward and called out. “This is Polis Fire and Resuce, can you hear me?” Lexa shouted over the wind, trying to cut the distance.

“Don’t come any closer!” Came a shout, riddled with sheer terror. “Don’t come any closer, you’ll send me over!”

“M’am, I’m not going to let that happen. I need you to just listen to the sound of my voice and stay calm, can you do that?”

“Don’t come closer!”

“Alright, I’ll stay right here. Is that okay?”

There was a long silence, then a resigned, “Yeah. Okay, yeah.”

“Good. Are you hurt anywhere?”

“I--I think my--my--I can’t feel my legs! Oh god, why can’t I feel my legs?”

“Alright, it’s okay. It’s okay, just stay very still.”

“Is my back broken?! Oh god, is my back--”

The woman inside must have shifted, because Lexa watched in horror as the car began to tilt.

“M’am! M’am do not move! Do not move, keep very still!” She inched closer, heart racing as the car rocked back and forth.

“Help me!” The woman screamed.

“Stop moving! Just stop moving!” Another rock sent Lexa’s stomach into her throat. “M’am! You have to stop moving!”

Lexa held her breath and took several careful, but sure steps forward, eyes tracking the tiny fractures her weight sent racing through the ice.

“What’s your name?” She asked, trying to keep the woman calm. The woman only continued to scream.

“Captain!”

Lexa turned, squinting through the falling snow. She was halfway between the car and her crew now. Roan was barely visible through the sheet of white.

“Incident command is on its way!” He shouted over the sound of the wind.

“What about the bird?”

“Ceiling’s too low!”

Lexa’s heart sank. There was no way they’d be able to get to her from the bridge. It was too unstable, and any equipment that could secure the car would be far too risky bringing out on the ice. She racked her brain for an idea, all the while continuing forward one tiny step at a time.

“M’am?” She asked, close enough to hear the whimpers emanating out of the car now.

“Please help me,” the woman cried, “I don’t want to die.”

“I’m not going to let that happen, I just need you to stay very calm and very still. I’m right here.”

From twenty-five feet away, Lexa could see the woman through the window, her entire body shaking in fear, or perhaps from the sobs the woman could not get under control.

“Please don’t leave.”

“I’m not going anywhere. I’m right here. I’m right behind you.”

“Don’t come any closer.”

“I’ve got everything under control, okay? I just need you to trust me.”

She watched the woman nod, quick and terrified. Lexa cringed at the movement, but continued inching forward when the car remained balanced.

“I’m Captain Griffin-Woods. What’s your name?” The woman turned ever so slightly as if trying to get a glimpse of her. “Don’t move,” Lexa reminded her, calm and gentle, “It’s alright, I’ll come to you. You just hang tight.”

“Trisha,” the woman said, her voice shaking as she strained to be heard over the storm. “My name is Trisha.”

***

An hour later, Lexa was as close to the vehicle as she could get without rupturing the large rock of ice keeping the car from going over. She could see Trisha’s profile from where she crouched ten feet away. Her skin was pale and streaked with tears.

“How ya doing, Trisha?”

“So cold,” she chattered, her gaze staring straight ahead at the grey expanse before her.

“I know, just hang in there. We’re gonna get you out of there.”

“Is the helicopter coming?”

“Any minute now this storm will clear up.” It wasn’t a no, but it wasn’t what either of them wanted to hear.

There was a long silence. So long, Lexa worried that Trisha had gone to sleep on her again. She looked back at the commotion of the command center set-up a hundred yards back. She could just barely make out the outline of what had to be the chief in command, watching her with hands on his hips, a steady presence of support where nothing else could be done.

“Trisha?”

“I’m here.”

“I’m going to get you out of there. I just need you to stay with me.”

Trisha had been so still for so long. The car had finally stopped tipping back and forth when the wind direction had changed. Things had been stable, under control. Why Trisha chose to jerk around in her seat at that moment, sending the car ninety degrees in the air, Lexa might never know, but when the car went over, there was only one thing she could think to do.

Lexa dove forward.

***

Clarke sat in bed with her bedside table lamp on. The windows moaned and the house shook with every growl of the wind, but she was warm under the blankets, albeit lonely. She ran her hand over her belly, smiling when she received a gentle kick in greeting.

The clock on the wall above their nightstand read one in the morning. She, Raven, Octavia and her mother had finished putting the present under the tree an hour earlier. While her mother had gone to bed and the girls had put on a Christmas movie in the living room, the volume low enough not to wake Ellie, Clarke had receded upstairs for a hot bath. She had been so cold all night, and it had nothing to do with the storm outside. She missed her wife, worried about her, and her absence chilled so thoroughly she trembled even with the heat on.

It hadn’t always been this bad. Going back to school, starting her residency, and raising Ellie made it hard to think about anything other than what was directly in front of her throughout the day. There were always moments--a lull in work or a quick coffee break--when Lexa passed through her mind and she couldn’t stop thinking about the dangers her wife may be facing. Then, work would come rushing back, some new emergency needed tending to, and Clarke’s mind would once again be too tied up to think of anything else. She’d get home, Lexa would be there waiting for her, or arrive soon after, and they’d do it all again.

It wasn’t until her second trimester with Henry that the anxiety began to creep in. The nightmares were the worst part. She would wake up, chest heaving, slicked in sweat, with images of Lexa’s mangled body still at the fringes of her mind. She would walk into work, find herself suddenly in the morgue and pulling open a drawer that revealed Lexa, cold and blue and lifeless, only to open her eyes and realize she was still in bed. The worst were the ones where she watched helplessly as Lexa burned.

Everyone assured her that nightmares were normal, yet Clarke could never quite shake the pervasive, nagging sense of impending doom. Her mother told her it was the normal stress every mother felt during a new expansion of her family. Her therapist told her it was residual fear from doing her first pregnancy on her own. Her obstetrician told her it was hormone fluctuation. Clarke, however, thought it was a lot simpler. For Clarke, there was only one explanation: Lexa was her world.

They had not been together too terribly long. After the proposal, the wedding came a year later. The news of Henry came a year after that. And yet somehow, Lexa felt like an entire lifetime. Their love had been a raging, white-water river at first--swift, unrelenting and powerful. Then, it was a cool, still lake on a blazing summer day--calm, comforting and revitalizing. The longer Lexa stayed, the deeper she dug into the very fabric of Clarke’s being. She took up residence in dark, unforgotten spaces of Clarke soul, dusting things off, turning on the light, furnishing her with love and kindness, safety and contentment, passion and adoration. Lexa was home, and everytime she walked out the front door of their house, home went with her. Without a home, everything was terrifying.

Clarke crawled out of bed and crossed to the dresser. She dug through a drawer until she found one of Lexa’s old sweatshirt and slipped it over her head. Even with the eight months of growing baby clinging to her stomach and hips, the sweatshirt was roomy on her, accounting for Lexa’s broad shoulders and strong torso. The arms were humorously too long and the collar was worn. It wasn’t meant to flatter, just to remind--to embrace and comfort and keep out the cold. Had it not been Christmas Eve, she may have gone to her daughter’s room, scooped up the tiny, sleeping thing for some magical, healing snuggles as she often did on nights Lexa was out. But as such, she let Ellie sleep, and passed the time with her nose burrowed into the old sweatshirt, closing her eyes at the traces of Lexa’s cologne imbedded into the fabric.

***

Lexa clung to the iron rung below the bridge so hard her forearm burned sharp and hot despite the freezing air around her. With her other hand, she gripped Trisha’s wrist so tightly, she worried briefly about hurting her. Trisha was screaming, Lexa could tell, but it was muffled beneath the sound of her own heartbeat and the adrenaline coursing through her veins.

She looked up at the hand keeping them both from plunging into the water a hundred feet blow, thankful that she had the thick, rubber-palmed gloves on. The tacky surface kept her nearly clued to the icy support bar. Taking a deep, steadying breath, she looked past where Trisha dangled beneath her and watched the car sink slowly beneath the black surface, tail lights still visible even as they became fully submerged.

Her eyes met Trisha’s and she saw shear terror in them. They were wide as they could get, pupils so large her entire eyes were nearly black despite Lexa’s helmet light shining directly into her face. It was that terror that finally snapped Lexa out of her shock. Everything had happened so quickly, she could barely recall any of it. The car had started to go over, she had flung herself inside, and somewhere along the way, she’d yanked Trisha out of the car and caught herself before they followed it into the water. Now, Trisha flailed about, gasping at Lexa in garbled nonsense.

“Hey!” Lexa called down to her, stern, but not unkind. “Trisha, I need you to stop moving.”

Trisha kicked at the air as if she were underwater, trying to fight her way to the surface. Every thrust of her foot sent Lexa swing along with her, straining the grip she had on the bar keeping them alive.

“Trisha, stop moving. Trisha--Trisha!” To no avail, Lexa barked down at her as the woman continued to panic. Had they been in the water, she would have certainly drowned them both by now. Lexa’s shoulder ached at every tug, but Lexa only tightened her fingers around the bar and vowed to hold on. Lucky for them, the bar was narrow and easy to get her entire fist around. Add to the fact that Trisha was a slight woman, maybe one hundred and twenty pounds when wet, Lexa felt relatively okay about her odds of keeping them out of the water.

Nevertheless, each attempt Trisha made at kicking herself back up to the bridge, sent pain rocketing up Lexa’s arm and rattling around the small, frozen bones in her hand like a pinball machine.

“Trischa, I need you to calm down. You’re hurting me.”

“Don’t let me fall!” Trisha screamed, clawing at Lexa’s torgo with her free hand.

“Hey, listen to me. Trisha. Trisha, if you don’t stay still--” Lexa thrust her head back and adjusted her grip on the bar, beginning to question her confidence with every struggle from below her. She dropped her head and stared straight into Trisha’s eyes, boring into her.

“Trisha, god dammit! Do not fucking move another muscle!” She commanded, voice louder, harsher than it had been in a long time.

Trisha instantly stilled.

“Thank you,” Lexa breathed, adjusting her grip once more. “I’m sorry I yelled, but if we’re going to get out of this, I need your attention.”

Trisha swallowed and nodded, eyes fastened to Lexa’s face.

“I want you to grab onto my waistband with your other hand.”

Trisha did as she was told, and Lexa felt a minute relief in the pressure on her grip at having slightly stabilized her load.

“Captain, we’ve got the wench set up, we’re dropping in. Hang tight!” said someone, likely Lincoln, from above her.

“Hang tight? Are you kidding me?” She looked up just as an apologetic face appeared over the side of the bridge.

Lincoln grinned. “Sorry. How ya doing down there?”

“I am not slipping,” she said, widening her eyes towards her fist, then towards Trisha.

Understanding, Lincoln nodded quickly. “Copy that. Almost there.” He shouted something at the people behind him, and Lexa took the time to look down at Trisha and offer her an encouraging smile.

“You were at the store,” Trisha said so quietly, Lexa almost didn’t catch it.

“The store?”

“This morning. At Harrison’s.”

“Oh. Yeah, I was.”

“I rang you up.”

Lexa took in the face staring up at her. It was pale, caked in dirt and a little blood around her hairline, but she was right. She had rung her up. She had given Ellie a complimentary ornament, in fact.

“You did,” Lexa confirmed gently, tightening her grip on Trisha’s wrist when the sound of the mechanized wench grumbled above the howl of the wind. “We’re almost out of here, Trisha. You just keep looking at me, alright? Don’t look down.”

Trisha shook her head and Lexa felt her hand tighten around her waistband. A moment later, Alonzo came over the side of the bridge on a rope, about three feet to the left of them, as Alanna leaned over and monitored his position, giving orders to the winch operator to lower until he was parallel with Lexa.

“Hey, Cap. I’m just gonna get you secured in here and--”

“No. I’m fine. Get Trisha in a harness and get her up.”

“But Cap--”

“Do it.”

Leaving no room to argue, Alonzo looked up at Alanna and nodded for her to instruct the winch operator to lower him once more.

“Alright, Trisha, I need you to grab onto Alonzo. He’s going to secure in and--”

“No, no, no I don’t want to let go. I’m not going to let go,” Trisha gasped, tightening her grip on Lexa. Her legs began to flail again and Lexa cringed at the strain it put on her arm.

“Trisha--don’t--hey, just stop moving. Just calm down.”

“Don’t let me fall!”

“Hey, listen to me,” Lexa huffed, chest heaving in effort. “Do you remember the little girl I came into the store with this morning?”

Trisha nodded.

“Her name is Ellie. She’s five years old and she’s the light of my life. I told her I’d be there to open presents with her in the morning, and I plan on keeping that promise. I’m going home tonight and so are you, do you understand me? I just need you to do everything I say.”

Trisha hesitated, eyes searching Lexa’s face. Then, with more certainty this time, she nodded.

***Lexa pushed through the door as quietly as she could, kicked off her boots and let her jacket fall to the floor. She’d pick it up in the morning when there wasn’t a large bag of ice bandaged to her shoulder. That would be the first thing to go as soon as she got upstairs.

She tiptoed into the bathroom and shed the her clothes, the ice, then donned a pair of boxers and a t-shirt. The clock above the read four in the morning. As carefully as she could, she slipped beneath the covers, grimacing at the shot of pain in her shoulder as she scooted herself into place behind Clarke. Lexa carefully ran her hand up Clarke’s thigh, over her hip, and up her side, smiling at the feel of her old sweatshirt beneath her fingers. Clarke had missed her, it seemed, and Lexa had missed her right back.

In fact, Lexa had not stopped trembling until the moment she had Clarke’s hips tucked into her pelvis and her warm skin beneath her palm. She had come so very close to never seeing them again tonight. Her job always entailed potential for danger, but tonight had hit her hard. Tonight could have been the night Ellie lost one of her mom’s on Christmas eve. The night Clarke lost her wife. The holidays would never be the same for her family, and Lexa ached at the thought of being the cause of that pain. She had made a promise to come home to them every night, and she had come too close to breaking that promise this time. As her team finally pulled them up and over the bridge, as Trisha hugged her and thanked her, as the team drove them to the hospital, and as Lexa lay through an hour-long MRI scan, all she could think about was getting her hands on her girls.

She had kissed Ellie on the way to the bedroom, careful not to wake her, and now she needed her wife. She needed to feel the press of her body against hers, the warmth of her skin and the strength of her heartbeat. Even in sleep, Clarke was so steady and strong and alive. Lexa pressed her face to the back of Clarke’s neck and inhaled her scent. She smelled like an afternoon rain storm, fresh and clean and revitalizing.

She felt Clarke shift beneath her hands, but it wasn’t until Clarke had turned and was kissing her that Lexa drew out of her thoughts. Clarke’s sigh skittered across her face on a puff of warm air, and in an instant, Lexa’s hand were everywhere, caressing and pulling and holding her close. She felt like she was suffocating and Clarke was the oxygen she so desperately needed. Lexa couldn’t get enough of her.

“It’s okay,” Clarke murmured against her lips, “you’re okay.”

“What?” Lexa asked, breathless and distracted. She dove back in for another kiss before Clarke could answer. Clarke slipped her hands beneath Lexa’s shirt and splayed them across Lexa’s back, tugging her close.

“Everything’s okay.”

Lexa nodded against Clarke’s forehead, trying to catch her breath. Something was off, but all she could think to do was press closer, kiss harder, love harder.

“Hey,” Clarke cooed, dropping her hand to the center of Lexa’s chest. She didn’t push, but she held it there and leaned back when Lexa dipped back down.

Lexa frowned. “What’s wrong?”

“You tell me,” Clarke said quietly, a soft hint of laughter to her voice, but her eyes were concerned.

“What?”

Clarke ran her thumb across Lexa’s cheek, and finally Lexa felt it. Tears. All at once, they welled up inside of her and she gasped, choking on the ferocity of the emotions she’d bottled away to get the job done.

“Oh, sweetheart. It’s alright.” Clarke threaded her fingers through Lexa’s hair and gently tugged at the nape of her neck, guiding Lexa’s face to her breast. She held her close as Lexa shook and buried her nose into her collarbones. They didn’t speak for a long while, not until Lexa let out a shuddering sigh and began pressing kisses to Clarke’s throat.

“Are you hurt?” Clarke asked, her voice small and unsure because she had to ask, but she hated to know.

Lexa shook her head and nuzzled at Clarke’s jaw, kissing at the new skin when Clarke lifted her chin.

“Lexa.” Clarke’s voice was breathy from the attention being paid to her, but there was an edge to it, a warning and a reminder that a lie would be worse than whatever it was Lexa had gotten herself into.

“It’s not bad,” she conceded quietly.

“Show me.”

“There’s nothing to show. Just some strains.”

“Lexa.”

“I promise. I had an MRI.”

Clarke tensed in her arms, and Lexa kissed her, urging her away from the anger and the worry.

“Where? What needed an MRI?”

“Everything’s fine.”

“Lexa, I swear to god.”

“I have a mild strains in my shoulder and wrist. I promise, that’s all.”

“Are you in pain?”

“No.”

Clarke arched her brow.

“Okay. A little.”

“Mhm. Did you ice?”

“Yes. There’s a bag currently melting in our bathroom sink.”

Clarke sighed and dropped her forehead to Lexa’s, breathing in the distinct smell lingering on her wife’s skin.

“You smell like winter,” she whispered, and pressed her nose to Lexa’s cheek. She kissed the curve of her jaw, the corner of her mouth.

“It’s cold outside.”

Clarke nodded and folder her lips into Lexa’s, letting their warmth, their indescribable softness chase away the pain and and anger and worry until there was nothing left between them but the hot press of skin and the hushed moans of desperate lovers. Raging against the exhaustion in their bones, they took comfort in each other’s pleasure until fatigue finally won the battle, and pulled them into sleep just as the sun was beginning to rise.

***

Lexa shuffled out of the kitchen, her hair a mess, her eyes squinting in fatigue. She sipped at her third mug of coffee as she waded through layers upon layers of wrapping paper scraps, and sank into the couch next to Clarke.

Ellie sat amongst a pile of toys, shifting her attention from one to another as she gave a running commentary on all of it to the family that sat around her. Lincoln, Octavia and Abby, sat on the floor next to her, while Raven stood by the tree and recorded sporadically from her phone. Anya fiddled with the build-your-own tricycle she had gotten her niece, and Lexa watched it all from her place on the couch, amazed at her incredible life. Tucked into her side, Clarke leaned up and pressed a kiss to her jaw, earning her a sleepy hum.

“Tired?” Clarke asked, smiling as Lexa yawned into her coffee.

Lexa only grinned, refusing to be baited into speaking of the illicit activities they’d taken part in with their family under the same roof.

“When’d you get in, Lex?” Octavia asked, nodding in approval when Ellie thrusted a toy truck for her to inspect. “Lincoln said your last call was crazy. How long were you hanging--”

“Wow, that’s not--it wasn’t crazy, it was totally chill,” Lincoln quickly interrupted, his wide eyes cutting from Octavia to Clarke. Lexa rolled her eyes when Clarke stiffened, and buried her face into Clarke’s hair, resigned to the fact that she’d pay for the reveal later.

“Hanging around,” Octavia amended with a sheepish grin, “I just meant, how long were you hanging around...the fire station?”

“Octavia,” came Lexa’s muffled groan, “please stop talking.”

“Blame Lincoln! He’s got a big mouth.”

“Hey now. I told you you weren’t allowed to bring it up.” He swallowed, realizing how his words sounded, and looked to Clarke like a deer in headlights. “Because...there was nothing to bring up. It was...an easy night?”

Everyone turned to look at Clarke, who simply rolled her eyes and waved them off. “I don’t want to know,” she said, scratching at the nape of Lexa’s neck. “As long as she comes home, I don’t want to know.”

Lexa kissed her head and sat back up, momentarily glaring at the guilty couple on her floor until she was distracted by the small hands pressing into her legs as Ellie made her way onto the couch and into Lexa’s lap.

“Look, mommy,” she squealed, holding up the firefighter doll for what had to be the fifth time that morning. “It’s the one I wanted!”

“I see that! Pretty cool, bean. Did you thank Grandma for getting it for you?”

Ellie twisted around to get a look at her grandmother, and scrambled down Lexa’s legs. She slipped and slid through the wrapping paper scraps until Abby scooped her up and snuggled her close. Lexa watched them murmur to each other, Ellie occasionally bursting into a fit of giggles at something Abby had whispered or the onslaught of tickling fingers at her belly.

Clarke’s head on her shoulder pulled her attention away and she gazed down at her wife.

“You happy?” Clarke murmured, nuzzling close.

“Extremely. Are you?”

“More so than I thought I ever could be.”

Lexa leaned down and kissed her, grinning against her lips when Raven turned her phone on them and said something about lovebirds and no mistletoe and keeping it PG.

“Merry Christmas, baby,” Clarke whispered. “Thank you for coming home.”

“Are you kidding?” Lexa asked, pulling away to take in the beautiful home filled to the brim with love and family. “I wouldn’t miss this for the world.”

267 notes · View notes

ukulelecal · 5 years

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marvel!sos - characters and relationships

hey pumpkins, so i made a big post with all the information about the characters in the marvel au that i have so far. obviously there’s more to be explored, but this is what i’ve got rn.

i wanna give a big thanks to @fullblownidentitycrisis for helping me develop this so much, and to everyone who sent ideas and suggestions!! you guys are awesome, i’m so excited, lets go (also sorry the bullet points are so long, i maxed out on the text block limit so i had to combine them):

Calum Hood as Spider-Man

-Your classic geeky science nerd. Follows pretty much the same story as Spider-Man; lost his parents, and then his uncle, and lived with his aunt, gets bitten by a radioactive spider and now has superpowers. Just in this case, he went to college in New York and lived in a dorm, probably lived with his aunt during summers. Went to college for chemical engineering on a scholarship, and is now graduated

-Moved into a cheap little apartment in Harlem after college with three other guys until he finds his dream science job, which he’s struggling with. He kind of hates the guys he lives with because they’re obnoxious but he doesn’t really have a choice. Works at a greasy spoon restaurant as a busboy for minimum wage

-He gets very overwhelmed about his powers, being afraid of them, afraid of possibly hurting someone, and feeling inhuman. It’s just very stressful for him. He has tattoos for his family, and when he gets too anxious about life, his future, his powers, he traces over the tattoos with his finger to remind him that he’s got his family watching over him

Eleanor, Calum’s girlfriend

-Born and raised in Chicago. Moved to New York after high school for college, also on a scholarship. She studies biomedical engineering. So even though she’s a science nerd like Cal, she isn’t awkward like he is. She’s very cool and witty, has a lot of spunk and is very sharp. Also super intelligent and quick-thinking

-She used to want to be a writer when she was younger, specifically a poet, but as she got older she started thinking she wasn’t good enough to do it for a living so she pursued science instead, but she still writes in her free time

-Works as a waitress at the same restaurant as Calum. Lived in an apartment by herself after college, but at some point her landlord raised her rent a lot, and getting paid minimum wage she knew she wasn’t going to be able to pay it, and ended up getting evicted

Calum and El’s relationship

-They had some classes together in college. Cal always thought she was gorgeous but never had the courage to talk to her. He never expected to see her again after college but lord behold, they work at the same restaurant now

-They started talking and hanging out a lot, and being best friends eventually grew into dating. Cal and El are the broke New York kids, living off cheap food in Harlem and leftover fries from the restaurant, always complaining about being broke but they aren’t unhappy, because they have each other. When El gets evicted, she stays with Cal in his shared apartment for a bit, but his roommates aren’t thrilled with the idea of someone else living in their already cramped apartment so they both take extra shifts at the restaurant and save up so they can get their own place. They’re like the groups little siblings (even though they’re not much younger), everyone looks after them

-El doesn’t know about Cal’s powers at first, and she finds out by walking in on him messing around in the suit. She’s hurt at first, about him keeping secrets, and Cal is panicking for three days thinking she’s going to leave him, but once she comes around she shows all of her support and helps him a lot when he’s having a hard time. She also becomes important to the team after that, using her logic to make plans and her medical background to heal everyone

-Cal calls her Ellie-bear, which she pretends to hate but secretly loves

Luke Hemmings as Thor Odinson

-God of thunder, heir to the throne of Asgard. Can be a bit cocky and hot headed, but he’s mostly a ray of sunshine

-Gets banished to Earth by Odin, but not for the same reason as in the movies. He gets banished because he’s in love with a warrior named Freja. The problem is, Thor has been arranged to marry another woman since he was born. And that woman is not Freja. Odin banishes him in hopes that being apart from each other will cause their love to die, and Thor will marry the other woman without resistance when he is allowed back. Obviously, Odin was wrong. While on Earth, Thor developed the name Luke Hemmings for himself. He met a group of heroes and worked with them

Freja on Asgard and Harper on Earth, Luke’s girlfriend

-An incredible warrior. Highly respected on Asgard

-She absolutely radiates grace and is very debonair. Even in battle, she is just the embodiment of elegance. She has a very calming voice, and it easily soothes anyone she speaks to without even trying. She always seems to be calm which makes her a very easy presence to be around. Her best weapon is a sword, but she dabbles a bit in everything

-Never really knew her parents; they were killed at an age when she couldn’t remember them. Raised by an Asgardian warrior leader, thus her becoming a warrior herself

Luke and Harper’s Relationship

-They were playmates growing up. It wasn’t until they were older that they started to have feelings for each other. They both knew that Luke was in an arranged marriage, but they didn’t care. They loved each other

-When Luke got banished, it was so rough for both of them. They had no way of communicating, and they had to go nearly a year without seeing or even talking to each other. Odin’s plan of getting them to fall out of love totally backfired. The first thing Luke did the second he could return to Asgard was look for Freja. He asked her to come back to Earth with him so they could be together because if they stayed Luke would be forced to marry the other woman. She quickly agreed and ran away with him, gave herself the name Harper. They completely put Asgard behind them. And they are so lovey dovey on Earth, making up for lost time. They’re the star-crossed lovers in the typical forbidden love situation. Luke shows her all the weird Earth things he discovered and they continue to discover more together

Ashton Irwin as Captain America

-Kid from Brooklyn. Used to be very sickly and weak. Received a special serum back in 1941, and became a super soldier. Incredible strength and speed. Was frozen for years and woke up in modern times

-Now he’s very brave and determined, and once he’s passionate about or invested in something he can’t back down. And when he sees wrongdoing he can’t ignore it. He’s like the dad of the group and is very protective of everyone. He’s especially protective of his girl, and also Cal and El

-He’s super good at drawing and he used to love it, but doesn’t do it as much anymore

Mila, Ashton’s girlfriend

-A SHIELD agent. People would expect her to be super serious and stoic but she’s the opposite. She’s literally the softest bean ever. She’s soft and cute, full of giggles and big smiles. She’s also very stable and organized, which is good for Ash because he’s always stressed. Super smart, good problem solver

-Also a major badass when in action which leaves everyone shocked. She can do acrobatics well and is strong, and she can handle a gun pretty good. She gets super tough when she’s fighting

Ashton and Mila’s relationship

-They met at some sort of SHIELD meeting that Ash had to attend. He thought she seemed sweet so he chatted her up a bit after the meeting, and they started going out. So she probably knows he’s Captain America from the start

-They keep their relationship pretty private. They aren’t super affectionate in public or anything but when they’re alone? Total opposite. They’re so soft and sweet with each other, and Ash totally babies her. They’re each other’s “person” that they can always trust and go to for anything

-At some point SHIELD forces Mila to relocate overseas, and Ash can’t go with her because they need him in the states. They try to make it work long distance but they just can’t do it, and they break it off. But Ash isn’t himself after that. He suffers in silence, refusing to talk about it, but the others can see that there’s something very wrong. It’s affecting his fighting for sure. The guys help Mila convince SHIELD to let her move back to the states, and once she does they’re both back to their lively selves because they just needed each other. They’ve got such a sweet happy relationship

Michael Clifford as Hawkeye

-Sarcastic and witty. Pretty confident

-Amazing with a bow and arrow. Master marksman

-He became deaf after an accident, and now he uses a hearing aid. A little insecure about it sometimes but he’s got great friends and a girlfriend to cheer him up

-Super affectionate with the girl he loves, even though he doesn’t seem like he’d be that way

Charlotte, Michael’s girlfriend

-She’s a villain; a mutant, like Wolverine but not the same powers as him

-She was experimented on a lot as a child and treated like nothing but a lab rat, which kind of stems her being a villain. She thought the bad guys were her only family at that time and that she had to trust them (I’m going to think more into the villain organization and her powers as a mutant). She always questioned their motives and why she stayed with them but she always felt she couldn’t get away. They took her in, after all, how could she? And she’s internally battling herself a lot

-In her regular life, she can be very intimidating and snarky, but she’s pretty nice once you get to know her. She’s a tattoo artist and has quite a few herself

Michael and Charlie’s relationship

-Their relationship is angsty. It’s fine before Mikey finds out Charlie is a villain and before Charlie finds out Mikey is a hero, but it’s messy after that

-Mikey finds out in a battle, where he knocks her unconscious and her mask falls off, and then he sees her. At first he can’t even move, he’s just so shocked, and then all he can think about is all the times in the past that he shot at her and hurt her, and he just breaks down. But later, he feels so betrayed and hurt. It would take him a while to stop being angry and forgive her. Like once he finds out about her rough past, he tries so hard to understand and see her side. He realizes she needs someone to bring out the good in her. And then he has to assure her that he still loves her and thinks she’s a good person

-But aside from all their drama, they’re such a goofy couple, always messing around and being dumb together

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negasonicimagines · 5 years

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TEAM (Part One)

request: hey can you write an ntw x reader pleeeasssee? maybe angst w a fluff ending?? you're literally my entire resource for ntw fics and i lov you for it thanks so much sweetie. i'm sorry i don't really have like a plot line for you but i mean wade as a shipper is always good (also Colossus being Done With Him)

hey everybody! hurray for more consistent writing, yeah? next part will be the funner, fluffier part, but this is the angsty part!

tw for: abusive drug addict mom (because even I can’t escape that trope), addiction, lots of crying, your death (mentioned), starving yourself (not anorexia or bulimia, also just a mention), depressed!reader, and basically an overall tw for some dark themes. Let me know if I missed anything.

“Your mom said she’d call the cops on me if she caught you crashing here again.” Deadpool, despite being in his suit, wears a robe. He said what he did as he came out of his bedroom to discover you on his couch, obviously having just woken up. He doesn’t mind, though, he never does. Your best friend is a grown fucking man. And that’s the least weird thing about your life.

“She probably doesn’t even remember saying that, dude,” you remind him as he continues walking, to the kitchen. “She was tweaking out of her goddamn mind.”

Wade sighs heavily. He despised your mother, despised any parent who would choose drugs over their own kids. “Why don’t you just stay at Xavier’s full-time instead of just going to school there? Then, she couldn’t call the cops,” he replies, turning on the stove. You finally follow him, sitting at the kitchen island.

“The resources are better spent on someone else. It’d be a waste if I lived there.”

“What makes you think that?”

“I don’t need to eat, or sleep. I don’t need a bed or food.”

Wade scoffs. “Just because you come back to life, doesn’t mean you should kill yourself for the sake of ‘saving resources.’ You need to be more responsible for yourself.”

“Seriously? Coming from you?”

“Hey, I eat and sleep all the time. If eating and sleeping paid the bills, it’s all I’d do. You should be more like me,” he proudly says, and a smile actually makes its way onto your face, surprisingly enough. “There she is!” he happily remarks, and you roll your eyes. “You seem especially down, what’s up?”

“Nothing,” you fib.

He doesn’t buy it.

“I always say that I had another superpower long before Weapon X: I can tell when someone is lying. What’s really going on?”

You scoff. “You never say that. But, uh, you’re right. She stole my fucking Xanax.”

It wasn’t common for Xanax to be prescribed to minors, but nothing else worked for your depression. Xanax was strong enough to break through your metabolism, at least for a little while… But after doing some research and finding that it was addictive, you stopped taking it. You never wanted to end up like your mom.

“You think she might get hooked on that, too?”

“Oh, no, I figured that was gonna happen eventually. I guess the bright side is that I know it’s not pressed fentanyl. But, uh… I’ve been selling it. For food and whatever else it’ll cover. So, not having it really sucks. Who knows how many customers I’ll lose, and I probably won’t be able to eat anything for a-”

Wade places a plate in front of you, silencing you.

“BLT. I know you hate breakfast food, but I wanted bacon and pancakes.”

“You shouldn’t have,” you tell him, meaning it. “Thank you.”

“I’m always going to,” he argues in a sing-song tone. “No problem. I buy in bulk, anyways. Listen, I wanted to talk to you about something…”

“Yeah?” you wonder, interested to know what he’s going to say. People always bitch about him being a blabbermouth, but at least the things he says are interesting. He’s not boring, even if he’s loud and never shuts up.

“Have you ever considered looking for your father? I know you’ve said that he’s probably a POS like her, but maybe he’s not. Maybe he’s a cool guy who just doesn’t know you exist.” You have the vague impression that that’s not what he was planning to say, but you dismiss your intuition, as you have no idea what else he would’ve said.

“And he’s probably better off that way, man. Who wants an asocial, gay, mutant teenage daughter?”

“Ellie’s parents seem to like her, and you’re a lot nicer than she is, even if you’re both obsessed with self-imposed isolation. Hey, if you start living at Xavier’s, you’d see your mutual IRL!”

“I will strongly consider living at Xavier’s School for Gifted Losers if you never use the terms ‘mutual’ or ‘IRL’ ever again, you rotten old man.”

“No promises!” He tells you with a laugh.

Speaking of your mutual, Ellie messages you on Twitter. You take a bite of your sandwich, and respond.

ellienegasonic666: Hey what r u up to today

[your twitter handle]: Hanging w wade, why?

ellienegasonic666: Why would you subject urself to that sksjksjdl

[your twitter handle]: He’s like one of my best friends??? and mom was being a pain again

ellienegasonic666: You should just live @ Xavier’s lol

[your twitter handle]: That’s what wade said lol, I think he’s just trying to get rid of me

ellienegasonic666: Really???

ellienegasonic666: Maybe he’s MY best friend too

[your twitter handle]: You think it’s a good idea???

ellienegasonic666: DUH. You’re like the only person I can stand like at all

[your twitter handle]: Wow… thank you??? Kind of a big compliment coming from you jsadalksjdlak

ellienegasonic666 is typing…

One thing that made you both want and not want to live at Xavier’s was the possibility of seeing Ellie more. She was your only true friend that was your age, and even the same species as you. (You’d befriended many a stray animal in your wanderings about the city.)

And you had the biggest, most embarrassing crush on her. Developing feelings for any girl that shows you basic human kindness? Yeah, you were that person. So, on one hand, more opportunities to admire her. On the other, more opportunities for her to see what a fucking loser you are, at least, in your opinion.

You lock your phone, putting it down and continuing to eat your sandwich.

“Come on, kid. Dish. What were you two talking about just now?”

“How do you know I was talking to her?” You ask him.

“Your eyes light up every time your phone vibrates,” he explains. “No one else makes you that happy. Except for me, but I don’t make you happy in that way. That’d be gross.”

You scoff, rolling your eyes at his antics. “Listen, when I go to school tomorrow, I’ll discuss it with Logan… If you let me crash here tonight,” you negotiate.

“Fine, but I get to feed you breakfast in the morning,” he replies.

“Sounds good,” you tell him, giving him a thumbs-up.

The rest of the day goes smoothly, you and Wade playing Fortnite and watching Golden Girls together.

You rest your head on your best friend’s shoulder.

“I wish I never had to go back there,” you confess tiredly at around 10 PM, and he sighs.

“Me too,” he admits. “But it’s not safe here. This neighborhood is shitty, and-”

“I live in a shitty neighborhood already,” you cut him off with a reminder.

“And this is Deadpool’s house.”

“I can’t die forever,” you tell him, as if he could ever forget that. Like it wasn’t the only comforting thought when you were assigned to missions, even the safe ones.

“I know,” he replies with a deep sigh that unwinds the tension woven into every fiber of his being. “I know. I’ll consider it, if Xavier’s is at capacity”

The next morning, you wake up at 6 AM for school, silencing your alarm and enjoying the warmth. Before you know it, you’ve slipped back to sleep.

“Y/N. Y/N. Hey.” Each word is punctuated by a poke to your face by a gloved finger. “Listen, kid, I know you need the sleep, so I let you sleep in, but you’re gonna be late to school if you don’t get up and chow down quickly.”

You jolt straight up with a choking gasp, realizing you fell back asleep. You scarf down the toast with (favorite toast topper, be it butter or peach jam or whatever) and bacon, multi-tasking as you get ready.

“I’ll drive you, so don’t worry about makeup and all that junk. You can do it in the car. Just get your teeth brushed and get dressed and shit,” Wade informs you, starting Al’s old klunker so the shitty heater will warm up the car a little bit before the two of you are forced into it by time.

You dash out of the bathroom, small makeup bag in hand and shoes untied, and Wade follows you at a slower but still brisk pace.

“Why’d you let me sleep?” you ask him frustratedly, applying your lipstick(/gloss/balm/whatever) while you wait for his answer.

“I told you, you needed it.”

“I didn’t need it this badly,” you retort, working on your eyeliner next. The two of you hit a bump, so you get out your concealer and salvage what you can.

“You needed it. I’m sick of watching you die of neglect, why is that not enough of a reason for you?” He punctuates his words with a terrible groan, as if he’s pained by this bickering..

“I come back!” you argue, confused about why he’s pushing this taking-care-of-you thing more than usual.

“I know your mom doesn’t give a shit about whether you live or die, but I do! I’m not letting you die, ever again! Get over it!” Wade practically screams in frustration, effectively silencing you.

You sit there, in complete stillness, before getting back to work on your makeup. You put on foundation and blush, contouring before you set it all with translucent powder, sweeping the soft brush over your smooth skin.

“I’m sor-”

You shake your head, pressing your limps together firmly so that no sobs leak out, blinking hard.

Wade knows you hate yelling, not to mention what he said was over the line.

He pulls up to the school.

“I’ve got some business here, later. Do you want me to bring lunch and hang around to pick you up?”

You shake your head. “I’ll walk home, or something.”

“Have a good day?” he offers, and you just walk away, entering the school.

At least I’m on time, you think to yourself, stumbling to homeroom in a haze. Homeroom’s Chemistry, and you definitely didn’t do your homework last night.

“Mx. L/N, your homework?” the teacher says at your desk.

“No,” is your only response.

The teacher sighs, shaking his head in hopelessness before moving on to your lab partner, Ellie.

“Here it is,” she hands it to him. Once he’s moved, she hisses to you: “Why didn’t you just ask me if you could copy mine?”

You curl in on yourself a bit, putting your head on the desk and guarding it with your arms and hands. “Please don’t…” You whisper back, and you mentally chastise yourself for how pathetic you sound.

She places her hand on your back, unintentionally sending rather calming tingles through it.

“What happened? Your mom didn’t hurt you again, did she?”

“I mean, she did, night before last,” you mutter, moving your arms and letting one hand support the weight of your head boredly. “But that’s only a small part of why today is shitty. Don’t worry about it, El. It’s not your problem, okay?”

“Fine, if that’s how it’s gonna be,” she scoffs, but you know she’s not really that offended.

“I’m gonna talk to Logan during lunch about moving here. Crashing at Wade’s isn’t working out anymore.”

“He didn’t hurt you, did he?” Ellie asks.

“He just yelled at me this morning. He’s too invested, he was mad ‘cause I don’t eat or sleep enough and I keep-” You remember that Ellie doesn’t know. “I keep getting dizzy spells. But, uh, you know me. I’m a pansy, can’t stand yelling.”

“You’re not a pansy for having trauma,” Ellie grumbles. “Hey, let Logan know that if there’s not another room, I’m fine sharing one with you.”

“Really?” you wonder, taken aback by her kindness. Ellie was always nicer to you than she was to other people, but this was a bit out of character.

“Yeah, why not? You get me,” she says.

The teacher scolds you and other classmates for talking, and the few of you become quiet and try to focus on the lesson.

A couple class periods later, and it’s lunchtime.

“Hey, Logan?” you approach him.

“I didn’t know, or I would’ve told you.”

“About what?” you ask, and if you thought he was frowning before, he definitely wasn’t happy now.

“Forget I said that. What did you want?”

“I wanted to talk about, uh, living here…” you say quietly, and he looks confused.

“Really? I thought you wanted to live out in the city.”

“Yeah, uh, that’s not really working out for me,” you admit.

“You didn’t get attacked by any of those anti-mutant gangs, did you?”

“No, uh, my mom’s not a gang,” you drop the bomb. “Just a physically and verbally abusive bitch.”

“And you’ve been staying with Wade occasionally, haven’t you?” he guesses.

“Yeah, uh, how’d you-? Not the point. We had an argument this morning, and um… I don’t think he’s gonna want me around.”

“He didn’t hurt you, did he?”

“Why does everybody keep asking me that? No. The problem is that he’s too concerned. It’s not good. I don’t die forever and he still acts like it’s the worst thing in the world for it to happen every now and then.”

Logan sighs. “Right. Probably about the thing I didn’t know until recently that I know now and probably shouldn’t tell you.”

“And that is?”

“I should probably let him tell you,” Logan says, looking behind you. You turn around to see your best friend.

“Well, let’s hear it,” you say.

“I- I’m- I don’t want to be friends anymore,” he says. “It’s not appropriate for someone my age to be hanging around you like I do.”

“What? I thought you didn’t care about that shit,” you disagree. “You know you’re not a creep, I know you’re not a creep. Who else does it concern?”

“I don’t want to be friends with you anymore! Get over it, okay?! Don’t come to my house looking for a place to crash when your druggie mother beats your ungrateful ass! Don’t look for me when you’re in town! Don’t text me any boring, unfunny memes! Don’t Snapchat me stupid pictures of you and Ellie being losers! Don’t fucking speak to me! Ever! I don’t wanna see you ever again, got it?! I’m gonna be going now, Logan. Don’t expect me back anytime soon.”

He quickly leaves, and you turn back to Logan.

“What the fuck is going on?” you ask your mentor in a hoarse whisper, keeping your volume low to keep from crying. A tear slips down your face.

“I don’t know. I wasn’t expecting that, I… You can stay here, but I don’t know where. We might have to squeeze you in with someone.”

“Ellie said that I could room with her if there wasn’t enough room,” you tell Logan, imagining wrapping a ribbon around your sadness, so tight, so that no one can see it. So that it won’t come out.

“Sounds good. I’ll let the Professor know. You, try to have a better rest of your day.”

“I’ll see what I can do.”

The rest of your day is not good. You skip your last two classes and just sit at the foot of Ellie’s bed, choking sobs throwing themselves from your lungs like you wish you could throw yourself off a bridge, sinking into the water and going down, down, down… Drowning every time you awaken from death, only to die again. Perfect Purgatory. No problems other than fighting the instinct to rise to the surface.

Every time you calm down, start breathing normally, splash your face with cold water and blow your nose, thinking you might actually piece yourself back together by the time Ellie gets back from Photography Club, you remember what he said, again. Think about his face, the fury in his eyes when he yelled at you this morning.

And the cycle continues.

“Y/N?!” Ellie. Crap, Ellie can see how fucking pathetic you are. “Y/N, what’s wrong?!”

“He- He hates me… I- I don’t know what I- What I did- I- I can’t fucking breathe,” you cry out. “Everything was fine, and then he was just so- Just so fucking mad today. What did I do, Ellie, do you know?”

“You didn’t do anything wrong. Wade’s just a fucking bastard.”

“Not to me,” you weep. “Never to me…It hurts so bad, in my chest, I- I- I-” you gasp, again and again, desperate for air. “He- He was my...b-b-best f-friend… Only f-family I had… And he- he hates- hates m- he h-hates me…”

“Shh, Shh…” Ellie says, unsure of what else to do. She’d never been the one to comfort a crying friend, usually leaving that to someone else. But you, you didn’t have anyone else. “He doesn’t hate you. Maybe he was having a bad day. Whatever he said to you, he probably wishes he didn’t. And if he doesn’t, well, I’ll make him fucking wish he didn’t.”

“No!” you scream, an animalistic howl. “Don’t- D-don’t hurt him…” you whimper.

“I won’t, I won’t, I’m sorry. Was just trying to help. Wade-” She sighs, not liking that she has to reveal her feelings, too. “As much as I wanna hate the guy, I can’t. Because he’s a good man. And he loves you, so much. I don’t know why he said what he did, but I get the feeling there’s more to the story.”

“B-but he s-said such awful things…” you whine.

“Here, come on the bed. It’s more comfortable.” Ellie helps you up from the floor, taking off her shoes and lifting her black duvet so that you can slip under. Surrounded by a darkness that includes not just your second best friend, but your crush, was soothing in a way you’d never felt before. You struggle to breathe ends, even if your tears don’t. “What’d he say?”

“Just… Stuff about my mom. He said he didn’t want to be friends anymore, that he didn’t want me staying at his place or even talking to him.”

“That’s really fucking shitty. Do you- Do you want me to hold you?”

“You don’t have to,” you tell her, and she realizes that if she’s going to help you she also has to be emotionally vulnerable. “Why are you being extra nice to me? You really don’t have to, you could just make me lock myself in a bathroom or something.”

“I want to,” she confesses, and you scooch closer to her. She moves you so that your head is on her chest, and her arms are securely around you. As the two of you fidget, your legs tangle together. “I’m sorry about what happened today. I know that he’s your best friend, more than me, and I’d consider us pretty close.”

You hum in acknowledgement, her body’s extra natural warmth lulling you into a haze of emotional numbness and half-sleep. She strokes your hair.

“I love you so much, too. Not like he does, though. I wish we could stay like this forever. I always wanna protect you, even when you’re not in danger. I- I wanna do more than cuddle. I wanna kiss you, and get you flowers, and watch chick-flicks and pretend that I don’t like them just as much as you do. Sing along with stupid, funny voices to Pitch Perfect because we’re both too embarrassed of our real singing voices. I- I want to do all that, forever, and I don’t want you to do that stuff with anyone else, at least not the same way you do it with me. You get what I mean?”

But you don’t answer, having fallen asleep at some point in her ramblings, probably before she confessed the romantic nature of her feelings.

“Damn it,” she mumbles to herself, but is kind of grateful. Now really isn’t the best time, she realizes. She strokes your hair, glad to see you getting some rest after all you’d been through today. She stays there for w while, eventually lifting her arm from on top of you and unlocking her phone. She blocks Wade on every platform.

Normally when Ellie’s on her phone, she’s talking to you. It’s part of the reason she’s so attached to the damn thing. She plays some of the games she has installed for about an hour, before finally admitting to herself that she’s bored out of her mind.

But, it’s dinner time, meaning she has an excuse to wake you up.

“Y/N…” She quietly says, brushing your hair out of your face. “It’s time for dinner…”

“Hmm?” your eyes flutter open, but your eyelids are still heavy. You can’t believe you’re really cuddling with Ellie. You’d thought you dreamed it.

“Dinner,” she repeats.

“Jeez, was I out that long?” you wonder.

“Just for an hour and a half,” she tells you. “Dinnertime is a bit early, to make sure that everyone gets to eat before bedtime.”

“Oh. Cool,” you say, and then you remember why you’re here. You’re all cried out, for now, but you start to shake again.

“Hey, hey, no more of that,” Ellie discourages you. “He doesn’t deserve your tears. You should think about blocking him, on social media and whatever numbers of his you have.”

“B-but what if he wants to be my friend again?” you ask meekly, and she looks down at your hopeful face, sighing.

“Then he can tell you in person, not that he deserves the opportunity.” Ellie tries to calm down, be sympathetic. It was easier at first, but now you’re wearing her down. She doesn’t get why you can’t just get over it, tell your thoughts of him to fuck off. Wade didn’t deserve this mourning, especially not after what he did to you. “Come on, let’s get you cleaned up, and then we can go to dinner. You can borrow one of my hoodies, if you want.”

You nod, and she gets up, going to her closet and pulling out one of her many dark-colored hoodies. This one is a dark purple, one she doesn’t wear often. She tosses it over her shoulder, popping into the bathroom to grab the pack of makeup wipes.

It’s cold, and the chemicals sting against your sensitive cheeks.

You twitch, and she takes in a sharp breath.

“Sorry,” she quietly says, taking an even more careful approach. She wipes your face, and you have to admit, you do feel refreshed. She takes the purple hoodie from where she threw it over her shoulder, and hands it to you. You pull it over your head, slipping your arms through the sleeves and letting the hood rest on your head. “It looks better on you than it does me.”

You huff out a small laugh at this. “I don’t look good in anything.”

“Calling me ugly?” Ellie asks, snickering. “It’s good to see you smiling.”

You smile a little wider at her compliment. She always makes you feel better.

“Let’s go to dinner,” you tell her, and she nods, taking your hand and leading the way.

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avengers-nextgen · 5 years

Text

Noctis IV

The power had gone out later that night. Alex had finally gone back to sleep when everything stilled. There was no gentle whir of fan blades, the hum of a nearby clock, or even the indication of a hall light being on. After a moment, the sound of feet shuffling across the floor outside greeted Sage’s ears. Then the noise stopped. The door was eased open and a flash light beam darted inside.

“Guess the power’s off for everyone,” James frowned, looking like he was still half asleep.

“What’s going on?” Alex groaned, sitting up to see her brother standing in the doorway half naked. “James? What happened to your clothes? It’s morning isn’t it?”

“Not a chance,” James snorted, “power went out.”

His remark was harmless in nature but Alex made some form of a gagging noise. She’d paled.

“Did anything seem off?” Sage asked, eyeing Alex wearily.

“No, why?” James frowned. He stiffened as the sorceress approached him. She leaned in close so only he could hear.

“Alex says Prom-well, you know. She says he’s back. I don’t know how but she woke up in a panic. Salem was acting funny too. Like he could sense something.” As Sage spoke, James’ expression hardened.

“So what do we do?”

“That’s what I thought you would know,” Sage hissed, sparing Alex a brief glance. “I mean, it could be nothing.”

“Nothing is never nothing around here,” James grumbled, turning on his heel. “I’m going to do a head count. I’ll be back.”

— — —

Nathaniel woke to the sound of a door creaking open. He normally slept the night away undisturbed, but with all that was going on he was as light a sleeper as the trained assassins he lived with.

Propping himself up onto his elbow, he scanned the crowded room. His entire family had managed to fit into the relatively large space and none of them appeared to be awake. Nathaniel had found comfort in their numbers, and their proximity, but something was off.

Getting carefully to his feet, he ventured about the room trying not to step on any limbs. The adjoining room’s door was always cracked, Ellie slept there, but now it’d been swung open. Peeking inside, Nathaniel expected to see Salem meandering about but he found nothing. No cat, and no infant.

Heart leaping into his throat, he turned and ran back through the overstuffed bedroom not caring if he stepped on anyone.

Cries of pain and anger followed his sporadic sprint, but Nathaniel was terrified. Tearing down the hallway, the eldest boy nearly flattened James like a pancake.

“What’s wrong?”

“Ellie’s missing. She’s not in her crib!” Nathaniel panted. James’ eyes went wide and he too began to run. Only, unlike Nathaniel, James was trying to wake everyone up.

Feet pounding against the ground, Nathaniel knocked open every door only to find that Ellie wasn’t there.

It wasn’t until he stumbled into the living room that he saw her.

“Shhhh. We don’t want to wake her,” Crowed a familiar voice. “They’re always so cute when they sleep. Don’t you think?”

“Put her down!” Nathaniel snarled.

“Oh, you don’t get to make the orders,” Prometheus cooed, “you’re in no point of power. Weaponless, and suit less. What are you, but a man?”

Hands balled into white knuckled fists, Nathaniel tried to find something he could use to his advantage. He was alone across the room while a maniac held his niece. It seemed hopeless until the area behind Prometheus erupted in a ring of sizzling light.

Nathaniel was vaguely aware of Chloe knocking Prometheus aside while Penny shifted into view snatching Ellie away.

“Arthur,” Penny called, passing the sleeping girl off to the second Strange to emerge.

Though it was a temporary win, Prometheus melted into darkness like before. Only this time, he didn’t emerge alone. From the shadows crept snarling beasts. Their teeth were white along with their eyes, razor black nails scratched upon the floor, and the hunched over forms resembled horribly mangled dogs.

“Arthur, time to go!” Chloe reminded, as they all broke out of their stunned surprise. To his credit, Arthur tried to run, but the monsters were seemingly everywhere.

“I don’t wanna die playing baby keep away!” He shrieked, nearly losing a calf.

Before another attack fell upon him, bright bursts of red knocked the shadowy beasts over like bowling pins. Scout and his mother had come in the nick of time.

“Are they only in this room?” Vision asked, flying past.

No one got a chance to answer his question when the floor exploded upwards and a gleaming suit slammed into the ceiling

“Owww,” Tony groaned, “I hate big ink cats.”

“Big ink wha-OH MY GOD!” Penny yelled, as a massive head emerged from the crater sized hole. It was the ugliest looking saber tooth cat demon she’d ever seen.

Rolling her eyes, Chloe blasted the monster in the face and Scout followed suite along with his mother.

“Nathaniel, go check on the others. Make sure Arthur’s okay!” Wanda instructed.

With a nod, Nathaniel sprinted off once more. He wasn’t sure where everyone was or how they were going to manage a cat demon but he was only concerned about his family at the moment. Halfway down another hallway, the archer came down hard on his back.

Prometheus stood above him, having appeared just to block his path. “Now look what kind of mess you’ve made. This could have been much simpler.”

“You-fucker!” Nathaniel wheezed, as Prometheus stooped down to collect the fallen warrior.

“What to do with you,” Prometheus mused. “Oh, I know.”

“Put my baby brother down!”

Nathaniel was dropped like a sack of potatoes. Heat washed over him and the smell of something ghastly hit his nose. Burning?

Squinting through the small fire, Nathaniel spotted Cooper wielding his bow.

“Thanks.”

“You should have the explosive ones labeled,” Cooper smirked, going to help his brother stand. There was a fire in his eyes that Nathaniel hadn’t seen in a while. His protective nature shining through. “Mom’s got Ellie and Dad’s keeping watch. For now we need to handle the rest of this mess.”

“My bow?” Nathaniel breathed.

“Right, here.” Cooper passed over the weapon and gestured for Nathaniel to take the lead.

— — —

“I hate cats!” Valkyrie growled, as the weirdly humanoid paw of the cat clutched her by the ankles and hung her upside down.

“Hey!” Siyanda protested, also dangling by her feet.

“You’re not an actual cat!”

“Both of you shut up!” Loki hissed, appearing mid air and lashing out at the demonic hand. Both girls went tumbling to the ground in a heap along with the weird gelatin hunk of meat.

“Fry it!” Tony ordered, racing by and collecting those he could off the ground. Thor struck his hammer against the beast’s leg sending lightning straight through its system. The smell was horrible, and the blackness momentarily retreated, but the creature seemed to sense its defeat. In a desperate move it disintegrated completely into a sticky, gooey, rain.

“This reminds me of Scooby Do,” Piper noted.

“Not the time,” Thor huffed, trying to wipe the black substance from his body.

— — —

“If we cut it, it only grows back,” Drew frowned.

“Like a hydra,” Orion nodded.

“A what?” Fox cried, firing a few more rounds. She’d given up on her knives ages ago.

“Scout knows the myth better than I do. Cut one head off two more grow back. He says you have to burn where you cut. That much I remember,” Orion explained, avoiding the lizard things tail. They were stuck on the bottom floor.

“Anyone got fire?” Maria asked hopefully.

“I do,” Enzo assured, his hands glowing with golden flames.

“Great, lets hack this son of a bitch up,” Maria grinned.

“Now, that is my language!” Drax bellowed, all too happy to go and stab the thing. Drew followed suit.

— — —

All around the tower, chaos unfolded. The structure’s defenses had gone out with the power. Tony had been inspecting the back up generator, unsure why it wasn’t working, when all hell broke loose.

Frankly, he wasn’t too surprised, but then again...he’d seen enough of this shit to know what was up.

“Guys?!” Harper called, her voice sounding particularly panicked.

“What is it Harpsichord?” He asked, turning to face her.

“The others are stuck!”

Confusion was the first thing that hit him, but with the demon cat gone for now, he followed the panicked teen. What he wasn’t prepared for were the statues. Well, not exactly.

No, these were the forms of his friends and family but they were encased in some writhing black goo. There was Pepper, Salem, Steve, Bucky, Alex, and Bianca. All of whom were mid fight when this had happened.

“Oh sweet Jesus,” Tony breathed. “That’s not good. Not good at all.”

“I tried to get them out but that stuff is like rock. But it’s alive. It doesn’t make any sense,” Harper explained.

“Stand back,” Tony warmed, eyeing some writing tendrils in the floor. “I think it’s spreading.”

“Are they alive?” Harper worried.

“My suit shows vitals,” Tony assured. “But other than that I don’t know what’s happening,”

“This is different than the last time isn’t it?” Harper frowned. “The others were telling me stories.”

“Honey, this is last time on steroids. Hopefully no one gets an aneurysm,” Tony looked grimly at the hallway. “Hang tight guys.”

Harper watched the genius rush off with worry etched on his face. She nearly stayed to keep an eye on them when something rigged at her shoe. The weird tendrils were inching towards her. With a disgusted shiver she turned and ran.

#avengers #avengers next gen #marvel #mcu #romanogers #black widow #captain america #natasha romanoff #pepper potts #scarlet witch #noctis #phase4

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bifuriouswaterbender · 6 years

Text

A Sense of Identity--Yukonic Fanfic

Read on AO3 here. This was inspired by the motto “If no one else will write fanfic for your ship, write it yourself.”

Fandom: Deadpool (2 technically)

Characters: Negasonic Teenage Warhead, Yukio, Colossus (briefly), Deadpool (mentioned)

Pairing: Negasonic/Yukio

Rating: G

Summary: Negasonic reflects on her own name as she deals with the gay panic of a teenager lesbian facing her first major crush.

She had never liked her name.

Ellie was so plain, so simple. It was a common name that had never really fit her. Now if her parents had been forward-thinking enough to name her Elliot, she may have felt differently. But Eleanor had never suited her, and Ellie barely worked. But it was the only name she had.

The first time she accidentally exploded into a ball of fire had been terrifying for everyone around her. For Ellie, it was a relief.

She loved her parents, but they’d never really understood what made her tick as a regular human. As a mutant? They were happy to send her off to a fancy school where she could harness her powers and maybe learn some manners.

She hadn’t exactly gained the manners, but Negasonic Teenage Warhead was a miracle of a name. When she was struggling to come up with something that felt like enough, one of the older kids had suggested listening to old songs. Some of the coolest names came from the lyrics. Taking their word for it, Ellie had flipped through old records, pausing when she saw a song title she liked. Negasonic Teenage Warhead had frozen her, an exciting sense of cold running down her center to cut the heat she always knew was there. It was over the top, strong, and just anarchistic enough to feel like an identifier. Once she listened to the record, she decided the song itself was fine. But the name couldn’t be beat.

Most of the other kids found her name to be too much of a mouthful, and she became Negasonic to most of them. Occasionally someone dug up the name Ellie Phimister. It wasn’t exactly a secret, but Negasonic did everything in her power not to answer to it and to get people to stop using it.

Most of the time it worked. Even when she wasn’t actively using her powers for anything, just channeling them was enough to intimidate most people. She infrequently got asked what she would do about her name once she wasn’t a teenager anymore.

She would shoot whoever asked a scorching look complete with one raised eyebrow and say, “The name is more than just Teenage. I think I’ve got other parts to keep.”

Secretly she liked the ring of Negasonic Warhead. It sounded even more badass in her mind than the full moniker, but twelve-year-old Ellie had been too excited by the idea of literally identifying as a teen. Until she turned nineteen, though, she could handle the middle, especially since no one ever used the full name anyway.

Except occasionally Wade, but he alternated that with so many insults and (often outdated) pop culture references that she didn’t really care.

“Negasonic,” Colossus called up the stairs. As usual, his voice carried without him actually raising his voice above typical speaking level. “Come down here. There is friend I want you to meet.”

Friend was not a typical word thrown her way. Negasonic knew Colossus had been trying to find her a nice friend ever since she’d buzzed her hair. It had been the same chin-length bob since before discovering her powers, and Negasonic had needed a change when she hit fifteen. She thought it made her look edgy. One of the more obnoxious preteens had said it made her look ready to beat someone up. She’d only somewhat threatened to beat him up for it.

Even now that she was letting it grow, Negasonic was more than happy to lean into that reputation whenever possible. She imagined this supposed friend would be easily intimidated with a scowl or two and that Negasonic could escape after a quick tour and a little awkward small talk.

She wasn’t expecting a perky pink-haired girl with gorgeous eyes to be waiting at Colossus’s side.

“Negasonic!” Colossus said enthusiastically, clamping a hand on her shoulder that was obviously oblivious to her gay panic. “This is Yukio. She will be joining X-Men.”

“Hello,” said the girl. She bounced forward--literally bounced--and stuck out her hand for Negasonic to shake. “It’s nice to meet you.”

She reacted on autopilot and shook the girl’s hand, trying not to focus on its soft warmth. “You too,” Negasonic said. Was her voice faint? Damn it! She’d gone through all this work to build a reputation, and it was all about to be undone by a single pretty girl.

“Colossus said we might have a lot in common.” Yukio’s eyes actually sparkled as she looked up at the metal man.

Negasonic looked up too, mostly to determine if he was having heat stroke from baking in his metal body all day. Aside from an affinity for nontraditional aesthetics, Negasonic couldn’t imagine what she and Princess Bubblegum had in common.

God, she needed to spend less time around Wade.

“Indeed,” Colossus said, giving Negasonic a firm thump on the back that almost sent her flying. “You two are same age, both sassy, both independent. I expect the two of you to be fast friends.”

As two pairs of eyes looked at her expectantly, Negasonic felt a bit of sweat building at the back of her neck. But gay panic or no, she couldn’t afford to be weird. If she screwed up this girl’s first day, Colossus might not forgive her. Plus, bangs that perfect and that pink couldn’t belong to a straight girl, right?

“We’ll see,” she said, trying to remain neutral outwardly. “Would you like a tour, Yukio?”

As Yukio beamed at her, Colossus gave Negasonic another affirming pat on the back. This one did force her to stumble a bit because she’d been so focused on not letting herself be blinded by the literal sunshine on Yukio’s face.

“Wonderful!” Colossus moved a couple steps down the hall. “I have paperwork to do—finalizing Yukio’s transfer to the team and figuring out her class schedule. I think she would like some of the same classes as you, Negasonic. You two have fun!”

Negasonic watched him gently thunder down the hall, her panic slowly rising toward the surface as she was left alone with the most beautiful girl she’d ever seen.

There was a twinkle in Yukio’s eye that made Negasonic wonder if the girl was onto her. Before she could process that idea, Yukio took a few bouncing steps up the stairs.

“So where do we start?” she asked, offering Negasonic a knee-weakening grin.

Negasonic swallowed hard. Time to hit the reset on her feelings because she’d never be able to function if this kept up. Pretending to become her usual moody self, Negasonic jerked her head in the direction of the grounds.

“It might rain. We would probably check out the training areas first.”

The smile Yukio sent back at her was more reserved than the ones from earlier, and Negasonic tried to pretend the smaller smile gave her a smaller reaction. Being a girl had its advantages for hiding such things.

…

As Negasonic thought back on the last hour, she wasn’t quite sure how Yukio had ended up on her bed.

They’d barely made it inside as the rain started up outside. Yukio had scrambled back toward the door with such zeal that Negasonic hadn’t been able to help running alongside her. They’d stumbled back inside laughing loud enough to prompt Colossus to stick his head out of his office. When he’d seen who it was, he simply smiled and let them be.

The downstairs hadn’t taken very long since many of the spaces were ones that they weren’t supposed to go in or had classes in progress. Negasonic was technically missing Latin, but she both hated it and was pretty sure Colossus would vouch for her. He seemed to be in that kind of mood today.

Upstairs was mostly dorms, and when Negasonic had pointed out her own bed, Yukio had collapsed onto it dramatically.

“I hope we’re roommates,” she said with a kind of dreamy earnestness that smacked Negasonic on her ass.

She sat down at the end of her bed, trying not to think about the fact that she’d never had another girl on it before. She didn’t have any female friends who did things like sit on each other’s beds to gossip. The closest she’d come was an offer to visit someone else’s bed when she’d snuck out to a local gay bar. She suspect the other woman had also lied her way in with a fake ID, but even with that suspicion, Negasonic hadn’t been able to justify to herself sleeping with someone she didn’t know, especially if that person thought she was over eighteen and named Alex instead of Ellie.

“We probably will be.” Negasonic shrugged and tried to look like she didn’t care one way or another. “They try to room people age alike. Since most of the other girls are under fourteen or at least eighteen, we’re pretty secluded. There were two other girls in the middle bracket. Both roomed with her, but neither of them talked to her much.

“Lots of guys though,” she added as an afterthought. Without meaning to, Negasonic watched for Yukio’s reaction.

There wasn’t one. Instead she leaned forward and looked expectantly back at Negasonic. “You have a really cool name.”

She didn’t know how to handle that. “Um, that’s the idea,” she said, annoyed by how easy she had been to fluster. “What about you? Is Yukio based on something?” Negasonic didn’t really know anything about Japanese culture, so she hoped it wasn’t something obvious.

“No,” the pink-haired girl replied. “It’s actually my real name.”

Negasonic furrowed her brows together. “Do you not have a name yet?”

She hadn’t when she’d first arrived, but Negasonic had still been relatively young. And Ellie had shed her name as quickly as she could.

Yukio shook her head, ponytail whipping around her face as she did so. “No, and I don’t want one.”

“But you have to have one.”

Yukio smiled, like she knew something Negasonic didn’t. “Actually I don’t. We have them for safety, but it’s not like any of us do anything to protect our identities.”

That was true. Some superheroes were ridiculous about keeping their identities secret, and while Negasonic could understand that perspective, it wasn’t true for a lot of mutants. Often their powers outed them, like hers had. Regardless the big players had their strong we shouldn’t have to hide agenda that they frequently pushed. Many mutants who could have otherwise kept their powers a secret, as she could now that she had much better control of them, readily revealed their identities. Masks weren’t exactly big around here.

It was easy for her, though. She didn’t have a secret identity because Negasonic felt much more like a name than Ellie ever had.

“Still,” Negasonic said. She didn’t know what she was trying to argue, but an argument felt like it needed to be made.

“I’m okay only have one identity,” she insisted. “Besides, my family call me Yuki anyway. Yukio is starting over in a way.”

“A new identity isn’t the same as starting over.”

Yukio simply looked at her, the playful indulgence easy to read. “No? Then why did Colossus call you Negasonic? Why do we all call him Colossus? There may be mutants who go by both readily, but for most of us, the new one is the only thing that matters.”

Maybe that’s why she’d always called Deadpool Wade. As near as she could tell, his alias was purely for professional purposes and because he thought it sounded cool. But to everyone who actually knew him, he was Wade. But despite basically dying multiple times without actually dying, Wade wasn’t a Before and After. It was weird because he literally looked nothing like he had before. (She’d seen the pictures. He was tolerable if you were into clean cut white men, which Negasonic wasn’t.) His personality hadn’t shifted at all, and he’d really just used his After as an extension of the same kind of personality and shit he’d done before. He was just more deadly because he couldn’t die.

Yukio angled her head as she studied Negasonic. In turn, Negasonic wanted to crawl under the bed.

“What’s your birth name?”

Negasonic bit her lip. That was the million dollar question, wasn’t it? “I don’t actually like it,” she admitted, hoping that would be enough.

That unfortunately didn’t seem to satisfy Yukio’s curiosity. “What not?”

Shrugging in an I-don’t-care way, Negasonic stared down at her bedspread. “I guess it never really fit.”

Yukio didn’t respond. The silence filled the space between them before expanding into the room as a whole. It left Negasonic ready to suffocate, and she couldn’t stop herself from willingly sharing her name for the first since taking on her superhero identity.

“I’m Ellie.”

“That’s a nice name,” Yukio said, “but you’re right. It doesn’t really fit you.”

Negasonic swallowed, glancing back up at Yukio. The seriousness she found on the other girl’s face transfixed her. They stared not uncomfortably at each other for longer than Negasonic cared to admit.

“What about El?” Yukio asked suddenly.

“It’s a nice letter,” Negasonic responded, not understanding where she was going with this.

As Yukio shook her head again, Negasonic let her eyes track the pink swinging hair again.

“Not the letter L. El as a shorthand for your name. It suits you.”

Negasonic paused as she thought about it. It felt less childish than Ellie and less girly too. “I like it,” she said. Without meaning to, she added, “I like you.”

Instantly Negasonic froze, ready to bolt form her own room of embarrassment. Yukio, to her credit, just grinned with all that sunshine Negasonic had noticed earlier.

“I like you too.”

#deadpool #deadpool 2 #negasonic teenage warhead #yukio #yukonic #negasonic #fanfic #fanficiton #mine #my writing

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thenightling · 6 years

Text

When fandom becomes... Just dumb...

A few months ago I said that the fandom for Neil Gaiman’s Sandman was probably the nicest, warmest, most inviting fandom I had ever become a part of. And this is still true now.

I was also in the Lucifer TV series fandom. The show is what made me finally decide to give Sandman a chance last June. (Better late than never!)

Ever since the cancellation however I have seen the Lucifer fandom kind of deteriorating...

Before Lucifer was canceled, the dumbed thing I had seen in the Tumblr fandom was bearing the occasional “headcanon” that Lucifer and Chloe would one day rule Hell together as King and Queen and they would live happily ever after in this way. I have tried to rebuff this, explaining why I don’t believe Lucifer would want to go back to ruling Hell and why someone like Chloe could never rule Hell, also using quotes from the shows star that it’s “the ultimate redemption story.” this all indicated to me that there was no chance Lucifer would go back to Hell. But explaining this perspective earned responses of “They have a right to their opinion!” Yes, and I have a right to disagree with that opinion and to counter it with my own. Having a right to your opinion does not mean it cannot be disagreed with. “Right to my opinion!” is not a magical shield that protects you from the opinions of others. I hate when people use that to shoot down or dismiss discourse.

Yes, you can have your own “headcanon” but I’m just explaining why I don’t think it really works with the canon as we know it. And I have a right to feel that way as surely as you have a right to feel contrary.

No one can tell you what you can or can’t imagine. That is always your choice but I have a right to explain why I don’t share your vision. I have a right to disagree with it and imagine things my own way. That’s what right to opinion actually means, it doesn’t mean “I get to make anyone who doesn’t agree with me shut up forever.” I get to disagree with you, you get to disagree with me. That’s freedom.

Ah, but that was the worst of it for a while. Nothing too serious really. But then... Then the show got canceled. And I made the mistake of joining several “Save Lucifer” facebook groups. And... things got dumb quickly.

First there were / are people who literally reply to everything with #SaveLucifer and #PickupLucifer. And they even write it on meme pictures... Because Somehow Twitter can read a picture you posted on Facebook now?

Besides the general lack of understanding of how hashtags work there were a few people out-right discouraging mentioning the source material. “I ignore any post that mentions the comic strip.” If you try to explain the difference between a comic book and comic strip you’re told you’re “Butt hurt.” One woman with utter authority decided to say “Show fans are not comic book fans and fans of the show would never read a comic book.” Umm... Excuse me?

A few “Most people don’t know it’s a comic. I only know because my kids told me.” It’s in the opening credits of every, single episode. Do you cover your eyes when the text is on the screen?

Then there were the constant sharing of express(dot)co(dot)uk articles, no matter how many times you tell them they’re a clickbait tabloid. Stories that distort simple things like Tom Ellis doing an interview with BBC News and twisting it into “Is BBC Entertainment buying Lucifer?” The trusting of Express is still on-going.

One posted about how in the Lucifer comics he doesn’t even quit Hell. I tried to break it to this person that they were reading the wrong comics and he most certainly does quit Hell. They have to read Sandman first and then Lucifer’s solo comics by Mike Carey. He quits Hell in Sandman. Later They posted something similar (about how Lucifer doesn’t even quit Hell in the comics) a few days later. When I, again, tried to tell them that they were reading the wrong comics, they replied with “Are you done trying to spoil the whole story? I’m not reading replies because I don’t want spoilers.”

What part of…

YOU ARE READING THE WRONG COMICS

Do they not accept? If someone knows this person please break this to them.

One recent incident I had was trying very hard to explain to an “expert” that the two Lucifer bonus episodes are NOT leftovers from Season 2. That the season 2 episodes held over for season 3 had aired much earlier in the season. Though I had linked a Q and A with Dan’s actor (director of one of the episodes) and a recent question response I saw on Neil Gaiman’s Tumblr, also confirming that the filming had been relatively recent- this person insisted they had done their “Research” and was refusing to accept that they were confusing old, several-month-old stories about the season 2 hold over episodes, and the two bonus episodes actually filmed for season four.

People like that had been confusing and misleading fans and even commenting on articles about the bonus episodes because they couldn’t grasp that episodes filmed in season 2 and used for season 3 are NOT the same episodes shown AFTER the season 3 finale. They were shown after the finale because they weren’t actually intended for season 3.

Here’s the common sense thing: Season 2 Lucifer was filmed in Canada. You can spot the Hold-over season 2 episodes easily because they are still using the Canadian sets and passing Vancouver off as LA. Those bonus episodes are using the authentic LA sets. It’s not that complicated.

It would be one thing if this was just one person but several people were making this mistake and or repeating the misinformation. Claiming, with absolute certainty, that those bonus episodes were filmed back in season 2. Despite the fact that those two bonus episodes were still being sound mixed only days before they aired and were always intended as “stand alone” episodes for season four. That’s also why the show had ended on a cliff hanger. They had thought they were definitely getting a season four.

This particular one argued fiercely, this on particular “researched” person, and tried to explain away why she wouldn’t click the links I’d provided and wouldn’t read my ‘essay long” replies “because (she) has a life”. Yeah, it became “That” kind of an argument.

And there was at least one comment of “I wish Morgan Freeman had voiced God and not some random British guy.” (That had earned sixteen likes...)

Then there were those who insisted Fox was going to buy Roseanne, that they had proof Fox was buying Roseanne (Satire articles and random Twitter posts from strangers) and that Roseanne would replace Lucifer. After that came the conspiracy theorists that “One Million Moms got it canceled.” One Million Moms was protesting Lucifer before it even aired. If they were successful it would not have had three seasons...

Then came those that posted screen grabs of the show now airing on Mondays at eight. Saying “This is what they replaced Lucifer with!” Umm... I shouldn’t have to explain this to grown ups. The season was over. That means even if Lucifer had gotten a fourth season, that show currently in the timeslot, would be there. That’s called a “Summer replacement” or “Summer filler.” But again, it wasn’t just one or two people. It was lots and lots of people all saying things like “This is why I’ll never watch Fox again!” “I can’t believe they think THIS will do better than Lucifer.”

One poor girl suggested that she would have liked it if Azrael dressed like a Goth girl like Death of The Endless only to get horrible responses of “lol I think Angels predate Goth.” Yeah, and? Angels predate Nightclubs, Armani suits, and Piano too. And “No, I like her nice and sweet.” and “No, I like her nerdy.” What exactly do they think Goth means? Due to so much anti-Goth commenting the girl eventually deleted her post.

Some of the weirder ones (that feel like they never watched the show) are people talking about how they’d happily go to Hell to be with Tom Ellis as The Devil.

And a few posts saying “I’d sell him my soul” with several agreements. But in the comics and TV show he repeatedly says he does not buy souls. You were told this IN the show. He doesn’t like this sort of thing. He’s all about free will, remember?

In the two weeks I’ve been in these groups I’ve seen more obnoxious fanwank than nearly any other fandom I have ever been a part of. I had never seen fandom so bad in such a concentrated way.

But the last two days I’ve seen the worst of it...

First I witnessed one of the head writers ask William Shatner if he’d be willing to play God if the show comes back. (This happened on Twitter and then spread everywhere.) This bothered me a little bit since I had just heard Neil Gaiman would be happy to return to voicing God. Apparently Neil had even said “Just try and stop me.”

Now if it was another “Dad is possessing someone” story, sure. I could have accepted it but it still didn’t sit right for me. And it was the comments that followed that really got under my skin. “Yay! I didn’t like Neil Gaiman as God anyway!” and “Good. Neil Gaiman sucked as God.” Wow... Such nice fans. so polite about the guy who created the thing they love.

Neil Gaiman has stood behind SaveLucifer along with William Shatner. And suppose this was a temporary “possession” thing (as I was starting to suspect it would have been) and Neil Gaiman was set to come back after that? You think posting that he was awful is a good idea? This should be common sense but bashing the voice of the man who created the character is rude.

I know she (the writer) was trying to rile up the fans at the exciting idea of William Shatner making a guest appearance but immediately after Neil Gaiman said he’d happily come back, and not giving context to how “Dad” would be Shatner caused problems in the fandom, not unity and cheering. And weird, senseless, sudden insulting of the man who created the character. I really don’t like that.

The writers have made some really horrible decisions in trying to manipulate fan reactions. That drawn out “Will Chloe ever learn the truth’ and then last minute cliffhanger come to mind. Along with the whole “Will Chloe choose Pierce(Cain)?” NO! Of course she won’t pick Cain! Tom Welling told everyone who interviewed him that the role was temporary. Everyone knew it wouldn’t last.

My experiences today though top the cake.

An anonymously created fan art is circulating of a fake season 4 poster. “One Man. Two faces.” And it even says #SaveLucifer ON the poster but there are fans mistaking it as real. It’s a fan art photoshop job not even of the tone of the first three season posters! It literally says “#Savelucifer” on the poster! It looks almost like a poster for a low budget horror movie. But they are mistaking it as real.

And finally, there is mild- very slight- not taken too seriously, rumor that Neil Gaiman’s Sandman might finally be adapted. I know what triggered this rumor. It’s because Matthew Cable is going to be in the new Swamp Thing series for DC’s streaming service. And today Matthew is more well known for his role in Sandman than Swamp Thing.

And for the first time in my entire experience in the Lucifer fandom I saw true anti-Sandman comments. Not anti comics (I was starting to get used to those even if they felt like 1950s level ignorance), but actual anti-Sandman.

“If they do Sandman but not Lucifer their streaming service is gonna fail!” and “Boycott Sandman!” “It’s our Lucifer or no Lucifer!” You don’t even know what’s IN Sandman! You might even like it! It’s not a competition. The Sandman didn’t make Lucifer get canceled.

They don’t even realize some of their favorite lines IN the Lucifer TV show are direct quotes from the Sandman comics that they are now bashing!

When the fans start bashing the character’s creator, and the source material I tend to lose interest. It’s like when I saw that the director of Victor Frankenstein had said the Mary Shelley novel was “as dull as dishwater.” Yeah, how’s that working out for you, pal?

At this point if Lucifer is saved I’m not sure I’m going to watch it.

The facebook portion of the fandom is really rubbing me the wrong way. And most are thirty-somethings acting like children or newbies to the Internet.

In closed (private) Facebook groups replying to posts with a nausea inducing chorus of #Savelucifer and #Pickuplucifer (and jpeg pictures of the hashtags as if that somehow works!) is not going to DO anything. And many are literally replying to everything with those tags or adding it to every post and when people try to explain that is not how the hashtags work in a private group on Facebook they get angry and accuse the person of not actually wanting to save the show. It’s demented.

I admit I was already a little bitter the third season of the show focussed on the “ships” too much and ridiculously stretched out the “Will Chloe ever find out the truth?” only to leave it on a cliffhanger, and the writing in season 3 felt inconsistent to me. - (Cain wants to be mortal and then after a very short conversation decides he wants to be immortal. As if he never considered the pratfalls of being mortal in his thousands of years of life? He “loves” Chloe but opens fire on her? And don’t get me started on what they did to Mazikeen, or Trixie accidentally giving pot brownies to her elderly teacher until she couldn’t feel her legs. And Maze “hilariously” - and treated like it’s no big deal- throwing male strippers into traffic...) - but I was willing to fight to try to get the show a fourth season, in the hope that a fourth season could go back to the quality of the first two seasons. However after all the stupidity, rudeness, and assholary I’ve witnessed in the last two weeks I don’t think it’s worth it. I know none of them will read this as they seem allergic to “long” comments.

I’m getting seriously burnt out on the behavior of too many Lucifer fans...

#Lucifer #Lucifer Morningstar #Lucifer on Fox #Fox's Lucifer #anti fandom

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