#and how delighted they'd be as a family to find a new place for someone

[television-overload]

chance encounter

an X-Files Fanfic

Read on AO3

Summary: "Six months after becoming fugitives from the US government, Mulder and Scully have a chance encounter with someone that is very important to them."

Word Count: 6,556

Tag List (let me know if you want taken off or added!): @today-in-fic @agent-troi @baronessblixen @captainsolocide @cutemothman @edierone @enigmaticxbee @figureofdismay @frogsmulder @hippocampouts @invidiosa @mulderscully @perpetually-weirdening @randomfoggytiger @skelavender @slippinmickeys @teenie-xf @whovianderson

It was him.

There was no way to explain how he knew, but he did.

The little baby sitting in the puddle deep water at the end of the pool was William.

His hands, still chubby like they had been in his infancy, splashed excitedly, and Mulder could hear his squeals of delight over the sounds of the other children playing. An electric yellow swim shirt paired with a dinosaur-patterned bucket hat kept him shielded from the hot California sun, and he wore striped yellow and blue swimming trunks.

Mulder thought he'd never seen a swimsuit so small.

What were the odds that of all the places they could have traveled to, he was here?

They'd been on the road for 6 months, stopping at unremarkable motels and campgrounds all the way, never staying in one place for more than a few days at a time. It was a fluke they were even here at all.

Perhaps fate.

The hotel was certainly a step up from their usual accommodations, but Mulder had insisted. It was their anniversary, he said. Anniversary of what, Scully wasn't sure. The progression from coworkers to friends to lovers happened so gradually that it was hard to pin down a particularly important date for anything. But he wanted to celebrate, to find a brief reprieve from living in darkness, so they splurged a little on this modest, if slightly run-down, hotel by the ocean.

Where their son and his new family just happened to be vacationing.

He'd be lying if he said he hadn't thought about this possibility. In those nights where Scully was extra quiet, eager to fall asleep at the end of a long day, of course he'd lay awake and think, what if.

What if we found him? What if we saw our son again? What would we do?

The idea was so far-fetched that he hardly gave it any real consideration. His thoughts ranged from “steal him back, take him with us” to “pretend you never saw him and flee town.”

The urge to do the latter was strong. It was not safe here. They'd given him up for this very reason, what would be the point if their being here got him injured or worse? Was it really worth the risk to William? To Scully?

His next thought was 'Should I tell her?' Should he tell Scully he'd seen him? Would she want to see him too, even if from a distance?

The loss of their son had broken her heart. Broken his too, but not in the same way. She had spent months with him, almost a year, only to be forced to give him away with little time to prepare.

He knew she felt the loss like a phantom limb. Even all these months later, she still awoke with his name on her lips, panic written on her face as she looked around for him. It drove a stake through his heart every time, yet part of him felt he deserved it after leaving her to deal with it herself.

He watched the boy.

He'd only come out here to enjoy the sun, sit on one of the loungers for an hour or so while Scully took a nap in their room. It was a much more comfortable bed than they've had in a long time, though that wasn't saying much.

He hadn't bargained on having his whole world tipped upside down in the short time they were apart.

As stressful as it was, life on the road lended itself to relatively simple decisions. Fast food or canned? Motel or campground? Will you drive, or should I?

This was different.

Should he tell Scully?

The thought of keeping this from her made him feel sick. He couldn't do that.

Then again, would it hurt more to know? Ignorance is bliss, they say.

Mulder had never believed that, though.

The Truth, with a capital T, was the one thing that connected him and Scully. Though their beliefs and methods differed, they valued the Truth above all else. That was what drew them together. That was what propelled them forward, even now.

She had to know. She had to know her son was here, even if knowing might hurt.

She could make the decision for herself, whether she wanted to see him or get as far away from here as possible. It might be the last decision she makes as a mother, who would he be to keep that from her?

She might never forgive him.

Swallowing back emotion, Mulder stood to his feet, trying not to draw attention to himself as he made his retreat. His sunglasses thankfully hid the redness of his eyes, a small mercy in this endlessly unfair life.

He stole one last glance back at William. There was a chance this was the last time he'd ever see his son, his baby boy. If this was it, he'd treasure this moment for the rest of his life.

A woman dropped down beside William, showing him how to cup the water in his hands and throw it.

'A quick learner,' Mulder thought, watching as he gleefully tossed small handfuls of water in the air, giggling as it rained back down on him.

Okay. He could do this.

Find Scully. Tell Scully. Find Scully.

He rushed into the moldy-smelling hallway of the hotel, not bothering to take the elevator up to their floor. Instead, he took the stairs two at a time, finding himself out of breath by the time he reached the 4th floor.

He nodded politely at a passing family decked out in beach gear, not wanting to draw suspicion. Once they were gone, he gave a quick rhythmic knock on the door to let Scully know it was him, then slipped his key card into the slot to unlock it.

The room was still dark, the curtains drawn tight to block out the midday sun, and he could hear soft breaths coming from the lump on the bed.

His heart twisted involuntarily as it so often did when he looked at her.

“Scully,” he whispered, approaching the bed. “Honey, wake up.” He settled on the side of the bed, placing a gentle hand atop her shoulder and jostling her just so.

“Mm,” she hummed, curling into her pillow. A good nap, then. That was nice, at least.

He shook her again, saying her name a little louder. “Scully, you need to get up.”

This time her eyes opened, sensing the serious undertone to his words. He could tell she was waiting for bad news, for him to tell her they needed to leave again. Wanting to put her worries at ease, he tried to smile.

“What is it?” she asked, blinking at him in confusion.

“Uh—” he hadn't gotten this far in planning what to say. But she was waiting for him now, so he needed to say something quick. “Scully, I saw some people outside...”

“Government people?” she asked, sitting up suddenly, ready to start packing.

“No, not the government,” he said, placing his hands on her shoulders soothingly. “Scully—it's William.”

He could see the moment his words hit her. She blinked, like she might think she was still dreaming, but she saw the truth in his eyes. Her expression shifted.

He wasn't sure what reaction he expected, but his first guess wouldn't have been anger.

“Did you know he would be here?” she asked, her voice laced with hurt and betrayal. “Mulder, I told you not to look into it! Why—Why would you...”

“I didn't know,” he promised, begging the tears in his eyes to keep from falling. He clasped her hands in his, pulling them from their grip on the fabric of his shirt. “Scully, I swear I didn't know. I was just out at the pool, and—”

“You're sure it's him?”

His heart broke looking at her. Equal parts hope and dread, she didn't deserve this.

“Yeah. Yeah, I'm sure.”

She let out a shuddering breath.

“What do you think about that coincidence, huh?” he said, hoping to lighten the mood.

She shook her head.

“Mulder, we can't see him. It's not safe, it's not—”

“I know.” He didn't like interrupting her, but he didn't want her worrying unnecessarily about things she shouldn't. They had enough of that already, these days. If she didn’t think it was a good idea, he’d be okay with that. “We can leave, if you want. I just thought you should know.”

Her blue eyes met his, brimming with unshed tears.

“Is—Is he…?”

“He's beautiful, Scully,” Mulder answered her unspoken question. “He looks happy.”

She choked out a sob, and he immediately enveloped her in his arms, holding onto her tightly. She clutched at him like a life raft, and he ran his hand over her back in comforting circles, murmuring soft words into her ear.

“What do you want to do?” Mulder asked, knowing that time was ticking, and the little family might not stay out there much longer.

Scully sniffed.

“We could—we could go see him,” she said uncertainly, looking at him to decipher his thoughts on the matter. “From a distance.”

Mulder nodded, then stood, helping her to her feet.

“I'm with you,” he reminded her, grasping her hands tightly in his. “It'll be okay.”

With an arm slung around her shoulders, he led her out the door, this time opting to take the elevator down to the ground floor. Scully seemed nervous, almost frightened, and he didn't blame her. He tried to picture how he would feel if their positions were switched, and he couldn't imagine that he'd take it very well. Eventually, they reached the glass doors leading out to the outdoor pool, pausing for a moment.

“They can't see us,” Scully warned, looking anxious and ready to bolt, but she was glued to his side and scarcely able to move without his guidance. He nodded and took her hand, leading her out to a couple chairs in the corner, hopefully obscured enough by the shadow of the fence that they wouldn’t be seen. That bright neon shirt was still there, easy to spot, and Mulder felt tears rising to his throat again. This was the first time they had all three been in the same vicinity since those first few days when he was born.

He squeezed her hand, checking one last time to make sure she was okay. She searched his eyes, trusting him wholeheartedly, and he was certain he had never loved her more.

“Over there,” he said in a low whisper. “With the little hat on.”

Scully followed his line of sight, gasping when her eyes settled on the playful baby in the water.

What followed next was a sob, and he quickly lost his battle with the tears that stubbornly refused to go away. He wrapped his arms around Scully, offering her what solace he could, while his own chin wobbled miserably.

She alternated between sneaking glances at her son and crying into his shirt collar, muttering “Mulder,” desperately as he rocked her back and forth, his hand smoothing out her hair for her comfort as much as his own.

He couldn’t watch anymore. Seeing her like that... it made it hard to stay strong, but he needed to be. For her. He closed his eyes, pleading with the universe never to give her this kind of pain ever again.

When he opened them again, his stomach dropped to the floor.

The woman he'd seen earlier was looking at them, her eyebrows pinched in concern.

He cursed under his breath, his arms tightening around Scully. She was in no state to leave. The best they could do was avoid eye contact and keep to themselves.

But it looked like that wouldn't be enough.

The woman, William's adoptive mother, whispered something to the man she was with, nodding in their direction. His concerned face matched hers, and he nodded. With a sickening lurch, Mulder realized she was getting out of the water, wrapping herself in a towel and heading toward them.

It was too late. They'd been made.

“Scully,” he said, alarm creeping into his voice. She only had a moment's warning before the woman was there, glancing down at them with a worried frown.

“Is she alright?” William's mother asked, empathy oozing from her.

Mulder hurried to compose himself, knowing Scully was a lost cause at this point. It would be on him to get them out of this.

“She's fine, sorry,” he managed to speak, wracking his brain for a believable excuse. Best to stick close to the truth. “We—We can't have children, so—” he nodded toward their son, hoping she could fill in the blanks.

Looking behind her at the boy in the water, her face eased into one of understanding.

“Oh, I know how that feels,” she said, smiling consolingly. “Our son over there is adopted. Every day we thank God for blessing us with him. He's our little miracle.”

Scully grips him tighter, barely restraining a mournful wail. His heart sinks, knowing this interaction isn't going well at all.

He presses a desperate kiss to her hair, wishing he'd never exposed her to this pain. Wishing they were alone in the confines of their hotel room or car so she could let it all out without arousing suspicion. Wishing this woman, as kind-hearted and friendly as she seemed to be, would leave them alone.

“Are you sure she's okay?” she asked Mulder, brows furrowing again.

His hand rubbed up and down Scully's shoulder, and he nodded. “She will be. This is—hard for her.”

“Okay,” the woman said, not sounding fully convinced. “Let me know if there's anything I can do. Like I said, I've been where she is.”

“Thank you,” Mulder choked out, eyes flitting about, looking for their escape.

Through the gate. Through the hotel. Down to the beach.

“Oh, sorry,” William's mother spoke, turning back instead of leaving. “I never introduced myself. My name is—”

“No!” Scully stopped her, looking suddenly panicked and alert.

The woman startled at the outburst, jumping back slightly.

“Mulder, we can't know,” Scully said, looking pleadingly at him. “We can't know anything, we can't!”

“It's okay,” he said softly, coaxing her back from the edges of a total breakdown. “It's okay.” He looked back up at William's mom, smiling an unconvincing smile. “I think we'd really better get going. It was nice talking to you,” he said as he helped Scully to her feet. “Come on, hon, back to our room.”

It was hard to move quickly with Scully desperately clinging to him, but it wasn't the first time they'd been in this position. Once they got back inside, he'd run her a nice warm bath and apologize over and over for everything he'd ever done to hurt her.

They just. Had to. Get. Through—

“Wait.”

He froze.

“You're—You're his parents, aren't you? The ones who gave him up?”

Ice water filled his veins. He could feel Scully shaking like a leaf under his arm.

“We really should be going—” he tried, refusing to turn back around.

Her voice was closer now. “You are. I—there's so many things I've wished I could ask you. At least let me thank you. Please.”

Against his better judgement, he risked a glance back.

“Mulder, we have to go,” Scully begged, now standing on her own and pulling him by the hand. His feet were rooted to the ground, unable to take a single step forward or back.

“Just wait a minute, Scully,” he said, his brain running a mile a minute to calculate the amount of danger each potential course of action held.

He met the woman's eyes, serious.

“Look, this is not easy for her. For us. Our situation right now is—” his eyes scanned around for anything out of place, “We—We really shouldn't be talking to you.”

The woman stepped closer still, a pleading expression on her face.

“It was a closed adoption, I know. But—”

“I'm sorry. We can't.”

Scully looked exhausted, frightened, and sick all at once. Every second they stood there chipped away at her, the anxiety sinking deeper and deeper into her skin.

“You're right about one thing,” Mulder conceded, glancing over at his son and drinking in his unconcerned, innocent features.

The next words nearly choked him with sorrow.

“He is a miracle.”

They were meant to be parting words, a reminder to this woman to never take what she has for granted, but before he could move, a hand landed on his forearm, effectively stopping him.

“We'll let you see him,” the woman offered desperately, near tears herself. “Please. Just a few moments.”

And with that on the table, Mulder was torn.

On the one hand, this woman had offered them something invaluable: a chance to say goodbye, something they hadn't been able to do properly the first time.

On the other hand, it would be selfish. To put their son and his new family in danger simply because they got caught in a moment of weakness... it was unfathomable. He couldn't be responsible for more suffering. He didn't think he could bear it.

“Please?” the woman said again, squeezing his arm.

He had a decision to make. Glancing once more at Scully's crumpled face, he caught sight of the slightest hint of hope. A barely-there gleam that he'd tear down earth and heaven for the chance to brighten.

His decision was made for him.

Cursing his lack of willpower, he turned suddenly to meet the woman's eyes.

“Not here,” he whispered sternly, pointing in her direction. “Give us half an hour, then come to room 409.”

“409,” the woman repeated, nodding. “We will.”

Mulder hardened his jaw, giving one final nod before collecting Scully and hurrying off into the building without another glance back.

“This is dangerous, Mulder,” Scully said worriedly as they passed through the hall, though he knew deep down she was relieved that she might get to see her son again. He only hoped that this risk would be worth it, that they'd be able to find some semblance of peace here and leave feeling less like a part of them was missing when all this was over.

As soon as they entered their room, Scully broke down.

“Oh my god, Mulder,” she gasped, crouching low to the ground and covering her face with her hands.

He immediately dropped to his knees to help her up, ushering her over to their bed.

“Did you see him? He's gotten so big.” Tears streamed down her cheeks, a mix of happy and sad, and though he'd known Scully and her nonverbal cues for so long, he still wasn't quite sure what she needed right now.

“Yeah, I saw him, Scully,” he answered, pulling her into his lap and rocking her gently.

“Do you think they'll really come?” she asked, hopeful, but hesitant.

“We need to be prepared in case they don't,” he answered realistically, thinking of an entire squad of police cars surrounding the hotel with their flashing lights and sirens. “I can pack up the toiletries, you got the suitcase?”

She nodded, grateful to have something physical to do.

Mulder checked his watch. Twenty-five minutes. If they didn't come in twenty-five minutes, it was time to get out of dodge.

“I love you,” he said, pressing a kiss to her forehead, and then her lips. “I love you, Scully.”

“I love you too,” she answered, breathing deeply to calm herself. Checking one last time to make sure she was okay, he nodded and released her, each to their own assignments to ensure they were ready to make a quick escape if need be.

As the minutes passed, they became restless. They watched the clock, counting down the seconds until they should have arrived.

Their cutoff time came and went. Mulder was about to call it and give the signal to run, already gathering bags and suitcases, but the subtle knock on their door stopped him in his tracks. He held up a finger to his lips, gesturing for Scully to stay quiet while he checked the peep hole.

The sight before him caused his shoulders to slump in relief.

“It's them?” Scully asked hopefully, reading his body language.

He gave a cautious smile back, then unlocked the deadbolt and opened the door.

There they were, William’s adoptive parents.

And William.

It nearly took his breath away. 

This close. They were this close to him, after thinking they’d never see him again. He felt like a dehydrated man in a desert stumbling upon an oasis when he was sure he was going to die.

“Hi,” the woman said, looking more uncertain now that they weren’t out in the open. Her husband looked similarly guarded, but they were here, that was all that mattered.

“Uh, come in,” Mulder said, finding his voice.

He stepped aside to allow them entrance, and Scully immediately stood from her seat on the edge of the bed, wringing her hands in front of her.

“I promise we’re not here to take him,” he assured them, closing the door behind them. “As much as we wish we could.”

Once the door was secure, he went to stand by Scully, placing a hand on her back.

“We were just passing through, I couldn’t believe it when I saw him sitting there in the pool.”

The woman nodded, still a little tense, but wanting to believe him.

“Small world,” her husband said, standing protectively next to his wife and child.

Mulder nodded.

“Look, there’s not much information we can give you. For his safety and yours, this is the way it had to be.”

“I always wondered where he came from,” the woman said. “I thought maybe a teen mom, or someone who just couldn't take care of him, but, you—”

“He was always wanted,” Scully spoke, finally able to speak for herself. Her voice came out strained, gasping for air between words. “I prayed for him for so long.”

Mulder's hand found hers, giving it a squeeze to lend her some of his strength.

“He was our miracle.”

The woman looked down, saddened by this news.

“But you were right,” Scully continued, steadying her voice. “We couldn't take care of him. Our life—it isn't stable enough for a child right now. It might never be again. So, I gave him up.”

“Didn't you have a family member who could have taken him? A friend?” the man asked. “Why a closed adoption?”

Scully shook her head, looking down at her feet. How she had wished she could have sent William to live with Bill and Tara, maybe even Charlie. But it wouldn’t have been enough. It would have only endangered more people she cared about.

“That's something we can't disclose,” Mulder answered for her. “But someday, when he asks, I want him to know...” He breathed, summoning the strength to form the words. “I want him to know that we loved him... so much.” With each breath he took, tears filled his eyes, clogging his throat until he wasn't able to speak anymore.

They would always love him, for as long as they lived. Giving him up wasn't going to change that.

“Well,” William's new mom said through tear filled eyes. “I can't tell you how much it means to us to have him.” Scully bowed her head, nodding along with a steady stream of tears. “I promise to take good care of him. He'll be safe and happy with us.”

“Thank you,” Scully whispered, unable to look the man and woman in the eyes.

“We've been worried about him,” Mulder admitted, “hoping he was alright...” He checked in with Scully, reading her like he was so good at doing, before deciding it was safe to speak for them both. “I think, seeing that he is... is a huge weight lifted off our shoulders.”

Scully gave a nod in agreement, looking up at Mulder with something of a promise. A promise that they would be okay, eventually.

“I can't imagine what you must have gone through,” the woman said. “But we are so thankful. He—I don't suppose you want to know his name?”

“No,” Scully said quickly. “I—we can't. I couldn't handle the temptation.”

The temptation to track him down, just for the chance to see him again.  That was a dream that could never be.

“What did you call him?” the woman asked, and Mulder squeezed Scully's hand again, letting her know it was okay. It was a common enough name, there couldn’t be any harm in telling her the truth.

“William,” she answered. “His name was William.”

To hear it spoken aloud after all this time was a relief. It had been almost taboo the past six months, too painful a word to be uttered. But now, there was something freeing about letting his name hang in the air.

Letting go, Mulder realized. They had to let him go.

“Well...” the woman began again, smiling at them reassuringly. “William is such a bright and curious child. He loves building towers out of blocks and throwing things at it to knock it down. He—He has this stuffed fox he takes everywhere. They're practically inseparable. His first word was 'mama'. He likes watching baseball and hockey with his dad. He—He's everything we could have hoped for, and more. So, thank you. Thank you for making such a beautiful child for us to love.” Her eyes shone with happiness, the kind which Scully wondered if she’d ever felt. “I knew you had to be remarkable people, because he's a remarkable child.”

“And now we know where he gets those lips and that hair from,” the father added, lightening the mood as much as possible, under the circumstances. “He's covered in sunscreen, must be your genes,” he said, nodding at Scully with a smile. And wonder of wonders, she laughed, a sudden, unexpected thing, and leaned into Mulder's side.

“We should let you go,” Mulder said after a moment, hating that it had to be done. “We'll need to be heading out soon.”

“To where?”

“We can't tell you that.”

Will's adoptive father's eyes met those of his biological one, and a look of understanding passed between them.

Adjusting her hold on William, the woman spoke, glancing between them as she did.

“I wouldn't feel right if I didn't give you a moment with him.”

Scully's head snapped to attention.

“You've already sacrificed so much,” she continued, “And I trust you. You're doing what's best for—for William. I know you have his best interests at heart.”

Mulder wished, wished, wished he could honestly say it was in William's best interests to be with him and Scully... but it wasn't. The truth of their reality was such that it could never be. Not through any fault of their own as parents—but because of external forces working against them, desperate to tear them apart and leave them with nothing.

But they had failed.

Because what they had was more than nothing. They had each other. And though they would have to live with the knowledge that a part of them was missing, maybe after today they would be able to make peace with what they do have. To live life to the fullest given the circumstances they've been forced to survive in.

In truth, he hadn't felt this hopeful about the future since the moment Scully first placed his son in his arms. There was still a mountain of hardships to surmount, but it didn't seem quite as impossible as before. And it was all thanks to a chance encounter with their son, at the precise moment they needed him most.

“We'll leave you be,” Will's mother spoke, checking with her husband to make sure he agreed. “If you need us, we'll be downstairs having some coffee.”

Scully's brows slanted in worry. “You don't have to go, it's okay,” she said, wanting to stop them.

“You deserve some time alone,” the woman said kindly, shaking her head. “I can see how much you need it, dear.”

Scully's chin wobbled, dangerously close to another round of tears.

And then she was coming toward them, William perched on her hip. She deposited him right into Scully's disbelieving arms, and Mulder immediately felt his throat close, the sight one he'd seen almost every night in the most heart wrenching of his dreams.

This was what he'd hoped to come home to after his time in the desert. This was what kept him sane between bouts of torture in a prison cell. To see it now was equal parts fulfilling and painful.

“I can give you something, a guarantee we won't run off with him,” he choked out, working to free his wrist from his moderately expensive watch. William's dad reached a hand out and stopped him.

“We trust you,” he said with a sad smile. “We'll be back in an hour. Please, take all the time you need.”

And with that, they left the room.

As soon as they were gone, Scully's head dropped to rest against the strawberry blond locks of their son, and she let out a sob.

“William,” she breathed, pressing her lips to his head. He seemed unfazed, and part of Mulder wondered if he still remembered her. If deep down, he knew this was the woman who had once fed him from her own body, sung him to sleep in an off-tune melody, soothed him when he had nightmares...

It wasn't outside the realm of possibility.

The same couldn't be said for him, however.

“I can't believe this, Mulder,” Scully cried, her tears falling into his downy-soft hair. Mulder led her back to the bed, sitting beside her with their son on her lap. “Did you hear what they said? He's so much like you, watching sports on TV, knocking his blocks down... He'll be throwing pencils at the ceiling in no time.”

That brought a small smile to his face, and he leaned to his right to press a kiss to Scully's forehead, his hand falling into place on their son's back.

William leaned away, taking in the new faces with a curious tilt to his head.

“Hey, bud,” Mulder said, offering him a finger to hold. For all the time he'd spent thinking of what he'd say to his kid if given the chance, he was coming up short now that he was face-to-face with the reality. “I missed you so much,” he managed to say, “And look how much you've grown!”

William reached out, holding his hands up in front of him, and Mulder's heart leapt. Glancing at Scully for permission, he slid his hands under his arms, lifting him to his chest and nuzzling him close.

“Oh, Scully,” he said, beginning to cry again, feeling the weight of William on his chest, real and tangible. “Sometimes I thought it was all a dream. But we have a son.”

It was hard to think of him out in the world, when he was hardly more than an idea. But now—he had face to put to the name, a personality to remember. He had a son.

She nodded, watching them with a watery smile. He pulled back just to look at him again, to memorize those chubby cheeks and the way he smelled. The precise shape of his eyes, their color, still the same as his mother's.

“I'm so glad we stayed here, Mulder,” Scully whispered. “To think I tried to talk you out of it...”

“Fate was working its magic, Scully,” he said, cutting her off. “This was meant to be.”

For the next hour, they played on the floor together, using Mulder's keys as a toy to hold William's attention. He was walking now, and took turns toddling between them, excitedly holding the TV remote in one hand and squealing when they praised him for successfully making it without tripping or falling.

For a while, they could almost forget this wasn't real. That they weren’t on borrowed time, already risking things they shouldn't be for this blissful moment of being a family.

Mulder got to see Scully as a mother. She saw him as a father. Finally, they had the chance to step into those roles, feeling fulfilled in ways they never could have imagined. It went far beyond any truth that once lay hidden in the X-Files. Nothing in that office of theirs could have given them purpose like this. Only each other, and the life that was formed out of the love that was sparked right there in the basement of the Hoover building so many years ago.

Mulder had always wondered how it would sound to hear the words “da da da” come from a child's mouth, and to know they meant him. Though his babbling wasn't intentional, merely a repetition of the same syllables “da” and “ma” over and over again, he was soaking it in. Committing it to memory. Praying—because only something like this could drive a man like him to prayer—that his son would think about him. Would think about his mother. That he'd grow to know and understand and appreciate the heartache they suffered at giving him away.

That maybe he'd love them too, despite never knowing them.

And maybe.

Maybe.

One day, they'd see each other again.

It was getting late. Scully could tell it was past William's bedtime. She laid him on their bed, and laid down beside him on her stomach, content just to look at him and be near him for however much time they had left.

Mulder joined her on the other side, resting a hand on top of William's gently rising and falling belly.

“I love him more than I ever knew was possible,” he whispered, and noticed as Scully wiped away a tear.

“It hurts, knowing we have to say goodbye.”

Mulder nodded, reaching a hand over William to rub circles on Scully's back.

“But not as much as it hurt before.”

Mulder remembered how Scully screamed, when he first found her in that dirty, abandoned house in Georgia.

“Don't take my baby. Please don't take my baby.”

It was different now.

This time, it was on their own terms. Their curiosities were satisfied, the things they always would have wondered about.

Who he resembled more. What his voice sounded like. His smile and his laugh when he was happy. The way he scrunched his face when he wasn't.

But above all else: would he be okay?

And now that they knew without a doubt that he was? They could let him go.

As much as any parent could let go of a piece of their soul, their own flesh and blood.

He would always be a part of them. They would always wish things could have gone differently. But at least now, Mulder had had a chance to say goodbye. At least Scully wasn't being forced to leave him with little warning, worrying that she was abandoning him to an unknown fate.

A blanket of peace fell over this humble, outdated hotel room. And for the last few minutes they would spend as parents together, Mulder and Scully counted themselves lucky. For this time was a gift, far more than they could have ever hoped to receive.

The same knock from earlier sounded, and a heavy feeling settled in Mulder's chest. He dragged himself away from the bed, while Scully lifted the sleeping William into her arms and held him close.

“How did he do?” their son's mother asked, looking perfectly at ease in a way that calmed and reassured him.

“Great,” Mulder answered. “He—He's perfect.”

The time had come. Scully knew it too. They'd already stayed longer than they should have. He knew there was a long night of driving through pitch darkness ahead of them, and he really, really didn't want to go.

But he had to do what was right for his son. That was all he ever wanted to do, as a father. He just didn't want to be the one to break Scully's heart all over again.

“I guess this is it,” Scully said, sounding calmer than he would have expected. He knew her, though, and he could see the emotions brewing beneath the surface.

It would be a tearful night for both of them.

“Thank you for taking care of him,” she said to William's new mom, stepping fatefully toward her. But before she could pass him over, she paused, looking down at him for the last time in her own arms. “William?” she spoke, her voice strained. “Mommy loves you.”

“Daddy loves you too, baby boy,” Mulder said, never having referred to himself as such before, but wanting to know how it felt.

He cupped the sleeping child's head, pressing a kiss to his cheek, and then another, not able to convince himself that each would be the last.

“I'm so sorry, William. Be good for your mom and dad, okay?”

Scully leaned against him, her strength beginning to wane.

“Goodbye,” she said, kissing him desperately all over, playing with his socked foot and each of his tiny fingers. “I want to believe I will see you again someday.”

As they passed him over, together this time, William's new parents smiled tearfully.

“If—If he suddenly gains an interest in Bigfoot or the Loch Ness Monster,” Mulder began in a worried, cautionary tone, “just buy him some picture books. He'll be okay.”

Though it easily could have been a joke, no one laughed. In fact, the man and woman nodded, taking his advice to heart. He felt better knowing their son would be accepted, no matter who he grew up to be. The child of the FBI's most unwanted was sure to be a bit of a loner.

“And tell him he'll grow into his nose. Sort of,” he added, this time eliciting a small smile from Scully.

“I promise, we'll tell him every day how loved he is,” the woman vowed. “I'm glad we met you.”

“I'd call it a God-given miracle,” the man said, and he reached out a hand to Mulder to shake. “Stay safe,” he said, then catching sight of Scully's necklace. “We'll be praying for you.”

She nodded, unable to speak.

Mulder's arms suddenly felt empty. He could see Scully felt the same, wrapping hers around her own torso just for something to hold. He enveloped her in an embrace, holding tight to keep both her and himself from chasing after them.

“Bye,” the woman said over her shoulder, her worried eyes unwilling to turn away from the sad couple they'd met. She gave a small, consoling smile, and lifted William's pudgy hand to wave goodbye.

Mulder and Scully waved half-heartedly in return, smiling as genuinely as they could, and watched as they disappeared through the door.

Once they were gone, Scully turned into Mulder's chest and held tight. His cheek rested on top of her head, and they swayed, silent but for the sound of the ocean nearby.

“We're gonna be okay,” Scully said at last. “Mulder—”

She looked up at him, meeting his eyes with sincerity and love.

“We're gonna be okay.”

[astaraels]

Shameless Femslash February — Day One — Lipstick

Karen/Mandy, first kiss. (ao3)

@m4ndysk4nkovich @holymurdock @lovekenney to my lovely kandy shipper friends 😘

Mandy didn't remember how they'd started hating each other. Something had happened back in grade school, and all she knew was that Karen Jackson was a bitch—and later on, a slut. Mandy was both of those things, too, but at least she owned up to her reputation. Little miss sugar candy acted like she was some fucking saint—emphasis on the fucking—and Mandy was the trashy one. Bullshit.

But then they got paired together for a group project, some bio presentation that Mandy secretly thought was kind of interesting. She couldn't say so out loud; she'd be the laughingstock of her family if it turned out she was the one Milkovich who actually liked school sometimes. And so she found herself one autumn afternoon walking up the front steps of Karen Jackson's place, greeted at the door by batty old Sheila. Sure, it might have been weird that she had to put her boots in a plastic bag, but the carpet was actually really soft under her socked feet. Even better, Mrs. Jackson offered to cook for them while they worked at the table. Mandy almost missed the anxious look that passed over Karen's face as she glanced up at her.

“We'd really like that, Mom,” Karen said, which made Sheila clap her hands in delight and putter off towards the kitchen, talking to herself about whether to make…something or other. Mandy didn't catch the name of it, but Karen asked her a question about their presentation and they moved on. As time went on and Mrs. Jackson kept cooking, though, the smells coming from the kitchen were absolutely mouth-watering.

When Sheila brought out two plates of food and sat them down in front of both girls, it looked like nothing Mandy had ever seen before. But her stomach growled loudly, and she'd learned the hard way never to turn down food when it was offered. One bite became two, and Mandy had to stop herself from scarfing down the whole thing in one go.

“Holy shit—this food is amazing,” she said through a mouthful. Sheila exclaimed happily at the compliment, and Mandy added, “All I can do is make like, eggs and sausage.” When she looked up, she saw a guarded expression in Karen's gaze before the other girl gave her a closed-mouth smile. Her lip gloss listened in the overhead lights, and Mandy felt butterflies in her stomach.

—

Even after they'd finished their project, the two of them kept finding time to hang out, usually at Karen's place. Karen came by the Milkovich house once, but Mandy lived with too many brothers and didn't feel comfortable having a girl's afternoon there. Something about the Jackson's house was easier. Quieter. A space carved out for just the two of them.

Not only that, but it seemed like Karen's mom was always cooking, and Mandy never turned down the chance to try something new. She'd never get to travel the world, but this was a little glimpse of what there was to offer. And over the weeks, those guarded looks and blank expressions Karen got whenever her mom did something a little weird began to melt away.

Mandy didn't understand the whole situation, and she didn't think it wasn't her place to ask. Everyone in their neighborhood knew batty Sheila, but honestly, Mandy would rather have a mom who was a little crazy than a drug addict like her own was—a mom who was gone more than she was around. But she never said that to Karen. Moms weren't the easiest thing to talk about, after all.

—

One day, Mandy sat in the windowsill of the girl's bathroom at school, staring out at the gloomy rain as she took a drag off a cigarette, when someone cleared their throat behind her. When she looked over, she saw Karen standing there wearing a pink zip-up jacket, her hair curly from the rain and humidity.

Karen gave her a small smile. “Got any left? I'm all out.” She pulled herself up into the window seat across from Mandy.

“Last one, but we can share.” Mandy noticed that her lipstick had left a purple stain on the cigarette paper as she handed it over to Karen, who set it between her lips and took a long drag. The feeling of Karen's fingertips against her own made Mandy's skin tingle. She tried looking out the window again, but Karen bumped their hands together, passing the cigarette back. Mandy could see where the other girl's pink lip gloss had smudged against Mandy's lipstick on the roll. The taste of cotton candy mixed with nicotine as Mandy inhaled, and she couldn't tear her gaze away from Karen's lips.

“Thanks,” Karen said when Mandy passed it back to her once more.

“No problem,” Mandy told her. What she didn't say was kiss me.

—

They were at Karen's house one Saturday afternoon—Ian said he had to work all day, and Karen told her that Lip was busy taking SATs for stupid rich kids. Mandy had thrown a bunch of her makeup and hair dye into a bag, and while she didn't exactly run to the Jackson's house, she barely managed to fight down her smile on the way over.

Karen had finally agreed to let Mandy put some purple streaks in her pretty blonde hair. “It'll piss my dad off, which makes it even better,” she said, and Mandy laughed. An old Courtney Love album blared from Karen's battered CD player as they got to work. And it was…well. Mandy had been dyeing her own hair for a few years now, but it was different doing it for someone else. Trust, for one, that she wasn't gonna fuck up. And for another, she couldn't help but appreciate the feeling of Karen's hair between her fingers. Mandy hadn't had a lot of girl friends—none who'd stuck around for very long, anyway. But Karen full on beamed at her in the mirror as Mandy covered the purple streaks with aluminum foil and clipped them up.

She let her fingers brush absently through the undyed parts of Karen's hair again, enjoying how soft and fine it felt to touch. There was nothing else, save for the sounds of old 90s grunge rock from down the hall in Karen's bedroom. Suddenly, Mandy felt her cheeks grow hot, saw Karen staring at her in the mirror, and she pulled away abruptly.

Stupid, stupid, stupid— she thought, and Karen only got up to follow her as Mandy stumbled a little out of the bathroom and back towards the other girl's room. Her head spun, and she fought the urge to break something, because these feelings wouldn't go away, and she knew what happened to Milkoviches who didn't toe the line. The shit that had gone down with her cousin Sandy last year was still ingrained in her memory.

But there was a hand on her wrist and she heard the door close, the sound of the lock turning almost deafening to her ears. Karen's fingers were small and slender as they pulled Mandy closer, turning her so she could card her free hand through Mandy's dark hair.

“It's okay,” Karen said, standing up on her toes, and all Mandy could think about when their lips met was that she tasted like cotton candy. When they pulled away she could see the soft smudges of her own pink lipstick on Karen's mouth. Karen grinned at her, hand on the back of Mandy's neck, pulling her in for another kiss, and another, until the world had narrowed down to just the two of them.

Mandy let her hand rest on Karen's hip, fingers sliding just a little bit under her t-shirt to touch the soft skin just above the waistline of her jeans. A wild thought passed through Mandy's head—what it might look like if she kissed Karen's skin all over. She was almost desperate to see how it would look if she left lipstick traces everywhere her mouth could reach.

This time, when Karen moved away to take a breath, Mandy was the one to pull her back in.

[the-starry-seas]

further mar'eyce lore

winter is fifty-six years old. star is twenty-three. sky and silver are seven. the rest of the fett fam is in their late thirties.

winter lived in an apartment building that's set aside for faculty housing. he ended up getting astoundingly lonely, since he didn't have any family, and decided to get his own house specifically so he could have a bunch of people move in with him and find a sense of community again. he found a six-bedroom place with a big backyard and fell in love with it immediately.

sunny was a student of a friend of winter's. the friend asked winter for some help in finding sunny a place to stay after xe had a bad breakup and winter rented a furnished apartment for xer that very afternoon. xe insisted that xe'd find a way to pay him back, but he asked that xe pay it forward, instead. two years later, he asked sunny to help him look for his own place to live, and also to move in with him if he found it. xe was happy to accept and delighted by the very idea of getting a big house to share with half a dozen people.

nebula is a year older than zenith. they're full siblings and had a half-sister almost ten years younger until she died in an accident when they were twenty-three and twenty-two. nebula healed significantly since her funeral but has been quieter ever since. zenith went into the air force and got a medical discharge after a bad crash. ey originally intended to fight the decision but nebula begged em to come home instead. ey didn't realise how badly eir ptsd was affecting em until ey were in civilian life but fortunately therapy's helped a lot. i have no idea how they met winter, but when he heard that their apartment building got sold to someone who was drastically raising rent, he asked them to move in with him. nebula and zenith originally said that they'd move out once they found a place they could afford, but never did.

indigo and jewel befriended each other in high school, when indigo was a freshman and jewel was a junior. jewel is three years older and had a college picked out before zhi graduated, but waited until indigo graduated. zhi wanted to make sure he wasn't abandoned in high school, and he moved with zhir when zhi left for college. they refer to each other as siblings and don't bother clarifying to anyone that they're unrelated. they're family in every way that counts. they became friends with nebula in the second year of jewel's bachelor's program. when zhi graduated, nebula talked it over with winter, and invited them to move in as well.

bee moved in shortly after that. he and indigo met at indigo's gallery and hit it off immediately. when indigo found out that bee was new to the area, he immediately recommended that bee reach out to winter for a place to stay. bee loved them all from the minute he met them and was delighted to have a place to stay that felt like a family. he never even considered moving out, and they all love that he felt so accepted from the beginning.

indigo and jewel said they were going to move out once jewel found a job and they could afford their own place. it ended up being a year after zhi got zhir job, because neither of them really wanted to leave. they both worked in the city, though, and they found an apartment that was in walking distance of both their jobs. it was way easier on them in their day-to-day lives. they coordinate their time off to have regular weekend visits to the house.

sky and silver are twins. when they were four years old, they were placed with the fetts' neighbours, who were foster parents. it was paternal love at first sight, on winter's part. once their mother lost parental rights, the neighbours helped winter foster the twins himself to adopt them. their mother is entirely out of their life so nobody knows anything about their biological father.

star met winter entirely by chance three years after the twins were adopted. he fell hard for winter on sight, but had no idea how to flirt with a dilf bear. insteaed he tried to annoy winter into domming him to shut him up, which against all odds, eventually worked. they ended up deeply in love with each other and had a beach wedding on the summer solstice, celebrating the light and warmth they bring to each others' lives. everyone lightly roasts the perpetual honeymoon phase they seem to be in but secretly they're everyone's OTP.

[azrphl]

it didn't take much, just a few off handed comments to mrs. sandwich about the new kid, and wanting to make an honest living for her, that has the two of them hatching a bit of a plan. before they knew it, they had a little flower shop on the corner. good place for lonely men to get flowers to lie about where they'd spent their night. or, at least, that had been their joke.

the girls helped crowley get settle, which was nice of them. though most of them were just putting together the pieces of why exactly the dark glasses man had been spending so much time moping in their establishment and getting absolutely knackered.

it'd been months since then, crowley working on a bouqet because valentine's day was around the corner and they were swamped with work. no miracles, just like aziraphale did his magic. any miracle would draw attention and attention meant they would find jessie. they barely hear the jingle of the bell as the door opens, ❝       -- we're closed.       ❞        they grumble, though its loud enough someone must hear. but they're greeted instead by a familiar voice. well, isn't that beautiful, sunflower. and it takes them a moment to realise two things. one, that that was aziraphale coming in with jessie on his hip. two, that sunflowers were out of season and he was talking to someone with that nickname.

when yellow eyes move from their own busy hands they realize that the angel is talking to them and they flush, as they usually do.

❝       oh, shut up, angel. it's all cheesy human holiday stuff.       ❞     / @sauntereddownward

the flower shop has really taken off, && aziraphale is proud of crowley for all the work they've done on it. it really is them, in the best way possible, && there's something wonderful about crowley having a little shop of their own just down the road.

crowley actually gets more customers on a day-to-day basis than aziraphale does, or at least they sell to customers, && it's probably for the best, since they have to provide for jessie without miracles, && that does mean needing human money.

she's gotten bigger too, && takes almost as much delight in the flowers as crowley does, && that makes aziraphale appreciate the floral arrangements all the more, even if he doesn't know the names or meanings or how best to care for them to the same extent. he just knows that they represent his family — which is all he could ask for, really.

"cheesy human holiday stuff that you like," he teases, strolling up to the counter && leaning across to steal the most fleeting of kisses from crowley. "&& i don't mind it myself, really. even if it does very loosely interpret the intentions of the feast of saint valentine—" he cuts himself off, not actually wanting to go down that road. instead he smiles, though it's still tinted with melancholy, && sits jessie up on the counter. "muriel offered to watch her tonight if we want to do dinner out," he offers. "we're quite out of food at home, i'm afraid."

[inthememetime]

Horror Writing Tips 3: Be Careful What You Wish For

Master list here

Due to the sheer amount of information, this will be in two parts.

Whether the main genre you like is horror, comedy, romance, adventure, or something else, I can guarantee you've come across a piece of media involving wishes. This part covers a general overview of how wishes usually alter a world or person. The second will go into more detail about what creatures or items can grant wishes, wish cost, and similar topics.

When you're trying to give the audience information about your character, a wish, and how they react to it can tell a lot about them. Maybe their wish is petty and vicious, causing minor or great harm. Maybe your character isn't as over the death of a close companion as they'd like others to believe, and wishes for just 1 more day with that person. Maybe they're kind and generous, wishing for something that doesn't help them at all, such as a 100% free cure for cancer. Or maybe it's more nuanced; a hero wishing that they had more help, or someone bored foolishly wishing for something interesting to happen.

Wishes also come in 4 main effects: "It was all a dream", "Wish reversals", " Paradox", or " Net 0 benefit".

Wish Type 1: It Was All A Dream

Let's look at 'It's a Wonderful Life, a classic Christmas story. The main character wishes he'd never been born, so later on he sees his friends and family living like her either died or just never existed. In the end, the wish granter (the angel) lets him choose: to cease to exist completely or not. Now, as this is a Christmas feel-good movie, he learns not to take the people who love him for granted, and is delighted when he wakes up after his dream to find everything as it was.

Not everything ends as peacefully. Take The Labyrinth where Sarah regrets her wish and learns several life lessons while fixing the problem she unintentionally made, but then isn't sure if she's done dreaming yet or not. Imagine the trauma that probably changed her fundamentally after just one night.

In Inception, in the end, the audience is left wondering if this is still a dream, or if one of the main characters has woken up. Ending with that kind of a mystery can be a great way to infuse a little horror.

Wish Type 2: Wish Reversals

This is the plot of Fairly Odd Parents. Really. In every episode, Timmy (or someone with access to fairies) makes a wish, regrets it, and wishes he never made the wish in the first place.

Cheesy cartoon aside, this can be great for character development. Maybe your character wishes that person in their class loved them, or they're a hero and they wish the powers they have had never come to them. You can put anything here, and it can still make great character development.

In the first example, wishing for love, maybe they come to realize their crush really isn't their type at all. Maybe they're horrified by the realization that their crush's body seems to be moving of it's own accord while the only clue that something is wrong is the terrified look in the other characters eyes.

There's an episode of Danny Phantom in which one of the 3 main characters, Sam, wishes she'd never met Danny during an argument. She isn't serious, just upset. While Sam remembers, the others forget they'd ever met, and this causes a massive butterfly effect. Danny introduced her to Tucker, so both of her friends and only support system suddenly don't know her. Her abrasive personality makes it difficult to make new friends, so she immediately gets off on the wrong foot while trying to talk to Tucker. Because Sam was such a big part of the accident that gave Danny his powers, the hero suddenly forgets he's a hero at all.

In the end, Sam has to remind Danny of who he really is, and make friends with Sam and Tucker. Because Danny is the most genuinely friendly person in their group, it forces her to look at herself and her friends from Danny's point of view; that of a teenage boy who has a lot of trauma but still remains upbeat, friendly, and loyal to his friends. It forces her to put aside the smaller issues that upset her and learn to prioritize by solving the most important problem first while working gradually on problems that just can't be solved in a day. It also helps her learn the courage to talk about and confront what's really bothering her.

Even though the wish was reversed in these scenarios, the wisher learns important lessons. While frequently the wisher is the only one who remembers, Sam admits to her wish and earns Danny's and Tucker's trust again. Having people who were altered in some way by the wish remember can be its character development and can advance the plot.

Wish Type 3: Paradox

This usually involves some sort of time travel. In Doctor Who, there are multiple examples. Using one of 11's Christmas episodes, a family is notified that the patriarch's plane was lost in WW2, and the family mourns him. One of the children wishes for help, and the Doctor comes. However, by helping other planets' species, the mother creates a massive storm that blows planes off course and creates a massive light. The husband follows the light from the storm to safety and lands in their yard on Christmas day. Without the storm, the plane would not have gone off course. Without the light, the father wouldn't have been able to come home. Without the father missing, they would not have wished for help. This creates a paradox wherein the events cannot happen without the wish, and the wish always had to happen.

Wish Type 4: Net 0 or Negative Benefit

I can't remember the title, but there's a short story in which a person wishes everyone they hated would die. At first, their bullies die, which they are morally confused about. However, they become briefly angry at a close companion, and this is close enough for the wish to kill them. They begin to hate themselves, which causes the wish to kill them. This is a negative benefit- it helps no one, hurts everyone, and though lessons are learned, the Fisher either doesn't survive long enough to wish it back, or things are so irrevocably damaged by the end that they ended up making their lives much more difficult.

A Net 0 benefit is an example of what frequently happened in the show Fairly Odd Parents. Timmy never seems to learn any lessons. He wishes things back to normal and for no time to have passed, and the world keeps turning. He is never permanently harmed. While his wish is active, it frequently hurts him and others, and helps him as well, usually either more harm than good or just about even. People besides the fairies never seem to remember anything, so no matter how much good or evil his wishes do, there is always a Net 0.

[cellard0ors]

Ficlet: Beneath The Blue

Mermay isn't over and people enjoyed Part 1, so here's some more...

Rhett has a bit of a gambling problem.

No, that's not quite right. More like a gaming problem. He likes games. He likes the rush of winning and it's not so much about money as the thrill of nailing a dart on a bullseye or getting a hole in one or - well - being right.

He really loves that one. Trivia, guessing games, riddles - lucking out on the right answer or just knowing it, always makes him feel fantastic. He's had marginal luck in his life. With basketball, with singing, and now - with his new current career - fishing, but games?

Rhett's always mastered those, rarely ever a loser. But the thing is, to do those things, he tends to have to use cash as an entry to play, thus - a sort-of-not-really gambling problem.

And winning in those kind of situations is also a problem, because, after some time - it tends to attract...attention. And usually the bad kind. Recently it was very much the bad kind, because he was at The 101, engaging in his normal play only to be snatched up by some very rough looking characters.

Ones who took him into a backroom and decided to skip right over the 'broken knuckles' threat and jump right into the 'you're going to go sleep with the fishes' threat.

To be fair, they probably went quickly into the decision once he started fighting back. Rhett's not much of a brawler, but he's a big guy and that in and of itself can create...issues. Especially if his temper is up.

Long story short - Rhett's bit of a gambling problem led him to being clonked over the head (more than once, matter of fact) and taken out to sea. His last real memory before hitting the water was that he'd been amazed at the boulder they'd found to attach him to - where had they gotten such a huge rock from? A landfill?

Not that it mattered - rock, rope, and Rhett all went overboard and into the deep. Rhett tried not to hold his breath, to struggle enough just to get loose, but, in the end - he'd been lost.

Except he hadn't been.

He'd awoken to find the setting sun bathing him in golden light and, above him, an angel. Because only an angel could have such eyes. Eyes as blue and deep and mysterious as the sea he was supposed to have died in.

His throat ached from damn near drowning but he'd still managed to ask the angel for his name. And he'd gotten it.

Link.

But then the angel had turned, vanished, and Rhett had seen that - while he was right about his mythical savior - he was not at all right about what kind.

Because Link had a tail.

A fish tail.

One as sparkling blue and captivating as his eyes and he'd disappeared into the surf so fast, Rhett began to question his sanity.

Had he imagined it all? The entire experience had been traumatic as heck - maybe it was just a coping mechanism for his mind? But then, far out, he'd seen a head appear above the waters.

Seen it and a shy wave and he'd waved back, because what else could he do? He wasn't dead and he wasn't crazy. He'd been saved. Saved...by a mermaid (merman?) named Link.

Which leads to now and his camping out full time on this small rocky stretch of lonely beach. Rhett made sure to check in with the local marina, see if it was okay for him to dock his tiny fishing boat, The Bluegrass, nearby. And 'nearby' was about a mile or so away, because this bit of land is pretty unoccupied and small.

...the perfect place for a merman (mermaid?) to drop off someone they saved. And, hopefully, return to? Rhett's not sure - honestly, this whole thing might be a fool's errand, but either way - he has a tent pitched and is waiting.

Waiting to see if Link returns.

Night after night seems like a failure. Still, Rhett doesn't mind. He can be patient. His last haul (fish-wise, not gambling-wise) earned him a considerable amount, so there's no harm in waiting.

Still, as he sits here now, the sky a lovely lilac as the sun dips low beneath the horizon, he can't help but feel like time's running out. Honestly, what did he expect? For Link to return and want to...what? Be best friends?

The person...creature...per-creature? Did what he could and Rhett should just be grateful and move on. But there was something about him...and those eyes...and that voice...

Rhett cracks open another can of soda, takes a deep sip when he hears it. The water's waves have become almost a white noise at this point, so consistent, but this...this is different. Just a little splish. Or splash. Or whatever.

And it's close. He puts the can down and quickly surges to his feet, looking out intently over the water and then he sees it. Just the top of someone's head. His head. Dark wet hair and blue eyes behind...are those glasses? And Rhett can't see his nose or anything else, but he can see enough to cry out, "Hey!"

The head rears back, sinks some, and Rhett feels a surge of panic, not wanting to lose this opportunity, "No! Wait, wait! Link! I-!"

The head stops, goes still. Rhett continues on, desperate for this to continue, "Please...don't go."

He doesn't.

Bolstered, Rhett continues, hoping he's heard, understood, "I...I just-? You saved me."

Link simply blinks.

"Thank you."

There's a bobbing in the water around him and Rhett's pretty sure Link nodded. Rhett edges just that little bit closer, "I...I'd hoped you'd come back. Not only so I could thank you, but so...um...maybe-? Maybe we could-? Could talk-?"

Link sinks a little more again, but Rhett can still see his eyes and, as long as he can see those, he feels okay, "I mean...you-you came back. Right? So-so maybe you'd-? You'd like to talk too?"

Link's head disappears.

Rhett feels his heart break. But then he notices that the water is moving. There's a rippling, the kind he sees when fish swim close to the surface. As if to punctuate that thought, the broad tip of a blue tail rises up and out, pushing against the waves.

He's swimming closer!

Rhett resists the urge to hoot in delight, to pumping his arms in victory, as Link pushes forward and, on the next movement of water, he surges upwards - his whole head visible now.

Link's entire face is nice.

A strong jaw, a good nose, a very fine mouth and yeaaaah, Rhett doesn't want Link to swim off, so he's going to do his very best not to focus on that mouth too much as he says, "I'm-I'm Rhett."

Link licks his lips, dips his head shyly, "I'm Link."

"Y-Yeah, you-you said..."

They both just sort of eyeball one another, both clearly unsure of what to make of the other. Of how to proceed. Eventually Rhett does, "So, ah, you're-? You're a mermaid?"

Link's eyebrows rise.

"Merman?"

"Just Mer," Link clarifies, "Our kind doesn't really attach those bits on the end there."

"Really?"

Link nods, "Humans came up with that one."

"Oh? We-we did?"

Another nod, "Back when we first used to come across one another."

"...take it that doesn't really happen now?"

"Not really. No."

Another awkward silence falls. Rhett scratches at one cheek, struggling for something else to say when Link blurts, "You're hairy."

Rhett lowers his hand and - much to his own surprise - he bursts out laughing. Link colors some and he gives a bashful smile and okay, Rhett said he wasn't going to pay too much attention to that mouth, but it's hard when it's so danged cute, "Yeah, yeah I am, brother."

"Bro-ther?" Link repeats and it's clearly a word he's unfamiliar with. Rhett beams, "'Brother'. We use it for family members. Y'know, the boys born from the same Momma and such. Can be a term of endearment too."

"Oh..." Link seems pleased with this and Rhett grins, "You got one?"

Link's eyebrows knit together and Rhett explains, "A brother? Or-or some other family or-?"

"I was spawned from another Mer. She came to shore to give birth to me."

Rhett's eyes grow wide, "You-? You were born on land?"

Link nods, "Most of us are. Mers walk between both worlds more often than not."

Rhett lets that one wash over him even as Link comes closer. Rhett can see his tail better now. It's amazing. Glossy and sparkling blue, the scales tightly knit. Rhett's first reaction is wanting to touch it but he quickly shutters that idea - recognizing it as beyond rude. They've just started talking to one another, for goodness sake!

Still, seeing it rest against the wet sand of the shoreline is tempting and seeing it move, more so. It slides and slithers, but in such an enticing way. Rhett moves a little closer, foam teasing at his toes as Link looks up (and up) at him, "Hard to talk at this level..."

Rhett realizes he probably looks like a giant at Link's angle, the Mer practically lying at his feet, so he lowers himself down until his butt hits the sand, crossing his legs at the ankles, "Better?"

Link nods and Rhett does a bit of a wiggle backward to avoid getting his khaki cargo shorts wet. There's an amused smirk around Link that says he recognizes that action. But of course he does - Mers, apparently, can traverse between land and sea.

So, Link is probably aware of how clothing works. Has he ever worn clothing? Come to the shore? Rhett wants to ask so many questions, but isn't sure what's appropriate and what isn't, but Link beats him to the questioning, "Are you a fisherman?"

Rhett lets out a strained 'Ah-?' as he immediately realizes that the true answer will no doubt insult his new acquaintance, but, again, Link beats him to the punch, "You've got the attire for it. Flannel shirt, baseball cap..."

Rhett frowns, "You think fisherman have a particular attire?"

"To my recollection..." The remark makes Rhett chuckle again, unable to help himself, "'Recollection' - you sound so danged southern. Just like me. I was born and raised in North Carolina."

Link beams, "That's where I was spawned! My sire came from the same location. Not all Mers are from the sea. Some reside in lakes, rivers - any water deep enough to conceal us, but a lot of us return to the ocean, considering its the biggest body of water."

Rhett lets that sink in even as Link again asks, "So, you are a fisherman, right?"

"Um-?"

"It's okay if you are," Link assures him, folding his arms and resting his chin there, "It's not really a proud profession amongst my kind, but it's understandable."

Rhett's lips twitch from side to side, "So I'm not, like, catching up your friends or something?"

Link snorts, "What - you think we talk to them?"

"Heck, man - I don't know how it works," Rhett lets out a peal of nervous giggles, getting the idea that Link is teasing him. Link returns the laugh and Rhett relaxes as a realization settles in.

Whether or not Rhett wants to admit it, he did want Link to return. He wanted him to return and be his friend and it appears that that is indeed what is happening.

It's happening and Rhett couldn't be any happier.

[acommonloon]

TL;DR

about last night's mperfect ending. After stops at three Louisville venues, each more fun than the last, we decided to get a nightcap in New Albany. We didn't manage to get a drink at any of four stops in that sleepy town but we did witness a police officer chasing a black man down the side of State Street. Still watching for a news report.

Alternately a night for Morgans

_____________________________________________________________

D's niece's husband, J, is a sweet guy. He has almost no family of his own living in the area and his own family unit consists of an unruly teen (not his) a precocious 6 year old and 3 year old twins. It's a lot.

With that in mind, I always wait for him to contact me and he always earns his kitchen passes so when he texted me he had a free night out I was glad to hang with him. I only asked if he had a curfew. No sir. He's nearing 40 and regularly admits he wishes he could more often frequent the places D and I do, meaning bars and restaurants. I remember those days when self came last.

Our 1st stop was World of Beer. With 50+ taps and hundreds of bottles and cans sitting in glass front coolers directly across from the bar, it's one of my go to spots. J immediately set about building a flight of five small pours while I took my time picking one or two low gravity beers to sip since I was driving. They had two bartenders on this Wednesday night, Morgan was ours and our service was prompt and friendly. By the time we finished a plate of tots, loaded with melted cheese and fresh jalapeno slices I had our plan.

I hadn't been to Commonwealth Tap since before 2020. This small wine bar is in a movie set sort of town called Norton Commons. Think "The Truman Show." The houses were all built over a small number of years and though they are comprised of many different styles, with no two near each other being the same, they are on the same size lots and there is no variety in terms of weathering or decoration. Everything to plan. Unreal. Creepy.

I glanced at the wine list on a chalkboard noticing a Turley Zin at $18 and a Cotes de Rhone at $8. When the bartender asked what I wanted, I said, "Talk me out of the Turley and into the Cotes. He hesitated for a second and I said, "I want something minerally, earthy, not fruity." Like a Beaujolais Morgon or an Italian grown on the side of a volcano. Before he could reply, a guy sitting at the bar said we don't have that on tap. The Cotes is your best option and the bartender handed me a generous taste saying, try that.

I took the glass all the while evaluating the man who'd spoken up. He'd said "we" don't have that. He was alone at the bar except for us. I doubted he was just a bold regular, maybe drunk, who felt everyone benefited from his opinion, he wasn't drunk. Then he stood up and walked over the the wine racks. His search was one of familiarity and he pulled a bottle and sat it down on the bar next to me. Was he an employee or maybe a distributor on good terms with the staff? Then he began talking about the wine, about his many trips to France, and I suddenly I knew. "You're an owner here aren't you?"

He laughed and admitted he was. He introduced himself, Neal Morgan and for the next 40 mins or so he told us about himself and the bar. He told us about his wife, a pediatrician who worked for 20 years in Indiana and he went so far as to describe his Scottish heritage along with his general thinking about wines. When he said he was going a friend's house for a pizza party, I thought he was about to leave. Then he said he was going to take a kick ass wine but first he wanted me to taste it. It was a California pinot noir priced at $30 more than the first bottle he'd put down on the bar. It was fantastic! He gave us tasting notes and I admitted I couldn't perceive half of what he reeled off. I said he spoke like a sommelier and he laughed again and said he claimed he had a better palate than Kenny, the sommelier who worked for him. He thanked us for coming in and seemed sincere. When he left, J looked at me and said, "That was amazing." I laughed and said it was a Wednesday at a bar.

Before we left, I asked Rainha to make me a Penicillin and we talked about Scotch. She related how she introduced her brother to Scotch and now that's all he drank. We talked about how things were during the shutdown and I told her about a new place I'd been the previous Saturday. Outside, J exclaimed this was just the best time! He said he'd never be able to talk staff like that, let alone the owner. I said talking to industry people was one of my favorite things. They are so interesting and I think they find it refreshing when someone at the bar wants to hear about them instead of wanting to talk about themselves. Then I said, I know where we'll go next. Maybe Stephen is working.

Our next stop was at Cuvee Wine Table and Stephen greeted me at the door with a huge "Shane!" and a hug. If J was impressed with Commonwealth, I thought he should fasten his seatbelt. Stephen is a trip. Except, Stephen exclaimed I'm on this side of the bar now! To my quizzical look, he said he was the manager now. Amidst introductions, our bartender, Andie came over and introduced herself. She was tall, regally thin, and wore a colorful scarf on her head. She offered an engaging personality I perceived as professional banter but sensed alos she seemed to enjoy her job.

When I described what kind of wine I preferred, she said, "OOh how about a white?" Ooookay??? I thought to myself, this is going to be fun. Stephen came back as Andy set my glass down in front of me and asked, "What are we having?" Andie said, it's the Santorini. Stephen, a newly minted sommelier, immediately launched into an enthusiastic description about this remarkable wine from a Greek Island. He said it was so constantly windy, they braided the vine boughs into bowls to protect the fruit on the inside. I smelled it and it reminded me of a Sav Blanc but when I tasted it, I knew I'd found a new favorite. It had a salty savory aspect with more minerality than any white I'd had previously.

Andie was from Lexington and our other bartender, Heather, was newly arrived from the Nashville area. Heather was training behind the bar but seemed tres calm. At one point she asked us to wish her luck and I realized she was going to take an order. When she came back, I was a little surprised but delighted when J asked her where she was from specifically. It turned out they were from the same area and knew the same high schools and such. Great fun. When Stephen came and asked if we were eating, I said, "What am I having?" The cassoulet he responded immediately and then he tried to add in sweet breads but I insisted I was out on that. J selected a flatbread and when my giant bowl of white beans with pork and a small chicken leg came, I felt I'd got the better order. He admitted sheepishly he just didn't like beans and that was that.

I suggested we finish with a French brandy served in proper snifters and asked for a bottle of the Santorini to go home. It was full dark but comfortably warm walking to the car and J asked if I were up for one more on him. I suggested we go see Emily at Brooklyn and the Butcher. She made me a perfect drink in January and I'd been craving another ever since.

All the way to New Albany, J kept bringing up how much he enjoyed the two wine bars and how he hoped he and his wife could indulge in similar experiences when their children were older. He worried his wife didn't really like anything but sweet wine and was picky about that. I laughed and said D was exactly the same but she was game to hang out and recently started to appreciate ciders and frutied beers, and even some semi-sweet wines.

There were still plenty of cars parked on the street when we arrived at Brooklyn and the Butcher. I noticed there was no one at the hostess stand when we walked in but I breezed past into the bar. There were two women sitting at the bar and I was a bit disappointed when I realized the bartender wasn't Emily. I was even more so when she came over and apologized but said they'd closed already. I laughed and made a joke about the owner being an old man for closing so early then I realized who it was sitting at the bar. I asked, "Is that Emily sitting at the bar?" she said it was and I got up and walked over. We talked for ten minutes about my last visit and I asked her about her trip to Savannah. She kept apologizing for the bar being closed but I assured her I would be back. It was fine, we'd walk down to The Earl.

I got a bad vibe the minute we walked in. The bar was mostly full and there was only one bartender. He was wearing short shorts and took forever to get us a drink menu then never looked our way for the next five minutes. I suggested we go to Recbar nearby. There it was the same. The lone bartender, woman this time, was overwhelmed and though the bar was half empty she never looked our way before I lost patience.

Okay then. We were driving to my final option (so I thought) when I stopped at a light. J said, "Look at that! A cop is chasing that guy!" Sure enough through the sparse traffic I could see a black guy sprinting along the side of the normally busy road. His arms were pistoning up and down, his hands flattened into chopping motions like a track sprinter. Coming behind but steadily losing ground was a hefty police officer. He looked ridiculous and I can only imagine he might be thinking everyone watching thought he looked ridiculous. I wondered if he might pull his gun.

The light turned green then and I moved forward. That's when we spotted a car with the front passenger side crushed in where it had impacted the guardrail, on the opposite side of the road. There was a cop car with its lights flashing parked behind it. I couldn't see any activity around the cars as we drove past. About a half mile up the road we pulled into the parking lot of our 4th attempt to get a last drink. It was closed.

We laughed and decided we'd had enough fun. As we headed back towards the scene of the incident, sirens and flashing lights were suddenly all around us. I guess there was a manhunt. I weaved through parked cruisers while J counted eight more with lights flashing on side streets . Fifteen minutes later I dropped him off. He thanked me profusely but it nothing but what I like to do anyway.

20 mins later I pulled into the garage and for a second my heart did the little flutter it always does when I see D's car parked in its spot. Then I sighed remembering she wasn't home and wouldn't be for another week.

Just a Wednesday.

[somersetmummy]

(A/N) This chapter takes place right at the beginning of the story, prior to TNA Chapter 1. Some characters property of Pixelberry.

Original characters: Katie Hide (MC), Jenny Blake

New characters: Lucinda Hansen

Rating/Content Warning: Mild adult language

Word count: 2005

Summary: MC Katie Hide is an English rose, living in New York. She’s down on her luck and desperately needs a job before her visa expires and she’s sent back to London. A chance conversation with a friend leads to an unlikely opportunity. Little did she know that one little interview would change the course of her life forever.

- Bonus social edits at the end -

Just like any other Thursday morning of recent weeks, Katie and Jenny were killing time together in their favourite coffee shop just down the street from their shared apartment. It had become Katie's haven and her go-to place when she wanted to lose herself for a few hours people watching, letting the stories of their lives unfold around her.

She'd always had a knack for paying attention to the details, noticing things which passed by most others. It was a skill she'd relied on heavily in her work, always giving her the edge, at least it had until the time it led to her downfall at Panacea Labs.

Katie had recently walked out of her job after piecing together a scheme under the radar to roll out a costly new drug for treating MS, despite there being multiple warning signs that it was ultimately ineffective but instead just masked the symptoms. Anyone else would've just glossed over the signs, not even noticing, but to Katie, the anomalies jumped off the page unmistakably. It was when she tried to escalate her concerns that she was shut down and her life in the lab made a misery by the VP, Declan Nash.

It hadn't taken long for her to realise that the company was more concerned about profits than actually helping people and she knew that the battle to fall in line and keep her job wasn't worth it. After calmly and quietly sending a company wide report on her findings, she gathered her things and walked out before she could be accosted by security. Little did she know that Nash had already been keeping tabs on her communications, in his eyes she was a trouble maker, and the report never saw the light of day.

Unfortunately for Katie, the current opportunities for young women in the biotech and pharmaceutical world just weren't what they should have been and she spent the next few weeks furiously searching for something else to avoid her work visa being revoked. 

Having moved from London to attend the New York Institute of Technology and graduating with a Masters in Chemistry & Bio Engineering three years ago, she'd fallen in love with the city and the life she'd built. She didn't know exactly what the future held and couldn't put her finger on why, but she had a very strong feeling that she needed to stay in New York.  

Today, Katie had planned to work through all the job adverts remotely relating to her experience and qualifications, with Jenny on hand to offer moral support. Tiring quickly of hitting one brick wall after another, they'd long forgotten the laptop and instead had spent the last 30 minutes idly chatting about Jenny’s upcoming gallery event when Lucinda arrived, phone to her ear, her body tense and voice sharp as she wrapped up a call with her boss.

"Of course I've got someone Angela, I wouldn't put my name in the mix if I didn't. My candidate is going to blow the others out of the water, I just know Mr Dalton will be impressed....no not just impressed, he'll be awestruck..."

While waiting for her to wrap up her call, Katie heads to the counter to order Lucinda a much needed coffee and returns to place it down in front of her just as she hangs up. She tosses her phone onto the table and slumps back in her chair, defeated.

Jenny stares her down waiting for an explanation which she and Katie both know Lucinda desperately wants to give but is holding off for dramatic effect.

After a long sip of coffee and a moment of holding her head in her hands she finally exhales.

"I am so SO SCREWED."

Katie and Jenny share a look before returning their attention to Lucinda.

"I've just promised my boss that I have the perfect candidate for some billionaire business man's nanny position....." She glares at them both as if they should understand why that's a problem. "I never touch these sorts of jobs, I only ever look for candidates in finance, nannying isn't worth my time."

Katie chooses her words carefully, knowing how Lucinda can bite back pretty quickly when she's stressed. Speaking softly, cautious not to poke the bear, she looks Lucinda in the eye and internally braces herself for whatever might come next.

"So what made this one so different?"

Fortunately Lucinda seems to finally be relaxing, she replies more quietly.

"Filling this position will put me on the map, nobody in the firm has been able to secure someone for this guy, they only seem to last a few weeks before they quit so the sign on bonus never kicks in. If I could find the perfect person I wouldn't only get a great bonus, I'd be next in line for promotion to Senior Head-hunter."

Her demanding demeanour melts away and she's left looking almost vulnerable. Something Katie knows Lucinda doesn't find at all comfortable.

"Anyway, I'll figure it out, I always do."

She gives Katie and Jenny a soft smile, allowing herself to momentarily forget about her woes so she can refocus the attention back to them.

"So what were you guys talking about before I came in?"

As Katie opens her mouth to speak Jenny cuts in on her behalf.

"Oh Katie's just been trying to work out how to get a job before her visa renewal date comes up in a couple of weeks."

Katie lets out a sigh of her own, suddenly remembering how dire her employment prospects are and feeling equally as defeated as Lucinda.

"I can't believe I've worked so hard for my degree, I found the perfect job in the perfect city but now it's all gone down the drain and I'm going to have to go back home and never see you all again."

Jenny wraps her arm around Katie's shoulders, pulling her close. "Oh come on, like you'd be able to shake us off. Even if you are in another country!"

As suddenly as Lucinda dramatically entered the coffee shop she slams her hand onto the table making the others jump.

"THAT'S IT!" She cries, her idea almost exploding out of her. "This is just too perfect...."

Katie and Jenny share a confused look before turning back to Lucinda who is practically foaming at the mouth, clearly onto something, though they're not quite sure what.

"You need a job, I need a candidate." She says in her signature matter of fact style.

Katie still has no idea where Lucinda's going with this.

"It's win win. I'll put you forward for the nanny position, you'll get a great job which means you get to stay in New York, I'll get my bonus. Not to mention I'll look like a damn superhero at work!"

The cogs start to turn in Katie's brain as she begins to digest what Lucinda is proposing.

"But I'm not a nanny....and what about my visa, it's only valid for work in relation to my degree."

Lucinda waves her hand at her, dismissing her concerns. "No problem there then. This guy's family owns one of the biggest Biotech companies in the country, surely that's related to your degree? He's so desperate for a successful match I'll make sure the visa thing is part of the contract."

She cuts back in quickly just as Katie opens her mouth to object.

"And as for you not being a nanny, what about all those times in the lab when you had to pull rank and sort out the shit that went down between your useless colleagues? You've done more nannying of adults in the last two years than most actual nanny's do in their whole career with children."

Jenny suddenly chimes in "OH MY GOD, this is genius!"

Defeated, Katie turns to look at Jenny in disbelief. She may have had a chance saying no to just Lucinda but with Jenny on board with this idea as well she may as well give up now.

"This will solve both your problems, I mean come on, who wouldn't want to work for this guy..."

Jenny turns her phone to Katie, clearly having been searching while she and Lucinda were talking. On the screen Katie sees the most devastatingly handsome man she's ever come across. He's nothing like the guys she'd known before, this person, was a real man and the sight of him caused her stomach to flip.

While undeniably handsome, it's not just the physical attraction that she's drawn to. Her eyes move to the company bio underneath his headshot and in true Katie style, she scans all of the accolades and achievements the company has to boast about. Her mind races at the possibilities. There's no mistaking that working for this man could open the door to so many opportunities and experiences in the future.

With a sigh she resigns herself to the fact that Lucinda might actually be on to something, this could be the break Katie had been waiting for and would certainly solve her imminent visa problems if she could get it taken care of as part of the contract negotiations.

With a silent nod and slight shrug of the shoulders, she begrudgingly agrees, much to the delight of her friends who squeal at each other in delight. Lucinda immediately pushes her shoulders back, standing to attention, furiously beginning to type on her phone.

"You TA'd for your old professor right?"

"Yes, I did a year as their assistant after graduating. Mainly doing research and going to conferences with her."

Lucinda's eyes never leave her phone as she works her magic, spinning Katie's words into an impressive resume. After a moment she raises her eyebrows and flits her eyes over to Katie, a small gesture which Katie realises is an invitation to elaborate.

"Oh, yeah so that's actually how I got into Panacea Labs, I met a rep at one of those conferences."

Jenny rolls her eyes at the mention of Katie's old company, now affectionately known by them both as Pariah Labs. Despite what she felt about Katie's previous employer, she was immensely proud of Katie's achievements and wanted to make sure they were included.

"Weren't you the youngest lab boss thingy they'd ever had?"

"Senior lab technician." Katie corrects, knowing full well that Jenny hasn't got a clue about the finer details of her work. "Well, yeah eventually, after two years of working my butt off. But I hardly think they'd rave about that in any reference they give me. If they even give one to begin with..."

Lucinda waves a dismissive hand at her.

"With this resume, you won't need any reference from those bastards. Trust me."

Katie had no idea what Lucinda had written or how she'd managed to spin her experience to be more favourable for a nanny position but it must've worked because half an hour later Lucinda slammed her hand down on the table once again, causing everyone around them to jump out of their skin.

"YES! It worked...he wants to see you, you've got an interview tomorrow at the Dalton Enterprises headquarters".

She turns her phone to Jenny to show off the email and they fall into an animated conversation, no doubt planning how they're all going to celebrate once Katie inevitably gets offered the job. As they fall into a blur in the background, Katie looks back over the picture of Sam Dalton on Jenny's phone, not quite sure how she can be so hypnotised by someone through a photograph.

There's something about him which feels familiar, something drawing her in. It's almost as if they're viewing each other through a looking glass and she wonders whether in this exact moment he is feeling the same magnetic pull towards her, a stranger whom he hasn't even met yet. Tearing her eyes away from the phone, Katie's tries to steady the stream of unanswered questions flooding her mind and focus on how she's going to win this man over.

"Here goes nothing."

TAG List: @shewillreadyou @chemist-ana @txemrn @silma-words @thefrenchiemama @secretaryunpaid @sfb123

- Bonus - pre-interview pep talk with the girls -

[morimallow]

Hello. This is the third and last part of Morisuke is a Nerd. Read the first and second part first and leave a like! Thank you all so much!

There you were, standing in front of your highschool gates again after 7 years. Spring is finally here. Cherry blossom petals are falling and dancing with the wind.

You were savoring the moment before finally stepping inside your Alma mater when the annoying voice of your niece interrupted your peace.

“Y/N-neesan! Let's go inside already. My friends are waiting,” she whined and grabbed your hand and pulled you inside the already-loud school spring festival.

She just dragged you to every stall that sells food and let you pay for it. Annoying devil. Just because she knows that you're a (dream profession) and they pay you well.

After an hour of roaming in the oval, she decided to go upstairs and check out the other booths. Your niece got dragged by her friends and told you to bring her back to the school gates once they're done.

Walking along the hallway leading to the library, thinking of nothing in particular, screams of delight and adoration filled your ears. You looked outside the window and you saw the Nekoma Volleyball Team when Kuroo was their captain but your eyes looked for him.

They were all wearing suits. But he caught your eyes once again. Wearing the perfect three-piece suit, hair slicked back, and a pair of sunglasses over his eyes that you missed so much.

He looked up in your direction and just assumed that he was looking at you. Your hands were over your mouth, struggling to keep your whimpers to your self and a few tears escaped your eyes. He took off his sunglasses and smiled widely at you. Wiping your tears with your hands, you smiled back at him as if you were saying, “I knew you could do it. I'm so fucking proud of you, Mori.”

After your sweet faraway encounter, his former team mates called his name so they could go on in the festival but before joining them, you swore you saw him wink at you and that almost made your knees give up. If you could control yourself around him using his charms back in highschool, but now your resistance was still the same but his charms blew up to a hundred.

You continued to walk towards the school library. You probably spent two hours there, reading books that you read back in highschool.

But then your feet dragged you to the shelf where you first met the love of your life. The wooden stool was still there and you used it to reach and grab the same Physics book. You stepped down and stayed standing there as you flip through the pages. Various solutions you and Mori did in pieces of papers were still stuck in the pages. Looks like no one used this but us?

The light dimmed as you felt him move towards you making you remember your first encounter. You waited for him to strike a conversation and he did in the most cheesy way, “Who would've thought I'd meet my mushroom in the library of all places?”

You smiled at the memory. You tried so hard to refrain yourself from jumping on him and instead replied, “You're a strange, happy man and you have my heart.”

He snaked his arms around you and placed his chin on your shoulder. Sighing contently, you relaxed in his arms and leaned your weight on him. It was the same warmth from your highschool days. The same feeling of being protected. But one thing changed. The amount of love and affection emitting from his body towards you was different. He then placed a long and loving kiss on your shoulder and whispered, “I found you.”

You smiled at his words and shook your head. You turned your head to look up at him because he grew a lot taller than you and kissed his jaw, “We found each other, Morisuke.”

You and Mori spent an hour solving problems and equations again until you both realized it was already near dark.

“Love, come. I heard awhile ago that there's gonna be a firework display in about.. ” he trailed as he looked at his watch, reading the time, “probably in a minute.”

You stood in front of the window nearest to the door and Mori placed himself behind you, giving you another back hug. Not that you're complaining. Without your knowledge, the rest of the volleyball team was behind you, phones ready. Mori, sensing that someone's watching and feeling the urge to hold you in his arms, he pulled you into a deep kiss just after the fireworks display started.

You heard some clicking of cameras followed by a series of 'fuck's, 'keep it down's, and you don't doubt one bit that you heard Kuroo saying, “Lev, are you dumb?”

But then you felt Mori smirk into the kiss. Just as he pulled away and rested his forehead against yours, you asked, “You knew they were here, didn't you?”

He chuckled lightly, sending the butterflies in your stomach go into frenzy as he gave you a peck on the lips. He replied, “Or maybe I just missed you.”

“Smooth lines, Russian boy!”

“Finally grew some balls.”

“Can we go home now? It's nearly 9 o'clock.”

And a sudden thought zapped through your brain: your niece.

You looked at Mori with sadness and disappointment and said sincerely, “M-Mori, I know you're a busy man but I need to go home. I promised my niece that—”

Kuroo interrupted your sentence and asked, “Is this your niece?” and you saw that she had her legs dangling on Kuroo's shoulders.

“Y/N-neesan? Kuroo-niichan said they'd keep me safe and walk me home. I'd choose them over you everytime so go out with Yaku-nii,” the little devil of a niece you have said straight to your face.

—

Mori didn't let go of your hand even while he was driving. He'd place soft kisses whenever there's a stop sign, draw soothing circles, and throw secret glances of adoration when the road's clear.

And you just enjoyed his touch. After 7 years, he's finally back, and this time, you won't ever let him go.

After a while, Mori parked his car in an underground parking lot and rode a lift to his penthouse, all while still holding your hand.

“And welcome to my humble abode in Japan,” he said as he opened the door to his penthouse for you to come in. Humble wasn't even the right word to describe the place. It was huge enough for a family of maybe 5 or 7.. or maybe 10.

You blushed at that thought and Mori noticed this. Assuming that you're just feeling hot, he asked, “Do you maybe.. want to take a shower?”

“Oh, uhm.. ” you trailed off, thinking if a shower would do you good or just make your blush worse when you see the products he uses everyday.

Mori wasn't used to this side of you and he's kinda liking it. You're so sensitive and vulnerable when he's around when in fact back in highschool, you'd shout and scold him like how he scolds Lev.

“Mori?” you called out as you remember you didn't have any spare clothes. “Could I borrow one of your shirts?”

You heard movements from outside the bathroom of his room and heard him say, “Come out. You can wear this.”

Clutching on to your towel, you eyed the shirt laid on the bed. It was his jersey when he joined the Japan National VB Team. It covered until your mid-thigh so you didn't find the issue of not wearing shorts.

Standing up, he kissed your forehead, “I'll take a shower, too. You go rummage my kitchen for dinner.”

After whipping up something simple for dinner, you come back to his room to call him but your eyes were met with Mori's more defined back muscles with water droplets reflecting the light in the room and being absorbed by the white towel loosely hung around his hips.

He didn't notice your presence because he was too immersed texting someone on his phone. You climbed on the bed and crawled up behind him.

You slowly snaked you arms around his torso. With your fingers tracing the lines along his abs, you said with a pout, “I thought you missed me, Morisuke Yaku.”

“I do, my love. I really do. Let me just.. ” and he started typing on his phone again. You didn't want this one. He always had his eyes on you ever since highschool. And now he won't look at you even if you're clinging onto his back?

Lightly grazing your fingertips on his toned stomach, you wrapped your legs around his waist as well, as you whispered in his ear the three words you haven't exchanged in years, “I love you.”

He laughed and blushed. Putting his arm around your shoulder and giving you a peck on the lips, “I'm still very much in love with you.”

Feeling a little bolder, you shower him with kisses on his jaw, arm, neck, and the area near his ear. “A-Ah.. ”

You smirked at this new found discovery. You wondered if his ears are sensitive as well and you tested it out. Licking the outlines of his ear and nibbled the top part while sneaking whispers of ‘I love you's’ here and there. His breathing was erratic, sensitive to your tongue. His moans became harder to suppress as you make lewd wet noises with and in his ear. You kissed it tenderly, pulled away, and laughed.

His nape was warm colored with a tinge of light pink. Continuing to tease him more, your hands found and cupped his pecs, holding him in place as you breathe slowly trying to steady his breathing. “Who would've thought the great Morisuke Yaku's weakness is getting his ear lick—”

He faced you and plopped you on the bed. His towel falling down as he hovered over you. You roamed your eyes over his hot body and just as you were about to see his package, you heard his deep voice dangerously near your ear, “Eyes on me, princess. Feeling my cock molding your tight and pretty pussy into the shape of it is much better than to look, don't you agree?”

You were waiting for this day to come. For Morisuke to be your first. “Well, are you just all bark and no bite? Come at me,” you boldly said as you raise your hips to find any form of friction for your aching pussy.

“Ah, ah, ah,” he mockingly said as he lifted his lower half up away from yours. “Come at you or come inside you? Your choice, baby,” his hands started to glide up under his shirt you were wearing.

His finger purposely grazing the area near your erect nipple. Just as you were about to moan, he placed his hand on the curve of your waist, drawing circles on your stomach with his thumb. He showed you his perfect set of white then his smirk, eyes squinting with amusement, “If you won't choose, I won't even touch you all night.”

You pout at him upon hearing his words, thinking it might charm him the way he was whipped during highschool and expecting he knows your answer. His thumb moved along your lower lip and you sucked it lightly while showing him your pleading eyes. He scoffed playfully and said, “Acting cute won't make me give what you want. Use your pretty little mouth, baby doll.”

With that, you kneeled by the bed and made him sit in front of you. You grabbed the base of his erect dick, pubic hair tickling the side of your palm.

“Y/N, you don't have to—” you kissed the tip glowing in a dark shade of pink, same as your boyfriend's lips. “F-Fuck.. I'm sensitive there.” You took that as a sign to continue torturing his tip.

Your teeth grazed near the slit then you licked it, overpowering the pain by pleasure. Spitting in your hand, you used that to smoothly pump his hard cock. You looked up at him, a perfect moaning mess: his disheveled hair, sweaty torso, teeth doing a not so good job at keeping his moans at bay.

You pumped him harder, your other hand massaging his balls. “C'mon, baby. Let me hear you moan when I'm making you feel good.”

As you tried to take his whole length inside your mouth, the tip hitting the back of your throat, he fired a handful of your hair and pushed you down, forcing you to take it whole.

“Your mouth feels so fucking warm, so fucking good,” he moaned as you gagged, unswallowed saliva dripping from your mouth. “I'm gonna fuck your hot mouth cunt and cum.”

You bobbed your head up and down in a fast pace, loud and hot groans from Morisuke became your encouragement. You felt him tense and started to shudder in pleasure. Knowing he's close, you focused your tongue on the tip and used your hand to pump the rest of his length.

“I'm cumming.. cumming, princess!” he moaned as he grabbed your head with his two hands, steadying you to shoot his cum inside your mouth.

He leaned back, propping his elbows. Not knowing where to spit, you swallowed probably half of his load when he offered to spit it on his hands.

“That was disgusting. How can people swallow that shit?” you looked at him with disgust as he washed his hands in the sink.

He walked towards you and placed you on the bed underneath him, “Well, Ms. Genius, ejaculation is part of the males' normal discharge.”

Before you could reply, he claimed your lips. He pushed your shirt up just enough to reveal your breasts with perky nipples ready for your boyfriend to nip and suck them as you moan underneath him. His hand travelled south and spreads your wet folds with his index and ring finger, the middle one is circling around your aching hole, ready to enter.

You bucked your hips, eager and impatient for his finger to enter you. And just then, he inserted his middle finger in your hot cunt, clenching around him as he enters you.

“If you're already this tight for just one finger, I wonder how good this tight pussy will wrap around my cock.” The image passed through your mind and clenched harder as he moved his finger in and out of you.

You were moaning, pulling his soft brown hair as he fingered you to heaven. “A-Ahh, fuck! Right there, Mori.. ” He briefly hit the sensitive spot in your cunt.

You let out a whimper as he took his finger out but let out a breathy moan as he positioned himself at your aching entrance.

Cupping your cheek, he looked into your eyes and said, “This will hurt but keep your eyes on me, okay?” You nodded in response as he put the tip in.

He took your hand, intertwining with yours and propped one elbow beside your head and his other hand guiding his length into you, you moaned out his name as he stretched your virgin walls.

“M-Mori, you're too big.. ” he kissed your lips as he enters you inch by inch. He groans into the kiss when you squeeze him. “Relax, baby. You'll milk me dry even before I put my whole dick inside you.”

After tons of moans and grunts, he was finally balls deep inside you. As you get accustomed to his size, you can't help but squeeze him inside you again. “S-Stop that, I'm gonna cum,” and you continued to clench around him as if testing if what he said was true.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck!” he buried his head in the crook of your neck as he shot his load straight to your womb. Followed by his sexy moans and the feeling of his warm seed inside you made you cream his dick good.

“Fuck, Y/N, you're too good,” he said and started to move just after you both came making you both sensitive and a moaning mess.

You wrapped your legs, heels against his firm ass as he drilled your drenching pussy. “Morisuke, Morisuke.. ” you chanted and moaned his name as you were nearing your second orgasm.

With Yaku sucking on and nibbling on the skin of your delicate neck, you convulsed beneath him as he continues to thrust in you, chasing his own release. After a few more hard pumps, he buried his seed inside you for the second time. “That was so fucking good. It makes up for the seven years we've been masturbating separately, no?” he said as he laid his head on your chest.

You ran your hand to the previously slicked back hair of his and hummed to agree.

Morisuke placed a kiss on your chest, where your heart is, and said, “Let's be together until they run out of problems in Science, my love?”

You grabbed his hand, kissed it, and placed it on your cheek, “For a lifetime, my sweet.”

Masterlist

[msmkcreates]

A Second Chance at a First Impression Ch. 9: The One With the Croissant

Boss may be taking care of Stretch, but he still has therapy of his own to attend, and therapy always digs up the root of the problem.

-------------

I know it's been a while, but I've had so much going on these last few weeks, some very good (like a promotion) and some very bad,, including dealing with a death of a family member recently so all of my works have been inching along slowly in my documents.

I hope everyone is having a Happy New Year

Warnings: therapy, imposter syndrome, anxiety, working out Boss' issues, discussion of consent and power imbalances

Read on Ao3 with the above link

-or-

Read here on Tumblr

----------------

The clinic was always empty this time of day, the sun sinking down beneath the surrounding buildings, but Boss quite prefers it when there's less people cluttering the lobby and the waiting room.

His therapist was an aging man named John, with kind eyes and a weathered wedding ring polished by worrying fingers over the years. His office was decorated simply with a handful of pictures of his wife and nephews. No children, he had told Boss once, though the why had never quite come to him. In Boss' opinion it was really none of his business, but he did wonder what could stop someone with so much kindness from passing it on.

"How are things with your new job?" John asked, looking over his glasses at him. "I know you've been struggling with your inability to join the workforce, has this helped the negative thoughts go away?"

"It helps to have another income," Boss agreed, his hands folded neatly in his lap. "And it helps that it's family, and so close to home. It isn't what I expected, though."

John hummed, leaning back in his own chair. "How so?"

"Well, to be frank, I expected it to be a nightmare," he chuckled. "Stretch and I get along like baking soda and vinegar on the best of days. Or at least, we used to...it seems like we get along better than he and his own brother now. He's kind, and thoughtful, a little naive but also startlingly wise at times."

"A good change, then?"

Boss hummed, looking down at his hands. "...I'm not sure. It's nice that he usually does what I ask, and it's nice that we don't fight all the time. But I worry that maybe...he still feels the same, deep down."

"As if maybe, he is keeping it to himself out of a sense of duty and gratitude?" John asked. "You worry that he is only this way because you're caring for him."

"...right on the money, as always," he chuckled.

It was something they'd discussed before, the fear that any kindness shown to him was out of a sense of duty, fear, or propriety. When he'd begun his sessions with John, he'd resisted the idea that he treated Red badly, only to find that was exactly what he had done and Red had only gone along with every horrid word because Boss provided protection, safety, and home. With Red's HP he had always just taken it on the chin for the sake of surviving, something they have been parsing out in small quantities and group sessions over the years, limited by Red's stubborn insistence that Boss has nothing to apologize for.

The fear was there, that Stretch was only pretending to like him because of the inherent power Boss holds being his caregiver. He worries that fear rules their relationship, that Stretch is only being kind because Boss is helping him.

"Is it wrong of me to assume that you might hold feelings for Stretch?"

Boss felt his face flush as he looked up swiftly, bristling slightly in embarrassment. "I, well, that is...I don't know what you mean."

"Correct me if I'm wrong,but every time we talk about Stretch recently, it's all very positive. Your posture changes, and you smile more. Before the accident, any time we spoke of him it was as if you'd eaten something sour, but now it's like I've just offered you your favorite candy." John leaned back in his chair, his eyes twinkling knowingly. "Is it fear of your power in the relationship that keeps you from recognizing these feelings?"

Boss hummed, looking out the minnow over the nearby park. Stretch sat there, on a bench where he had left him to wait, and he got up to walk over to the window and pulled the sheer curtain aside to look at him more properly.

He'd bought him a croissant, in the hopes he'd eat it, but looked like the soft-hearted man had felt bad for the birds with little food, as he was tearing pieces off it to feed to the growing number of cardinals and winter wrens surrounding him. They pecked at the snowy ground and hopped around his feet, and Boss could almost hear him talking to them, telling them to wait their turn as if they understood English, and he chuckled.

"Feelings are irrelevant. I only want him to get better. I want to see him smile more, to see him happy." Boss let the curtain fall back into place. "I'm his friend now, but I'm also his caregiver. If I made a move on him, wouldn't that put pressure on him to say yes, even if he didn't want to? Would he feel as if he owed me? As much as I may want him, I don't want that."

"Consent is very important, and being on unequal footing can compromise it," John agreed. "Have you spoken with him about these thoughts? Being clear in your motives and your wish for consent?"

"Heavens no," Boss chuckled, grasping his hands together as he turned back to the couch. "I think I'd much rather eat a cactus than talk about my feelings. As you know."

"Do you think that's very fair?"

"To him?" Boss asked.

"To yourself."

Boss paused, squeezing his hands together as he thought on that. "...I'm not sure. I'm not even sure what I feel for him is romantic or platonic. I can't tell if it's happiness at finding a true friend or...something more. Or if it's just the amount of time together, or just guilt. I think it'd be a disservice to tell him how I feel if it turns out I'm wrong."

"That seems sound," John said, leaning back in his chair. "Perhaps you should explore your feelings deeper?"

Boss shook his head. "I'm not so sure I want to."

"And why is that?"

"I...I'm not good for him. I'm dangerous, my LV is... so high, and only one hit from me, even with higher HP that he has now, would destroy him. What if I lose myself one day?"

"Do you think knowing you cared for him would increase the chance of that happening?" John asked. "Currently you are spending about as much time together as any married couple. Do you still thinks he is in danger from your presence?"

"Well...I guess you have a point." Boss fidgeted with his fingertips. "Maybe I was the wrong person to look after him."

"That isn't what I meant," John chuckled, standing from his chair. "I think all feelings are worth exploring, Papyrus. If you understand yourself, you can begin to make the changes you want to see. It's worked thus far with your brother, hasn't it?"

Boss smiled wryly. It was true, his relationship with Red was leagues better now than it had ever been, just from understanding and changing his behavior.

"...I will think on it." He reached out to shake John's outstretched hand. "Thank you again, John. Have a lovely weekend and say hello to the missus."

"I gave you that croissant to feed yourself, not the birds."

"I always do," John promised.

--------

Stretch looked up at Boss with bright eyelights, smiling wide from beneath the many birds perched on his outstretched arms. And legs. And head. And any semi-flat surface they could sit on.

"but it's so cold! where are they gonna get their food?"

Boss chuckled, the puffy jacket he was wearing rising and falling with his shoulders in a shrug. "They're winter birds. They eat nuts and berries and whatever else. They know how to get what they need, unless people keep feeding them so they never learn how to do it themselves."

Stretch smiled sheepishly. "...oops?"

Boss stepped closer, and in a flurry of wings, all his new bird friends took off into the chilly winter air. He watched them flutter off, scattering into the sparse park trees.

"I suppose I'm too scary for your birds," he sighed, sitting beside him on the bench. "And you? Am I too scary?"

"too scary? no, you're the best!" Stretch answered, and Boss noted the lack of hesitation with faint pride before he even registered the compliment. "who else is gonna buy me croissants to feed the birds with? blue just says i can't live off bread and gives me something lame, like a salad or green beans."

"Hmm, so I shouldn't make shepherd's pie for dinner tonight?" Boss asked, smirking over at him as he gave a look of disbelief. "Well, since you've decided to live off croissants…"

"noooo! i want the pie!" Stretch whined, leaning on him and tugging on his sleeve. "please! you cook so much better than blue!"

"Don't let him hear you say that," Boss laughed, gently removing his hands from his arm. "If we want shepherd's pie, we need to go to the grocery store. Are you up for it?"

"...can we also get some more honey?" Stretch asked, standing with him and trying his best to look cute. Looking cute seemed to get him what he wanted with Boss, and to his delight he got an amused smirk.

Boss turned, jerking his head so he would follow. "If you're good, we can get whatever you want. Come on, then."

[onetrainscifi]

Whoo. That pilot was--a lot to unpack. Parts of it were definitely 😬 *cringe* but I also find myself grateful that the network recognized its potential and liked the heart of it enough to bring on a new creative team.

Like, reading all the slides with Cleo I realized what I'd been missing in Zarah-this pilot really stressed the loving relationships of the murdered man's family and actually let Cleo react to his death while our Zarah told Layton a grand total of ONCE that Sean Wise was 'someone she loved' but then never mentioned/mourned him (or her other partners who just? disappeared?? They were led away in handcuffs, were they ever released? Were they drawered? Did they blame Zarah and therefore just never return to the home they'd shared? What side did they take in the rebellion? Like, what happened to these people?!) again. And from that moment on her character seemed so untethered--so unattached to the rest of what was taking place because she had no emotional center. This great, traumatic event that should have been both her character motivation and kept her tethered to the action/investigation was just kinda--swept to the side. Like, if we had gotten a Zarah who was more like Cleo, who pestered Layton, regardless of their thorny past, for updates on the investigation and had to be the rock for her mourning family and who stood solidly with Miss Audrey in righteous anger for the blue-eyed firstie who did this horrible thing--I would've enjoyed her so much more! And Ugh! Jinju and Till being supportive and cute From The Start(!) was 😍. Just--the fact that the focus on healthy love and affection happened to be centered on a polyamorous family and a lesbian couple was great.

But there were other things in the Pilot that seemed so-tonally different and just questionable. Like maayyybe making Layton a chronole 'stoner' was an indicator that parts of his character were drawn not just from the hero Curtis in the movie but also Namgoog, the security specialist. And mayyybe they weren't trying to be completely blind to the fact that their black protagonist deserves as much heart and conviction as his white counterpart in the movie, but. Yikes. Making him addicted to chronole and so...morose/spaced out all the time robs him of that drive and conviction that would make me believe any of the Tailies would rally behind him. Our Layton is a go-getter, a man of action and this guy in the pilot was...not. So...props to Graeme for making our Layton so much better!

But also--WHY would they choose to stress to us that Osweiller is a footballer JUST to freeze his foot off? In both the show and film the limb removal scenes really hammered home how cruel the HUMANS on the train chose to be to each other. And the freezing of the cattle car itself should've been enough to remind us the world outside is treacherous and inhospitable--they didn't have to try so hard to show us that any act of kindness or altruism on the train is futile. Like after seeing THAT, what the hell could possibly help move Till in the direction of choosing compassion and justice for the Tail?!

But I digress-I think the areas I'm most grateful for change were in regards to our season 1 powerhouses, Layton and Melanie. And some of it was so subtle but made SUCH a difference, like pilot Melanie's quirk was tapping her acrylic nails against her teeth--a sign that 1) she's perfectly happy reaping the benefits of 1st class life and 2) she's always thinking/conniving/SCHEMING. But OUR Melanie has a habit of rubbing her neck when she's stressed--as if THE WEIGHT OF THE WORLD/HUMANITY IS ON HER SHOULDERS. Pilot Melanie is also uppity and shows up early to catch people off-guard. Our Melanie is quiet and studious when we first meet her-gauging the situation, letting Layton and others reveal their hand first-and she shows up late/after the main players are already gathered BECAUSE SHE HAS TO BE EVERYWHERE. But honestly I think the change I am absolutely most grateful for (aside from pretty much everything, lol. Like, I canNOT IMAGINE Alison Wright as Lilah instead of Ruth. And letting Miles actively seek the engineer apprenticeship to help the rebellion instead of having Layton(?) who is neither this child's father nor his active mentor (literally all they do is wrangle rats together in the pilot) make that choice for him WITHOUT his actual mother's consent was clearly a stroke of genius. As was just...not focusing so much on cow 18. Like. We get it. They're like animals crammed together in a cattle car. There is no reason to make so many Holocaust references in the first five pages of the script. There are other, far less jarring ways to convey human suffering and misery on this fictional show about a manmade Armageddon. -_-) is the ommission of the shady magistrate as part of the leadership/inner circle/cult.

Having him and that other guy making the decisions/embodying the ACTION of those decisions moving forward if this pilot had been their opener would've really detracted from the heft of Melanie's secret--like in the finished product, we have Melanie behind the curtain, an engineer by trade who clung to this cruel/unfair system all for the sake of keeping the train, the thing she built and the hope it represents, ALIVE and moving. It was a choice that didn't feel like a choice. A necessity. And yet she was changed by it. The mask of Wilford is harsh and she has to become harsh. She wears all these hats and leans on others when she has to (like Ben, Jinju, etc) or when a situation is truly dire, but there is no room for doubt that it is HER decision at the end of the day. She's the one who saves the train over and over when mechanics fail. And she's the one who decides to commute LJ's sentence. The Wilford mask/veil has allowed her the freedom to make these absolute decisions without oversight-so SHE alone bears the brunt of the consequences. There's no one else to blame, which made for some of the most delicious drama on the show when that secret was brought to light. How Melanie related to individuals (like Ruth, Layton, etc.) and how she related to the passengers as a whole was suddenly, VIOLENTLY, upended and allowed for really tense character moments.

And we wouldn't have gotten that if they had kept the shady magistrate stepping in to try to strong arm Jinju and others into doing the cult's will.

Like, maybe it could've panned out in a satisfying way but I will never forget how excited I was when we got the "I have the train" exchange in the first episode that revealed it was a WOMAN at the helm. A smart, cunning, hard to read but delightful to watch woman who'd been hiding in plain sight, in a uniform that screams 'subservient' and 'service' but had been popping up continually in places and spaces that seemed better suited to the men running the investigation and security/murder squad-this woman is shown to be in charge of it. ALL of it. The good (the beautiful aquarium, life in perfect balance, etc.) AND the bad (the Tail and it's horrors). THAT moment was really the one where I thought "I'm hooked. I wanna see where this goes." And so I'm so glad they cut the magistrate - and cult, honestly - out.

Anyway, sorry for the ramble! Thanks for sharing that pilot stuff! It has given me much to think about! :)

Breaking this down into parts again here we go!

1. Yes!! Exactly!! Cleo was given so much depth and room to grieve and have that actually be part of her storyline unlike Zarah. So I did really like that.

2. They made Layton SO much better good god. Like. Thankfully they improved his character.

3. I don't honestly know?? Like maybe to show what it does to humans?? No idea.

4. Y e a h exactly. We all love an unhinged woman but pilot Melanie was...yikes. Like...she genuinely seemed so happy to be in 1st class and have this power to be Wilford's chosen hospitality worker and scare people. And Alison Wright as Lilah would be so cute though, I wanna see it akdjsksi

5. YEAH THE MAGISTRATE GUY IS JUST REALLY NOT IT. He is not who we want he's just?? Seemingly one of the second in commands in Melanie's cult, which is odd but oh well.

[ocalaghan]

I finally was able to bring myself to watch the finale of Modern Family and the retrospective documentary about it ending and now I have the BIG SADS.

I first saw this show in, like... 2012? Maybe? My friend Demi would watch it and she put it on when I was at her place and it was specifically the episode where they all go to Hawaii. I just loved it. Top 10 show forever for me.

It ended really light-hearted but still quite emotional, it didn't make me cry much surprisingly but that's maybe because I put off watching the end for over a year lmao. Although, the documentary made me SOB so there's that.

I am super happy with how it finished. Also happy we go to see glimpses of Stella and Larry... pets being forgotten about in shows drives me crazy.

Mitchell and Cam finally moving back to Cam's home state like he wanted for so long for his dream job was lovely, although it did bum me out they were leaving their brand new house lol. But I was beyond delighted they got their baby boy, after it not working out seasons before, they finally got baby Rexford. That was a really nice full circle to give Lily a sibling and just complete their family the way they'd planned to so many years prior.

Jay finally taking the time to learn Spanish for Gloria and eagerly going to visit her family with Joe, and Manny going travelling was also the perfect ending for them. I was low-key scared for a sec they were gonna do something sad with Jay's character but thank God they didn't.

I probably got the most teary-eyed for Claire and Phil realising all of their children were moving out at the same time, one of them across the country and one completely out of the country. Absolutely loved them as a couple so much. I liked that they didn't have Luke paired off with someone because that would've felt forced, it was enough that he got into college. The implication that Alex would be endgame with Arvin was really fitting, I liked that for her. Haley has been my favourite since day one because, well, LOOK AT HER, but also because I would often see a lot of myself in her. The whole feeling like the 'failure' of the family resonated with me a lot and I felt very connected to her. I was admittedly kind of bummed when she got pregnant by accident and became a mother because she no longer felt as relatable to me but her growth as a character was impeccable, and it was kind of nice she sort of took after Claire with the way she had her first children. Plus, I will always be so happy they had her endgame with Dylan. The fact that she, Dylan, Poppy and George moved into Mitch and Cam's old apartment had me welling up.

I could talk for hours about the characters' and casts' relationships to each other and how fucking wholesome I find it but I'll shut up cos it's making me sad. Really wish it could go on forever and ever but :')

[jackednephi]

@starseedjenny you have observed my tags and for this you get an infodump

So Dylan (my husband) took levels in carpentry. He's no master carpenter but he can make furniture. His absolute favorite thing to do is to get gnarly tree roots or branches and carve them into odd length walking sticks and then sell them at the local wood shop. It's easier to use a stick instead of a cane (my back hurts a LOT from using my cane but never with a stick) and different people are different heights. Plus, something people don't think about is there are incredibly short people or even children. So why not have something beautiful and sturdy?

What he does is he carefully exposes what it is about the piece of wood that is unique. Are the different bark layers different colors? He'll strip the bark carefully to have a gradient flowing up the stick until the heart of the wood, its true color as it were, is exposed. Did it have a lot of branches? Find a way to show off the cool knots. Basically, he works with what he has to let the thing speak for itself. Less actual carving like swirls or whatever and more revealing what it is that makes that stick special. Takes less technical carving skill but a good eye for natural beauty. My uncle carved my grandmother her cane before he passed and while it's a beautiful piece, it is definitely carved if that makes sense

Anyway, as you know I love arting and crafting and making pretty things with my hands. Because of church, I know how to embroider, quilt, scrapbook, make pretty much anything you could ever want from cloth from actual clothes to scripture holders, and all the usual home stuff afab people get taught in YWs. I know how to knit (with a loom), make paper art, draw traditionally, paint traditionally (and know how to stretch my own canvas), create beautiful digital art, create rough architecture blueprints that are less rough with minecraft now, stain wood, cook, make rugs, and basically if there is a craft out there I don't know, I learn very quickly as I'm great with my hands and my hand-eye coordination is fantastic. Thank you 15 years of piano lessons

Dylan, knowing this, encouraged me to take up wood burning. Painting is difficult as I don't have an easel and unless I find a comfy recliner or wheelchair stat, I can't feasibly paint anytime soon. Due to disability (and lack of materials) there are a great number of hobbies I can no longer engage in as there I'd nothing but pain and frustration. I was a little intimidated, I'll admit, because I had no idea what a wood burning tool looked like and how would I work it anyway? From my time around big saws and other wood working machinery, I wondered if it would be something unwieldy and dangerous

Plus, let's be honest. I have a very hard time justifying spending money on myself if it's more than $5 at a time

He'd been goading me into it since November. He'd basically finished up my stick except for staining and he knew I'd want to burn it. But I hemmed and hawed. Finally, we had a pretty decent paycheck with loads of money leftover and he talked me into it. Even got that nice flat piece to get me started before taking the tips to my stick

It has been a genuine blast and a complete delight. It's like a very hot, very fat pencil and he saw right away I was going to need gloves or I'd burn myself and have loads of scars all over my fingers and hands. I'm glad he did because it hasn't been a day and already my gloves have marks on them. He got real expensive deerskin so they'd be able to move with my fingers and give me more mobility than anything else. They were expensive too and wouldn't hear any complaints I had about money. He wasn't going to have me melting my flesh or unable to do delicate work like I like

What I've been doing is outlining the thin layers of bark he left. He noticed that while the outermost layers were ugly, the innermost were interesting. You can see the grain in a way you can't with the lighter wood and you have a cool looking shade that's a nice contrast to that lighter heart. I've been going over them with the round tip (really good for drawing and writing as it's super smooth) and doing those hair thin lines with the point tip. It feels very similar to drawing a fantasy map all over my stick

I'm about 1/3 of the way up my stick though definitely not 1/3 of the way finished. I lose hours at a time bent over and carefully burning. I found out I can take the tips off hot and put them in a ceramic dish to minimize cool off and maximize time spent working. Which is critical for me as I can't spend more than about three hours tops bent over burning

It's so fun because it's like line art but it's on a piece of wood so it feels like I'm doing something new. It's very methodical and cathartic and I lose so much time focusing on doing this. It keeps me calm and downright happy! Which is EXCELLENT because it means I'm combatting seasonal depression in a very big way. I've already agreed to do this with all of his pieces to enhance what he's already carved. Eventually I'll probably Do Things like Actual Wood Art but for now I'm happy with this

We already have some projects planned too by the way!!! He loves making furniture and he can build better stuff for cheaper than buying it from a furniture store. So he's going to build a lift top coffee table and a dresser for sure that I'll burn. The first piece I want us to do, I'll burn the wood BEFORE he cuts it and see how that turns out. It'll be a little box (probably to hold bunny stuff) but I want to see if that does something unique or if it just is bad. If it's not something we like, hey I didn't waste weeks or months on something huge that ended up looking bad

We're probably going to make all the tables and dressers that go in our home. Maybe an entertainment center. I know we'll make my sister stuff just on the condition she pays for materials and getting it into her place. We'll probably make stuff for people who want it and I KNOW he's willing to take commissions. Closest family (parents, my sister, etc) will only have to pay for materials/shipping. Friends and other family will probably pay that and a little extra because friends and family discount. Everyone else is gonna have to pay retail value on top of materials and shipping because they'd get a unique piece you can't find anywhere else and it'd be worth it y'know?

But that's like way off sometime eventually probably

For now, I LOVE this new hobby. I can't wait to see what my stick is going to look like finished! I'm going to burn "support" on the bottom in kanji before the no slip grip goes on. Not really for any particular reason so much as like. Sentimental? I guess? Kind of like I'm burning a prayer for it to be sturdy and useful and good into it. I tried carving my wife's kanji on it (the first kanji of his middle name means dragon) but it didn't work out well so I'm gonna burn it onto the top and that'll be its name. Again, sentiment. There is also power in naming things and like. Just in case?

It has been such a very long time since I've been able to make something with my hands that I had the materials for and I'm just absolutely pink over it. I really super want people to see this stick and want some useful beauty for themselves that I can give. I love giving and making and seeing people smile over stuff I've made. It's been such a long time since something I've done has made someone smile and I just really want to bring that back y'know?

Anyway thank you for letting me gush. I just super love this and like yeah it's the butchest hobby like ever (according to Phoebe who has the most femme hobby ever of macrame) but it really fits me. It sparks joy in a way I haven't felt in a very very long time and I can't wait to see all the things I can do

[rixxy8173571m3w1p3]

September Song (3/3)

I'm sorry @kitten-wrath that this took so long, but I do hope you like it. @hoodoo12 @xerxezra thanks for brainstorming with me. By the way, @kitten-wrath there's a reference to one of your fics. I'm sure you'll know it immediately, but to those that don't the read her fic here (Link to referenced fic)

I'm really proud of this fic. It references many of my other fics since most of them being to my Fluffy Adventures With Your Boyfriend Doofus Rick series. I would list all the references, but there's too many. Though, I can list a few of the bigger references for context (Sentimental Reasons, As The World Falls Down, The Little Big Things)

Also, special thanks go to @her-victori for reading a majority of my fics in a short span of time. You Rock! As well to random anons who leave me sweet words in my ask box.

If you haven't read the first or second of this fic then here's the link. (Read Part1 Here) (Read Part2 Here)

In this fic the reader tries to be more reserved and mature for Rick, but what will he think?

______________

Chapter 3: One hasn't got time

Random fish jumped out of the water, a cricket jumped over his foot, and there you two were amidst the music of the night. You sat on the hood of his car, swinging your feet back and forth, wondering what was going on inside of that head of his. You knew Zeta-7 was studying you, with one his hands in his pocket while the other held your heels, half hidden by the darkness. Was he worried you were going to walk barefoot on the gravel, or preoccupied with the state of your naked feet? Might've been the shade of nail polish you had on your toes, or simply he was thinking of a completely unrelated topic; of which you may never know. Nonetheless, you were compelled to apologize again in order to fill up the gap of conversation. “Rick, I really am sorry if I ruined our date. I should've just talked to you about how I was feeling.”

Walking around the car, placing your discarded heels in the back seat, Zeta-7 opened the trunk and searched around until he found what he was looking for. “Y-y-you didn't ruin our date,” he assured, dropping on one knee beside you so he could slip his sandals on your feet. “you saved it. It's - it's one less thing t-to worry about. Boy, I'm glad I-I still had a pair of flip flops in the trunk. They sure came in handy.”

“How long have those been in there.”

“I'd say a-a few months.”

A few months probably meant they'd been in there since that time you two went to the beach. You checked your now sandaled foot, giggling at the dramatic size differences between your foot and the sandal. “Hmm, I guess this means I'm not Cinderella; the slipper doesn't fit. That's a good thing because prince charming is so not my type.”

When he stood back up, he wondered. “Then what is y-your type?”

You'd think he'd by now that you had never been crazy about guys. Sure, in your teen years you had your random crushes on the guys in your art and science class, but nothing specific came to mind as to why they were appealing to you; you had other more activities which kept you happily diverted. And now, taking in the sharp lines of his suit, and eager want of understanding, you felt your heart flutter as it did when he was especially attractive to you. It wasn't so much in his appearance but in the feelings you had when light-hearted, casual sweetness flitted across the lines of romanticism; when smart, witty repartee translated to golden words, soft touches, and knowing. But to Rick, he needed both the conscious and unconscious understanding; the affirmation that you held him in high regard. “That's a good question Ricky. You know it's not goblin kings or fire-breathing dragons who are cursed princes in disguise, neither is it swimsuit models, or rock stars, and never villains. Honestly, I didn't know I had a type until I met someone who challenged the conventional rules.”

With raised brow, he shifted his weight to his other foot, pleasantly intrigued. “Is th-that so?”

Why the smartest man in the universe had to doubt the validity of his place in your heart and skeptical when varying parties voiced conflicting opinions would perhaps be the ongoing mystery, but you dare not hurt him further. “It is. I like people who are comforting, who can cook and garden. Maybe they'll tell me silly stories, and make me tea before they say goodnight. Being multilingual never hurt, and if they have a cute stutter, they might as well kill me with cuteness when paired with darling buck teeth. Hmm, reminds me of a certain mountain king I knew once upon a dream. Though the only difference between him and you is that he was very lonely, and as for you, I hope you'll never have to be again.”

You looked up at him, with cheeks flaming after this sort confession, finding that your usual open affections were a mix teasing and simple flirtations, but you looked away from his burning, but altogether odd gaze of his since your heart beated wildly in your chest from it; for a great deal of the time, you two were very casual with one another as you had been when you were just friends. Zeta-7 stepped closer, and put his hand under your chin and lifted your face to look at it keenly. “With you,” he smiled protectingly before he pressed a kiss on your forehead. “I-I-I never will be.”

You certainly hoped so. “Rick, I think it's getting late. Should we call it a night?”

“Are y-you tired?”

“Not in the slightest. Why? Feeling like an adventure?”

“Not exactly, but can I take y-you somewhere?”

“Sure. As long as you're there, then I don't mind.”

_______________

You snuggled into his side, trying to steal as much warmth as you could. “Since when did you have a hammock?”

“Since th-this morning. Do you like it?”

“I love it. Especially since it gives me an excuse to just come over and chill in the backyard. Maybe do a little bird watching, flirt with the gardener. You know.”

“Gosh, y-you can come over whenever you want. Mi casa es s-su casa. Remember?”

His home was your home? Well, you always felt it was in a way. As ever there was a feeling of unchangingness about the night sky, and with you two returning to the general lazy routine that was as delightful as it was elusive, you wondered how you were going to convince yourself to leave the comfort of his arms. You were happy that he chose to allow tonight's events go, and focus on the good parts, but while things changed at a steady pace, there were moments like this and in between, like at the ice cream shop which made you conscious of his want of family; of intimacy; of closeness to chase away all the lonely shadows which were always around the corner. You owed him a great deal, and honestly, you were in want of those things too. “I'm happy that you say that Rick,” you answered matter of factly. “because I can't wait for the day when it really is. Well, whenever you're home is ready to receive me.”

The hand which had been absentmindedly rubbing your arm stopped. And again, you heard him sniffle as was typical when he was emotional, and his heart was beating a little fast. You sincerely hoped you wouldn't hurt him with all this excitement. And when he calmed a little, he turned his body to face you, smiling softly at this possibility. “I-I-I look forward to that day too.”

________________

Pots and pans are moved around, and he began to make his special brew. Unlike the mediocre ingredients which you had in your home, Zeta-7 had some of the freshest, and most potent herbs and spices which could be found in this part of the world. If you hadn't known better you'd say they were brought straight from India, and then to your surprise, he proceeded to tell you that they were, and how he regularly visits when he can. With delight, he tells of the exotic culture, of its people, the food, and the points of interest that would never be found in travel pamphlets; painting scenes and landscapes.

Like always he knew how to match your mood to a flavor, and give you just what you needed. From the cabinets, and from the pantry he retrieved what he needed, and lined them up on the counter. Whole cloves, green cardamom pods, cinnamon sticks, which he breaks into pieces, freshly chopped ginger, ground nutmeg, white peppercorns, star anise, and loose black tea. Soon, the air was full of spices, and the Masala Tea was near completion; it was your favorite and made you think of many other similar times when you two sat together over tea to discuss many a topic which was suitable to talk about in the evening. With care, Rick poured his concoction into your new mug, and he poured his into a Shoney's mug and lightened both with milk, and sweetened them with honey. With the spoon he used to stir, he tasted it to be sure, then held it out to you. “I hope it's t-to your liking.”

“You know it always is, for you know what I like.” The first sip is heavenly, and you sigh happily as he watches you in amusement. “Rick, what's so funny?”

He holds your gaze for a moment, before he chuckles. “It's a-a secret.”

You stuck out your tongue, but he doesn't relent and goes on to drinking his tea. Zeta-7 can be a tease when he wanted to be, but he isn't so unkind as to not apologize. “I'm sorry, I-I-I don't mean to offend you or anything, but I'd love to make it up to you if you'd let me. I um - I got something for you.”

Pulling several small boxes from his inner suit pockets, which were definitely bigger in the inside, he handed them to you. “When I was on Mars last month, I saw a few things that reminded me of you. Do you want t-t-to know what they are?”

“Rick, you didn't have to do this. You spoil me enough as it is, but I would like to know.”

“Gosh, I wanted t-t-to do it. After all, y-you are my favorite.”

“I better be.” you winked. “Should I open it now?”

“If y-y-you want to. I hope y-you will like them.”

”

Taking a deep breath, you carefully unwrapped the sparkly gift paper and opened the first box which had a precious rose quartz apple brooch that you had only seen on TV. “Is this what I think it is?”

“Almost. Y-you see, on Mars, they manufacture a-a lot of - many similar products which you could find on Earth, except they tend t-to be more technological. This, for example, was originally made t-to act as a decorative cooling device for those really hot Martian days, but I modified it t-to do this.”

Cupping your hands with his, you gasped as it warmed your hands, and an inner calm took over you. He continued. “It'll calm you down any time you feel overwhelmed, and it doubles as a-a hand warmer. All y-you have to do is think good thoughts, and it'll magnify them.”

Unable to see where the hidden technology and mechanisms were, you wondered. “Is it magic?”

“Hohoho, if y-you want it to be. I-I-I know you don't - don't always like how you're meds make y-you feel and I wanted you to be able to be comfortable. And it'll come in handy when winter comes a-around.”

Trying it for yourself, it made you wonder as it soothed you if he had used properties from those empathic plants that existed on the planet with the ioculus and giant flowers. Who knows, but it felt wonderful, like a balm for your soul. Opening the next box, there was a hair clip in the shape of a puppy dragon. “Oh my goodness,” you gasped. “this is just too precious. Rick, what did you…how did you... ”

“I-I know how much you love them. It's not like th-the real thing, but it's c-cute isn't it?”

You didn't hesitate to clip it on your hair, feeling your smile growing. “Its freaking adorable. Sweet, sweet cookie man, please tell me they make other jewelry with similar designs.”

“Hohoho, they do but th-they sort of double as weapons. The hair clip can only summon them when th-they are within range of-of course.”

“What if I wanted to be queen of the puppy dragons? You never know, maybe I'm a dangerous woman. I can be ferociously adorable. When I want to be.”

Zeta-7 seemed to be considering this idea, and you had to poke him to make him realize you had simply been joking; mostly joking. The last box which laid on your lap was a bit heavier, and there were several layers of holographic tissue paper you had to peel away before you finally saw what it was. You felt tears prick at the back of your eyes sight of it; a miniature glass terrarium necklace, with a shrunken sunflower that had an iridescent shimmer on its petals.“You couldn't have bought this. Did you make it?”

“I-I did for the most part. That's a hybrid sunflower that can only be found on the Citadel, and I used metals that can rival gold and silver in its durability. It's - I-I-I could go into the mechanics of it, but I-I think that would ruin the surprise. M-mi corazón, if-if you look inside you'll see what I-I see when I think of you.”

Staring at it intently, it took a retina scan to verify the user, and then you saw clips of his memories of you. You saw yourself from his perspective, dancing around him while wearing your hello kitty pajamas; of you all sniffly and sick on the couch; that time you had flour on your cheeks after your failure in baking; of you blowing kisses; of you fast asleep amongst all the plants of his conservatory; of your joy as you pointed to things from the ferris wheel; of your hands as you touched up his makeup on his arms; of painting; of your tears and surprise; of huddling for warmth; of feeding his turtles; of you standing in the rain, drenched from head to toe; of you handing him clover; of your right above him, tickling and kissing him in the grass; of your Rick cosplay; of you standing in the half light of the moon; as a princess, confused as to who was who as you stepped into the ballroom; of hundreds of butterflies shielding you; trying to hide a shameless amount of candy; of you commanding plants to your will; of you sitting on the ground with a scraped knee and mess of Doritos and very surprisingly of you as a child handing him a rose from your father's garden before it all faded away. “I can't believe this.” you gasped, looking away in favor of Rick. “You've met me before?”

Scratching the back of his neck, he confessed sadly. “Yeah.”

“So when you said it wasn't the first time you waited for me, then what? You really did meet me as a child? In this dimension?”

“It's a-a long story. You probably wouldn't even remember.”

“Why didn't you say anything?”

“For very similar reasons as t-to why I had to wait in your dream. It's - I've known a-about you even before y-you were born, but that's - that's a-a different story for another day. As I said, it's a-a-a really long story, but I promise t-t-to tell you everything.”

He saw you grow up in real life and in a dream, he must have known about you for years. And yet, he waited. Why? That brought up so many other questions, but for now, you only considered him with a softer, deeper affection. “You're full of surprises aren't you? Always one step ahead of me. I'd say that's not fair, but I don't have a right to. You always have a good reason. You….you really do know me, don't you?”

Feeling warm lips on your temple, he chuckled. “N-n-not everything, but I like t-to try. I doubt anyone could know everything, but I- I like you. I-I-I know you could do better, but I just want you.”

“To think that all I wanted was for you to like me more.”

“Hohoho, I doubt I-I could like you less. Y-you're everything to me.”

Leaning down towards you, he captured your mouth in a firm kiss, and you tugged on his tie to bring him closer. He tasted like cardamom and promises, was everything and you couldn't think of a better way to end your date, but then to you disappointment, you heard the familiar sound of a portal and a couple of guard Ricks stepped through; their dimension numbers worn prominently on thier chests. “Yo ding dong, breaks over. They need you back in the lab pronto!” And when they fully stepped into the kitchen, they joked amongst themselves about how such a good for nothing Rick be capable of knowing what to do with a woman, let alone be so well acquainted with one.

Zeta-7 visibly winced at their laughter since they had come at an inopportune time, but for your sake tried to remain strong. “I-I-I guess our date really is over.”

“It was nice while it lasted.”

“Come on Doofus,” yelled the head guard. “we don't have all day. You can play with her later.”

“I'm - I'm sorry about this,” he whispered. “I sh-should have told you that there was a-a chance of being called into work.”

“Don't worry, I'm sure they need you for something really important. You know I'll be here when you come back. Don't you? I'll be fine, really I will be. Be careful Ricky. I love you.”

Pulling you into a tight hug, he was hesitant to let you go, but at the urging of his superior, he let go with a frustrated sigh, removed his suit jacket, and grabbed his lab coat and followed after them. Once gone, you cleaned up, and wiped down the counters and table. Seeing his jacket, and not wanting it to wrinkle, you picked it up and hung it in the hallway closet. Though, once it was hung, you noticed a slight bulge in one of the inner pockets. You had a feeling, though thinking it could possibly be otherwise, you reached down, and pulled out a box; a single glance to confirmed it. Zeta-7 had intended to make an honest woman out of you.

With shaky hands, you slipped it over your ring finger, and felt hot tears run down your cheeks; you had possibly ruined his opportunity to propose. When you felt that you had worn it for an inappropriate amount of time, you pulled it off and placed it back in the box; it wasn't yours yet. You two only wanted to make each other happy, but there would always be obstacles and peculiar incidents along the way. And this….you certainly hope he wouldn't change his mind and try again; whenever that time would be.

Fin

[anghraine]

I have a very, very vague memory of there being more of Subsequent Connections than show up on AO3 -- am I totally wrong? It's a delightful series that definitely shows how two very different people deal with finding a birth family -- and in their case, it wasn't something they'd sought for themselves. I was rereading it today and really enjoying it, and thought I'd ask.

Oh, thank you very much! 

It’s such a weird concept for a P&P fic—I would never have thought of it on my own, but I read a couple with the idea of Jane and Elizabeth as Fitzwilliams, and was like “well, if I wrote it, I’d do x and y to make it less painful and then z to make it MORE painful and wouldn’t it be interesting if…” Therein lies the path to hell.

I thiiiiiink the eleventh chapter of SC on AO3 is as far as that particular version of the story ever got, though I had some “missing scene” side pieces that it doesn’t look like I crossposted. I’ve been catching up on crossposting anyway, so I could move those over.

Also, there was an original (substantially different) version of the story that might be what you’re thinking of? With this one, I really wanted to focus more on exactly what you mentioned—the discovery as more than a plot device, the profound effects of Jane having memories of her birth family where Elizabeth doesn’t coupled with differences in personality/situation, the really bizarre position that Darcy ends up in, a more subtle take on the Elizabeth vs Eleanor tension, Milton’s melodramas, and so forth. It’s a lot more gradual.

Bearing in mind that I last updated in *squints* 2009, I dug up my folder for the fic (I save everything), and it looks like I actually was working on something in 2010! And… oh hey, it says Ch 12. I genuinely have no memory of working on this, so this is about as new to me as to anyone else, but … here is what I’d written:

ChapterTwelve

“Goodmorning, Miss Fitzwilliam.”

Elizabethsmiled. “Good morning. How is my grandmother?”

“Herladyship is … she will be pleased to see you, madam.”

Sheis always pleased to see me, Elizabeththought, with more than a trace of regret. Lady Ancaster, haughty,whimsical, and often disordered in her mind, was regarded withvarying degrees of trepidation by all the others.

Eleanor,usually fearless, would greet her with a white face and icy,trembling hands, and turn paler and colder until she fled. Elizabethfelt not the smallest surprise that Eleanor’s brash sort ofcourage, if courage it could be called—all good nerves and boldspirits—would desert her in such a matter as this, and disliked herall the more for it. Yet even Cecily could endure only a few minuteswithout palpable discomfort. Edward refused to come without hisbrother or sister, correcting Lady Ancaster in a flat, humourlessvoice nothing like his own, while loquacious Richard rarely spoke.

Elizabethherself neither felt nor understood any of this. She sat with LadyAncaster almost every day, and treasured thequiet hours she spent with her, away from the rest of the world—reading novels aloud or eagerly listening to her reminiscences. Itwas such a relief to escape from everything,just for a little while; the troubles and irritations of her lifeseemed to weigh much less on her mind, when she could confide them insomeone who listened evenwhen she did not understand.

It helped, too,that Lady Ancaster always loved her, whether she knew her or not. Elizabeth found it strangely easy to accustom herself to being called“Catherine” or “Laura” or even “Cassandra,” often in thecourse of a single conversation.

“Good morning,Grandmama,” she said gaily, kissing her forehead. “How are youtoday?”

“Very well.” Lady Ancaster cast her a sly look. “I heard that you danced thricewith Lord Bertie. I hope you are not thinking seriously of him.”

Elizabethhad never heard of him in her life. She laughed. “Indeed not. Idid go to an assemblylast night, however; we all did. I did not sit down once.”

“Youhave always enjoyed dancing,” Lady Ancaster remarked. Elizabethchose to believe this was true—true for her,not one of the phantoms of her ladyship’s memory.

“I expect so. Icannot remember a time when I did not—so I enjoyed the assembly. Perhaps you do not know, but it was my first since my f—since Icame to Houghton. I cannot remember all the people I met, but theywere all pleasant to me.”

Lady Ancaster casther a sharp look. “Only to you, Phylly?”

“ ‘Tis Elizabeth,not Philadelphia,” she said easily, “and of course they were not. At least—well, everybody was very deferential to my uncle,naturally, and people always seem to like Edward for some reason.”

“Charm andcharity do not always have very much to say to one another.”

Elizabeth’sbrow furrowed. “Er, quite so. Then there is Richard; he makeshimself agreeable everywhere. Eleanor, I suppose, intimidates theworld into fearful awe, but Cecily—I could not help overhearing—”

“Do you refer to the elder MissFitzwilliam?” Sir George looked incredulous. He was abaronet, Elizabeth had been reliably informed—a young, attractivebaronet of good family—four thousand a-year—and expectationsof a doting godmother, too—

“The younger is, er, dancing with,er, Mr Talbot, I believe.”

“I believe,” he saidicily, “that a man of family and refinement, such as myself, mightaim a little higherthan a witless, penniless girl with no greater claims than those shealready makes on the earl’s charity. Forgive me if my requirementsare too nice.”

Elizabeth,scarcely able to believe her ears, turned to Cecily in astonishment. She immediately wished she had not; Cecily’s bloodless face crumpled—in humiliation, misery—in everything but surprise, then wentblank.  Elizabeth was strongly reminded of a kicked puppy.  

“I know you are fond of Cecilia, and her circumstances certainlyattract an undesirable degree of attention,” Lady Ancaster said,“but Laura, dear, you must know by now that your cousin is quitecapable of managing her own concerns.”

Elizabethpressed her lips together. “Forgive me, madam, but Cecilyis nothing of the kind.”

Something flickered in her grandmother’s eyes. “Cecily?” sherepeated. “It was not Henry’s Cecilia, then? I never heard thatshe was called—oh!  'Twas little Cecilia, then?”

“Yes, Grandmama.”

“Ohdear.”

Elizabeth snatched at the moment of lucidity. “Sir George Pelham—I don’t know if you are acquainted with him, but he declined to dancewith her in very uncivil terms. No; I believe it was more than awant of consideration, but active cruelty. Poor Cecily heard everyword.”

“I detest all the race of Pelhams,” said Lady Ancaster.

“I certainly detest him.” Elizabeth sprang up, unable to remainquiescent in her chair, and paced furiously before the window. “Heasked to dance with me later. I am no handsomer than Cecily and wehave all the same connections, so I cannot think what made thedifference.”

“I trust, my dear, that you managed to refuse the compliment in thespirit it deserved.”

Elizabeth laughed. “I persuaded him that he must have mistaken mefor Eleanor.”

“Theresemblance is not thatstrong.” Lady Ancaster gave her a sharp look. “You must havebeen very persuasive, Elizabeth.”

Sheopened her eyes very wide. “Oh, but Sir George could not haveintended such a great compliment to me, a mere poor relation of LordAncaster’s. He made that perfectlyclear when he disparagedmy cousin to half the room; only the earl’s daughtercould possibly be worthy of such a discriminating taste.”

“I see,” murmured the countess.

“Naturally,” Elizabeth added, her tone sharpening, “I alwayswish to be of use to my superiors, so I explained his error to himbefore I returned to my proper place. He must have understood, forhe asked Eleanor to dance immediately afterward.”

“Did she accept?”

“Eleanor? Of course not.” And her brusque refusal had expressedall the astonishment and contempt that Elizabeth could have hopedfor. Sir George had been humiliated before everyone in earshot.

Hergrandmother laughed, then fell silent; Elizabeth remained at thewindow, staring at the dirty, melting snow. In retrospect,she supposed she should not have done it. Polite set-downs were onething; with her sharp tongue and quick temper, and even a sort ofinnocent vanity, she had certainly delivered more than one of those. But this was not an intemperate remark. Spur-of-the-momentthough it had been, she had contrived—schemed.  

Elizabeth shut hereyes. She had been so angry, the blazing fury blinding her toeverything but herself and that stupid, self-important littlepopinjay. Since her father’s death, apathy seemed to have consumedevery slice of rage she ought to have felt, until that moment. Thenall at once, she felt it all.

Mr and Mrs Bennet—and Mr and Mrs Fitzwilliam—were gone. She could hardly returnEleanor’s abrasive manners or Edward’s caustic insouciance in kind,not without descending to their level of incivility. James and Janedeserved nothing less than the gentle kindness they dispensed to all. As for Darcy, she could not say with any certainty what she thoughtof him, or felt toward him. He was clever, interesting; hehad not thought her handsome enough to dance with; he had started allof this; he was at Pemberley.

In some fashion oranother, they were all beyond the reach of her anger; but Sir George,standing before her—smiling—

“Goodmorning,” whispered Cecily, her smile bright and brittle. “How is she today?”“Well enough,”Elizabeth said. “She had a few lucid moments, atleast.”Cecily bit her lip. “I—I washoping I could steal you away, Elizabeth. The snow is nearlyall melted, and my uncle says we may walk out again.”“Oh! I should very much enjoy that—just permit me a moment to put apillow under—thank you, Theodore.” She bent to kiss LadyAncaster’s wrinkled cheek, then hurried after Cecily.“Thankyou,” she said. “You see, Sir George called; SirGeorge Pelham, who—you remember? He—Ella refused to dancewith him last night. Apparently he has some business withEdward.”Elizabeth laughed. “I did notknow anybody had business with Edward.”“Hedoesn’t.” Cecily quickened her steps. “Ofcourse he came to see Ella. Brown thinks so, at any rate; Ididn’t see him myself—did not even know he was here, until she toldme. Then I went down to Lord Ancaster’s study, and found you,and—well. I would rather not see him, and it is a niceday.”“It is a very nice day,” Elizabethagreed, uncertain whether she felt more pity at Cecily’s quandary, oramusement at Eleanor’s.“That is exactly what Ithought! And—and perhaps you would like to see Gulliver? I am sure you haven’t.”Elizabeth, though lighter andseveral inches taller than her cousin, almost ran to keep up withher. “Who is Gulliver?” she asked breathlessly,blinking when they stepped outside, into the daylight.“Mydog,” said Cecily, smiling more genuinely. “Oh, I amglad to be outside again. Are not the gardens pretty?—He’s twelve years old; Fitzwilliam gave him to me when he was justa puppy. He said it was a favour, that Gulliver was sougly that nobody else would take him, and he certainly didn’t wanthim, but I knew better. It was my birthday, and boys—youknow how they are.” “Oh, yes,” saidElizabeth.“Edward and Richard’s dogs frightened him,poor thing, so he doesn’t sleep in the house any more. EvenAunt Milton’s pug terrified him. It was ridiculous,really, to see Gulliver cowering before a little dog like that.”“Ishould like to see him very much,” Elizabeth said, rememberingJane’s account of her early quarrels with Pugsy. “I adoredogs. Where do you keep him, Cecily?”Cecilyhesitated, then grinned up at her, her usual manner entirelyrestored. “I shan’t tell you until we get there,” shesaid airily.  “It will be a surprise.—Do not worry,it isn’t far.”They talked lightly as they walked,somewhere between enjoyment and relief. Cecily spotted a bunchof chrysanthemums with a cry of delight, promptly picking them all. Elizabeth only shook her head and asked about their second cousins ontheir mothers’ side.Within a few minutes, she foundherself staring at a small, square, ridiculously picturesque house. It was built on a small eminence, backed by three stands of trees,and looked out upon all the splendour and elegance of Houghtonproper.  Snow still adorned the roof, cheerful yellow curtainshung in the windows—windows undoubtedly covered by honeysuckle inthe summer. Gilpin himself could not have improved upon it.

“Is it notpretty?”

“Very,” saidElizabeth. “Is this the parsonage?”