#((It is still Pick On Dion hours in this house!!))

[orbitaldeathwoomy-a]

[After the NSS meeting...]

"Okay, so, if it's so weird that I call my parents "Mother" and "Father", what do you even call yours? What's normal to you?"

"My dad's just "Dad"! Nothing more, nothing less!"

"Well, my parents were never a part of my life, so it was my grandparents who raised me. But, I've always just called them "Gram" and "Gramps". Pretty normal, really..."

"Uh..."

[Cerrin looks at Ursula.]

"It had to be "Ma'am" and "Sir". Anything else ended... poorly for us."

"...Horrific implications aside, you guys really aren't in any position to be making fun of me for being polite about my parents. Especially you, Four."

"But that level of politeness just sounds so strange coming from someone like you!"

"Someone like--Don't give me that! You're rich too, so formalities and manners shouldn't be so weird to you!"

"They're not, when I'm in a professional setting. But talking like that when I'm among friends, even if it's for an NSS meeting, is just overkill."

"It's true. She's almost like an entirely different person when she's at work."

"So why are you all picking on me??"

[marvelslegacies]

Jarome, Cass & Noah | That's New | Main Paragraph

“Jarome!” Cass’ gruff voice sounded from the living room. Jarome, who had been doing the particularly mundane task of drying the dishes, while Noah sang something he incorrectly accredited to Celine Dion. Jarome set a damp dish rag down on their shared counter.  Noah picked up the rag and wound it on itself expertly, ready to snap it at whoever got too close. This, of course, was Noah’s version of washing dishes. Jarome had stopped complaining about how baritone Noah sang, and how much water he got on Jarome’s clothes, after only a month of sharing the chore.

Jarome spun around. “Cassius.” he greeted curtly. “I found another one.” Cass said, stepping quickly into the kitchen, he had been practicing widening his range and eavesdropping on strangers’ thoughts. Noah slapped the rag playfully at Cass as he passed. Jarome sighed and turned back to the kitchen counter he had been leaning against. Noah’s singing lowered into a polite hum. While his two roommates discussed the issue, Noah switched to improvised background vocals, using their conversation as his raw inspiration.

“Ooh-wee, he found another one!” Noah said in a high pitched voice before stopping to ask, “Another what?” Jarome put away a plate and shut the cabinet on his right, leaving Noah to look down at the sink still half filled with other unclean plates. Before Cass could inform Noah- “Mutant.” Jarome spoke seriously, “I know. I feel his rage.”

Cass, who had fished out a bottle of Asprins, and Noah, who was drying his hands on the kitchen rag, watched as Jarome walked into the living room, effectively abandoning the dishes. He was losing focus, they could tell, because his own outline shook and became hazy like several lenses were being removed randomly from in front of their eyes. Jarome turned once he reached the couch in the living room, “There’s more than one.” He laid himself down on the couch, and pulled a throw blanket over his head. Jarome needed to concentrate in order to find someone in the astral plane. And the person he was looking for was furious, effectively making him harder to find. Still, Jarome had to try.

He reached into the darkness, straining his mind’s eye. He began his mantra in a hushed whisper, “I am still as a stone at the bottom of a lake. I am still as a stone at the bottom of a lake.”

Hours passed as Jarome navigated a sea of strong emotions, searching for the human experiencing them. Cass and Noah played many terse games of Chess and took turns pacing the house. Noah was aching for a cigarette when the sun began to set, so he stepped outside.

Cass considered Jarome for a moment, who was fully in a trance now, then followed Noah out to the porch. He found Noah lighting up a cigarette from a fresh pack. Wordlessly, Noah offered the pack to Cass who waved his hand in dismissal, shaking his head gently. Noah shrugged. The silence remained. Cass rested his hands on the fencing around their front porch and Noah sank himself down into a low hanging hammock. The hammock was inches above the ground once it took on Noah’s full weight, but it could still swing so Noah took to swinging.

Cass broke the silence. “Rome’s been gone for a while. This mutant’s not even very far away.” Cass didn’t sound worried, but Noah knew that Cass was worried a little. Without Jarome, Noah didn’t know who would lead between the two of them. Noah and Cass had a complex history as friends and enemies… Noah didn’t want to pivot back to being oppositional players. He liked his team. “Jarome knows what he’s doing…” Noah was forced to consider that Jarome admittedly knew very little about the astral plane, despite having spent so much time within it. “He’ll be back soon, probably. There’s no way this mutant is gonna hurt him…”

Cass scoffed quietly, minding his manners. “How do you figure that?” Cass was doubtful, he believed this mutant was a threat, considering how much rage he sensed, and the thoughts he heard ringing out. Whoever it was, they were violently angry.

“Well, someone who’s angry… is usually hurting. I think whoever it is… they must be in a lot of pain and they probably need our help. This is a rescue mission.” Noah perked up, hearing his own words, but Cass did no such thing. Noah’s smile faded slightly.

“I don’t think so, Noah.” Cass turned his gaze to the dark street, the street lights were now aglow, casting an amber hue on visage. “Whoever it is, they’re very close. They’re very angry. And they don’t know or trust Jarome like we do. It’s likely that this mutant is more powerful than any of us.” Noah said nothing, he simply swung in his hammock and took slow drags off his cigarette.

An audible gasp came from inside the house. Jarome had returned. Cass teleported and Noah flicked his cigarette, rushing to join back up with his team. He found Cass with his hands on Jarome’s shoulders, steadying the taller man. Jarome was rocking slightly in his seat. Sweat was pouring down his face and neck, his t-shirt dampened as well. Noah grimaced at the sight of Jarome in such discomfort. But Cass felt it intensely. “Breathe in,” He stared Jarome down with an even expression, “Breathe out.” This carried on for several minutes as Jarome gathered himself with considerable effort.

Finally, Jarome was ready to speak. “His name is Biron. And he’s a total cunt.”

Noah piped up, “Worse than Cass?” cocking his head to the side not unlike a dog.

Cass rolled his eyes, and asked a more important question: “What happened between you two?”

Jarome looked down and sighed. Cass could feel Jarome’s mounting anxiety. “We danced.” Jarome put his set up, implying that their ‘dance’ could be more aptly described as psychic duel. “Then we talked. His brother died.” Jarome spoke reverently. Cass quirked a brow at his change of tone. “And he’ll be here soon. To talk more.” Cass sighed now, unsure how he felt about that. “Noah, Cass… this guy needs us. And I think we should help him.”

A somber moment passed before Noah interjected boisterously, "Oh! I was fucking right! Eat it, Cass!"

[that-one-pretty-bitch]

slightly crazy idea / still not detailed yet it still stays in my head. what if roxana was a mother to the reader? probably after the events she helped casiss escaped and timeskip to a few more years just before heading to the meeting of the five houses, she found out she was pregnant or adopted a child. idk mother!roxana just seems such a fun concept to think about! especially when it pushes her more to destroy the agriche household quickly so she could run away with you! - 🌌 anon

𝑅𝑜𝓍𝒶𝓃𝒶 𝓌𝑜𝓊𝓁𝒹 𝓂𝑜𝓈𝓉 𝓁𝒾𝓀𝑒𝓁𝓎 𝓃𝑜𝓉 𝒷𝑒𝒸𝑜𝓂𝑒 𝒶 𝓂𝑜𝓉𝒽𝑒𝓇 𝒷𝓊𝓉 𝓈𝒽𝑒 𝓌𝑜𝓊𝓁𝒹 𝒶𝒹𝑜𝓅𝓉 𝓎𝑜𝓊 <𝟥. 𝐻𝑜𝓃𝑒��𝓉𝓁𝓎 𝓈𝒽𝑒 𝓌𝑜𝓊𝓁𝒹 𝒷𝑒 𝒶 𝓋𝑒𝓇𝓎 𝓎𝒶𝓃𝒹𝑒𝓇𝑒! 𝓂𝑜𝓉𝒽𝑒𝓇 𝓉𝒽𝑜𝓊𝑔𝒽, 𝓈𝑜 𝒷𝑒 𝓌𝒶𝓇𝓃𝑒𝒹.

( Reader is 4 yrs old in the beginning of the story BTW )

A small girl with e/c eyes slept on the wooden bed of her orphanage. She had no memory of her mother or father, she had lived here as long as she could remember. Her sleepy eyes opened to the sound of screaming and crying and she noticed that the orphanage was on fire, she picked up a locket that had been gifted to her by her biological parents and dashed out of the building. She sat down on the pavement scared because no one else was there, she watched the building turn to ash within just a few hours, the screams and cries of the people trapped inside. She was so helpless. Roxana’s carriage was going by to get to the jewelers, she needed new jewelry. Her carriage came to an abrupt stop and she walked outside to see what could have caused this. 

She watched her charioteer screaming at a little girl that was sitting in the middle of the pathway she looked no older than four years of age, just as he brought his hand to slap her, Roxana caught it.

“She is quite young. Don’t you think? Refrain from hurting children,” She glared

Meanwhile Y/n head was on her knees as she sobbed about losing all her friends and parental figures, taking pity on the girl Roxana brought her in. She gently combed the girl’s hair with her fingers while the girl laid in her lap. The small girl looked like she was well taken care of, she wore a silk white nightgown and wore a lavish gold locket that contained a giant ruby in the center. 

“From now on, I shall be your mother dear,” Roxana’s eyes softened as she met with the innocent eyes of a toddler.

“But what about my friends?” She asked pointing to the burned down building

“They are gone, from now on you start a new life, I will name you Y/n, Y/n Agriche,” Roxana muttered

Being a kid you didn’t understand what she meant by ‘gone’ but you were glad to have a mother now.

When she brought you back home, she gave you to Sierra while she discussed your situation with her father, Lant. He agreed for Roxana to raise you to become like her. As a mother Roxana would raise you to be intelligent and strong. She would only trust you around Jeremy, Grizelda and Sierra. Dion also liked you but tried to remain nonchalant about your existence. He didn’t want people thinking he had a soft spot for you.

Maria really liked you because you were adorable but Roxana was very cautious whenever you were around her, she constantly had a butterfly watch over you, you did not have any privacy at all. 

As you became a teenager though, like you turned thirteen, she would teach you the arts of seduction and poison. She would raise you to become stronger than her.

She loved you to death, you were the only thing that kept her sane and she would do anything to keep you with her forever. You were never allowed to see boys because she was scared that if you got married you would have to leave her.

[abraxos-and-ataraxia]

Crown of Ash and Blood

Chapter 5

Pairing: Eris x Original Character

Word Count: 3.2k

Warnings: none

Summary: Eris is cool, calm, and collected.  He’s not known for the fire in his blood, but for his cold manipulation of truth and lies.  Until he meets his match.  Literally.

A/N: I really wish I could show the IC conversations happening behind the scenes, but you’ll just have to use your imagination because we’re starting on the daneris drama mwahaha

Masterlist

The halls of the Forest House were always empty.  It was partly due to Beron’s requirement that all servants remain invisible, and partly due to the fact that few guests stayed longer than absolutely necessary.  Eris included.

His father sent word that morning.  Eris was required to attend breakfast in the main dining room.

The sound of his boots on the flagstone was overly loud.  The others were already waiting, no doubt an intentional move by his father.  No one spoke until Eris had taken his seat, just to the left of his father.  “Where have you been?”  Beron had no use for pleasantries.

“I thought I smelled Night Court spies, so I took my hounds to the Winter border.”  Not a lie.  He had, in fact, found Azriel near the border last month.

“And?”

“Nothing.  If anyone was there at all, they’re long gone.”

Beron gave a huff of disappointment.  “The half-breed has been sniffing around too much.”  Danger averted, Eris picked up his cutlery at last.  Across the table, his mother met his gaze.  Her hands were still in her lap.

“It seems the Night Court took our insults to heart,” Dion chuckled, taking a swig from his glass.  No doubt filled with wine, despite the hour.

“Eris did the most damage,” Castor intoned.  “Why must you insult your former fiancée at every opportunity?”

Beron’s knife clattered against his plate, and everyone fell silent.  “Enough,” his father said, leaning back in his chair.  “You can continue your squabbles elsewhere.”

“I was under the impression that we were this morning’s entertainment,” Loren said, his smile sharp.

“Father was just talking about how he couldn’t find you last night,” Castor added, leaning forward with a bloodthirsty look in his eyes.  “I wonder why.”

“I could have sworn I saw you sneaking around yesterday,” Loren slashed back.  Eris shot him a warning glare, but his brother ignored it, as always.  “Care to share with the group?”

“Father entrusted me with an assignment.  That’s what happens when you can keep your mouth shut around whores,” Castor said, showing too many teeth for a true smile.

“At least I can clean up my own messes.  What kind of male needs his father to do his killing for him?”

Castor seethed, but Eris watched his mother, whose face was rapidly paling.  He looked over at Beron, whose expression was a little too pleased.  Fools.  His brothers were giving too much away.

“I can’t speak for Castor, but I was patrolling the border yesterday.  Such fine weather, it seemed a waste to spend the day indoors,” Eris said, calmly cutting into his breakfast sausage.

Beron waited until he took a bite.  “I sent Castor to find you last night.  He was…unsuccessful.”

Eris forced himself to swallow.  “Apologies, father.  It seems I never trained him well enough in tracking.”  He ignored the implications of Beron’s statement.  The knowledge that his brother was only hot-tempered when in pain.

“Perhaps I should have sent him with the guardsmen at a younger age,” Beron mused, eyes narrowed on them all.

“Perhaps,” Castor gritted out, sitting ramrod straight.

“But then,” Beron went on.  “Not all of my sons are destined for greatness.”

They spent the remainder of the meal in grating silence.

* * * * *

All morning, Eris kept one eye on the shadows, waiting.  He knew he didn’t have to wait long.  The inner circle had no doubt received news of his dramatic exit last night, so it was only a matter of time before they demanded his presence.

He was more than happy to oblige.  The best information came from one’s interrogator, after all.

Eris was combing through paperwork in his private residence when the note came.  Setting aside news from the coastal cities, Eris accepted the slim roll of parchment from the stable hand, tossing a coin for his silence.

Sure enough, an immediate summons.  He smirked, turning back to his reports.  He’d leave, but not until he was finished.

Eris swaggered into the Hewn City ten minutes late.  Before the meeting room door had even shut behind him, Rhysand pinned him to the wall with a star-flecked wind.  “Boring,” he wheezed, rolling his eyes in spite of the chokehold.  “You forgot to preface your torture with a poetic speech.”

Rhysand’s power disappeared so suddenly, Eris stumbled.  “Please, sit.”

Adjusting his jacket, Eris selected a chair and settled in before addressing the members of the Night Court’s inner circle.  Everyone was there, save the silver-eyed demon.  “Well?”

“I am going to ask you a few questions,” Rhysand said, his smile serpentine.  “And you are going to answer them.”

“Ah, an interrogation.  You forgot to mention that in your letter.”

“My mistake.”

“I always look forward to receiving your little love notes, Rhysand,” Eris said with a smirk.  “Next time, send me flowers.”  He made eye contact with Morrigan, irritation coiling in his stomach when she looked away.

“Is this how you normally behave while being interrogated,” Feyre asked, lip curled in disgust.

“Hardly.  My father does a better job, doesn’t leave much time for flirting.”  No one looked particularly surprised by that little gem.  Interesting.  So Cassian had shared—such a good dog.

The shadowsinger spoke up from the corner.  “Neither do I.”

“You look like you’d enjoy a good flirtation, though.”

Cassian snarled, stepping closer like he planned to pin Eris to the wall again.  “Where did you take the female?”

“You’re going to have to be more specific,” Eris drawled.  “I’ve taken quite a few females, and I haven’t gotten any complaints.”

Rhysand seemed to be the only one capable of containing his temper.  “Witnesses saw you take an Illyrian female out of the Hewn City.  What did you do with her?”

“Correction, witnesses saw a female holding a fork to my throat, demanding that I winnow her to safety,” Eris said, brow raised.  “I have to admit, it wasn’t my finest moment.  But I certainly didn’t take her.  It’s more accurate to say she forced me to help her.”  For a moment, no one spoke.  Eris frowned, leaning forward slightly.  “Two of you are daemati, surely you’ve already seen this.  Why the show of force?”

“Where did you take her?”  Rhysand was like a dog with a bone.

“I didn’t take her,” Eris reiterated.  “I winnowed her to the Middle and left her there.”  Rhysand and his cronies flinched in surprise, and Eris pounced.  “My question is this: why was she in the Hewn City to begin with?”

“She disappeared from her room,” Feyre said, mouth pursed like she’d tasted a lemon.

“She ran away,” Eris smirked.

Feyre frowned at him, all the confirmation he needed.  “If she accidentally ended up in the Court of Nightmares, it makes sense that she was scared and needed help,” Feyre tried to explain.

“Come now, Feyre,” Eris crooned.  “You know she wasn’t afraid of a few Darkbringers.  The female was determined to flee the Night Court, not just this mountain.”  He watched them fidget, their tentative web of lies falling to pieces.  “Since none of you are racing to the Middle to rescue her, I assume you’d prefer her dead.  Perhaps that’s why she was so desperate to leave.”

Feyre gasped, “No, we—”

“Did she tell you anything else?”  Rhysand’s face was bland, but Eris knew a loaded question when he heard it.

“You aren’t denying it, Rhysand,” Eris commented, his smile growing.  “Interesting.  And yes, now that you mention it, she did say a few things.”

“Such as,” Rhysand ground out.

Eris watched them carefully for a reaction to his words, “She said the night court is on the brink of civil war.”  Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Cassian twitch.  Eris withheld his smirk.  “Could her escape have something to do with that?”

“I don’t know what you mean,” Rhysand said smoothly.

Eris shrugged, relaxing into his chair.  “In Autumn, when someone tries to instigate rebellion, we kill them.”

“We have no interest in sharing our plans with you,” Morrigan spoke at last.  “And we definitely don’t appreciate the implication that we would sink to your level.”

“Are you uncomfortable because I haven’t lied yet, or because you can’t tell if you’re telling the truth anymore?”

Rhysand’s expression was a dark thundercloud.  “Where is she?”

Eris shrugged again.  “I told you, I left her in the Middle.”

“Won’t be the first time you’ve abandoned a female,” Morrigan muttered.

He pinned her with a firm stare.  “Believe it or not, I went back for her later, but she was already gone.  Though I know how you like to lay the Night Court’s misdeeds at my feet.”  Azriel snarled soundlessly, his scarred hand reaching for the knife at his side.  “Leash your pet,” Eris said, watching Morrigan flinch away from the potential conflict.  Still unable to face harsh truths, despite her gift.  Or perhaps because of it.

Feyre and Rhysand were still as statues, having some private conversation.  He decided to keep Danae’s current location a secret for the time being.  Better to save that bargaining chip for later.  Besides, he didn’t believe in showing his hand all at once.

Eris moved to stand, but Cassian barred the door with his body.  “You leave when we tell you to.”

“I don’t heed instructions from bastards above their station,” he mocked.  “In case you’ve forgotten, we are allies.  I am not your pet.  And the second you think to treat me like one, know that I possess enough information to ruin you however I choose.”

Rhysand looked up at last, eyes glittering.  Eris could practically see the thoughts churning, wondering what else the female told him.  Fortunately, Eris’ reputation managed to do most of the work for him, confirming Rhysand’s fears.

“For now, we are allies,” he said again.  “I suggest you learn how to act like it.”

Feyre sat quietly, the plots seemingly beyond her capacity.  Eris suspected that Rhysand was feeding her what she needed to understand.  He couldn’t help remembering her helpless face during Amarantha’s trials.  She’d needed help then, too.  Not much had changed.

“Allies,” Rhysand said, voice low.  “We promised to help your bid for power in exchange for your silence.  Now you want more?”

“I have offered you aid and information whenever asked, and in return, all I have are threats to reveal our alliance to my father,” Eris said, smiling faintly.  “I find that I’ve tired of feeling like an accessory to your court.  It’s time to return the favor.”

“Our gift wasn’t enough?”  Feyre gestured to the Made blade on his belt.

Eris didn’t bother to respond.  He’d accomplished what he came for.  Rhysand and his cronies had verified Danae’s information, and they’d given him a much better picture of her motivations.  Putting this court of dreamers in their place was just an amusement, really.  He walked to the door, waiting until Cassian moved aside.  Then he paused, fingers resting on the handle, and looked over his shoulder.  “And Rhysand,” Eris said, holding that violet stare.  “If you ever find yourself embroiled in an internal war, know that I’ll gladly come to help.”

Let them decide which side he would fight for.

* * * * *

After rolling around the creaky bed for several hours, then gorging herself on bread and cheese, Danae finally admitted defeat.  She was horribly, terribly bored.  Her eyes kept sliding to the closet.  The one Eris said had cleaning supplies.  With nothing else to keep her occupied, and unable to go outside, manual labor became more and more appealing as the minutes ticked by.  She tried not to hate herself for it.  For falling so willingly back into her old role.

And the cabin truly did smell.

She scrubbed the floors first, taking breaks when her back cramped up.  Then she moved to the kitchen, mopping down the counter and cleaning the meager collection of dishes.  She opened the front door, shaking out the blankets and pillows—pointedly keeping her feet inside, so she wasn’t technically breaking Eris’ rule.

By the time the sun touched the horizon, Danae had washed every inch of the cabin within reach.  It smelled considerably better, and after devouring a box of pastries, she felt better, too.  The effort kept her mind busy, rather than letting her spiral at the thought of a new cage.

Danae flopped on the couch, adjusting her sweater.  She’d taken a knife to her new clothes, doing her best to fit things around her wings.  The sweater gaped in the back, but the waistband of the pants was high enough to compensate.  She supposed there were no Illyrians in Autumn, and she doubted Eris would have been able to find anything to accommodate her wings.  Still, she resolved to ask for sewing materials so she could attempt to add buttons.  And fix the jagged holes.

She would also ask for books.  Anything, really.  The only book in the cabin was a dusty fishing tome, and she left it where she found it—holding the bedroom door open.  It had a tendency to swing shut, and when cut off from the main room at night, it got so cold she could see her breath.

A knock at the door made her pulse jump.  Breathing shallowly, Danae crept to the window, peeking out through the thin curtains.

“While I’m thrilled you had the foresight to check who was knocking,” Eris called through the door.  “I can see the curtains moving.  If I was an enemy, you’d be dead by now.”  The door swung open, revealing Eris’ disapproving face.  “And the door was unlocked.”

“Sorry,” she grimaced.

“The door was locked this morning,” he said, eyes narrowing.  “Did you leave?”

“I said I wouldn’t,” Danae snapped.  “I just wanted to air the place out.  And shake the bedding.”

“Anyone could have seen you.  Don’t do it again unless I’m here,” Eris said, uncompromising.

“Fine.  Did you at least bring more food with you?”

Eris pointed to the table.  “Sit.  Tell me something about the Night Court and I’ll bring your dinner.”

“And if I don’t, you’ll send me to my room,” Danae rolled her eyes.

“If you don’t, our deal is off, and I’ll hand you back to your High Lord.  He’s looking for you,” Eris said, dragging his chair out from under the table.  She flinched.

Mastering herself, Danae stalked across the kitchen, leaning over the table to scowl at him.  “If you even think about bringing me back there, I’ll kill you.”

“Ah, so you’re a daemati now,” Eris said, voice mocking.  “Tell me, what am I thinking now?”

“I hate you,” she hissed.

Eris frowned, “That doesn’t sound like me at all.”

Her blood boiled, and on impulse, she darted for the knife on Eris’ belt.  Long, pale fingers wrapped around hers a hair's breadth from the hilt.  When she fought, his grip tightened, grinding the bones of her wrist together.  Biting back a whine, Danae relaxed her hand, waiting for him to release her.

When he finally did, Danae slumped into a chair, shuffling awkwardly to accommodate her wings.  “Let’s not try that again,” Eris said, each word hitting her like a stone.  She shook with restrained fury.  “Now,” Eris brushed a hand down his jacket sleeve, smoothing the fine fabric.  “You were about to share some information.  Shall we start with the tension in Illyria?”

Danae focused on her breathing, rather than the pounding of her heart.  “Traditions in Illyria have been a source of conflict between the warriors and the High Lord.”  Her voice was toneless, purely factual.  “Illyrians see him as an outsider because of his High Fae blood.  They’re reluctant to follow his new laws.”

“What laws?”

“The most controversial one forbids wing clipping, an old Illyrian tradition.  Males like to cripple their females to keep them obedient.  The High Lord said it was mutilation, a crime.”

Eris’ eyes flicked to her wings, and she pulled them tighter against her back.  “Is that why you were running?”

“You asked for information about the Night Court,” she snarled.  “Not me.”

“I asked a question, and you’ve already promised to answer.”

She laughed mirthlessly.  “You must hate being on the other side of things.”

“Whatever do you mean?”

“I can’t count how many of my questions you’ve evaded,” Danae said.  “Either by giving me half an answer or by ignoring me.”

Eris shook his head.  “That wasn’t a part of our deal.”

“It’s hardly fair for you to expect my complete honesty when you can’t offer the same,” Danae scowled at him.

For a moment, she thought Eris would simply walk away.  Her gut clenched, wondering if he would uphold his threat and bring her back to Night.  Then Eris sighed, “Very well.”  The words came slowly, almost painfully, but they were still an agreement.

Danae jumped on the opportunity before he could go back on his word.  “Where exactly are we?”

Eris blew out a long breath before responding.  “Near the Winter Court border.  This is my brother’s old cabin.”

“What if he comes here?”

“He won’t,” Eris said, jaw clenched.

“Why not?”

Eris’ eyes flashed.  For once, they burned, instead of glinting like chips of ice.  “Because he’s dead.”

Danae sucked in a breath.  “I’m sorry,” she murmured.

“Don’t be.  He was a hateful creature,” Eris said.  But somehow, she didn’t quite believe him.  “Your turn.  Truth for truth.”

She nodded.  Fair enough.  “Yes, I was running from the males of my war camp.  I managed to escape before they could get the knife, but they shot me out of the air.”  Danae ignored the phantom pain in her wings, flexing them to remind herself she was whole, healing.  “How do you know the High Lord is looking for me?”

“We have brunch every week,” Eris said, sarcasm dripping from his tongue.  “In case you didn’t realize, there was an audience during your grand escape.  They know I winnowed you out, and they wanted to know where I took you.”

“What did you tell them?”

“The truth,” he smiled.

Danae saw red.  She blinked, and then she was on top of him, his dagger clenched in one fist.  The blade gleamed with a cold inner fire, but she ignored it, snarling in his face.

When she met his gaze, Eris stilled, rather than fighting her off.  His eyes widened, expression surprisingly unguarded.  The shock of seeing an emotion other than scorn made her hand waver, unwilling to slice into him.  She trembled slightly.

Then the gates slammed back down, covering whatever she’d seen in his eyes.  Eris twisted them to the side, toppling the chair and sending her sprawling across the floor.  He moved so fast, she only caught flashes.  Eris ripped the knife from her hand and disappeared out the door, slamming it behind him.  He didn’t say a word.

Danae gasped, coughing from her collision with the wooden planks.  The impact had knocked the fury right out of her, leaving her scrambling.  What happened?  Staring at the door, still vibrating from the force Eris used to slam it, she wondered if he’d ever answer.  Or if he’d even return to the cabin.  She wondered when Eris would want to rid himself of a female so inclined to slit his throat.

Perhaps the Night Court was already preparing her cell.

* * * * *

Previous • Next

[ironwoman18]

We Found Love in a Hopeless Place Part 24

The end of this fic has arrived!!! Hope you like this and comments your thoughts.

Read you at the end.

Chapter 24: Family

Spencer had been working in between cases trying to understand what was going on with those emails he received a few weeks ago.

“You’re so quiet… when you read” Max said as she walked to him, holding two cups of coffee.

“My brain is working… this person is sending me weird messages and I can understand quite well what he is meaning…” he said looking at her while holding the cup of coffee “I think this person was in my seminars and got my email from there”

“Not even with your super memory?” she asked sitting next to him.

He laughed softly “the problem is that there were so many people that I can’t focus on a particular person if I don’t know who I am looking in the first place”

She nodded and checked his laptop “and what do you expect to find?”

“I think this person is dealing with someone really dangerous because the way he is talking is like he knows someone might track our communications” she nodded drinking more coffee “now… I don’t know what to do, I’m trapped” he bit his lip thinking and watching the screen.

She looked at him and closed the laptop “come on… let’s go out for a walk. It will relax you” she held his cup and put it on the table then held his hand and made him get in.

“Max… I don’t know if this case is a life or dead situation…” he said looking at his girlfriend.

“Spencer… baby… I know it is important but I learned something in my career, when you can’t have new and creative ideas, you need to do something else, like going out or listen to music” she looked up at him “if you stay here your brain won’t think correctly”

“Well that’s a good theory”

“It’s not a theory, it’s a fact” she smirked softly and he smirked back “now let’s go”

He nodded and after getting jackets the couple left the apartment for a walk. They set just one rule; they cannot mention anything about his current investigation. They ate pretzels and watched the kids playing at the park.

They spent the rest of the afternoon out of the apartment. And when they got back to the apartment she looked at him before open the door “you need to relax and think out of the box. If this person is talking with encrypted messages you need to try to figure out the meaning for them” he nodded and leaned in to kiss her.

“I think that’s a great advice” he hugged her and walked in together.

After a couple of hours later they ordered dinner and decided to watch a movie, he picked Titanic. Almost at the end of the movie and a couple of tears after Jack’s dead; Max looked up at him and, as the credits started, with Celine Dion in the background she started to talk “Spencer, I had been thinking for a while about this but I knew neither of us were ready but now I think we are” she said looking his face and his reactions “I want you to move in with me. Its almost a year since we met and honestly I never had good luck with this kind of decisions but I got a feeling that it will be different with you” she bit her lip looking at him.

Spencer took a long moment to answer, making her nervous “I would love to. I know your story with your ex boyfriends and you know that I’m like an old man in a younger one but as you said… I think we are different and we love each other so I’m sure we will be perfectly fine” she hugged and kissed him.

He decided to ask for a days off to continued his investigations and to move his books and clothes to her apartment. And he was sure that he found everything he needed to know, he led a SWAT Team in a storage unit where they found the former VICAP agent Owen Quinn.

At first he thought the agent was dead but suddenly the man came back to life and they took him to check in the hospital then returned to the BAU.

“Spence… how did you find Quinn?”

“I received some emails with some encrypted information and at the end I figured them out to find him”

“Emails? Since when you… the technophobic… created an email account?”

“JJ I created one for my classes during the few months I was my hours in the field restricted, so you don’t need to worry…” he said walking to the interrogation room.

“Of course I have to… Spence, you hid information about going to New Mexico to buy a medicine for your mother, which led Catherine Adams to attack you” she said stopping him “I’m your best friend and I didn’t even know you have and email. Also I feel like you are hiding more things and I can’t tell what”

“JJ… you know I really appreciate your concern and I’m happy that you are worry but I’m not a kid or your son. I’m a grow man and I can take care of myself. I know you do it because you don’t want me to get hurt but you can’t protect me all the time” he said in a calm voice, he did not say it angry or frustrated. She just nodded and he left to start the interrogation.

It was hard to believe Quinn’s story about the marriage couple and their son keeping him hostage, so the team was trying to keep their minds open but it was hard, especially knowing his paranoia with this serial killer team.

After hours they discovered that the person who sent Spencer the emails was Theo, the son of the crazy couple, which helped them to believe in Quinn’s story. When they finally understood about the cult they led Quinn go.

The team left to Rossi’s house for a drink and maybe even dinner but Spencer and Penelope which stayed a few more time. He wanted to wait with Quinn’s son until his dad was released, and he texted Max about it, and Penelope had a few things to finished before joining the team.

But VICAP agent Mary Meadows went down with Penelope and Quinn and she killed Quinn and kidnapped Penelope.

Then took Spencer hostage with her and took them out of the FBI building.

The team thought it was Quinn’s fault at first but after watching the cameras they realized that Mary was the one who did it. Meanwhile Spencer and Penelope worked together to left breadcrumbs for the team, doing little things to lead them to the cult.

Emily recognized Mary from an old case and the team discovered their plan of killing three hundred people and Spencer was the three hundredth so they decided to leave to save him after saving Penelope.

They did not have troubles finding the Cult, and they made sure to be quiet to infiltrate and save Spencer.

On their way home and after a heartfelt conversation Emily decided to give him a little surprise to she texted Max, explained her briefly what happened and asked her to go to the FBI office. Max did not ask much, she was happy to know he was fine and on his way home so she drove to the FBI.

Emily made some calls to get her in and when they arrived to the airport, the team went to the office to see Garcia, who was crying and hugged her good friend and Comic-Con partner.

Then Emily led him to her office “I brought a surprise for you, I made sure no one see her because I know you don’t want them to know” he shook his head knowing what she did.

“Really? You brought her here?” she nodded and opened the door of her office. There was Max biting her nails waiting. She looked at him, he had some bruises and cuts on his head but he looked as handsome and perfect as usual.

She walked to him and hugged him tightly; he hugged her back and laid his head on her hair. She cried on his chest for a minute and when she calmed down he led her to a couch in the office.

“I-I got worry when you didn’t arrive but I thought you had some other things to do. T-Then Emily texted me to come here because you were kidnapped by a cult…”

“Yeah… I met them after Gidion left the team, their former leader died that day and another man took over the cult. They spent all this time killing around the country and collecting the bone that hold the tongue in place. They had two hundred ninety-nine of them and wanted there three hundred”

“And it would be yours, right?” she rubbed his cheek with tears. He nodded and his eyes were on hers “what happened to the man you found?”

“He died… the woman who kidnapped me and Garcia killed him because he recognized her” she nodded and hugged him again. She was happy to have him back but worry about what could come next “come on… I think you should meet my family” he smiled and stands up “they saved me and now I want them to know someone who saved me in another way” she smiled still with tear.

They walked out the office and there were the rest of the team. JJ looked at him then at her and she smiled, finally realizing why he was different. The rest of the team looked at them and smiled.

“Boy genius had a girlfriend?” asked Penelope watching Max close to him.

“Apparently…” said Matt looking at Luke “you own me 50 bucks” he whispered in his ear.

The Latin man signed “You are better profiler than me man…” he handed it to Matt without the others realizing.

“Guys this is Max. She is my girlfriend and the person who helped me recover after what happened with Cat” she waved at them.

“I heard so many things about you all and I’m glad to finally meet you” said Max smiling.

Each of them introduced themselves and after that Rossi invited them to go to his house for a proper dinner/ breakfast and a toast for finally meeting Spencer’s girlfriend.

Mount Pleasant Women’s Correctional Facility

Cat Adams was in her cell, bored, when one of her puppets walked in “Cat, I have information…”

“About?”

“Spencer Reid…” Cat’s bored face changed “he has a girlfriend”

“How do you know it?”

“There’s someone in the FBI that told a guard here and he told me” Cat smirked and nodded.

“Thank you Claire… I have something fun to do now” her smile grows bigger.

“The memories we make with our family is everything.” – Candace Cameron Bure.

FIN?

OOooOOooOO

I hope you liked this final chapter. Thank you again for reading and sharing your feedback. If you have plots for Maxcer let me know and I will do it.

[kaleliashepherd]

Let my otp(destiel) slow dance...

“Ugh! Let’s call it a night, Cas!” said Dean crashing on a chair and popping open another bottle of beer that night, while Cas kept going through the stuff in the boxes splayed out on the main table of the bunker. “I didn’t realize we’ve managed to gather so much crap since we’re here…” said Dean taking a long sip. “ It’s a nice place to call home” sighed Cas, while looking around. They were alone; the next day they will be celebrating Sam and Eileen’s wedding and the younger brother went to bed a couple of hours ago to make sure to rest enough for the next day.  Dean thought about his little brother and the heartwarming conversation they had earlier, remembering good old times with a beer in hand and he said “But Sam, oh boy, he’s such a nerd he will need two houses to make room for all his books and…”- vaguely gesturing at the angel’s hands he asked “what’s in that box Cas?”. Castiel picked an old mix tape and rising an eyebrow he said “Celine Dion… apparently”. Dean cringed emitting a disgusted sound while chugging the beer.

“There’s plenty of…Celine Dion…” said Cas going through each record. “Oh Come on, Sammy! There has to be something good… Jimmy Hendrix, Ac/Dc, anything!” added Dean placing his beer on the table and getting behind Cas to see what was in the box. “There is one…Elvis…here” said Cas. “Wait! This one’s mine! That thief!” said Dean outraged. Cas turned to find Dean very close; he considered for a moment to say something about it, something on the lines of ‘personal space, remember?’, but then he didn’t because he hadn’t minded at that time, let alone now. Dean smirked at him and gently grabbed Castiels arms to lean in and check the rest of the records. Old vinyl long plays laid in the bottom of the box. Cas didn’t have much interest on the subject but he leaned to see what was there too. “Woh-ho! Now we’re talking!” Dean said extracting his favorite Led Zeppelin’s album. “Yeah! Where’s that record player?” said Dean looking for it among the old stuff of the men of letters. He made a victorious little laugh when he found it and placed it on the table and started to pull out the vinyl. “ What is…Frankie Carle?” asked Castiel, rather puzzled.

“You’ve heard of chick flick movies… That is a chick flick music composer! It’s a classic though” said Dean trying to remember how to use the machine. “One more tomorrow…” read Cas on one side, “it’s romantic” said Cas examining the record. He softly blew off the dust and lightly swept off the rest with his fingertips.

“Hand it over” said Dean, voice deep with a warm intimacy. Cas raised his eyes and saw Dean getting closer. He took the vinyl from the angel hands and put it in the record player, placing the tonearm on the track. The soft music started to play, a piano almost solo, playing low and soft, nostalgic and dreamy.

“Tomorrow is Sam’s wedding…” said Dean, still unable to process the fact, “I’m gonna make sure  you’re able to nail a slow dance. Come here, angel” said him walking  towards a free space in the dimmed light of the bunker. He opened his arms and wiggled his fingers. Cas stopped in front of him waiting for any kind of instruction without thinking much. Dean cleared his throat to brush away his own smile to let Cas know he was trying to be serious. Cas just stared at him focused like it was some kind of test. Dean took Castiel’s hand and placed it on his shoulder, Cas let it fall where he had once left the burn mark. Dean knew that wasn’t the right position, but he didn’t care. Yet, it made him chuckle, but before Cas started to worry he was doing something wrong, Dean straightened his posture and placed his hand on Castiel’s hip sneaking through the trench coat. And with the other hand he took the other man’s hand and raised them to the shoulders level. “A little closer” he whispered. Cas couldn’t help but smile softly and complied contently.

"Now you just..." said Dean slowly starting to swing to the melody, closing his eyes to avoid the intense gaze of Cas.

Dean kept swinging on time with the sound of music and Cas followed him promptly. Dean slowly brushed his temple on Castiels own before leaninh his head on Castiels shoulder.

Cas sighed deeply and melted on Dean’s hold. They swayed slowly with no other thought than being close to each other.  

[luciatraskwrites]

[a scene that takes place between maudine and dione in chapter 1, around 660 words - trying to format in this new way to make things easier for visually impaired readers!]

sample is below the cut!

taglist ( ask or dm me to be + / - ): @adaparkwrites​ / @alicewestwater​ / @aslanwrites​ / @astralis-elysian​ / @austrohungarianwriteblr​ / @blueinkblot​ / @chris-the-dragonslayer​ / @flyingfalconflower12​ / @ollieoxen-freewriting​ / @pe-ersona​ / @rhiannonleewriting​

In approximately one hour, Maudine will forget about being a servant for one night.

She stands before the gilded mirror, running the teeth of a comb through Dione’s dark hair. Dione is a tall young woman, with bright hazel eyes, oval face, and a dimpled chin - so different from Maudine’s own rounder features and eyes the color of seafoam. She’d spent hours upon hours scrubbing away at the house, stacking dishes and books away, cleaning up any scraps that were scattered about on the floor. Now, she has a chance to abandon her dirty, work-worn black dress and apron for a few hours and dance the night away alongside her stepsisters.

“Thank you for doing this for me.”

Though Dione stares at the mirror, she observes Maudine out of the corner of her eye. Her slight little smile makes the dimple on her chin more prominent. Maudine rummages around for the right words to say. It’s not as though she had much of a choice - this is a part of her job, looking after her stepsisters. This is nothing special, only what she’s supposed to be doing and has done for many years. At first she settles on silence, gently pulling stray curls away from Dione’s face. Then:

“It’s no trouble at all,” she says. “You’re going to look absolutely beautiful, Dione - not that you don’t look lovely already.”

“All of that is thanks to you helping me get ready.”

She begins to tie Dione’s hair away from her face, smoothing down stray ringlets and picking out ribbons. “What color would you like for your ribbons?”

“Ivory, please.”

“Of course, it’ll look lovely with the dress you picked out.” She begins to wind the ribbon through Dione’s hair, trying not to pay heed to the callouses and bumps lining her hands that are absent on Dione’s. As she works the ribbon through heavy curls, pulling Dione’s hair into a high-set style she allows herself one selfish thought, and then lets it slip out by accident.

“What color do you suppose I ought to wear to the ball?”

Dione says nothing at first. There you go again, Maudine thinks to herself, asking questions when that’s none of your business. You’ve only got one chance to go to the ball, and that’s only a maybe - Alina said you’d only be able to go if you finished all your chores for the day and helped Dione and Cecily get ready. Don’t get ahead of yourself.

“Something bright.”

Maudine does not look at Dione’s face. She instead focuses on twisting curls through her fingers, setting the comb aside in favor of a flower decoration - this one a pale yellow, set boldly against Dione’s hair. “What do you mean?”

“Well, I remember you’d tell me about the fact that you’re Kriege - it’s where your father came from, right? You’d talk a lot about how you’d visit family there, and how for the celebrations they’d always wear these brightly colored clothes. For the New Year, for example - remember how you’d talk about wishing you could wear one of those lovely dresses with the little flowers sewn all along the hems? I don’t suppose we have any of that here, but I think you ought to wear something bright.”

“The shawls, too. A lot of them were orange or yellow, if I remember correctly.” Maudine can remember those days when she was still very young and her name hadn’t been scratched out of the parchment of her father’s will: She remembers nights spent pressing hands sticky from eating sweet rolls to the windows, watching the festivities that weren’t coating the inside of the room with color. Then her father would motion for her to join the group again so she could eat her twelve grapes at midnight with the rest of them  - for good luck in the New Year, he’d tell her.

Yes, Maudine remembers a good many things.

[idlenight]

Day 3 - Dearest Wish

The camera blinked on, only the synthetic muscle of an exo’s hand was visible as they adjusted the camera. The hand moved out of the way, linking up with its other half on the table. The exo’s optics looked everywhere but at the camera as he sighed.

“My name is Cobalt and this is the first… log?” He winced as he said it. “That sounds stupid.” with a groan he let his head fall into his hands and stayed like that for thirty seconds of the video.

He finally sat up again.

“It’s been one day since you left.” Cobalt looked away, a grimace pulling on his face plates. “I already miss you even if I could be there… even though if I jumped into a ship right now I could probably catch up.”

Leaning his head to the side, supported by his hand, the exo looked around the room. Muffled and outside of view the telltale sound of a ghost’s voice could be heard but the words were hard to make out through the video. 

“Yea, thanks Bandit.” Cobalt replied, glancing back to the camera he sat up.

“I still want to stay and help in the city, be a guardian, have a purpose but-” As he trailed off he closed his optics again, holding his face as if he was pinching the bridge of his nose, something that did nothing for the exo but was an odd habit anyway. “Sometimes I wish I could cry, to get all of this sadness out quick and easy.”

Instead he had to sit there and deal with it.

“You’re never going to see this, but I miss you.” Cobalt said, a small smile on his face, the first in the video. “And for what it’s still worth after what I said before you left… I love you.”

The exo reached out to the camera and the video ended.

The Drifter stared at the last frame for minutes after, blinking away a few tears. When Evelon had given him some of Cobalt’s belongings and files recovered from his dead ghost, he hadn’t expected to find a couple hundred videos behind a password that was embarrassingly easy to guess. 

A couple hundred videos all dedicated to him.

He took a deep breath and continued watching.

The camera was clumsily adjusted again, synthetic tongue slightly poking out as Cobalt concentrated on getting it right. Drifter smiled at the sigh, it looked cute. Satisfied after a few seconds of fiddling the exo sat back. 

“I’ve been out of the city for a while.” Cobalt said, taking a sip out of one of Drifters old mugs with the text ‘I boo what I want.’ with a ghost flipping people off. “Met another guardian, a titan named Alejandra.”

He kept the steaming mug in his hands and stared inside of it for a few seconds. From the angle the video was shot at it was hard to make out what he was drinking, but Drifter could bet it was more sugar than anything else.

“We talked about the people we lost.” He took a shuddering breath. “I guess you technically count as a lost one now.”

Cobalt’s hands visibly clenched around the mug as he frowned. “Doubt you’ll be back before I get myself killed fighting hive or whatever, or that you’ll ever get back at all with how likely you are to get yourself killed out there.” 

Drifter winched at the reality of his dead partner's statement. He had almost died, and when he had come back it was indeed Cobalt who had died at the hands of one of the ‘enemies of the city’. 

In the video the exo took another long swig of his drink. “Nevertheless, I still wish for you to come back to me.”

Cobalt stared at the camera for a solid 20 seconds before sighing and moving to turn it off.

Several videos later Drifter had moved from leaning on the railing to just sitting on the ground as he watched Cobalt moving things around his desk, tidying up. The exo had gotten more comfortable recording with every video he watched.

He finally looked up and smiled. “The hunter from our fireteam, Dione, he’s a good kid.” Cobalt said as he absentmindedly fiddled with a pen. “We worked with another fireteam, Voidlight, on a raid into fallen territory recently and he hit it off with their warlock, Avil.” 

Drifter knew those people, Evelon was still friends with them and had dragged them into Gambit once or twice.

“With how spotty Dione’s memory can be, he managed to remember Avil pretty well so that’s a good sign.” Cobalt said, his smile widening. “It’s cute to see the budding romance, they have the freedom and safety here in the city to actually… date and woo each other without worrying about their final deaths every other day.”

Cobalt looked somewhat lost in thought as he was talking and accidentally shot the pen across his desk. He cursed and moved partially out of frame as he dove after it. Putting it back in its place when he had located it again.

“Cobalt, Siph and the others are here for that game night, you coming?” A person moved into frame, their face not visible just his waist as he stood next to him. “You recording again?”

Cobalt smiled at his teammate. “Yea, be right there Orion.” The other exo patted his shoulder in reply and walked away again.

“This is a short one then.” Cobalt grinned in the camera and turned it off.

It had been a few hours since he started up the first video, the Drifter had stayed up all night and it must’ve been nearing morning again when he heard guardians moving around the annex again. He had moved to a different spot, not wanting a stray guardian looking for gambit bounties finding him tearing up. 

He was nearing the end of the videos.

“Bandit you’re recording?” Cobalt asked, the ghost turned around and then he was in frame, smiling. 

“Uhm, I’m ready I guess.” Came a familiar voice from out of frame.

“I present to you, our newest fireteam member.” Cobalt pulled the awoken hunter into view and hugged her close to his side. “Evelon Naleen, kinderguardian and hunter extraordinaire.” 

Evelon gave the camera, Bandit, a small wave, as her face and body language gave away how uncomfortable she was. Drifter had never seen her with hair that long but that was definitely the godslayer he had come to call his partner in crime. Although she definitely didn’t look like much of a godslayer right now.

Orion moved into the frame as well, patting the taller guardians head. Both of the exo’s being dwarfed by the beanpole of a hunter. 

“We are very happy to have her on the team and look forward to our many adventures.”

Evelon gave a more genuine smile at Cobalt’s words.

“Bandit, end recording.”

The videos leading up to the last one were the happiest Drifter had seen Cobalt in the hundreds he had watched by now. He was glad his love had found friends he could trust, that would have his back.

As he opened the last video Drifter held his breath, he wasn’t sure what this was going to end up being.

Cobalt came into view, the scenery behind him showed forest and ruins of a church and other buildings. He was likely to be somewhere around the EDZ, which is where Evelon said they had found his dead ghost. This was not long before he died but Cobalt in the video didn’t know what was going to happen and smiled.

“I’m feeling good about today, Eli.” Cobalt had always liked that name best, probably because he had picked it. Drifter smiled ruefully at the irony as he watched his lovers last moments, hours or perhaps days.

“Nev and me have been tracking her old house in hopes of establishing some contact.” Off screen said fallen chittered in Eliksni, Cobalt turned his head and answered back in the same language, the wonders of an exo voicebox,  Nev let out what must be a laugh at the reply.

Cobalt smiled as he turned back to the camera. “Nevrik’s kell is first and foremost a technocrat, so we hope to build a good relationship by giving them some new tech from the city they could use.”

The Drifter could feel his stomach sink, he knew how this was going to end.

“This could be the first step towards peace with the Eliksni.” He smiled a bit sadly. “Although you might call me hopelessly optimistic.”

Cobalt stopped walking and leaned against a tree, the fallen he was traveling with nodded at him as she walked past the frame towards the distance, firewood under her arm. 

“I guess Evelon rubbed off on me.” Drifter could definitely relate to that, the kid had a way of worming into your heart even though he met the hunter at a way darker time in her life.

After a few beats of silence Cobalt looked directly into the camera. “I miss you everyday still, it’s been years and you haven’t come back yet..” His voice box stuttered as he got choked up, closing his eyes for a few seconds to get his bearings. “But I saw a falling meteorite a few days ago, wished on it like the kids in the city told me to, so maybe I’ll see you around in a few days, or a few years.” Cobalt’s smile was sad. 

“See you around, Eli.”

The video ended.

And all that would be left of Cobalt was a stray leg that Nevriks old kell had ripped off and apparently hadn’t needed for whatever fucked up project he was going to repurpose him for. His ghost crushed into a pile of scrap just outside the encampment.

Drifter pressed the palms of his hands into his eyes and willed himself not to cry.

[uzumaki-rebellion]

“Black Boys Bloom Thorns First: Vol. 2 Chp. 26″

Summary: N’Jobu and Califia try to reconcile. their famly as Erik suffers in silence...

"I do it cause he real with me I do cause he still with me I do cause I should I do cause your good for me, good for me I do it cause I trust (ya) I do it cause I must And I'm doin it for us I do it cause I'm grateful... willing and able I do it for you cause you do it for me…"

Algebra Blessett—"U Do It For Me"

N'Jobu peeked down from his window to watch Erik play ball on the court near his apartment. A handful of boys and girls his age ran around the court shouting and laughing. Erik made a mad dash and took it to the hoop, his lay-up smooth.

Two weeks.

For two weeks his son had been living with him on that side of town away from his mother. Erik spoke to Califia every night before bed on face chat, and N'Jobu took him to school like normal and picked him up afterward. He spent the last two Sundays with his grandfather and great-grandmother and N'Jobu turned a blind eye when Califia joined them to have dinner before he picked his boy back up after she had left.

"Could I have another cup?"

"Huh?"

N'Jobu turned away from the window.

His neighbor Sheila held out her coffee mug to him.

"Another espresso?" he asked.

"Yes, please."

Sheila's smile was warm and it made N'Jobu feel very hospitable. Her son had been a good friend for Erik while he stayed at the apartment, and Sheila herself had helped N'Jobu out a few times by watching Erik when he needed to make runs at night to meet with the twins or James.

N'Jobu fired up his new Keurig and made himself a cappuccino first. He found himself making it the way Califia liked it and he shook his head as Sheila's fresh espresso poured into her mug.

"Here you go," he said sitting adjacent to her on his side chair.

"The boys are fine?"

"Yeah, they'll play ball all night if we let them," he said sipping his drink.

Sheila glanced at her cell phone and her whole demeanor changed.

"What?" N'Jobu asked changing the channel on his new wall screen.

"My son's father. He's not going to be able to see him this weekend…typical…"

"I thought you two were close to reconciling normal visits."

"Not even. There are too many things he won't change about himself, and I can't force him to stop being so rigid with Dion. How are you and Erik's Mom? He's staying here a lot now."

Sheila was under the impression that N'Jobu was in a long-term separation. A lot of the apartment dwellers N'Jobu knew for a few years on his floor moved out once the rents were raised, so he was able to re-invent himself as a divorcee.

"Califia and I are…making due I guess. It's better than it was."

There was some truth to that. Some.

N'Jobu was still lowkey angry with her. He didn't know how much until he was on the plane with Erik heading back to Oakland. He tried pumping Erik for details about what went on between Califia and Cedric, but his son could only tell him about how he felt being around the man. N'Jobu had begun to suspect over the years that Erik might be a true empath…an enhanced human. Perhaps his genes mixed with Califia's had created a child that would need more protection the older he became. The boy just picked up facts about people just by watching and being near them with such frightening accuracy that he was surprised they hadn't made the connection much sooner. It was beyond being a sensitive person.

His son knew true human intention by just being near people.

N'Jobu didn't know if Erik himself was aware of what he could do, but he didn't want to pursue the matter unless his son began to have issues with it. Thus far, it only came up when he was stressed about them.

Sheila stood and went to his window pushing back the hanging blinders.

N'Jobu finished his drink and went to the kitchen to put his cup away. Sheila walked in after him and placed her cup in his sink.

"Think the boys could go for pizza tonight?" she asked.

"Are you kidding? Pizza sauce pumps through their veins instead of blood."

Sheila touched his arm.

"I'll order in and keep Erik with me for a few hours. You look like you could use a break and some rest. Wrestling is on tonight so the kids will be excited."

"Erik's at your house all the time—"

"Not a problem. We enjoy his company."

Sheila's eyes lingered on his.

"Are you okay, Joseph?"

"Yeah."

"Send Erik over when they come up, pizza should be here within the hour."

He walked her to the door and watched her saunter to her unit. The scent of her perfume lingered in his apartment. Such a feminine odor. He missed that. He missed the sweet aromas back at the townhouse when Califia stepped out of a shower after washing her hair or taking a long relaxing soak in the tub. She liked to mix aromatic oils and burn them throughout their home. Those smells opened him up. Made him feel warm and loved. He missed the touch of her hand on him. He had difficulty getting past the anger though. The hurt feelings. It was all ego. The thought that she had the audacity to keep his son away from him. His blood. His baby boy. The third heir to the throne of Wakanda. He could barely speak to her when she arrived back in the city begging him to come home with Erik. Even Erik had a hard time articulating the discomfort he felt with her, the sense of anxiety he had for telling on her. He was worried sick that she would hate him for snitching on her. Too many complex emotions went through him and N'Jobu thought it best that his son should stay with him until the boy was ready to be with her again. N'Jobu still needed to get past his own shit before he could confront Califia again. He wanted to put Erik's well-being first.

He stopped getting the desperate calls and texts from Califia once she knew for sure Erik was safely back in Oakland. The weekend visits helped, and Nana Jean along with Dante kept the connections tight.

His woman had hurt him to his core and his pride made him punish her by taking Erik away from Oak Bluffs without her.

In a week, he would see her and her family for Neveah's birthday at the roller rink they went to for years with family and friends. Skating was something the Stevens Clan did for fun and family celebrations. Erik was looking forward to being with his cousins, Aunts, and Uncles. N'Jobu was looking forward to letting go of the discomfort in his heart. Despite his residual anger, he wanted to see Califia, and it was best to see her in the open with family around. He had no idea how he would act around her, but he was ready to try working his way back to her. And telling her all of his plans. Plans that had been in motion since he returned back to her all those years ago.

###

Califia cartwheeled around her father as he eased into a relaxed swaying motion with his arms and legs. Working out with him every evening helped keep her clear and focused on healing her mind and spirit.

It had been a horrible time for her being back home. The arguments over the phone with N'Jobu. The misgivings Erik seemed to have about her by keeping him away from his father. The distrust she felt she had created in him toward her. She knew she had not been mentally well during that time. Dr. Davis suggested she see a new therapist that specialized in EMDR techniques and also massage touch therapy. It helped her out a lot and she also began to use meds for her anxiety, something she avoided for years.

Running away from the shock of N'Jobu's country, running away from the still lingering PTSD of Lia's death…Califia needed more help than she realized. She was scared. Taking meds and having to seek out different treatments made her concerned that N'Jobu and Erik would view her as unfit to be with them any time soon. She didn't want to be seen by anyone in her family as an incompetent parent or wife.

Physically, her body felt strong and powerful, and she maneuvered around her father easily, working up a heavy sweat once she went all out flipping around the studio and pushing her limbs to work harder and faster. Staying out of the empty townhouse all day allowed her not to dwell on who wasn't there with her. She felt lost and unable to find her way back to her family. She felt ashamed.

The bell over the studio door jangled and Califia was surprised to see Erik walk in alone.

He stood by the entranceway wearing his favorite pair of jeans and a yellow sweatshirt with his school backpack slung around his shoulders. It was one in the afternoon. His hands fidgeted with the straps on his pack, and he chewed on his bottom lip.

Califia was cautious.

"Hey, baby…why aren't you in school?"

She stayed standing by her father, her eyes holding Erik's cautious gaze.

"Don't be mad. I ditched."

"Why?"

"I wanted to see you."

Califia's stomach unclenched. She took a step forward. Ditched school. That meant N'Jobu didn't know he was there.

She felt nervous. Something she had never felt like before with her son. Her confidence was shot, but she held out her hands, and Erik dropped his backpack and ran to her. When his arms wrapped around her waist, she welcomed a sense of relief.

"Is everything okay? Is your father okay?"

"Baba's fine. I just miss you, Mom."

Califia pressed her chin on top of his head and rocked him in her arms.

"I missed you too."

Erik clung to her and held his head back to look up at her.

"Don't tell Baba I ditched. I won't do it again. I promise."

"You could've called me. I don't want you skipping classes. You have tests coming up, right?"

Califia glanced over at her father and he stood close to them, concern so clear in his eyes.

"I want us to come home," he said.

"Did something happen?"

He pressed his face back into her chest and shook his head vigorously, but she knew when he evaded eye contact, he was hiding something. She didn't push him. She was just so happy to see him.

Rubbing his back, she walked him over to the office alcove in the back of the studio. Dante followed them carrying a couple of drums to lock up in a storage closet.

"You eat lunch?" she asked.

He nodded and she sat at the desk chair staring at his face.

"You look good, baby. How is your Dad?"

"He's good."

Those eyes evading hers again. Califia tamped down the need to grab her cell and call N'Jobu right that second. Erik was coming to her out of a need that he wasn't ready to reveal to her yet. No sense pushing him until he was ready to talk.

"Want to work out a little bit?" Dante said playfully rubbing Erik's braids. They were freshly cornrowed, but not by her hand. Who did his hair?

Erik grinned at his grandfather and it made Califia feel good when he kicked off his sneakers and socks. Pulling off his sweatshirt, he followed Dante out into the middle of the studio. Her father reached to turn on the sound system letting the soothing sound of a lone berimbau fill the room.

Califia reached into her purse and pulled out her meds. Unscrewing the cap on her half-empty water bottle, she tapped her pills into her hand. Erik's eyes noticed her taking her meds and slipping the bottles back into her purse. He looked away and focused on Dante who dropped low to the ground to engage his grandson.

She watched them play, Erik's capoeira moves smooth against his Grandpop. Her cell vibrated.

N'Jobu.

She took her phone into the studio restroom.

"Yeah," she answered.

"Erik is with you?"

She didn't bother to ask how he knew.

"Yeah, he just walked in. He's playing with my father. He said he wanted to see me."

Silence.

Califia took a deep breath.

"He asked me not to tell you he was here. I can drop him off at your place when I take my father home later. I have two classes today—"

"He can stay with you."

"Is something wrong, N'Jobu? He seems distant and I feel like he wants to tell me something but he's scared to."

"I don't know what it could be. He hasn't said anything to me and things have been fine here."

"Are you sure? He just seemed unlike himself—"

"I will talk to him when you bring him back."

"He wouldn't ditch unless something was going on—"

"I'll talk to him, Califia."

N'Jobu's voice sounded calm. The slight tinge of concern when he asked about Erik, in the beginning, was gone.

"I'll feed him dinner before I bring him back, so it'll be about nine before we—"

"Don't worry about the time. Just call or text me when you are on your way, okay?"

"Okay. If he wants to leave earlier, I'll bring him sooner—"

"Califia…it's fine. I want him to see you. He wants to go back to you and I want him to. I just think he doesn't know how to tell me because he doesn't want to hurt my feelings."

Califia smiled.

"We should talk to him together," she suggested.

"I have a lot to talk to you about."

"This weekend then?"

"Okay. After Nevaeh's skate party?"

"Sure…yeah. That'll work."

She heard a noise in his background. A voice. Maybe his tv.

"Let me know when you are on your way."

He hung up.

Califia stood in the bathroom wondering so many things.

N'Jobu sounded pleasant. Open.

Erik sounded nervous. Closed off.

What was going on over there?

She walked back out into the studio as the space filled up with students for a class session.

Erik's eyes found hers and she caught a smile on his face as his grandfather tapped his forehead with his hands playfully.

She had her son with her. That's all that mattered for now.

###

Rolita and Califia's cousin Michelle linked arms as they rolled around on beat to the DJ mixing up the skating music. An old bop laid over a current track had everyone moving around the rink head bobbin'.

Califia let go of her family and shook her hips, curving her designer wheels with fancy footwork. Her father rocked ahead of her in his shades, a white handkerchief gripped in his fingers. He jumped out from a group of slow walkers on the floor doing a skate line dance just to join her around the rink.

"Do it babygirl!" Dante called out, smooth with his own stylish foot moves.

Aunties, old head uncles, and cousins rolled around and the birthday girl herself, Califia's Goddaughter Nevaeh grooved in front of her wearing a princess crown on her head.

"Get it Nevaeh!" Califia shouted, and Nevaeh flipped around to skate backward, her little narrow hips wiggling before she dropped down low on the ground to show off.

"Aye!" Junie said sweeping the girl up with his hands and twirling her around.

The Stevens family and extended family knew how to work a rink.

Califia pushed her cell phone deeper into the back pocket of her booty shorts. She reached down as she skated and adjusted the knee brace on her right leg. She had overexerted that leg during a class and needed support to be on the safe side.

Her Uncle Bernard snapped pictures as she flew past a divider, and she skated back around to pose. She pulled the black power pick from her 'fro and fuffed out her hair with one leg in the air. Her father grabbed her hips and snuck in some photo bomb shots with her. Another slow walk jam came on and Califia joined her father in the middle of the floor to line step.

"There he is!" Dante yelled.

Erik and Walter rolled over to them with a boy Califia didn't know well. Dion.

The wheels on Erik's custom skates were glowing green and red and his braids were gone replaced with a fluffy 'fro that rivaled her own. Her son jumped in front of her and showed off for all the girls and women already in step.

"Hey, get it! Get it! Get it!" Califia called out and her child flexed to put all the other skaters to shame. The boy was bad for real. Walter was just as good keeping up with Erik as the other boy tried to learn the steps with him.

Califia glanced over to the divider looking for N'Jobu. He had texted her to let her know they were caught in a little traffic picking up Walter.

She saw him watching them and she felt butterflies in her stomach seeing him again. His eyes were on her too and then he turned his head to talk to a woman who was next to him. He whispered something in her ear and she waved at the boy Dion. Rolita skated over to N'Jobu with Navaeh behind the divider giving him a hug. N'Jobu picked up Navaeh and kissed her cheek, introducing the woman with him to Rolita.

The slow walking broke up when the DJ dropped a banger and Erik grabbed her hand and pulled her out into the flow of skaters circling the rink. Rolita joined them along with Junie and soon it was a cadre of family and friends doing practiced steps all together. Erik kept popping his black jersey with pride, the words "Sk8t Town Ballers" on it. Their whole family wore the same jerseys.

Califia ignored N'Jobu and focused on having fun with her son as he lead the pack.

"Go. Mom!" he called out, and Califia showed out a bit. She turned backward twisting her legs with fancy footwork as Erik grabbed her back pocket to join her. He kept up with her and she reached back to hold his hands as he supported her weight. Walter zoomed around and Califia reached out and grabbed his long swinging ponytail.

"Do the rock steady, y'all," Califia yelled.

The boys maneuvered beside her and they all sidestepped together inline skating, linking arms as they spun around backward keeping the beat to the music. Dion rolled in front of them and Califia released them to their fun. Walter and Erik held on to Dion as they guided him around and Califia skated near them, enjoying her son having fun with his friends. His cousins joined in and all Califia heard were laughs, jokes, and giggles among the children. Her father joined her and Califia skated with Dante for a long time until he set his sights on Junie and some other relatives.

Erik rejoined her and they held arms and rolled around for two more songs until they broke off together and rolled over to N'Jobu.

"Hey," she said.

She felt shy in front of him. His eyes took in her hair and her face and there was a warmth there and she felt her heart swelling…until he introduced the woman next to him breaking the spell of her taking in his handsome face.

"This is Sheila, Dion's Mom. She rode over with us."

"Hi! It's been years since I've been to a roller rink. It's so much different now. Intense!"

Sheila was a little too perky for Califia's tastes.

"Grab some wheels," Califia suggested.

"No. I'll stay over here safe with Joseph."

Califia glanced at N'Jobu's face.

Erik stood there looking uncomfortable. Not even making eye contact with Sheila. He seemed anxious to get away from her.

"Do you take Dion skating often?"

"Not enough. I share custody with his father, so we don't get to have regular sessions like Erik."

Walter and Dion skated over tugging on Erik's jersey. Navaeh rolled around and bumped her hip into Erik's to get his attention. The music was banging and Califia rolled back to partake, but Erik nudged her back toward the divider. She looked at his face, but his eyes were on his father.

"Restroom?" Sheila asked.

Califia pointed to her left.

"In the back," she told the woman.

Sheila slunk away through the throngs of skaters watching others on the floor.

"You look good out there," N'Jobu said. His eyes took in her knee brace.

"What happened?"

"Nothing serious. Just sore. Getting older and can't take those hits as easily as I used to."

"Be careful."

"I am."

"You want a soda, JaJa?" he asked.

"Yeah."

"Califia?"

"I'm good, get him one."

Erik stepped up off of the floor and followed his Dad. Califia watched N'Jobu throw his arm around his son's shoulder.

"How's it going?"

Rolita bumped her shoulder into Califia's breaking her from the spell of her family.

"Okay. Just said hello."

"What's up with Sheila?"

Califia stared at Rolita.

"You know what I'm asking-"

"I don't know. My first time seeing this woman. She's just Dion's Mom."

"How's he acting?"

"N'Jobu? We just said a few words, now he's getting Erik a soda—"

"Erik doesn't like her."

"I can tell. I think this is what he's worried about."

Califia exhaled with a loud gust of air.

"Why the fuck did he bring this woman?"

"Look alive…"

Rolita skated away from her as Sheila returned. Her eyes darted around for N'Jobu but only found Califia waiting in the same exact spot. Califia glared at her.

"My son really likes hanging out with Erik," Sheila said.

Califia nodded and let her hands rest on the divider wall.

The DJ stopped the music to make a birthday announcement for Nevaeh and the entire rink sang Happy Birthday to her as she skated in front of the DJ booth. When the crowd clapped, Califia turned back and Sheila was gone.

###

N'Jobu retrieved a carton of corndogs and sodas at the pick-up line of the concession stand. Erik grabbed paper napkins and some straws.

Sheila walked up to him and pressed her hand against his back.

"Let me help," she said trying to fix the lids on the sodas.

N'Jobu turned and saw Erik glaring at him, his eyes narrow, his lips tight. The boy then looked at Sheila and backed away from them on his skates.

"JaJa," N'Jobu said.

His son rolled away from them and N'Jobu walked over to the table that was reserved for Nevaeh's party. He placed the food and drinks on an open space near the big birthday cake on display.

"I'll get Walter and Dion," Sheila said.

"Okay. I'll find Erik."

"Is he okay?"

"I don't know."

N'Jobu moved through people and his eyes sought out his boy. He caught sight of him with Califia near another entrance to the floor.

"What's up?" N'Jobu asked when he caught the agitated body language from both of them. Califia's eyes looked hot.

"Go on, go skate," Califia said.

"Son—"

N'Jobu tried to touch Erik's shoulder but the boy shook his hand away.

"Why are you upset? Talk to me…Erik!"

N'Jobu pulled his son to him with a firm hand.

"She touched you."

Erik's words spit out like venom.

Califia stared at N'Jobu.

"I saw her touch you…it isn't the first time either."

"Hold on now. She touched me? How? When?"

"Just now, she had her hand on your back. She's trying to take Mom's place and you're letting her. I don't want her around!"

"That's Dion's Mom. He's your friend—"

"I don't want to be his friend anymore if she's around."

"You are full of confusion right now—"

"She doesn't want you to get back with Mom. I heard her say that today. She was talking to her friend and I heard her—"

"JaJa, let me talk to your Dad alone. Go skate with Navaeh."

She nudged him to go and he was reluctant.

"Let us talk. Grown folks time, now."

Erik nodded and skated away from them.

"Let's go outside," Califia said.

He followed her out of the rink and into the parking lot. She took off her skates and leaned against her car.

"Are you seeing, Sheila?"

"We hang out sometimes because of the boys and she watches him sometimes when I do errands."

"Fixing his hair too?"

"Once. I'm not seeing her."

"But you know Erik…how he is. And he wouldn't lie about something he overheard. This woman is making plans, and Erik knows it. You shouldn't have brought her. People are already assuming—"

"She just wanted to hang out with her son doing something fun. His Dad doesn't take an interest, and he's Erik's friend, and it's not a big deal to me—"

"But Erik knows differently. And I'm sure you picked up on this chick's intentions."

"I didn't come to argue or start trouble, Califia. I was just being a good neighbor and trying to help out. I came to see you and our son together. We carpooled over here. There was no sense taking two cars going to the same place-"

"You still shouldn't have brought her. Erik's really upset. He said she touched you at the concession stand."

"She put her hand on my back and then she helped fix some lids on the sodas. There wasn't anything inappropriate. Can we just go in and fix this?"

"He said she touches you all the time."

"She touches everyone like that."

"N'Jobu. The woman said she doesn't want you back with me. Are you hearing that? Our child said that."

"What do you want me to do? Take her home right now?"

"She can Uber her way out…I swear this is just like being in school again—"

"You're blaming me for this?"

"Did you know Erik doesn't like her?"

"No."

"Are the boys getting along?"

"Yeah. Dion likes me, and we all get along great. We do fun stuff together."

Califia shook her head.

"We better go back in there and have a united front or else my family will go off."

She picked up her skates and headed toward the entrance around the front. N'Jobu grabbed her hand.

"Califia. I promise you. I didn't intend to bring friction. I was trying to be nice."

She stared at his fingers clasped with her own. Things were so tenuous. He pulled her in close, his body craving hers next to his. It had been so long. She closed her eyes and he felt her give a small sigh when he nuzzled her cheek.

"I'm here for you and Erik."

"Then clear it up with her and make her leave."

"Can't we just enjoy the party and ignore her?"

"You need to make yourself clear with our son and cut this woman off."

"Did you do that with Cedric?"

Stupid. There was no reason to bring that man up. But Erik was able to pick up on that man's intent too. It's why he reached out to N'Jobu to find them. It's why he went to Califia inside the rink.

"If you are saying this is the same situation, it probably is. And yes, I spoke to Erik about that. No more contact. Done."

N'Jobu pressed his lips onto her mouth. She was hesitant with him, her body coiled up tight against his chest. He took both of his hands and cradled her face. She dropped her skates and wrapped her arms around his neck.

"Bay-bee…"

"I'm here…"

"I'm sorry."

"I'm sorry too."

"We can do better. Together."

"I know."

He felt himself melt in her arms.

###

He walked back into the roller rink holding Califia's hand, feeling a security he hadn't felt for a long time. He tried to think of a tactful way to handle Sheila when they both saw a scuffle near the birthday party table and people jumping back from the ruckus with their skates.

Dante rolled into the middle of the melee and they both saw him lift up Erik off of Dion, arms swinging.

"Erik!" N'Jobu shouted, dropping Califia's hand and running up to snatch his son up.

Wrenching his boy from his grandfather's arms, N'Jobu carried Erik far away from the group. Sheila ran up to Dion and coddled him while Califia picked up the knocked over corn dogs and soda. Thankfully the birthday cake was left unharmed.

"Calm down! Calm down!"

N'Jobu set the boy down.

"What happened?"

Erik's chest was still puffing out, his eyes darting back and forth. Fists still clenched and ready to rock Dion again, N'Jobu placed his hand on his son's chest.

"Breath. Talk to me, Son."

"I hate him!"

"Why?"

Walter skated over to them, his face still full of shock from the violence.

Erik wouldn't speak.

"Walter, what happened?"

"He just went off on him—"

"But why? Tell me exactly what happened."

"We were eating the corndogs and Dion just said they could do this a lot more if they became brothers and Erik just went off."

Erik's lips were still poked out.

Sheila walked near them holding a wad of napkins up to Dion's nose. The boy was crying.

"Why did you do this?" Sheila lamented.

"I already got a mom, hoe—"

"N'Jadaka!"

Erik's eyes grew wide and his lips untwisted when he heard his Wakandan name.

"Apologize."

Erik's eyes watered and he refused.

"Sheila—"

"I'm going to take Dion, home."

She stomped out dragging her son with his bloody nose behind her.

"You could've handled this another way, JaJa."

"You don't even care," Erik said.

"I do care. Listen to me. Dion is your friend. His mother has some misplaced and misguided feelings, and it might be my fault for being too nice, and maybe allowing her too much time with us. That was no disrespect to your Mom. I love your Mom and we are working to get back together—"

"For real, Baba?"

His eyes were hopeful.

"Yes, Son. But you were wrong for attacking Dion. He meant you no harm. He was probably excited to have you in his life more—"

"But his Mom was wrong for saying that stuff. How can she be nice all in my face, but she wants to take you away from my mother? I don't want her in my life. I don't want her in your life. She's aggy and I hate her."

"You don't hate her."

Erik wiped a tear from his eye.

"I do hate her. She wants to hurt, Mom. I won't let her. I'll beat Dion up again if she comes back."

"No, you won't."

"I will…"

Erik's eyes challenged N'Jobu.

"Are you willfully disobeying me?"

Erik's lips grew tight again and he evaded eye contact once more.

"Erik, man. Chill," Walter whispered.

Califia walked up to them. N'Jobu glanced over at her.

"This has become a shitshow," N'Jobu whispered noticing people still watching them.

"Did Sheila leave?"

"Yeah."

"Rolita is about to cut the cake. Let's just get back to the party and let things calm down—"

"He needs to apologize to them—"

"Later, N'Jobu. Right now, let's focus on our son. Eat some cake, celebrate Navaeh's day, calm down…work with me here."

Walter patted Erik's shoulder and persuaded his friend to follow him back over to the rest of the family.

"I can drop Walter off later, and we can go home and talk this all out. Let him calm down."

"We have to get this right. He needs us."

"I know."

Califia stroked his arm

Home.

Together.

At last.

Chapter 27 Here

###

Tag List:

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[kmomof4]

Operation Secret Santa

And that is not just the title to the fic! Hello @teeandsnowflakes, I was your CS Secret Santa this year! It’s been so much fun chatting with you this month! I hope you’re enjoying your Christmas break and that you like this little fic I’ve written for you! I had planned a series of scenes showcasing CS getting ready for the holidays, but then presents showed up and the fic went in an entirely new direction. I still tried to incorporate some of your favorite Christmas things though and I hope you enjoy it as much as I enjoyed writing it for you! I also hope you have a wonderful Christmas! Thank you to @cssecretsanta2k19 for organizing this fun event and to @profdanglaisstuff for beta services! 

And now for your gift Tee! Merry Christmas!!! 

Under the cut unless Tumblr ate it.

ao3 link

Operation Secret Santa “Just a little more to the right, Killian,” Emma instructed, waving her hands in front of her as if her husband, who was currently hidden behind the newly cut Christmas tree, could see her.

Killian spit out the pine needles that he’d gotten a mouthful of as he tilted the tree to the right. He was so surrounded by the spicy scent of pine and scratchy branches that he could barely tell which way was up, much less whether it was straight or not.

“No, no, no Killian, the other right… my right,” she admonished, when the tree hovered precariously near the point of no return in its potential, imminent journey to the floor.

Killian huffed. “Well, how am I supposed to know that darling?” he groused affectionately as he straightened the tree up in the stand. “Ok lad, crawl under there and screw the trunk in place,” he said to Henry who was trying desperately, but unsuccessfully, to smother his laughter at his mother, who looked to him to be trying to take flight, and his step-father who he couldn’t even see properly behind the evergreen.

Henry crawled underneath the tree and proceeded to twist the screws into the trunk. Crawling back out, he was greeted with bright, happy smiles from his parents that he immediately returned. He turned around with a flourish of his arm. “Behold, the first annual Swan-Jones Christmas tree! Now for lights and ornaments!” He dashed off toward the basement to collect the boxes of decorations that had come with them from New York and that he and Emma had collected after the Final Battle in anticipation of their first Christmas as a fully intact family.

“Need some help, lad,” Killian called down when the teenager didn’t immediately reappear.

“Uh, yeah,” Henry called back, a note of, something, in his voice. “There’s more down here than I remember.”

With a cheeky grin at his wife, Killian sauntered over to the basement and disappeared down the stairs.

When Killian also didn’t reappear, Emma started down the stairs. “What’s taking you guys so lo- ohhh!” she exclaimed. For in front of her eyes and filling the basement were boxes upon boxes of not just Christmas decorations, but presents. Lots and lots of presents. Wrapped up in brightly colored paper, topped with sparkly bows and tags with the names Emma, Henry, and Killian.

Emma stared, slack jawed at the sight. There were enough presents here to make up for all the lonely years growing up when she was lucky if she got one present. And as an adult as well, when the only presents she ever got was if she bought them herself. Killian moved forward from the foot of the stairs to the first gift with his name on it. He ripped the paper and deftly opened the box with his hook. Looking inside, his eyes got as big as, well, a child’s at Christmas. His mouth opened and shut several times, before she finally asked, “What is it?”

He swallowed heavily before bringing it over to them. Peering down into the box, they found a soft, black teddy bear. A bear that was missing an eye, but otherwise was completely whole. Tears were gathering in his eyes as he explained, “He was mine… be…” he rubbed his hand over his face before continuing, “before Flint threw him overboard. Said only babies had those. I remember the day he lost the eye. I just couldn’t leave the loose thread alone and it came off in my hand. I cried for hours thinking I’d ruined him.” Emma gathered him in her arms as a barking sob escaped him. “I never thought I’d see him again,” he cried, his words muffled into her shoulder. “Where did this come from?” He raised his head from her shoulder and turned his inquiring eyes back to the piles of boxes.

Emma shook her head slowly. “I have no idea, Killian,” she said in awe, slowly making her way over to a gift with her name on it. After opening her own, she could feel her own tears gathering. She could feel her husband and son come up behind her on either side before she turned to them. “It’s a wooden music box. I remember seeing it in a catalog when I was about 10. It had Disney characters carved into the sides and played “When You Wish Upon a Star.” I remember thinking that surely wishing on a star and having that music box would mean that my parents would find me and take me home.” Now it was her turn to be enveloped in two pairs of strong arms and to feel the tears escape.

“And now you have, Swan,” Killian murmured into her hair before placing a gentle kiss there. “Your turn lad,” he nodded, encouragingly.

Henry untangled himself from their embrace and slowly walked to the pile of presents. Picking up a large gaily decorated box, he opened it. Inside he found The Chronicles of Narnia. The entire series. In hardback. He held up The Magician’s Nephew to his parents, stunned. “This was at the top of my Christmas list when I was eight. My other mom never really listened to what I wanted for Christmas or birthdays before I brought you home, Mom. I think she gave me a remote control car for Christmas that year. Along with an art set and some other books that I couldn’t care less about. How can this be?” he asked, incredulously. “Could Santa be real too?”

“Given the denizens of our fair hamlet, I’d have to admit to a sneaking suspicion that he is,” Killian speculated.

“But who?” Emma interjected. “Who could it be?” She turned her emerald gaze upon Killian first, then Henry.

A smirk broke Henry’s face and his eyes twinkled. “Sounds like Operation Secret Santa to me!”

Killian’s anticipatory grin could have lit up the Christmas tree all by itself. “A fine name for the operation, my boy!” He turned his eyes upon Emma. “Are you in, Swan?” he asked.

“Are you kidding?” she barked, “I’m the OG Operation cohort! Of course, I’m in!”

“All right!” Henry gave an enthusiastic fist pump. “Let’s get the rest of these gifts upstairs and the tree decorated, then Operation Secret Santa can commence!”

“Let’s go,” Emma agreed. Picking up as many boxes as they could hold, they moved back to the main floor of the house.

~*~*~

All of Storybrooke had gathered at Granny’s on Christmas Eve for a blowout Christmas party that rivaled any yuletide ball held in the Enchanted Forest. This was the first time since the original curse broke that they’d been able to celebrate Christmas, what with villians running amok and general magical mayhem. Granny’s was decorated with every tacky Christmas decoration you could possibly think of, from the tree in the corner covered with brightly colored lights, balls, and tinsel, tinseled garlands strung across the windows to the kitchen, balls of holly and mistletoe holding up the garlands and in every doorway, fake snow on the counters and a fairytale village in the front window. With the jukebox playing Celine Dion’s recording of  O Holy Night, Emma looked around at all her friends and family talking, dancing, and eating their way through Granny’s bountiful Christmas buffet. Catching Henry’s eye, she joined him at the jukebox.

“Well?” she asked, “What do you think? Have you gathered any clues on who Santa could be?”

“None,” he answered. “But, everyone has had the same thing that happened to us, happen to them.”

“Really,” Emma exclaimed.

“Yeah,” he began, “Ashley, Shawn, and even Alexandra got a pile of presents. Ariel and Eric, Grandma and Grandpa, Mom, Zelena, and Robin, Archie, Pongo, even the fairies! No one’s been left out.”

“Hmmmm…”

“But, from what I can tell, everyone’s gotten presents based on the years of the curse, or…” he trailed away with a puzzled look on his brow, “their years as a hero. For instance, Mom only had six presents, the years since the curse broke, and Zelena had even less, but Robin had two, since she’s two. You had thirty-four, the years of the curse plus the years since, Killian had thirty-seven, as near as I can figure, his years growing up until Milah died and he became a villain plus the years since you all saved me in Neverland.”

“Interesting,” she mused. “It’s like he was saving them up for when we could all relax and enjoy the holiday.”

“Yeah, exactly,” Henry agreed.

“But that doesn’t get us any closer to who it might be.”

Killian joined them then with a grin that nearly split his face. “I have succeeded!” he exclaimed.

“Succeeded? You know who Santa is?” Emma demanded.

“What?” he asked, startled, “No! I sweet talked Granny into giving me her secret gingerbread cookie recipe.” He slipped his arm around her waist and gave her a cheeky smirk and wink. “Since I know your fondness for that particular seasonal delight.” He leaned in and whispered, “She doesn’t measure the molasses.”

Emma shrugged with a sheepish grin on her face. “Well, okay, I guess I forgive you.”

Mariah Carey’s All I Want For Christmas is You now poured through the speakers as Emma’s attention settled on Marco and Archie sitting in the booth nearest them enjoying Granny’s gingerbread and cocoa. Marco got up suddenly and smiled widely at her. The booth was close enough that she knew he could hear every word they said. The twinkle in his eye made Emma narrow hers at the older gentleman, and when he shot a wink her way, her eyes grew huge as the puzzle pieces clicked into place. Marco raised a finger to his lips before turning away and heading for the door. Emma could hardly contain her excitement as a plan began to take shape in her mind.

“I think it might be time for all the good little children to get to bed if they want Santa to visit,” she said, staring pointedly at Henry. “It’s getting late.”

Henry rolled his eyes at her. “Good grief, Mom. I’m sixteen, not six. I don’t need to be in bed yet.”

Killian pulled Emma closer in to his side and waggled his eyebrows lasciviously at his bride. “Well, I don’t know about ‘good little children,’ but I know a grown up pirate who’d like to go to bed.”

Emma giggled and slapped his chest playfully as Henry rolled his eyes again and groaned. “Ewwww, gross, Dad! Teenager present! Fine, I’ll go home and go to bed. Just keep it down, okay?” he pleaded.

“I make no promises, lad.”

~*~*~

Emma came down the stairs of her home, much later, on tiptoe, seeking to surprise their midnight visitor.

“Ah HA!” she whisper shouted.

Marco spun around with his hand to his chest. “You scared the life out of me, your Highness!”

Emma rolled her eyes. “You know better than to call me that, Marco.” She approached him as he turned back to his work, placing presents under the tree. “You’re Santa Claus?” She couldn’t keep the awe out of her voice as she watched him.

“I have many names around the world in this realm, my dear. The one I’m known by in the Enchanted Forest is Belsnickel.”

“Where did all the Christmas presents come from?”

“Always the sheriff,” he chuckled, “Have to have the answers to all the questions, don’t you? Henry was right. Years as a hero that I didn’t get to deliver presents,” he explained. “Whether that was because of the curse, or the chaos of the ensuing years.”

“What about Killian?” she asked. “He had thirty-seven presents.”

“That blessed boy!” Marco laughed. “As a child and lad growing up in servitude, and even at the Naval Academy, it would have been pointless to give him his gifts. They would have been confiscated or destroyed by his masters. Before he turned villain, it just wasn’t practical to give him the things that had collected over the years. A ship just wasn’t the place for them. Once he turned villain, after Milah’s death, he didn’t deserve anything from me, so there wasn’t anything for him for centuries. But once he chose the hero’s path, I started saving his gifts again. I knew this day was coming and how much it would mean to him to receive all those gifts from his childhood.”

“But…” She trailed away. He turned his bright brown eyes upon her as comprehension dawned.

He smiled gently at her. “Yes, I am many hundreds of years old. I have far sight and can see many things that are secret,” he winked at her, “and yet to be.” Emma’s eyes fell toward the floor as a blush graced her cheeks. “And now, my dear, my work here is done. I must move on to the other residents of our fair town before I retire tonight.”

Emma’s eyes were still focused on her feet as Marco raised her chin to look at him. He pressed a kiss to her forehead. “Merry Christmas, Your Highness.” And then he was gone.

~*~*~

Christmas night, Emma sat tucked between Killian’s legs on the sofa in front of the fire and Christmas tree just watching the blinking lights and enjoying a cup of cocoa before bed. Christmas Day had been magical and perfect. Filled to overflowing with love and laughter, family and friends. Killian shook his head, squeezing his eyes shut as he muttered, “What in the world is that?”

“Hmmm? What in the world is what?” she replied, twisting to look up at him.

“Every time the lights blink, something blinds me. Something on the tree.”

Emma hoisted herself up and walked over to the tree. “I don’t know. Is it reflecting off an ornament? Or maybe there’s something else hidden in the tree?” she wondered, aloud. She reached in and withdrew a tiny wrapped box with Killian’s name on it. She gasped in surprise as she turned and brought it over to where he sat. “It’s for you.”

“Thank you, love.” He reached up and took the small token from her, not quite able to hide his surprise.

“Don’t thank me. I don’t know where that came from. Must be from Santa,” she whispered with a small smile on her lips.

He smirked at her. “Marco, you mean?” he cheeked. “I still can’t believe that Marco is Santa,” he murmured opening the box. Inside was something that had his eyebrows shooting all the way to his hairline. He pulled out a pink pacifier with his hook and held it up for Emma’s inspection. A bashful grin lit up her face.

“I just found out for sure this afternoon,” she began, pulling her bottom lip between her teeth.

“You’re with child?” Killian choked out, rising from the sofa and drawing Emma into his arms.

“Yes,” she beamed at him. “Merry Christmas, Killian.”

“A very merry Christmas, indeed, Swan.” He lowered his head towards her and captured her lips in a kiss filled with love and joy of the future laid out before them.

Fin

A/N Obviously in my timeline, Emma got pregnant with Hope much earlier than in canon. I hope you liked this Tee! Merry Christmas!

[vaguelygeiszlerian]

1 to 40 please OwO

rhhgjtghenrhg avery is that you (im chucking these under a readmore, i just did some so im not doing them again, there WILL be context so prepare to read)

your favorite song everyone who knows me even a little bit knows my favorite song is take on me by aha! https://open.spotify.com/track/2WfaOiMkCvy7F5fcp2zZ8L?si=Y-PQBNsYSFe30n4l-XILsw

the first song you remember loving the very first? well if i can’t do take on me again, you get... hm. well there’s two, so i’ll give you the not embarrassing one. bohemian like you, dandy warhols, a song 2 year old [redacted] went wailing round the house singing. https://open.spotify.com/track/0yEhNqCwEfy8LHUmnZoHpP?si=UDGKtdX-Qwiy2mUP88Xlbg

a song that reminds you of summer done!

a song you haven’t heard in years behind blue eyes, limp bizkit, before you say anything, and i know you will, this song is a depression song and i stand by my love for it  https://open.spotify.com/track/1MTQHCpraD4S8g5PAFKzoj?si=vD8m_yjlRoq3bRd1hvQU1A

a song you can relate to right now? well, i’m mostly plucking songs from my ‘real ass bops’ playlist, if you want the one that reflects today’s jordan, you’re in for a grim treat! despicable by grandson https://open.spotify.com/track/5IPT4Noqvo7bsfbWUOHcG4?si=Cp4O-5WdS0-ZqfxxWVR01A

a song that reminds you of your favorite book ooh, i think i have a good one for this, my favorite book of all time is the taking by dean koontz, ask me why sometime, it’s a good read! it’s the end of the world as we know it (and i feel fine), r.e.m https://open.spotify.com/track/2oSpQ7QtIKTNFfA08Cy0ku?si=nfVjPGY7QaGH26uAz-88_A

a song that makes you want to dance right now? two trucks, lemon demon, don’t ask https://open.spotify.com/track/1s5A0u1dnAeVNur5nPkCpD?si=HLZERdMDQnqBxGnj31Lx3g

the best song from your favorite album heart’s a mess, from gotye’s ‘like drawing blood’, his second studio album, which is my absolute fave of all three proper ones he did, even if his first had some really amazing tracks, and making mirrors had some good ones, there’s nothing like learnalilgivinanlovin, or a distinctive sound, or, as i said, heart’s a mess! https://open.spotify.com/track/4tFkgfdi8b3aNcKNthPqIF?si=nDJafKn8QYmEgdqmlN4y4A

a song that makes you want to cry all songs make me wanna cry, but first that comes to mind is black friday (from the black friday musical soundtrack), because as an older sibling with a younger sister that the world doesn’t understand (that i don’t understand sometimes) the little aside about hannah makes me cry every single time https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LAZgYL0p2zk

a song that makes you feel young the distance, cake, it’s a song i listened to pretty much from my formative years til about... well, yesterday actually! never ceases to make me feel like im a good 15 years younger haha https://open.spotify.com/track/0fsz7tJ7UKXT9hliLfO7aE?si=caOsrX_fT4u9qARZKWSqfQ

a song that means a lot to you la vie en rose, edith piaf. i was (still am) a romantic sucker, and used to make all sorts of idealistic romantic playlists growing up, and i never knew the french (and i still dont (youre welcome em <3)) but the way she sang always made my heart tremble. and then bioshock infinite burial at sea came out, and i listened to that version of la vie en rose a million times, cried at a good half of them. anyway i love this song. https://open.spotify.com/track/3lAun9V0YdTlCSIEXPvfsY?si=zSRwBZ0AQnuyGGkjh2XmZw

the last song you listened to i’m in love with an e-girl, wilbur soot, the chorus of this song FUCKS my friends, honestly the whole song (and internet has ruined me, the sort of sequel) fucks https://open.spotify.com/track/44wBlg3Y1KSAEmaze5BXe7?si=u9mapV8STz6sqR3jg4XMiw

the last song you heard on the radio we don’t really do the radio in the car, and i dont recognise the songs on there these days anyway

the last cd/album you bought the black friday album actually! support starkid 

a song to listen to on rainy days done!

a chill song no surprises, radiohead https://open.spotify.com/track/1bSpwPhAxZwlR2enJJsv7U?si=oVXsE5JiTxulLkevqL4hjA

an upbeat song push up, freestylers, ok so maybe we do listen to the radio sometimes, and i heard a snippet of this like two months ago and immediately added it to my playlist https://open.spotify.com/track/2PJq8Fr5i2S0OkcmFsTC1P?si=3K7q37zNRuCQIduRdApjWQ

a song that gets stuck in your head nobody by mitski, everyone knows that one though https://open.spotify.com/track/6bTn1ovliI0OkjUNkiMBJq?si=Vc-DUCl-RpyhRc6lcbpKgg

your favorite song from a movie somewhere only we know, keane, from my favorite scene in ‘he’s just not that into you’ which is one of my fave romcoms, ok you probably didnt need all that context, dont laugh https://open.spotify.com/track/0ll8uFnc0nANY35E0Lfxvg?si=Lov6MdiOTNGrxCiX6UdDZg

your favorite song from a musical inevitable, the guy who didn’t like musicals. i know the choreo, i know every part almost down to the pitch now, i spent hours practicing the kickline with my sister. jon matteson if you have a spare moment please teach me how to kick your legs that high https://open.spotify.com/track/2lQkaEvJa69QCzk3x6HgaA?si=QMRBYXPwRruOSU4_xBPdMA

a song that reminds you of the moon night, the altogether, no real reason here, its just got a lonesome ethereality to it https://open.spotify.com/track/3MKF7HCn6uD03jWcUB8k1R?si=gm8JKR1jQbS6Dh59WUuEwA

a song by your favorite artist/band i really can’t pick between radiohead and newton faulkner, so you get the best of both, 15 step and teardrop https://open.spotify.com/track/6dsq7Nt5mIFzvm5kIYNORy?si=9dEYby1PRKm8zozrCTGcjA https://open.spotify.com/track/7JpgJ7b5sjvo3fUfPcRlq1?si=pVfzoWtuTdO5OsbDgUnabQ

a song from the year you were born closing time, semisonic, one of the fucking best songs ever https://open.spotify.com/track/4EnkwZd0UJAuHpNMMemQaA?si=ASYNfnThR_m9kqFrloI9nw

the number one song on your birthday my heart will go on, celine dion, i guess titanic had just come out that year, but in my country, on my birthday, this was the number one, god help us https://open.spotify.com/track/33LC84JgLvK2KuW43MfaNq?si=HswubDCkQJ-x7-LM06PQUQ

your favorite love song i do adore, mindy gledhill, cliche at this point, i know, but my sister introduced it to me, played it on her ukelele, and i love her, more than i love most things, and it makes me smile even on a day where ive not done very much smiling at all https://open.spotify.com/track/6JNEDSev5Tp5VQR04SEBfV?si=BxnrZafFT3m4QkXNUN5GcA

your favorite christmas song baby it’s cold outside, lydia liza and josiah lemanski, it’s the funniest fucking song https://open.spotify.com/track/3xvFTqHmlMqKjHgczCGn2C?si=lgDMvUQZR-2lPXHINo2POQ

one song that starts with each letter of your name j: JT by jon bellion (https://open.spotify.com/track/1eftOUoeMO1JkSQQmS6jXF?si=h4yYMpXnTAiZPxJJUPv0DA) o: one more shot, spies are forever ost (https://open.spotify.com/track/0EgLq4ORQ6TMPN6rjWp3d6?si=mC3eDbJJRyCGN4fNAcbdlA) r: red signal, the mechanisms (https://open.spotify.com/track/2TWDxsjHx2rqtH197URbE8?si=XB8D-1N-SkKgmlTZOFbcfQ) d: dont judge me, janelle monae (https://open.spotify.com/track/6UQDIIEPzeduwXlZE86SOF?si=1bONXfj-SQiq79ibrXjC-A) a: as your father i expressly forbid it, lemon demon (https://open.spotify.com/track/29L9B2aDs2NhrQGbs8pf9M?si=CvVTbLtNTgGeL3iemrLVHg) n: night drive, gotye (https://open.spotify.com/track/3fuRfxHpC56uNFMOaOlMCm?si=PDAbEsi_SjK-EYDmTvjT6A)

two songs with the same/similar titles that you like i don’t care (fall out boy) / idfc (blackbear) https://open.spotify.com/track/13mM4hWNMH5KwMcwl81tXS?si=YOqg8tVXRQKXB3ANmDFjHQ https://open.spotify.com/track/6y6jbcPG4Yn3Du4moXaenr?si=CzyYs4b5QQ23azTqgv0iXw

a cover that you like better than the original song done!

a song with really good lyrics kick it up a notch, starship  https://open.spotify.com/track/1r223IXiRxObMBNh3mcyWR?si=-RX3obwISfS_jk3JjzvaJg

a song with an amazing beat couple’s retreat, jon bellion https://open.spotify.com/track/7pMS0byKI7V1Mpl0SlWEDq?si=Xytu_HBrStq_zjKdia2oig

a song that you associate with the color yellow boys, lizzo https://open.spotify.com/track/1ITsmuChPVC05ogvorAyVu?si=hkoCz7ouQsyLKn8Q7KO92g

your favorite song with an action in the title (jump, dance, etc.) bite back, all american rejects https://open.spotify.com/track/4zJv4aXOIAepvhApOFoQeQ?si=qRtthyDlQvKGRErmkI8lDg

your favorite acoustic song heart is full, jon bellion https://open.spotify.com/track/6DvsjPkNcB4QoezDPtxsAB?si=vD18h70qSFG5xtrjpuy4XA

a song that motivates you take me home, country roads, john denver https://open.spotify.com/track/39q7xibBdRboeMKUbZEB6g?si=STNgdvZSQNSfqX9pENggSg

your favorite song you’ve heard live camisado, panic at the disco https://open.spotify.com/track/1LF5HQ32hztQWzADGH8ys4?si=VDjKcAo9TX-JA0kF6csqQA

a song that reminds you of your best friend ok so this one needs context (and an attached apology), when i think of best friends as a concept i think of tianna, and when i think of tianna, i think of sitting at the junior campus, huddled around my phone, tittering like twits over this stupid fucking song. (but honestly avery this applies to you too, you’re my best friend that isn’t emmy, i love you) enormous penis, da vinci’s notebook https://open.spotify.com/track/7dUCFnaGSWLH6SdDP08NLP?si=dH00DTxqTR2y3mAIEia9Lw

your favorite song from childhood radio/video, system of a down, the song my sister used to babble incomprehensibly loudly to whenever we played it in the car, the one i grew so used to i can literally hear it in my head as i type https://open.spotify.com/track/41pOIT2t1rvr2Trg1HQChZ?si=-Kyg8JSET2uDq0XGMICsMg

a song you always sing along to can’t sleep love, pentatonix, my sister and i’s favorite song to duet together, even if we haven’t quite worked out the proper parts for a two person acapella cover haha https://open.spotify.com/track/1klGbW5a9qTBFUjFfddbmU?si=Lm0FMpz5TVKddr82vUyf2w

your favorite song in a language different from your native one since i’m determined not to reuse songs, you get papaoutai, stromae (sorry about all the french, they bop babe) https://open.spotify.com/track/09TcIuH1ZO7i4vicWKoaN2?si=YTuHkj1DTgicqo7ZnqYJ0Q

[mumofheathensx4]

After yesterday’s upstairs overhaul, I decided to have a much lazier day today because I kind of wiped myself out 😓🥱

Shifting a bed and full chest of drawers probably wasn’t the best idea when my body was already starting to hurt ☹️😬🙄 fibromyalgia, you may kiss my ass now and please forever hold your peace 🖕🏻 I have shit to do and don’t have time for a flare up, thank you very much 👌🏻

Anyway, we still did a few fun things...

Put Milo and Eli in a washing basket (definitely more fun for me 🤷🏼‍♀️🤣)

Baked some weird shaped chocolate chip muffins with Eli 🥰🧁

Riley had a nap because keeping me up half of last night was clearly too tiring for him 🙄🥱

But he soon woke up and decided that the top of the stairs was a really great place to make a formation with his cars 🤦🏼‍♀️😳

But soon enough, it was Milo’s bedtime 😍🥰

Pretty much from birth, Milo has hated any form of human contact. Didn’t like to be held as a baby, not even when I was feeding him, which made the task rather difficult. He’s never liked cuddles and had no interest in learning to give kisses. I knew exactly why he was like this but it made the bonding process a little bit harder 😔🥺 I’ve always loved him and never felt disconnected from him but when all he would do was push me away, it would obviously make me feel sad and like I was doing something wrong 💔 (one of the only photos of me holding him as a baby 👇🏻)

Almost 3 years on and he couldn’t be more different 💚 he now loves to be picked up, holds his arms out for a cuddle and has just started to give me kisses and now he’s decided that instead of going to bed on his own, he wants me to read him stories until he falls asleep 🥰 he had some serious emotional development delay (which goes hand in hand with autism), as well as his speech delay, which Riley has both of them too.

Funny thing about autistic people, the same as the average person, no 2 autistic people are the same!! However, they often get clubbed together and seen as a “one size, fits all” disorder but, that couldn’t be further from the truth!! (I know!! Who knew?! 🤷🏼‍♀️) Take Riley and Milo, for example. They have exactly the same sets of DNA, from the exact same parents, with the exact same additional needs but they could not be more different!! They obviously have their similarities, they’re brothers!! (Let’s not be silly about this) They have similar features, they both look like their dad (clearly didn’t win the genetics battle with these 2 🤦🏼‍♀️), they are both autistic, they both have speech delay, both have EDD (Emotional Development Delay), both have my lips and my ears (sorry guys, you got all my best bits 😬🤷🏼‍♀️🤣) but they also are so different. Riley can be the most loving, funny and adorable little person ever but then he’ll switch 180 and he’ll be kicking, punching, scratching, biting, pulling your hair, push you, slap you and will jump on you to hurt you!! His meltdowns are the stuff of nightmares but we are lucky that they are very, very rare!! The only time he might get like it is if there’s a change (I painted the living room wall and got punched, pinched, scratched and my hair pulled for that), if he becomes overwhelmed by loud noise (firework night was the worst for me. Spent about an hour watching my 4 year old son throw himself around the living room because a firework went off and was too loud for him. I couldn’t get close to him so couldn’t do anything for him and had to let him ride it out 💔😢 that night broke me a little). He used to hate going to the supermarket or the high street but we made it a routine and instead of having him in the pushchair, I let him walk. We now have a select few places we can go in a very particular order but I don’t mind that either. But Milo on the other hand, is so chill!! He is completely non aggressive!! The only thing he’ll attack, in a meltdown, is your ear drums!! Be prepared to go deaf because that boy can hit the high notes!! Puts Celine Dion, Mariah Carey and Whitney Houston to shame!! 😱🤯 That boy could make an ISIS soldier give up his deepest, darkest secrets just by screaming!! Boy is persistent 😬😳 And all that needs to happen for that is for someone to come into the house!! Milo does not handle “outsiders” being in the house. He doesn’t even handle his brothers being in the house. He is the one who has an instant reaction to change and his instant reaction is to scream. It’s almost like a defence mechanism whereby if he screams enough, the “outsider” is sure to leave 🤣😂 my dad comes over every Sunday for Sunday dinner and to see the boys, it took months for Milo to finally stop screaming and to be excited to see my dad when he comes in and now they have the most amazing bond!! (Thanks to a traumatic hospital trip for a nasty case of tonsillitis 😬 in which dad saved the day 🎉)

Luckily, I’ve learnt what to do if a meltdown is occurring and 9 times out of 10, can sort it out fast or avoid it altogether 💪🏻

Well, the boys are all asleep (and have been for a while) so I am going to go and watch The Cheetah Girls (Disney+ bringing back the childhood 🥰🎶) Toodaloo ✌🏻

[a-supernatural-writer]

Prologue: Elemental Wiccan Pt.1

Summary: We are introduced to Isabeau Fitzgerald and her family who are far from being normal hunters.

Pairing: Eventual Sam x OC x Dean (polyamory relationship) 

Warnings: language, mentions of blood and gore, violence

Words: 1176

*This work is also posted on other fanfiction sites* 

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There was blood everywhere. Splattered all over the barn floor and walls. Headless bodies laid on the floor, their heads not too far away from their owners. 

With a cry, another fell to the ground, the head hitting the boot of the person who cut the head off. 

With a sigh the person flipped their machete in their hand and their blue eyes looked around at the fallen bodies around them. 

“Well that was fun.” She said. She picked up a lock of her long white hair in disgust seeing that it was stained in red. “Awesome, just what I wanted.” 

She huffed, letting her hand fall to her side. Not only was her hair coated in blood, but her clothing, hands and face were covered as well. A sudden ringtone made her jump. 

She pulled out her phone from her jacket pocket and hit the answer button. “Hello?” “Isabeau Fitzgerald! Are you crazy?! Hunting a vampire nest this late?” 

Isabeau cringed at her mother's voice screaming through the line. “Sorry mom. It was sort of last minute.” 

Her mother scoffed. “Last minute my ass. You’re farther and I have been worried sick! Your brothers are wondering where you are!” 

Isabeau’s jaw ticked. Of course she had to bring her three younger brothers into the argument. “Don’t use them against me. I’ll be home within the hour. Then my brothers can latch onto me like leeches all they like.” 

Her mother breathed out. “Just drive safely. No stopping. Straight home. I’ll make us some tea and we’ll talk.”

Isabeau smiled. “Yes, ma’am. On my way.” Isabeau hung up the phone and walked out of the barn. She took out her car keys, smiling as her black 1958 Chevrolet Impala convertible came into view.  “Hello, sweetheart.” 

Her impala was an 18th birthday gift from her grandfather who taught her how to fix the old beauty up. Isabeau wasn’t much of a car person, but when it came to the oldies, she was absolutely in love with them. 

Isabeau slid into her car, not bothering to pull up the hood. Night air always calmed her down after a hunt. The car roared to life, making her smile even more. “Let’s head home.” 

Isabeau pulled up to a stone cottage house, shaking her head seeing her three younger brothers waiting at the door for her. She turned off the car, stepping out and walked up to the door. “What are you still doing up? You got school tomorrow?” 

Isabeau was a little upset that her mother didn’t put them back to bed. Her brothers ignored her and started asking questions instead. 

“How many were there?” The eldest of the three, Alphonse asked. Alphonse was 13 years old, strawberry blonde curls sat on top of his head, and had blue-green eyes. 

“How’d you kill them?” The middle one, Eugene asked. Eugene was 11 and shared the same curls as his older brother but had light brown hair with blonde highlights in them and shared Isabeau’s blue eyes. 

“How did you find them?” And finally the youngest, Dion. Dion was 9 years old and even though he didn’t have the same curls as his brothers, he had the bright strawberry blonde hair with tinges of brown near the ends and had the greenest eyes of the bunch. 

Isabeau raised a brow at them. Her brothers were 100% far from normal. “There were 10 of them. I killed them with a machete. And how I found them is none of your goddamn business, Dion.” 

All her brothers did was smile at her. Isabeau’s shoulders slumped. “Alright, get to bed. Let me take a shower. I’ll tell you about it in the morning. Deal?” Her brothers nodded, running into the house and racing up the stairs to their rooms, eager to fall asleep and hear their sisters’ story in the morning. 

She rolled her eyes, walking into her home and closed the door behind her. “Why didn’t you put them to bed?” Isabeau glared at her mother, who was sitting in the living room with a cup of coffee in her hand. 

Her mother had long light brown hair with a slight curl to it and her eyes were an unbelievable ice blue. “Why did you hunt a vampire’s nest at 2 in the morning?” Isabeau rolled her eyes as a man with red hair with curly strawberry blonde highlights and green eyes walked in. 

“Yvette. She had a good reason.” He said. Her mother, Yvette, scoffed. “Bartholmieu, you knew?” Bartholmieu sighed. 

Isabeau raised her arms. “Don’t blame dad, okay? I told him that the nest was close to feeding on innocent people. I didn’t want to tell either of you, especially with All Hallows Eve coming up in the next couple of days, but dad found out. Mom, please.” 

Yvette sighed, setting down her cup of coffee and smiled softly at her daughter. “Alright. But next time you go out on a hunt, you tell us. Even if we are busy.” Isabeau pressed her lips together and nodded. 

“Now, go. Take a shower, I’ll take care of your clothes. Once you’re done, come back down for a cup of tea. None of us are getting sleep anytime soon.” Isabeau nodded at her mother and headed up the stairs to get rid of the blood that stained her body. 

Yvette and Bartholmieu watched as their daughter climbed up the stairs and disappeared from their line of vision.  Bartholmieu placed a hand on his wife's shoulder, giving it a comforting squeeze. “She’s not our little girl anymore. She’s a hunter, fully capable of taking care of herself.” Yvette said nothing but continued to stare where her daughter left her sight. 

Bartholmieu leaned down on his knees next to her. Yvette took in a shaky breath and nodded. “I know she’s strong, I-I just… I just worry about her. Not just her hunting, she has my powers and your powers combined. An elemental and a wiccan. A hybrid.” 

Yvette clutched her husband's hand in fear. Bartholmieu smiled, reaching up to pull her close and place a kiss on her temple. “I know, she’s a target from both sides. But I have faith. Isabeau is our daughter and we raised her well. Taught her right from wrong. She knows how to use her powers for the better.” 

Yvette felt at ease with Bartholmieu’s words. Yvette knew the dangers of hunting, she knew that her daughter would follow the family business. Yvette looked back at her life when she was her daughters age. A fully capable fire elemental and a hunter. Fighting alongside her own parents and sisters. And soon fighting with the witch and hunter, who was now her husband Bartholmieu. It was never easy for them, but it turned out alright in the end. 

Bartholmieu stood up and pulled Yvette up with him, leading them both to the kitchen. “Come, Isabeau is gonna want a piece of cheesecake with her tea.” Yvette chuckled at his statement. “You spoil our daughter.” 

“Only because you let me.”

Next Part | Main Masterlist | “Party of Three” Masterlist

[mutantsrisingrpg]

Congratulations ANTHONY! You’ve been accepted as DIONE.

Excuse me as I scream because you finally brought us a Finn, Anthony! Finn is a character that is filled with a lot of complexities and you touched upon beautifully within your app. Life for them has not been kind, and yet they continue to look for that family they’ve never had. And let me just say, Finn’s intelligence? Chef’s kiss. They know they’re smart and they use it to their advantage to get what they want - which is the exact reason our dearest Alma picked them out of all the possible mutants. 

Welcome to Mutants Rising! Please read the checklist and submit your account within 24 hours.

Out of Character Information:

NAME/ALIAS: Anthony

PRONOUNS: He/Him

AGE: 19

TIMEZONE & ACTIVITY LEVEL: I can be pretty active most days except for Tuesdays and Thursdays!

In Character Information:

DESIRED ROLE: Finn Croix | Dione

GENDER/PRONOUNS: Genderqueer | He/They

DETAILS & ANALYSIS:

Dione, the deity of the springs, and a water goddess. She’s tied with Finn’s first name due to Fionn mac Cumhail (Fionn being where Finn comes from) gaining wisdom from an enchanted salmon. Also, Dione was an oracle, and Fionn had wisdom. Another thing is that Croix, which means cross, and it’s said that Fionn isn’t dead, but is resting and waiting for a horn to be blown three times, similiar to how in Christianity, Gabriel must blow the horn three times to signal the end of the world. Next, Fionn gets white hair, and maybe Finn was born with white hair, so they shaved it off to not be as noticed as others.

For me, Finn is a very complex individual. They have grand things they can accomplish in their life, but also, they are very comfortable not doing any of them. They are where they want to be, when they want to be there. Another thing is how they relate to people in life. Finn in my eyes, doesn’t like to get close to most people. They like to push off, to not get close, unless they choose to. But at the same time, I feel like they are very warm and caring with those they have chosen to love. The first two lines of their aesthetic says that to me. Also, I feel like Finn doesn’t like to truly settle down. They may stop at one place, but never truly stay. For them, life is the ability to be free. To not be tied down, unless they choose to. And I feel like, Finn has chosen to be tied to where they are now. That’s what the next two lines say. The final line, I feel like is how Finn feels, about everything. They’ve been forgotten their whole life, and don’t really know what to do. Other people forget them, and feel bad about it, but don’t really change things, unless they want to get rid of the feeling.

BIO:

Finn Croix is the fourth son of the Croix family. They were born, one horribly storm day in the middle of August. By the time their one-month old mark rolled around, they looked almost nothing like their siblings. Incredibly pale, white hair, the only thing that showed Finn was even related was their dark brown eyes. However, to most of their family, it didn’t matter. They were just another Croix kid, and they belonged. It did matter to their mom, Etna, though. She wanted Finn to look like her, to be like her, to be born a girl. That never happened. Etna kept her distance, too greatly disappointed by her final child not being the little girl she had been praying for. So, she kept her distance from her youngest, confusing Finn as they grew up, not sure what they had done wrong.

By the time they were five, Finn had learned not to talk to mother unless spoken to first, not to bother father unless it was life or death, and that their brothers were ride-or-die to a degree. They also knew that, regardless of anything else, the evilest people on the planet were, of course, Mutants. As long as they never associated with that group, they would be fine, in the long run. That choice was taken away from them.

One day, while Finn and their brothers were playing outside, their eldest brother, Daniel, accidentally started a fire. Finn, to this day, isn’t actually sure that Daniel meant to start it. All they know is, one second, Daniel’s doing something, and then next there’s a giant fire and Patrick, Finn’s brother barely older than them, is crying. After that, Finn heard people yelling around them, obviously scared of what just happened. However, Finn was more worried about Patrick, so they rushed to his side, and somehow, miraculously, made the burn marks that had already started to form on Patrick’s hand, cool down.

In the long run, this was not a smart thing to do.

After the event was immediately over, Finn was pulled away from Patrick, along with Daniel. They were both brought before their father and mother. Their mother, who had obviously just gotten finished crying, and their father, who looked furious. Their father, Daniel Sr., was quick to inform them that they were no longer to call either of their parents’ “father” or “mother” and that they were no longer “true Croix’s.” Daniel Sr. went on to explain that both of them would be separated, one sent the Croix’s in France, and the other, to the Cullen’s in New York. Then, they were sent to their rooms, and that was the last time that Finn saw their brother, Daniel, in person.

After that, it was a whirlwind of things happening. Finn quickly found out that they were staying with Etna’s parents, the Cullen’s. They also found out from Baptiste, the second oldest Croix child, that the Cullen’s were of the opinion that the only good mutant was a dead one, and the only good alive mutant was one who was constantly in full control of their powers. Another thing they found out is that they would no longer be able to contact their siblings. Finn was lost. No friends, no contact with their brothers, what was there left?

At the age of six, Finn was fully moved in with their grandparents. They also learned a new set of rules. Their grandfather was only to be referred to as Alastar, their grandmother, Kennedy. They were not to touch anything in the house freely without permission, except in their room. They had a tight schedule on what Finn was allowed to do, and if Finn missed something? They would be punished, and not lightly. They had training every day to master their powers, to learn the self-control needed to no longer be a danger to society.

By the time Finn was eight, they had learned more prayers and hymns to help keep themselves in balance when they feel they are about to have an episode, than they had friends in the world. And they didn’t know a lot of prayers or hymns. By the time they were nine, they had a strong mastery over their powers, and were granted some freedoms. One of those being to go back to public school. By the time they were ten, they were allowed to make a choice. They could stay with their grandparents, or go back to their parents. They decided to stay with their grandparents, because the evil you knew was better than the evil you didn’t.

School was a breeze for Finn, for the most part. They weren’t messed with in class, due to the strong fear that everyone had to them being mutant. The classes were also pretty easy, due to their grandparents refusing to have a grandchild that didn’t understand the subjects they were being taught. By the time Finn was in the eleventh grade, they had the top scores in the class, with no problem, and were considered to be the only viable choice for the valedictorian. When twelfth grade rolled around, the rules changed though. Suddenly, at the age of 70, Alastar Cullen, had a heart attack. Two days later, he was dead. Three days after that, Kennedy Cullen was found dead from taktsubo cardiomyopathy, or, heart break.

Finn didn’t know what to do. They had just turned 18, were about to graduate from high school, and both their guardians were dead. When the wills for both of their grandparents were finally discussed, it was found that the Cullen’s had left nothing except a few thousand dollars to Finn, and everything else to Finn’s brothers, Baptiste and Patrick. It was the first time that Finn had seen them in years. However, Baptiste seemed disinterested, and Patrick wasn’t allowed to talk to them. Then, they were kicked out of their grandparent’s home, as they were no longer welcomed there. By the time that everything had settled, with the will reading and Finn getting kicked out, Finn had lost the only “family” they had, their safety of a home, and their position as valedictorian due to not being able to keep up with the course work. They were still high in rank, but it wasn’t the same.

So, they moved. With only a few thousand dollars to their name, they began to travel the country. They had no steady job, just picking up random ones when a mutant needed help, or when someone wanted to do something illegal and needed a mutant who didn’t care too heavily about who they were hurting.

It wasn’t until around the age of 25, that they realized they weren’t happy. After a job gone wrong, where they had someone get scapegoated, did Finn realize that they weren’t helping anyone. They had been burned by their family, and, in turn, started burning fellow mutants. And for what? A bit of extra cash? They hated themselves for that. They began a side research project, once they had this realization. They quickly looked up areas where there were high mutant populations, where there was more acceptance to mutants, and where they could find a job with their specific skill set. It wasn’t hard to find a city like that.

Chicago was the haven for mutants, but was also losing ground as that haven. Then, Finn found the Big Three. The Blackburn Syndicate, the Jem family, and Kings Collective. The three most powerful groups in Chicago, with an underbelly, and the ability to help other mutants. That’s where Finn wanted to be.

They quickly finished up the jobs they had left in the current city they were in, and began to head towards Chicago. It wasn’t difficult to get there, and only slightly more difficult to find a way into the group they wanted. While the other two groups were good, they weren’t what Finn was looking for. The Jem Family believed in mutant supremacy, which Finn had never seen, and the Kings Collective who wanted to steal art, which they weren’t that interested in. No, they were interested in the protection that the Blackburn Syndicate offered. They quickly searched for a way to set up a meeting, but found they had no reason to. Their leader, Alma Rosario, found them first. She quickly offered a spot to Finn, in exchange for Finn to work for her. It was no question. Finn Croix, was now a member of the Blackburn Syndicate.

EXPANDED CONNECTIONS:

Rebeka York – Finn and Rebeka were never bound to get along. Too similar in powers, and Finn loving to annoy people at times, it was bound to not be a good friendship. However, that doesn’t mean that Finn doesn’t appreciate Rebeka’s gift. In fact, they see Rebeka as an equal, in terms of mutations, regardless of the differences between them.

Rahim Avery – Rahim and Finn are close, and Finn will fight someone for trying to say otherwise. To them, Rahim is a breath of fresh air. It’s nice, knowing that there’s someone on his danger level that they can relate to. It’s very nice, knowing that Rahim trusts them.

Abigail Imani – Abigail is, was, and always will be, the first friend that Finn had, that they felt safe enough to be themselves around. They miss Abigail, a lot more than their willing to admit. They knew, maybe from the beginning, that they wouldn’t stay friends, but it still hurt. However, it’s not like they stuck around to see what Abigail thought. Once they learned about Abigail being in Chicago though? It was like another thought went through their head. Maybe, just maybe, I can reconnect?

EXTRA:

Mock Blog

Playlist

Aesthetic Unsplash

Family Lineage

Headcanons

ANYTHING ELSE: I didn’t know if I needed to fill the OOC part again, so I did it just in case!

[remindingpersephone]

Rules: answer 20 questions and tag 20 people you want to know better.

I just remembered @exwinnipegger​ tagged me in this.  Thank you!  I’m sorry it’s taken me so long.

1. Nickname: My Dad used to call me Cookie because as a baby I LOVED chocolate chip cookies.  Still do, actually.

2. Zodiac Sign: Aquarius

3. Hogwarts House: I took one of those online tests a while back and I was a Hufflepuff, I think.

4. Height: 5'4″

5. Last thing I googled: “How to put my iPad keyboard back together.”  I had accidentally split it and didn’t know how to get it back.

6. Favorite musicians: It changes constantly, but some standards will always be Celine Dion, Trisha Yearwood, Journey, Eagles, Def Leppard, 30 Seconds to Mars.

7. Song stuck in my head: "The Bones” by Maren Morris

8. Followers: Tumblr says 715 but maybe one-tenth of those are actual mutuals.

9. Following: 272

10. Do you get asks: Sometimes.  But I never put Anonymous on, so that probably limits them.

11. Amount of sleep: 7-8 hours is ideal, but most days it’s 6-7 

12. Lucky number: 99

13. What are you wearing: Black shorts and a purple 3/4 sleeve shirt - work clothes in Florida in summer.

14. Dream job: NY Times Bestselling author.

15. Instruments: I always wanted to play guitar, but I need to actually get one and practice, I guess.

16. Languages: English and some Spanish (I really should finish learning Spanish.)

17. Favorite song: I can’t pick just one, but if you make me, I’ll say “Power of Love” by Celine Dion, 1993.

18. Random fact: I worked nights at Movie Gallery and Blockbuster from 2000-2003, and I was always the girl who could tell a customer which movie they were asking about when they mention a plot point or an actor.  “What is the name of the movie with the guy and the thing?”  I was the human equivalent of IMDb before it existed.  An obsolete talent to be sure.

19. Aesthetic: My blog: flowers photos, celebrity boyfriends, inspirational quotes, self-improvement original content, an emotional cheerleader for all.

20. Dream trip: Two months touring Great Britain, Ireland, Scotland and Wales.  Then two months in Italy.

If this meme sounds like fun, consider yourself tagged!

[broadstreetmisfits]

That Night - Travis Konecny

Requested? Y  /  N  “can i request an imagine with #10 from the prompt list with travis konecny? like you’re at a party and you meet and you get along good and you kind of chirp eachother all night and then you beat him in beer pong. And then somehow you end up making out of something in the end lol”

Prompt: (#10) “I let you win”

Warnings: Some swearing I think

WC: 1,433

You sat on the kitchen counter in your friends’ house as you watched your friends bring drinks into the house. A few of your friends, Juliet, Maddie, Lauren, and Bella were having a party and you decided to help them get everything ready.

“Yeah put those drinks in the fridge,” You said as Bella walked in with another case

“You do know you could help us carry the drinks up here, right?”

“I am helping though, I'm supervising”

Bella only rolled her eyes as the three others came into the house carrying drinks. They set their bottles and cases down, and that's when you decided to come down from the counter and help.

“Wow look who decided to get off their ass and actually help us” Maddie said

“Oh shush. But uh who is coming to the party anyway?” You asked

“The regular group: Jack, Sarah, David, all of them. But then there’s gonna be a few new people, and of course, the randos” Lauren answered

“Wait, Laur, is that one dude you were talking to coming?” Juliet asked

“Nolan? I mean I invited him. I don’t know if he’s coming for sure. But he said if he was, he’d be bringing a few friends”

A few hours later, everything was set up for the house party that was about to happen. The music blared as the guests began to find their way into the house. Just like you were told, your regular friend group had shown up in addition to all of the people you didn't know. It was about an hour after the party began and people were starting to settle down. You were in the kitchen with a few of your friends when you all heard the front door open.

“The gang’s all here, I wonder who that could be,” You said and all of your friends shrugged

“You know as much as we do” Jack responded

Moments later, you heard the sound of footsteps coming down the hall. Three guys who you have never seen before appeared in the kitchen.

“What’s up guys?” you asked as you rested your arms on the counter, leaning onto it

“Uh I’m looking for Lauren” One of them mumbled

“Nolan?” You asked and he nodded “She’s around here somewhere. Feel free to look around.”

The one guy disappeared, leaving the two others. You had to hold in a giggle, just simply looking at how different the two guys were. One had to be at least six foot five while the other couldn’t have reached six foot. The taller guy had dirty blonde to light brown hair while the short one had dark brown, almost black hair.

“And you two are?” Jack asked

“Travis” The tall one answered

“And you?” You asked the other

“Travis”

“So both of your names are Travis?” Kayla asked

The two of them nodded and then the group picked up their conversation like before. The taller Travis was quick to enter the conversation and added input whenever. The shorter one on the other hand, couldn’t care less about the topic and was more interested in you.

“So, what’s your name?” He asked as he moved over to you

“Y/N” You simply replied as you took a sip of your drink

“Well aren’t you just a talker” Travis chirped

“You asked me a simple question, so I gave you a simple answer.”

“Would you rather have me ask you some deep philosophical question that makes you think for hours on end?”

“No, but we can get to know each other over a few beers or something” You suggested

“That would be great”

You and Travis grabbed a few beers before sneaking away from the group. You led him out to one of the balconies where no one else was. Resting your arms on the railing, you looked out at the Philadelphia skyline in the distance.

“So have you always lived in the outskirts of Philly?” Travis asked, still standing by the door.

You shook your head, not taking your eyes off of the twinkling lights. “Nah, I was born and raised in the middle of Pennsylvania but moved here when I was about nineteen.” You explained, “What about you?”

His footsteps echoed on the wooden balcony as he made his way to the railing, resting his arms on it as well. “No, I moved here a few years ago when I got called up.”

“Called up?” You asked as you looked over at him

Travis took a sip of his beer and once he swallowed, he spoke: “Yeah, I was drafted by the Flyers and spent a year down in the AHL before being called up to play here.”

“Oh, so you play hockey?”

“Ever since I was little” He answered, a slight smile forming on his lips

“So since you’ve been playing so long, you must be pretty good, right?”

"Well yeah, you kinda have to be pretty good to make it to the NHL." You shrugged your shoulders "Dion Phaneuf is still in the league and he's god awful, so you never know" "Well, he's in his early thirties. That's old for a hockey player. And usually, old hockey players aren't that good" Crossing your arms over your chest, you turned your whole body towards him and asked: "Well isn't Lundqvist in his late thirties? He's still doing okay" "I said usually hockey players aren't good in their thirties. And that's not the point. The point is that I'm good enough to be playing professional hockey." You looked back into the house to see Lauren and Nolan leaving the ping pong table. Turning your head back to Travis, it was obvious that the two of you were thinking the exact same thing. You had an idea of what his answer was going to be, but you wanted to ask him just in case. "You wanna?" You asked and motioned your head towards the table "Let's do it" Travis replied After leading him back into the house, you grabbed a bunch of cheap beer and opened them. Meanwhile, Travis got the plastic cups and set them up, ten cups on each side. Giving a few open bottles to Travis, both of you poured about a quarter of a cup of beer into each one of the red solo cups. Once everything was set up, you stood at one end of the table and Travis stood at the other. "Ladies first," Travis said as he rolled the balls over to you "Why are you rolling them to me then?" You questioned His eyebrows raised "Oh so if we're playing that way, then roll me back one and we'll do eyes" You did as he said and then looked up at him. Your eyes met his green ones and for a second you were frozen. However, you were quick to recover when he spoke. "Are you ready?" "Yep let's do this" He looked back into your eyes and the two of you stared each other down as you tossed the ping pong balls in the direction of the cups. Travis’ ball ended up going in, while yours deflected off of a cup rim and onto the floor. Once you got the ball out of the cup, you rolled it over to Travis. He picked the other one up from the ground.

The two of you began the actual game, and about halfway through it was clear that Travis was going to beat you. Or so you thought. Somehow, you ended up with the come from behind win and beat him.

“Oh that is so not fair” Travis whined as you sunk the ball in his last cup

“All is fair in beer pong and war” You smirked

“Okay, if we’re being honest, I let you win,” He said

“Yeah, sure. Whatever,” You replied, rolling your eyes

“Well, I didn’t want a pretty girl like you getting your feelings hurt by losing at beer pong,” Travis said as he took a few steps towards you

“Please, it would be pathetic if I got my feelings hurt due to some party game” You replied as you walked towards him as well

At this point, the two of you were inches from each other. His eyes met yours, causing you to give him a small smile. You watched as Travis’ eyes flickered down to your lips and then back up to your eyes. After giving him a slight nod, both of you leaned in, and your lips connected. This was definitely a party you’d remember for a while.