#(also you know the drill. Some things come easier than others.)

[respondedinkind]

|| Happy sunday, everyone! I apologize for being a bit slow; I shall work on my drafts here as soon as I am able to. ♥ My brain is a bit lazy and many of my drafts are currently just a lot to take, and I want to give them my best so I may take a bit longer for most things. Some things just come easier to me than others.

I hope you all are doing well, and I'm sending you good vibes and positive energy! ♥

[13uswntimagines]

13 Eras of Us Era 2: It’s The First Kiss, It’s Flawless, Really Something, It’s Fearless (Taylor Swift X Morgan!Reader)

13 Eras of us Era 1

This is the Era where R and Taylor finally get together. There is a little spice (very clearly marked). R and Alex start to work on their issues, and we learn a little bit more about R's past... situationships. The team learns about "burrito girl" and Kelley saves the day and keeps things on track.

August 2016

And isn’t it just so pretty to think 

All along there was some invisible string

While August was turning out slightly better than July, it was still weird. 

It was weird being at camp when you weren’t on the roster. Weird being around the people you called friends when most of them weren’t talking to you. 

But what made matters worse was that you had been called in hours before camp started. You had blindly thrown random clothing into a suitcase, rushing to not miss the flight Christen, Alyssa, and JJ were on, all while calling your teammates to find one willing to watch your dogs on such late notice. 

Part of you even considered calling Tony, the bodyguard who had strangely stayed in town despite Taylor’s departure, hoping that maybe he could at least check on them until you could guilt one of your teammates into taking them. 

The older couple that lived next to you would let him in, you knew. 

You had given Mr. And Mrs. Rossi keys two days after you had moved in when they brought over a pan of ravioli and introduced themselves. 

You were just lucky that Niki Stanton had answered you just before you boarded the plane with a yes, so you hadn’t had to ask. 

You didn’t want to bug Taylor more than you had to. You didn’t want to assume that Tony would want to help you. 

You sighed, tugging the special 3rd knot on your cleats to make sure it was tight. 

It wasn’t like you would actually be training with the team. You would be there to partner for drills. To make sure that everyone else was prepared to face Ireland. 

The only problem was that it seemed like no one wanted you to partner with them.

Well, that wasn’t entirely true. 

Rose and Emily had sent you regretful smiles as Jill directed you to pair with one of the forwards for a passing drill. Alex had already been claimed by Lindsey and Tobin and Christen had chosen each other. 

It left you on the bench, trying to pretend like it didn’t hurt that the rest of the team had lost so much faith in your abilities that they wouldn’t even look in your direction. 

You blew out another breach, checking your left cleat again. 

“Can I partner with you?” Mal asked sheepishly, blocking the beating sun from your face. 

You squinted up at her, your lips twitched into a ghost of a smile. “Don’t know if you wanna risk my bad luck rubbing off on you,”

“You don’t have bad luck,” She said, her lips also lifting. “But I will take some of your magic if you’re offering,” 

“You never could get enough,” You wiggled your eyebrows. 

“You’re too much,” Mal chuckled, shaking her head. 

There was a glint in her eyes, one that reminded you of long summers at U15 camp flirting over ice cream cones, and talking about what the future held. It reminded you of an easier time before you had been crushed by expectations. Before there were any expectations. 

You weren’t sure if the feelings you had harbored were real, or just a figment created by excitement and feeling free for the first time. What you did know was that while your feelings had long since mellowed into platonic, the comfort her friendship brought you was still as strong as it ever had been. 

If you couldn’t be on the pitch, you would make damn sure she had the debut of her lifetime. 

She deserved that, and hopefully, you would prove yourself to the coaching staff and be allowed to rejoin the team. 

She grabbed your arm, and dragged you to your feet.“Come on, I don’t want to be late for my first practice,” 

You made a low noise of agreement, trudging after her. 

“Don’t look so glum,” Tobin said, nudging your arm as you stepped into line beside her, across from Mal. “It doesn’t suit your sunny personality,” 

You pulled a face at her, catching the ball with your right cleat as Mal sent it your way, and you tapped it to your left foot and sent it back. “I think a majority of my energy has been sapped by all of my friends hating me,” 

“They don’t,” Christen said simply, flicking her own ball back towards Tobin. 

“We could never hate you,” Alex chimed in, catching a pass from Lindsey. 

“Cause I’m really feeling the love,” You grumbled back, staring at the ball instead of meeting your sister's eyes. 

You could feel their gazes glued to you, and you could imagine the looks on their faces. 

You didn’t need to see it. 

“Alright ladies,” Jill clapped her hands, drawing the group's attention. “Let’s start with passing drills. Midfielders will pass to their forwards, and forwards will attempt to score while the defenders will try to stop you,” 

She gestured towards the line of waiting defenders on one side of the goalpost, and the 3 keepers waiting by the other. “If you score, you get to keep the point. If you don’t, the defense keeps it. The side with the most points at the end will get to skip 2 laps on the conditioning run at the end of practice,” 

Your eyebrows furrowed. 

Jill didn’t usually run drills like this. This was something reminiscent of one of Roary’s drills. 

She couldn’t have been talking to him, but if she was... If she listened to his opinion, then maybe what he said was true. 

Maybe he really did have the power to make or break you. 

It sent an unpleasant shiver down your spine. 

You didn’t want to think about the… thank you you might owe him. Or how his suggestion of extra sessions might actually help. 

“Likewise, the keepers will also try to stop you so select the best shot, not just the easiest,” Jill continued, and you blinked back to yourself. “Questions?”

You shook your head along with the group. 

It didn’t matter who had come up with it. All that mattered was that you showed Jill that you belonged on the roster. That you made her regret not including you. 

“Ready to put on a show?” Mal bumped you as Lindsey and Alex started the drill. 

Alex easily outpaced Becky to get into position, but Lindsey had a harder time faking out Kelley, taking an extra second to make the defender step before she sent a perfect through ball into Alex’s path. 

“Always,” You breathed out as the ball left Alex’s foot, sailing through the air before pinging off of the crossbar. She ran a frustrated hand through her hair, and you dragged your eyes away to look at Mal. “Don't miss,” 

A devilish grin took over Mal’s features. “Don’t worry Ducky, I can’t miss with your magic,” 

She winked at you, and you rolled your eyes. 

You hated that nickname. Not as much as others you had been given. Not enough to ask Mal to get rid of it, not when she liked it so much. 

You stepped up to the ball and focused on Emily across from you as Mal did the same with Abby. 

Nicknames could wait until after you had shown them all why you belonged. 

OoOoOoO

You let out a long breath, standing over the ball as you stared at goal. 

You could hear your teammates behind you, chatting as they packed up their gear, but you did your best to tune them out. 

It didn’t matter to you that practice had ended nearly 15 minutes ago. All that you cared about was scoring from the spot. All you cared about was making sure you never missed another penalty again.

You took three steps back, your eyes flickering to the ball and then back towards goal. The back netting fluttered gently in the wind, like waving hands in the stands. 

You blew out one more breath and leaned into your run, counting down in your head. 

Your eyes never left the net as you took your three-step run up and blasted the ball toward the top right corner. 

It hit the net with a satisfying woosh, sending ripples through the material and rattling the woodwork. 

“Not bad,” 

You blinked at the approaching voice, turning to face the new number-one keeper of the USWNT. 

“Oh, thanks,” You nodded, blushing slightly and running a hand through your hair. You headed towards the goal to collect your ball and shoot again. 

You didn’t really interact with Alyssa, even in Chicago. Her quiet confidence always intimidated you. 

“Mind if I stand in goal for you?” She asked, trailing after you. “I wanna get some reps in,”

You paused, blinking at her. “You don’t have to do that for me,” 

She sent you a small smile. “I know. I want to,” 

You swallowed, flicking the ball up to your hands and tossing it towards her. “If you really want to,” 

“I do,” Alyssa caught it easily, looking at you for a long second. “When you send balls to the top right corner, you tilt your hips to the left in your run-up. It gives you away,” 

Your eyebrows furrowed. You didn’t know you were doing that. 

“Try to stay square,” She continued. “It’ll make it harder to read you,” 

You hummed, biting the inside of your lip as you stepped back towards the spot. 

She rolled the ball towards you, and you carefully positioned it where you wanted it, and took three big steps back. 

You twisted your hips, trying to remember to keep them square as you did your run-up. 

Your eyes fell to the ball, and you let out a long breath, doing the countdown on your head as you dragged your gaze to meet Alyssa’s in goal. 

You leaned onto your toes, doing your run-up and forcing your hips to remain parallel. 

Now that you were in step, you could feel what Alyssa was talking back in the way you wanted to pull to your left for the windup. 

Your foot contacted the ball, and you watched as it flew much more slowly towards Alyssa’s outstretched fingertips. It brushed past her, landing in the net with a much less satisfying swish. 

“I just feel like I don’t have as much power,” You said, watching as Alyssa got back to her feet and fished the ball out of the back of the net. 

“I save goals, I don’t make them,” Alyssa shrugged, rolling the ball back in your direction. “You could ask maybe Pino or your sister,”

Your nose scrunched at the options. 

You would rather gargle thumbtacks than do either considering Pino was still pretending that you didn’t exist and Alex was… too much. 

She was trying too hard, pushing too much and it made you suspicious. Why did she care now when she hadn’t before? When she had been ignoring you since the ball left your foot in Rio? 

When the two of you had been at odds since she left for Berkeley?

“It was just a suggestion,” Alyssa said quickly as you tapped the ball back towards the spot. 

“I know,” You mumbled, repositioning the ball with your hands. “I’ll probably ask Mal later. She’s always been better at PKs anyway,” 

Alyssa hummed in agreement. She didn’t know you well enough to argue, and you seemed pretty close with the new striker. You had perked up considerably after partnering with her during practice, and the two of you had been unstoppable in the new set of drills Jill wanted to try(even if Jill made you sit the scrimmage out). 

She hoped that helping you with your PKs would only add to the good mood you had been riding. She hoped it would help to alleviate the dark cloud that had been following you since the Olympics. 

You were young and under more pressure than anyone your age should ever be placed under. As the captain of your club team, she felt it was her duty to actually do something about it. If that meant standing for a million of your PKs until you felt comfortable, then that’s exactly what she would do. 

You lined up behind the ball, squinting at it. She noticed how you tilted your hips back and forth trying to figure out the mechanics of your kick. 

It amazed her how easily you could adjust, and how smooth you made it look. 

If you could get rid of your little tells, you would be deadly in front of the net. Just as deadly as you were during normal play. 

She watched as you leaned forward on your toes, your feet shuffling as you prepared to kick. 

“Hey you two, we’re going to leave soon,” Alyssa blinked up at Kelley’s voice, just as the ball left your foot. 

She missed your kick, and the ball sailed easily into the net to her left. “We were just finishing up,”

Your shoulders rolled, and it looked like you wanted to argue, but no words left your lips. 

It worried her how much you sunk into yourself at Kelley’s appearance. How your good mood vanished in a second. 

She shared a look with Kelley over your shoulder, noting the worry in the defender's eyes. 

At least someone else saw it too. 

“Come on, you can sit by me at lunch,” Alyssa said, wrapping an arm over your shoulder and guiding you towards the bench with your gear. “We can talk more about ball placement,” 

You made a low noise and allowed her to pull you back towards the team. 

You would take any help you could get. 

 *****

“Where’s Ducky?” Mal asked as she set her plate down on the table beside Lindsey’s, leaving an empty chair on her other side for you. 

She thought practice had gone well, and the good mood you gained through practice stayed with you to the weight and film sessions that followed it. You seemed excited about dinner, hyping up Chef Teron’s cooking and promising that you would join her after you took a shower. 

“Ducky?” Kelley frowned, taking the seat opposite of her. 

“Y/n,” Mal said, glancing up at the defender.  “She found a baby duck at our first camp together,”

It was the truth, even if it wasn’t the entire story. Kelley didn’t need to know exactly how the nickname had been earned anyway. Mal was sure she wouldn’t want to know…

Lindsey shot her a look. A warning of sorts that while Kelley didn’t know the story, the full extent of Mal’s relationship with you, Lindsey definitely did. 

“Em’s not here either. I’m sure they’re just late. You know how they get when they’re together,” Lindsey said, dragging her eyes away from Mal to look at Kelley. 

Kelley shrugged. “It’s entirely possible,” 

You and Emily were known to get into trouble when the two of you were together. 

“What’s possible?” Emily asked, appearing through the meal room door alone. 

“That you and Y/n are late because you two are nuts when you’re together,” Lindsey said, stabbing a piece of her chicken. “It's why Paul banned it at u20 camp,” 

Mal rolled her eyes. “No. He stopped putting them together after Y/n was up for three nights straight because she lost a bet,” 

“That’s true,” Emily shrugged. “She was on the phone with the mysterious Taylor when I left. I didn’t want to wait for her anymore,” 

Kelley’s eyebrows furrowed. “Who?”

She had never heard of Taylor before. 

Emily's shoulders lifted and fell again. “The girl that Y/n isn’t dating but pretty much is,” 

“I’m not dating her,” You grumbled, finally joining the table. 

Mal frowned when you took the seat between Kelley and Emily instead of the seat she had saved for you. She slid the plate she had made for you across the table nonetheless, and you nodded in thanks. 

Emily rolled her eyes, ignoring the way you glared at the side of her head. “She flew to your apartment because she was worried about you, and then went to a shitty game that you only played in for 22 minutes,” 

“I scored a hat trick,” You muttered, stabbing at the pasta Mal had grabbed for you. “It wasn’t that shitty,” 

“I’m sorry, what?” Kelley blinked at you. 

She was usually the first person you told things to, despite how… strained things were between you and your sister at times. It felt very strange to her to be out of the loop. 

You let out a suffering sigh. “It’s nothing. Emily is just blowing everything out of proportion,” 

“Am I?” Emily asked incredulously. “Let me repeat, a girl flew across the country to see you because you were sad,” 

“She’s my friend,” You muttered. 

“Ok,” Kelley said, holding up her hand to stop whatever retort Emily was about to make. “It was very nice of your friend to visit,” 

You hummed, seemingly mollified. “It was. She got to try her first burrito,” 

“What kind of person has never had a burrito?” Lindsey snorted. 

And your shoulders lifted and fell. “She’s from Pennsylvania. I don’t think they’re popular there. Or in Nashville,” 

Emily opened her mouth like she was going to protest, but a sharp look from Kelley had her closing it again. 

The way to get information out of you was to drop the pressure, and let you share what you felt comfortable with, even if it wasn’t the juicy details that anyone really wanted. 

“Does she live in Nashville now?” Kelley asked, pretending like she wasn’t invested in the answer. 

Your nose scrunched, and you chewed your food thoughtfully. You had only visited her in Nashville so far, but you knew she spent a larger amount of time in New York. 

 “At least part-time,” You said, stabbing another set of noodles. “She splits her time between there, LA and New York,”  

“Nice, kid,” Kelley hummed. 

“It’s good to make friends,” Mal added, swallowing the sudden lump in her throat, as you smiled brilliantly at her. 

She would believe you when you said that this… Taylor was your friend. After all, she was just your friend too. 

“What about friends?” Alex asked, appearing at the table, and placing her plate down next to Mal. 

“We were just talking about Y/n’s new friend,” Emily said, waggling her eyebrows. “Apparently she never had a burrito before she met your sister,” 

A disgusted look crossed Alex's face. “If that’s a sex thing, then I really don’t want to know about it,” 

“It’s not,” You huffed. “I think about more than just sex you know,” 

“You do? I’m shocked,” Alex deadpanned, and the table burst into bemused laughter. 

“You forgot that she thinks about soccer,” Emily cackled, nudging you. “And the dogs,” 

“Ah yes, the pack of mythological creatures,” Alex said, rolling her eyes. 

“So dogs, soccer, and sex. Seems pretty reasonable to me,” Kelley flicked the side of your head, and you jerked away from her. 

“I fucking hate you guys,” You ground out, stabbing another piece of your chicken, more bitterness than you meant leaking into your tone.

Mal’s head tilted to the side, as the comment only earned more laughter from the table. She noticed something she couldn’t place in Alex’s expression as the giggles died down. 

“I think she thinks a lot about penalty kicks too,” Lindsey added, chuckling. “It was all her and Alyssa would talk about at lunch,” 

Your face twisted into a grimace, and Mal knew at once that you didn’t find it funny. She saw Kelley’s arm shift next to you like a hand was placed on your leg to keep you from pushing yourself out of your seat. 

Alex’s eyebrows furrowed at the comment, and she leaned forward in her chair. 

“Your hips twist to the left when you aim for the top right corner,” She said, her voice going oddly gentle. “If you twist your plant foot outward, it’ll counter it so you can keep your hips square and still have the same power,” 

You froze, your forks halfway to your lips, and your back went rigid. 

It was one thing for Alyssa to offer her help, and another for your sister to do it. 

You bit back your retort that Alex had missed her kick too, that she was no better than you, and forced your fork to your mouth. 

You weren’t in a position to deny help. Even if you didn’t really want it. 

“I can show you later if you want,” Alex continued, seeming unphased by your stiffness. 

“Sure,” Your voice squeaked as you agreed, your eyes dipping. 

Alex’s smile was blinding. “Awesome. We can do it after dinner and before movie night,” 

Your chin barely moved as you nodded in agreement, chewing on your bite. 

Taking pointers from Alex was not a top thing on your to-do list. 

*****

“I just feel like it cuts my power in half,” You sighed, running a frustrated hand through your hair and turning away from the little goal the staff had set up for you. 

“You just need to find the right foot angle so your hips can get around it,” Alex positioned her hands as she explained it. “Just play with it for a bit. I’m sure you’ll get it,” 

You could feel her eyes on you like you were a specimen under a microscope, but you didn’t look up to meet her eyes. 

You couldn’t meet her eyes. 

It reminded you too much of when you were young. Of the hours the two of you would spend in the backyard, critiquing each other play after play. Of the summers you spent under the hot sun, practicing skill after skill until you could take out every other player you faced. 

It reminded you that Alex was more than a teammate. And that was too much. 

“Y/n,” Alex said, her voice going very soft, her hand landing warm and grounding on your shoulder. 

You sucked in a shaky breath. The two of you hadn’t been this close since she left for college. You hadn’t let her this close to you. 

“I’m fine, Alex,” You muttered, trying to shrug her hand off, but she didn’t let you. 

“You’re not,” Her fingers tightened on your shoulder. “And part of that is my fault,” 

Your jaw clenched. “You didn’t sky your penalty,” 

While Alex’s kick hadn’t gone in, it hadn’t been taken nearly as badly as yours was. The keeper had beaten her, while you had simply beaten yourself. 

“No,” She agreed softly. “But I also didn’t make sure you were ok afterward,” 

No. Afterward, everyone split off into different directions to handle their grief. Alex didn’t even say goodbye to you before flying out of Rio. 

“You don’t need to worry about me. I’m an adult,” You said, finally looking up to meet her eyes. The eyes were a near-perfect replica of yours. “I’m fine. I’m playing well, and I’m showing everyone that I deserve to be here,” 

Alex nodded. 

She couldn’t disagree that you had been on fire since camp started. That the connection you and Mal had on the pitch was proving to be lethal, and that she was sure Jill regretted that you wouldn’t be eligible for the game against Australia. 

But she could see that you were not fine. 

She wished you trusted her enough to admit it. 

“You might be an adult, but you’re still my little sister,” Alex said, her voice still soft, but determined as she squeezed your shoulder again. “And I want to be there for you,” 

“Now you want to be here for me. Now that everyone is watching you care. Now when it’s convenient,” You muttered, finally pulling yourself free of her hand. 

Her eyes snapped towards you, and the bitterness in your tone. “What?”

You paced towards the ball, taking extra time to fish it out of the back of the net, watching it as you directed it back towards the penalty spot. 

“You care now because that’s what you think is expected of you,” You said finally, your voice barely above a whisper. “You care because it’s convenient for you now that we’re in the same place. When I go back to Chicago, you’re going to go back to not giving a fuck,” 

“Let’s get one thing straight,” Alex growled, catching your wrist, and whipping you around to face her. “I have never not given a fuck,” 

Your jaw worked like you were contemplating the next words to come out of your mouth, and you slowly looked up to meet her eyes. 

They weren’t the icy stone that she expected or the cold blue that she had become accustomed to. 

They were a deep turquoise, vibrant, and… open. Vulnerable in a way they hadn’t been since you were 9 years old. 

“You just left me,” You said. “And then I was alone,”

Something dark lingered under your words. Something that she knew you weren’t saying. Something that she had a feeling was far deeper than what happened after the Olympics. 

“You have never been alone,” Alex grit out, the hand on your arm tightening. 

You rolled your eyes, ripping away from her grasp for the second time. “Whatever Alex,” 

Alex opened her mouth, a scathing retort on the tip of her tongue, but she didn’t let it fly. She paused, watching the way you focused back on the ball. You flicked it up onto your toe box, juggling it a few times before you let it fall perfectly on the penalty spot. 

She recognized the movement. It was the same one you used when you were young, and you felt too vulnerable to talk. When you needed to control your emotions. 

She let out a long breath, calming the agitation still simmering in her chest. 

You wouldn’t respond to anger and harsh retorts. No. She had to take a more gentle approach. One that wouldn’t threaten your vulnerability. 

“I shouldn’t have left right after the game in Rio,” She said softly, taking a very slow step toward you. “I’m sorry that I didn’t stay to make sure you were alright,” 

Your shoulders rolled, and you positioned yourself to take another kick. “I didn’t need you to stay,” 

“I also should have checked on you after we got back, instead of just assuming that you were fine,” She pushed on as if you hadn’t spoken.

A strange sort of grimace flashed across your features. One you tried to smother as you did your signature run-up, keeping your hips square (and turning your foot out slightly wider) as you took your kick.

The net swished as the ball made contact, banging into the top right corner with a satisfying rattle. 

It was still amazing to her how quickly you could make adjustments. How easy it was for you to figure out the body mechanics to make a slight change work. 

She took another step towards you. “I know I haven’t been there for you, but I want to be. Not because I think it’s what’s expected of me, but because you’re my sister and I love you,”

She wanted to reach out and catch your shoulder again. To force you to look at her, but she knew that wouldn’t help. 

All she could do was watch as the words filtered through your brain; as you worked them over in your head; as you realized that she wasn’t looking for a fight or defend herself and your posture very slowly relaxed. 

“There’s an app,” Alex continued, taking the last step towards you, getting so close that she was nearly brushing your back. “It tracks miles, and fitness, and calories, and I think it could help us reconnect if you want to try it,” 

She could see the way your jaw worked, as you stepped away from her to collect the ball from the net again like you were chewing on her both words and her offer. 

The offer she meant to make while the two of you were still in Rio. 

She waited as you rolled the ball out of the net, flipping it between your feet for a long minute before you finally looked up and met her eyes. “Ok,” 

She nodded, more to herself than to you, just thankful that you had responded at all. She hadn’t expected even that. 

“I love you,” She repeated softly, reaching out and catching your hand and squeezing in 3 slow pulses. 

You squeezed it in return. “I love you too,” 

The slight reluctance in your tone bothered her, but she would take what she could get with you. It was more than she had gotten in a very long time. 

You cleared your throat, breaking the comforting silence that stretched between you. “When I want to kick it left, would I just angle my plant foot in the opposite direction?”

She blinked, once, twice, 3 times. “Yeah. It’ll help you prevent your hips from telegraphing,” 

You hummed, turning away. 

She should have known that you wouldn’t comment further. That you would turn back to football as soon as you could. She knew it wasn’t personal. 

But she wished it didn’t sting as much. 

******

You glanced down at the new addition to your right wrist, shaking your hand and testing how much the little watch slid with the movement. You had been playing with it since Kelley passed it to you at breakfast. 

You didn’t know that Alex’s app required a stupid piece of jewelry, but you hadn’t had the heart to take it off yet. Not when she was actually trying. 

It was still irritating to you, and you worried that it would get in the way during your afternoon practice and lift session, even if you wouldn’t be allowed to join their walkthrough. 

You didn’t want to break it before you really got to use it. You didn’t think that your Red Stars salary would stretch enough to cover a new one. Not when you were planning extra trips to New York. 

You sighed, grabbing your cup of green juice and taking a large sip. 

You were probably going to have to budget more as it was. Flights weren’t cheap, and neither was food, or a hotel (even if Taylor insisted you could stay with her. As her best friend).

“Hey kid,” Jill said, knocking on the Hotel lobby table. “Got a second?”

You gulped down the liquid and gestured towards the empty couch across from you. “Always coach,”

She smiled and settled into the seat. You leaned forward in your own, your drink landing on the table with a thunk. 

“We’re placing you on the active roster for the game against Canada,” Jill said. “Roary said that you had been making slow improvements, but I wanted to see for myself. You’ve proven that you deserve the spot,” 

“I…-“ You blinked at her. “Thank you. I will not let you down,”��

She waved you off. “I’d like to see some nice linking with Mallory and your sister. I want to really push Trancredi and Chapman,” 

“I can do that,” You nodded seriously. You knew you could get balls to Alex and Mal. You knew you could stretch the defense. 

You were a menace on the pitch, especially when you had something to prove. 

You had everything to prove. 

“I know,” Her lips ticked up and she reached across the table to pat your knee as she stood. “Go eat. You’ll be joining full team practice after lunch, and dawn will have my head if you pass out,”

You matched her smile. “Yes, coach. Thank you,” 

“You’ve earned it,” She said, turning and heading off towards the meal room, but she paused before she exited the lobby. “And stop hiding from your friends,” 

You blushed but nodded in agreement anyway. She winked as she left, and you couldn’t help the bubbling laugh that left your lips, undeterred by her request to stop icing out the team. 

She invited you because she wanted to see your progress herself. She wanted to see if you were progressing as slowly as Roary said you were, and you had proven that you weren’t. You had proven you were an asset. 

You had proven them wrong. 

The elation filled your chest, like champagne in a shaken bottle and all you wanted was to let it out. You wanted to tell someone. 

Well, not someone. You wanted to tell Taylor. 

She was the one who convinced them that you could prove them wrong after all. The one who had been there for you, even before you took the penalty kick in Rio. 

You grabbed your green juice from the table and pushed yourself up from the armchair, pulling your phone out of your pocket as you hung a left down a side hallway by the meal room so you could have some privacy before you faced the rest of the team. 

You easily flicked through your contacts, pausing over the one you had recently changed from blondie to Athena after the goddess of wisdom, and pressing it gently. 

“Hey, what’s up,” Taylor’s smiling face met you after the second ring. “Everything ok?” 

“Better than ok,” You nodded excitedly, flashing her a brilliant grin. “Jill added me to the active squad, and I’m playing in the game on Saturday against Canada,” 

Her eyes lit up. “Oh my god! That’s amazing! I’m so proud of you!”

Red leaked into your cheeks. “Thanks,” 

She hummed, her smile shifting into something softer, silence stretching between you for a long second. 

“What time?” She asked, and your eyebrows pulled tightly together. “What?” 

“The game,” She said, the soft look never leaving her eyes. “What time is it on?”

“6ish I think?” Your voice tilted up in question. 

The truth was you didn’t actually know what time the game was on. You didn’t know what time you needed to be on the bus, or when warmups started. 

It was the nice thing about camp. 

You never had to think about a schedule. You just went with the flow.

“I’ll look on the USWNT website,” Taylor rolled her eyes affectionately at you. 

“Good plan,” You said, your head bobbing. 

You opened your mouth to add a quip, but the sound of your name interrupted you. 

You blinked up at the new voice, suddenly realizing that your side hallway wasn’t as private as you thought it was. 

“You’re going to miss lunch,” Mal said, and you wondered how long she had been standing there. How long had she listened in? 

You waved her off. “Just save me a plate,”

You could eat after you were finished with your call. 

“No,” Mal glared at the phone in your hand.  “come on,” 

“You’ve gotta go,” Taylor interjected softly before you could send whatever whippy retort was on your tongue towards Mal, pulling your attention back to the screen. “We’ll talk later, I promise,”  

“I’ll see you later,” You sighed, waving towards Taylor before hanging up, a millisecond before Mal peeked at the screen. 

“That was rude,” You grumbled, slapping her arm when she was close enough. “I was having a conversation,” 

“Well, you were late,” Mal said, rolling her eyes and hooking her arm through yours to pull you tightly to her as she dragged you towards the meal room. “And you get grumpy when you don’t eat,” 

You got more grumpy when you didn’t get to talk to Taylor, but you didn’t voice that thought. 

You didn’t need anyone else questioning your relationship with Taylor, not when she was very firmly your friend. 

OoOoOoO

September 2016

Is it cool that I said all that?

Is it too soon to do this yet?

Cause I know that it’s delicate

The craziness that was August simmered down considerably as soon as September started. It was like the sudden chill in the air was a balm to the insanity that always accompanied the stretch to the playoffs.

With Chicago at the very bottom of the table, well besides Orlando, you knew that your season would likely end in 4 games. It should have made you feel bad, but it didn’t. All you could muster was a strange sense of… blaséness. 

You didn't have it in you to care after the loss of the Olympics. Not in a league that didn’t matter. 

It wasn’t like you were playing for Arsenal. 

What you did care about was that you had earned your national team spot back. 

With 2 assists and a goal yourself against Canada, you had solidified why you deserved your callup. That was before you found out that Taylor was there. 

Things only got better when you got to see her after the game. When you got to hug her and hear her say how proud she was of you. When you got to solidify your plans to see her when you played against Sky Blue. 

Nothing could dampen your… excitement, not even Mal (drunkenly) hanging off of you during the post-game dinner celebration. 

That carried over into your upset win over Portland with Chicago, and the week of practice you had between them and your game in New York. 

And now, sitting in the back of a dark dive bar in Tribeca, trying to ignore your drunk friends (teammates and foes) celebrating, your excitement. Your happiness was nearly palpable. 

Taylor was going to swing by before you left, and the two of you were set to hang out tomorrow too.  

But still, you couldn’t get rid of the nagging feeling in the back of your mind. Of the butterflies that fluttered in your chest each time you so much as thought about Taylor. 

You tried to slam a lid on it. To shove it into a little box, because you knew that if you let it out, you would fuck up your friendship. 

It was how you saved your friendship with Mal after all wasn't it?

You had swallowed the lump in your throat, and taken the little piece of her that she gave you. You had even listened to her talk about him while the two of you cuddled. 

But it was different because you weren’t sleeping with Taylor. 

“Hey, sorry I’m kinda late,” Taylor said, just as a hand landed very gently on your shoulder. 

Your lips instantly ticked up at Taylor’s voice and you turned towards the back of the bar to greet her (slightly surprised she hadn’t come in the front). “Hey, no worries,”

You pushed yourself to your feet and pulled her into a tight hug. Your nose pressed against her neck, and you tried not to think about how the scent of lavender and something so innately Taylor put your swirling thoughts at ease. 

You leaned back with a genuine grin, and slid her the drink you had ordered for her “Old fashion right?”

She frowned but took the drink anyway. “How did you order this? You’re not 21 yet,” 

You shrugged and slid back onto your stool. “I didn’t have to order it,” 

She took the stool next to you, her eyebrows lifting. 

“Really I didn’t,” You said, reaching for your own glass. “The losing team always buys the first round at least,” 

She eyed it warily as you brought it to your lips, taking a sip of her own.

“It’s water,” You said before she could ask. “Because Kelley and Christen strongly disapprove of underage drinking,”

“I do too,” Taylor hummed, leaning closer to you so she could hear you over the bar noise. 

“I know,” You said, sending her a cheeky smile. “How was the studio? Cooking up something good?”

She took a sip of her drink. “I think so. I can show you some of them tomorrow,”

“That would be cool,” You nodded, your eyes flickering towards your teammates. “There’s also a cool little brunch spot in TriBeCa. It’s called the bus stop,”

“I’ve heard about it,” Taylor hummed. “It’s like two blocks from my apartment,” 

“I can pick you up tomorrow and we can go,” You said, watching Taylor carefully. “Roary gets upset when I skip out early,” 

You didn’t want to be too… forward. 

You didn’t want to tip the hand on your feelings when you knew she didn’t feel the same. 

“That should work,” Taylor agreed, without even blinking. “I’ll let Jason know you’re coming and I’ll text you directions to the back entrance,” 

“Jason?” You smirked, trying to keep your voice neutral, and wiggled your eyebrows to complete the effect. “Have a boyfriend you’re not telling me about?”

She was your friend you reminded yourself. You weren’t allowed to feel upset if she was dating someone. She probably wasn’t even interested. 

“No,” Taylor chuckled around a sip of her drink. “Jason is my head of security. He’ll let the team know that you’re not just some random fan,”

“Have many of them knock on your door?” You asked, your smirk widening into something that reminded her of a Cheshire Cat grin as you nudged her shoulder gently. 

“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you,” She sighed heavily and a dark look crossed over her features (making you instantly regret the joking tone you had used). “It’s only gotten worse lately, especially since the video came out,”

You grimaced, your nose scrunching adorably. 

You thought the entire handling of the situation by Kanye’s camp was fucking disgusting. You thought he was a total narcissistic creeper and a douche. 

You had already gotten your national team teammates to agree not to listen to it. 

“If he’s ever at a game, I’ll put a price on who can peg him in the head more times,” You Promised with a short nod, and it earned you the desired effect of her giggle. “But seriously I think it’s fucking gross and that he needs to get a life,” 

“I appreciate that, but I don’t need you to fight for me,”  She said, laying a hand on your shoulder. 

“I know,” You nodded. “But I will anyway. A man should know how to treat people,” 

You would always be willing to defend her honor, just like you would defend Mal or any of your teammates. 

Well, maybe this wasn’t like Mal. You didn’t crave Mal’s soft smile or… praise like you did Taylor’s. You didn’t need Mal to acknowledge your bravery like you wanted Taylor to…

God you were really starting to lose the plot. 

Taylor was your friend. 

“I appreciate it,” She said, red coloring her cheeks. “Anyway, what are your other plans for tonight?”

“I’m going to help Christen drag the team back to the hotel, and then I’ll probably crash,” You shrugged, gesturing towards where Christen and Kelley were dancing with Huerta and Sam Kerr. “This way I’m actually awake to hang out with you tomorrow,” 

Taylor’s lips quirked up into a teasing grin. “I do prefer you conscious,” 

You wiggled your eyebrows, shifting on your stool to block Taylor from the view of your teammates when you caught Christen's eye. 

It wasn’t that you didn’t trust them, you just wanted to keep Taylor to yourself. You didn’t want to have to share her. 

“I didn’t know you owned anything other than sweatpants,” Taylor continued, gesturing towards the dark blue jeans you had accented with a pair of Batman Nikes.

You took a sip of your water to cover the light pink that dusted your cheeks. Maybe you had dressed up because you knew you were meeting her at the bar. “We won, so I had to wear something other than warm-up gear. Christen picked them,” 

Christen had helped you because you didn’t actually know how to put an outfit together. You wore sweats because they went with everything. You didn’t have to think about things matching. 

So by the 3rd try, the forward had taken pity on you. Picking a Manchester City jersey to go with your dark pants and your Nike kicks. 

Taylor hummed, smiling very gently at you like she was reading your mind. 

Really, she was fighting to keep her eyes from tracing your arms where you had rolled the jersey sleeves, and from dipping down to where your jeans hugged your ass. 

“Will you be back to your normal style tomorrow, or is she going to pick your outfit again?”

You rolled your eyes at the playful question. “Depends, do I get anything if I dress up?”

“I’ll buy you breakfast,” She smirked and you chuckled, more red bleeding into your cheeks. “Or brunch,” 

“I think that sounds like a fair trade,” You chuckled, nodding along. She giggled at you, and it was like music to your ears, even against the backdrop of the noisy bar. 

It made your smile broaden, just like it always did. It shouldn’t fill your chest with so much pride that you were the reason she was giggling. 

You really needed to get a handle on yourself before you did something stupid that pushed her away. 

You needed to make sure you wouldn’t ruin your friendship. 

You didn’t know what you would do if you lost Taylor. 

********

“I don’t think words can describe how adorable she is,” Taylor sighed towards her phone, taking a sip of her red wine. “I swear she blushes every time I so much as look at her,” 

It wasn’t her first glass of the night. It wasn’t even her second. 

She had opened the bottle as soon as she had gotten back from the bar, and now it was verging on halfway gone. 

She could feel the effects starting to take place, the way it loosened up her muscles and tongue. The way she couldn’t stop gushing about everything that had happened with you up to this point, not that her best friend was in the dark. She had been telling Selena about you for months, recounting each interaction the two of you had from the texting to the pillow fort cuddles. 

Selena hummed, taking a sip of her own wine on the other side of the phone. “I’m surprised considering how… fierce she was on the field. She almost murdered someone today,”

Taylor rolled her eyes. 

You had gotten in a defender's face after a bad tackle just outside of the box, turning angrily towards the reff when no yellow card followed the challenge. 

“That was a bad call and the reff knew it. The defender came in studs up and ruined a good through ball opportunity,” She said. 

Selena raised an eyebrow. “You know you sound like you’re speaking a different language right?”

It was something that had been happening more frequently. Taylor explaining soccer plays and referring to teams using phrases that Selena had never heard before. With all the time the singer had been spending with you, it shouldn’t have been surprising that Taylor would pick up on the dialect that was always on your lips. 

That didn’t mean that Taylor’s best friend couldn’t tease her for it. 

“Y/n was right to get upset. The defender could have hurt her,” Taylor reiterated seriously. 

“I’m sure,” Selena’s tone dripped with sarcasm as she studied her for a long moment. “When are you going to admit that your sudden interest in soccer is because you’re interested in her,”

Deep red immediately bled into Taylor’s cheeks, setting her face aflame.

 “I've already admitted that,” She muttered, hiding behind a sip. 

“Let me rephrase then,” Selena said, a trading smirk on her lips. “When are you going to admit it to her, because no offense, but she obviously hasn’t gotten the message yet, even after you continue to fly out to her games,”

Taylor choked on her wine, “I thought she finally understood tonight. She saved me a spot away from her teammates so we could have privacy, but then she said something about us being best friends when she walked me to the car,” 

“You’re going to have to be more direct,” Selena said, as Taylor took the last sip from her glass. 

“It’s just…” Taylor sighed, setting the empty glass down. “She’s still so young. She just turned 19. I don’t want to… I don’t know, pressure her into something,”

“I don’t think you are,” Selena said slowly, her lips pursing. “You’re both adults who can consent, and even though you’re older, I don’t think there's an unfair power dynamic happening. You’re her sister’s age right?”

“Yes,” Taylor nodded. 

Her and Alex were both born in 1989, and actually, your sister was older than her by almost 6 months, and you were very much an adult. She had made sure of that, refusing to even pursue a friendship until you were 18. 

“Then it’s not like you're some older woman trying to take advantage of her,” 

“No, I’m not. I would never,” Taylor immediately agreed. 

She would do anything to make sure you weren’t being taken advantage of. She knew how powerful existing dynamics could be, and she did her best to avoid their effects. 

You had to consent at every stage, even your friendship. 

“Then there you go,” Selena shrugged, wiggling her fingers at the screen. “Now can you please stop with the pining and make an actual move? It’s less fun than it was before,” 

Taylor threw her head back with a groan. “But how,” 

She had literary flown across the country because you had been added to the starting lineup for the national team and you still didn’t catch the message. 

Selena chuckled. “You’ve literally written a song about it,”

Taylor groaned again. 

She knew the song that Taylor was talking about. She could hear How you get the girl ringing in her head. 

But this was different. 

You didn’t even know about the pressure that had driven them apart. The demands that her management had of her. The complications of her… profession made it impossible for them to be together in the way that she wanted. 

And she hadn’t communicated that nearly as well as she wanted to. 

“That was different. I fucked up and Diana wouldn’t talk to me,” She said softly, 

“But you know the basics. It’s even raining,” Selena shrugged for a 3rd time, smiling impishly at her. “It doesn’t have to be complicated,” 

Taylor bit her lip. 

Selena made it sound simple, but maybe it was. 

“You’re right,” Taylor hummed, a plan forming in her mind. “I'll call you later. After,” 

Selena smirked. “Good luck with lover girl, but I don’t think you’ll need it,” 

“Thanks,” 

******

Taylor shouldn’t have been shocked by how easy it was to get into the hotel that the team was staying at. She shouldn’t have been surprised that the teenager behind the front desk gave her a room number with very little persuading. 

There also hadn’t been any security on the elevator. Or on the floor, your room was on. 

It was a little scary that she could get to you with literally no one stepping in, but considering your frequently snarky comments about how little people actually cared about you and the league, she should’ve expected it. 

If you said yes. If you started a relationship with her, she would have to do something to put a barrier between you and the fans. 

You probably wouldn’t like the idea of someone trailing you around, like Jason and her team trailed her, but it would be necessary. She would have to talk to Jason about it. Maybe Tony would be up for the job, you seemed to like him anyway. 

Finding your door was as easy as getting the number from the receptionist. 

But she paused in front of the ugly red door, her heart pounding on her chest. 

She swallowed hard, lifting her hand and knocking three times on the door. 

She had no reason to be nervous. You loved seeing her, and it wasn’t like you could bring one of your… conquests to a hotel room you shared with a teammate. 

It would just be your sleepy smile that would meet her. The one where your eyes crinkled and you ran a hand through your ever-unruly curls. 

But it wasn’t your tired smile that met her. 

Instead, it was Christen’s Press’ wide smirk, as the older forward opened the door. 

“So you’re the mystery girl from the bar,” Christen’s chin tilted towards her as she leaned against the doorframe. “I thought I recognized you,”

Taylor’s fingers wound into her cardigan, and she swallowed trying to get some moisture in her suddenly dry throat. 

“Is Y/n here?” 

Her voice came out shaky, horse. 

Christen bit her lip, watching Taylor closely like she was a specimen under a microscope. 

“She is not,” She said finally, her arms crossing over her chest, almost defensively. 

“Oh,” 

Taylor’s whole being deflated. 

If you weren’t here, then where were you? Who were you with?

Christen glanced into the room behind her. “She should be back soon though. Wicked started at 8, and she swore it was only a 3-hour show with a thirty-minute intermission,” 

Taylor’s eyebrows furrowed. “She’s on Broadway?” 

You insisted that you hated anything with a plot, but Broadway musicals had a plot. You had also told her that you were just going to hang out at the hotel with your friends. 

Why had you lied? 

Taylor could see the pity in her eyes, and she hated it. 

“Yeah,” Christen nodded once. “She sees at least one show every time she’s in New York. It’s like her 8th time seeing Wicked, but it’s her favorite,” 

“Oh,” Taylor breathed out. 

A pained look crossed Christen’s face, and she shifted on the door frame. 

“I’m sure you’ve heard about y/n’s reputation. I just…,” Christen’s voice was soft, hesitant even. “If… you woke up alone… or if she promised you something…”

Taylor frowned immediately shaking her head. “We didn’t-. She didn’t-. I wanted to talk to her about our plans for tomorrow,” 

Relief washed across Christen’s face. “Good. The two of you looked adorable in the bar, and she wouldn’t shut up about you. She has a habit of ruining things she thinks she doesn’t deserve,” 

Taylor’s eyebrows furrowed. 

What did Christen mean? What did you ruin? 

“You said she’s seeing Wicked tonight?” Taylor asked, her head tilting. 

Jason should be able to get her close to the theater before they let out. Maybe she could catch you. 

Christen nodded, sensing that Taylor was already forming another plan. “Yes. Jackie Burns is playing Elphaba and she’s one of y/n’s favorites,” 

“Thanks,” 

Taylor was already turning away from her, phone in hand. 

Christen caught her arm before she could retreat down the hall, and Taylor met her deep green eyes. “Just… treat her right, ok?”

“I will,” 

Both women felt the weight of the words. The promise. 

“There will be a hoard of angry footballers with a bounty on your head if you don’t,” Christen’s lips cracked into a smile as she released the singer. “Y/n doesn’t just let anyone close to her,”

“I know,” Taylor matched her grin. 

Taylor had already gotten close to you. Closer than you had let nearly everyone before her. Now she just had to actually get you to agree that your relationship was more.

She would, and then she would protect your relationship and you with everything she had. 

******

Sometimes, being a professional soccer player was… strange. 

Strange because you played on a well-known team, but that you could easily disappear into a crowd. Strange because strangers on the internet all so many opinions about you, but none of them actually knew you. 

They didn’t know how much you loved musicals because it let you escape the truth of your own reality for a few hours. They didn’t know how much you loved the way the skyscrapers were accented against the star-dotted sky. How the billboards lit up the sidewalk and the pedicabs and taxis when you stepped out of a show. 

How the rain made the lights twinkle like the street was covered in fairy dust. 

How the cool October air filled your lungs as you shoved your hands deeper into your pockets as you left the Gershwin Theater. 

You would stay and stand at the stage door, but it was already nearing midnight. You promised Christen you wouldn’t be back too late, and the dollar pizza guy around the corner from the hotel closed at 1. You would not be missing out on a greasy one-dollar slice. It was tradition after all, and you already had Jackie Burns’ signature on a framed shirt. 

Plus the rain made anything but finding the subway entrance something you wholeheartedly didn’t want to do. 

“Y/n,” 

You dipped your head at the call of your name, slipping further into the crowd and leaving the theater. 

You didn’t think that anyone would recognize you. They rarely ever did, but then again your face had been plastered all over the place since Rio. 

You weren’t in the mood to deal with fans anyway, even after a solid win over Sky Blue. Not while you were getting soaked. 

“Y/n, wait!” 

You pulled your hood over your head, ignoring the way it pressed into your damp curls, and hunched your shoulders in an attempt to make yourself disappear. 

You just needed to get around the corner of the Barclay building and cut between the hotdog cart and Juniors and you would be safe in the subway station. Away from prying eyes and the drenching rain, and back towards the team hotel in SoHo. 

“Y/n,” 

The voice was even closer, and a hand caught your arm just as you made it to the corner, pulling you to a dead stop. You let out a long, weary breath, painting a million-dollar smile on your face as you turned. 

Yelling at a fan wouldn’t go over well. 

But it melted as soon as you saw exactly who had grabbed you. 

“Taylor?” Her hair was plastered to her head, her dark gray cardigan soaked through, and her blue eyes accented by running makeup. “Where is your coat? What are you doing here?” 

“I need to talk to you,” 

“We need to get you out of this rain,” You muttered, ignoring her. You yanked your zipper down, and tugged your arms out of your jacket, tucking it around her shoulders and pulling the hood over her head. “You’re going to get sick,” 

You caught her hand after you zipped the coat around her and began to drag her towards the subway. 

At least the 51st station was heated. 

“Y/n wait,” 

Her slippery fingers tugged on yours, trying to slow you down. Trying to stop you. 

“No. It’s like 50 degrees out here and raining,” You grumbled, not even looking at her. 

How had she found you? Why was she out in the rain looking for you? What if she got Pneumonia because she chased after you without a coat?

You were trying to remember what Alex and Kelley always said about rain and cold, after rain games. You were trying to remember how Alex would get you warmed up when you were young. 

“Y/n, stop,” Taylor tugged at your hand again, and you glanced over your shoulder at her, still refusing to stop pulling her towards the subway. 

“What? I don’t want you to get sick and die,” You bit back, as the rain got harder, bouncing off Taylor’s hood in large, heavy drops. “Why would you come out here without a raincoat or an umbrella? Or-,”

Taylor jerked you towards her before you could finish, and before you could process what was happening, her lips met yours, stealing the end of your sentence. 

You blinked, your lips frozen for a long second, taking in the feeling of Taylor’s warm lips accented by the cool drops of rain. 

It was like your brain had short-circuited. 

You couldn’t kiss back, or pull away (even though you didn’t want you). All you could do was stand here, mouth halfway open, blinking owlishly at her. 

Her thumb brushed against your cheek as she leaned back, her eyebrows furrowed with worry that she had crossed a line. “Y/n,” 

You blinked again, water dripping off your lashes. 

Taylor kissed you. 

She kissed you in the rain. 

Taylor liked you. 

But she hadn’t said that. She hadn’t said anything. 

You blinked for a third time, tilting your chin up and leaning forward to connect your lips again.

 Taylor sucked in a breath before gently returning the kiss. 

Your lips moved together like they were made for each other. It was slow and warm, and… wet, accented by the rain dripping down your faces. 

Your hands found her waist, your fingers squeezing her hips, and hers tangled in the soaked baby hairs at the back of your neck. 

It was a perfect first kiss. Something out of a fairytale, or one of Taylor’s songs. 

You finally pulled away, breathing heavily through your nose, almost like you had run a full 90. 

“It’s raining, and I don’t want you to get sick,” You mumbled, leaning in and pecking her lips again. 

“Jason and the car are that way,” She said, gesturing back toward the theater.

You lifted your head in that direction, noting the sleek, black Escalade among the yellow cabs. You couldn’t see who was inside, but you knew that that would be true even if it wasn’t nighttime and pouring with the blacked-out windows. 

It had to be worth more than pretty much everything you owned, and you were soaked through. 

It would ruin the interior, and you knew you wouldn’t be able to afford fixing it.

Taylor shivered though, and you sighed, nodding. “Let’s get you warmed up,” 

“You need to get warm too,” Taylor hummed, trailing her hand down your bare arm and catching your fingers. “I have towels in the car,” 

You squeezed her hand, letting her lead you towards the car. The door was open by the time you got to it, the back seat already littered with black towels and a blanket. 

Taylor slid in first, and you followed after her, wiping your curls out of your eyes, and allowing her to wrap a towel around you, even though you didn’t feel cold. 

“Back to your apartment?” The bulky blonde man in the front seat asked, turning to look at Taylor. 

“I have to go back to the team hotel,” You said before she could answer him. “I’ll get in trouble with the coaching staff if I don’t go back, and it’ll upset my teammates,” 

Taylor’s hand landed on your thigh, squeezing gently like she was telling you that she would take care of it. 

“The hotel it is,” The man smiled, turning back towards the steering wheel, and flicking one of the buttons near the center console. More heat began to flood the car, as it inched forward. “Traffic is pretty bad with this rain, so it’ll be a bit,”

“Thanks, Jay,” Taylor sighed, grabbing the blanket and tossing it over the two of you. “We’re not in a hurry,” 

He glanced up at you in the rearview mirror. “Would you like me to put up the privacy curtain?”

Taylor’s lips curved into a playful smile, and she squeezed your thigh again. “No. Not tonight,” 

You raised an eyebrow at her. 

Did she do this often? This couldn’t have been the first time she was with someone in the back of the car. 

The thought made your stomach tumble.

Maybe the kiss wasn’t because she wanted something more, but because she wanted… sex. It wouldn’t be a shocker with your reputation. You were easy, always up for a lay. She just wanted to blow off some steam. 

You shut down that thought. 

It didn’t matter. 

“Are you warm enough?” Taylor asked, and your eyes snapped up to meet hers. 

“Hm?” your eyebrows furrowed deeper. 

You didn’t feel cold. 

She reached up very slowly, brushing a stray curl from your forehead and laying a thumb very gently on your lips. “Your lips are still trembling,” 

You leaned into the warmth of her hand, unable to stop yourself. “Oh, I’m ok. I’ve had to play in the rain before. This isn’t that bad,” 

She looked unconvinced, her other hand adjusting your towel so it covered more of your frame. “You shouldn’t have given me your jacket,”

“You shouldn’t have been out in that without one,” You shrugged, earning an eye roll. 

“I had important things to talk to you about,” She said, her thumb dragging from your lips to brush your cheek. 

Your lips tilted into a teasing smirk. “I don’t think we actually talked,”

“But I think you got the message,” She murmured, completing the circuit with her thumb back towards your lips. 

“Did I?” Your eyebrow quirked up at her. 

She tapped your lips, before leaning in and pressing a soft kiss to them. You couldn’t help the way you leaned into her, and kissed back, even if it had warning sirens blaring in your head. 

You would ignore the gnawing feeling that this would ruin your friendship and that Taylor would leave when she was done with you 

“You did,” She hummed as she pulled away, her thumb gliding across your cheek again. 

She sounded so sure of herself. Far more sure than you felt. 

Maybe Emily was right. 

Maybe you should just go with it.

OoOoOoO

You let out a long breath, leaning your forehead against the cool, hotel room door, watching as little water droplets slid down the smooth, red surface. Your hand rested on the handle, but you had no intention of opening it.

Not yet. 

Not while your head still felt like it was in a blender. 

Not while you were still reeling from the feeling of Taylor’s soft lips pressed into yours. Of her thumb making circuits from your cheek to your lips and back. Of her blue eyes staring at you like she could see beneath your skin like she wanted you more than she wanted anything else. 

But she couldn’t want you. 

She probably just wanted to… experiment, and your reputation made you an easy choice. 

You blew out another breath, hoping that the feeling of it leaving your lungs would help steady the shakiness in your knees. 

It was embarrassing, but you had been fantasizing about what her lips would feel like, how she would taste, for a long time. And now that you had actually tasted them, well, it was a craving you weren’t sure you’d ever be able to satiate. It would be so much worse when she decided she didn’t want you. 

You watched a water droplet slide down the door, lazily making its way around a chip in the paint. 

But maybe she did want you. 

You had chased you down in the rain, without a jacket, after all, and kissed you in the street like she didn’t care who was looking. 

You let out one more breath, fishing the key card out of your back pocket and pressing it against the lock until it clicked. You let your forehead push the door open, only lifting it after you had stepped inside the hotel room. 

You weren’t surprised to see that the lights were still on, and Christen was still sitting up in bed a book in her hand and her reading glasses still firmly in place. 

“I was about to send out a search party,” She hummed, catching her bookmark from the nightstand and carefully placing it into the book. It was only then that she looked up at you, a frown pulling at her lips. “Why are you all wet? Where is your jacket?”

You had the decency to send her a sheepish smile. “I’m sorry. I got distracted and then Tony’s pizza stand was closed so I had to go to the corner slice in Tribeca. I lost my jacket somewhere along the way,” 

You pulled your sodden Manchester City jersey over your head. “Do you think it can be saved?” 

Christen rolled her eyes and pushed herself to stand, crossing the room to the small closet and pulling out a hanger. “Let’s hang dry it, and we’ll see,” 

You followed after her towards the bathroom, turning it the right way out and gingerly sliding it onto the hanger. “It has to be ok. Bronze is my favorite and my parents finally got a name right,” 

She took it from you and hooked it around the shower curtain rail. “A true miracle that I’m sure Alex had nothing to do with,” 

Alex couldn’t have had anything to do with it. You never told her that you liked Bronze. You had only told Rosie. 

Though you weren’t sure how your parents had picked the right one…

She turned back to you, her eyes flickering to the skin just above your lips. A smirk broke across her face and she reached up to brush her thumb over your cheek. “Is that lipstick?”

You jerked your head away from her. “No,” 

There was no way Taylor’s lipstick could be on your soaking-wet skin. Not with the way the rain had drenched the two of you. 

Except… 

your eyes closed. 

Taylor had kissed your cheek before you exited the car. You slipped out of the Escalade under the awning of the hotel, safe from the rain. 

“Let’s get the not lipstick off of you then,” Christen hummed noncommittally, pulling you closer to the sink. “How did you get so soaked?”

You waited until she turned away from you to dig into her makeup bag to answer, contemplating the words that you would say. 

Surely her advice would help too, but then her girlfriend would probably tell your sister. 

It would be easier if you just kept it all to yourself. If you just followed Emily’s advice and went with it. 

“I got distracted and the corner slice doesn’t have indoor seating,” you said, eying the bottles she was pulling from her bag, dabbing a cotton ball on the top. “What’s that?” 

“Makeup remover,” She hummed, her fingers catching your chin and tilting it so she had a better view of the offending red on your lips. “It must be waterproof, so this is the only thing that will get it off unless you want to dye the sheets red,”

Your nose scrunched at the acrid smell on the cotton ball as she very gently began to swipe it against your lips. You let your eyes slide closed, trying to ignore how small it made you feel. Trying to ignore how much it reminded you of when you were little. 

But it was too late.

You could feel the ghosts of her hands drawing across your cheeks in quick, practiced movements, and practically hear Alex’s “hold still little monkey,” ringing in your ears. You could see the soft smile that always played at her lips and the way her blue eyes focused as she helped you. 

“Hold still little monkey, I’ll be quick. I promise,” 

They were memories you didn’t want to remember. They brought a warm, protected feeling to your chest that you wanted to forget. 

The betrayal that followed would hurt less if you forgot if you didn’t remember the safety and care that had never been a question before it. The feelings that you were searching for in one bed or another. The feelings that you were convinced you would never feel again.

But then you met Taylor, and she made you want to believe you were wrong. 

“You’re good to go,” Christen said, pulling you back to reality. 

Your eyes blinked open, and you sent her a charming smile as you pulled away. “Thanks,”

She nodded back at you, watching you for a long minute like she wanted to say something she wasn’t sure about. 

“What?”

“Your hair is sticking up,” Christen quirked a small smile at you, and your eyes flickered toward the mirror, frowning.

You were sure that’s now what she was going to say, but you were grateful that she didn’t voice whatever thought she had.

But she was right. Amongst the mop of curls you had been letting grow since the undercut disaster of the 2015 World Cup, several were sticking up at strange angles. The one at the crown of your head standing straight up in a semi-hilarious impression of alfalfa from the little rascals. It was probably due to the water and wax that you always wore on game days to keep it out of your eyes mixing. 

They would be a bitch to fix in the morning if they dried like that. Maybe you would just wear a beanie over them instead of putting in the effort to fix them. Or maybe you would just chop them all off again.  

You reached for one of the small white hand towels, tossing it over your wild, tangled, soaked curls and dropping your pants with the other in a fluid motion. “I should dry off,”

Christen rolled her eyes, entirely used to your antics after spending a season in a locker room with you, and many more of being on the national team. She was just thankful you had a bra and boxers on. “And maybe get rid of the sex hair so the media doesn’t have a field day,” 

You wiggled your eyebrows at her, pushing her towards the bathroom door. “Well, what would they do with my reputation then,” 

Realize you’re not what you present yourself as Christen thought wryly. 

She wondered if Taylor had figured that out yet too. That you hid your sunshiney personality under a brash and untrusting exterior. 

The girl had gone chasing after you in the rain after all, so maybe, just maybe, she saw you for what you really were. And hopefully, she was prepared to give you what you needed. 

What you clearly didn’t feel you had the right to crave. 

******

November 2016

Windows flung right open, autumn air, 

Jacket ‘round my shoulders is yours

It was a strange feeling, being on the East Coast and it feeling like home. 

You had been raised on the West Coast. You spent the majority of your time in the center of the country, but somehow, you found yourself craving the crisp autumn air that only existed in the east. 

There was the possibility that you were just drawn to the city. That you were addicted to how into the game fans got, starting up chants for you even though you were on the opposing team. But there was also the slight chance that your new-found love of the city was directly tied to one of its most beloved inhabitants. 

You and Taylor had only grown impossibly closer in the time since the kiss. The flirty texts between the two of you were more frequent as were the half-dressed locker room photos and videos of you dancing at practice. The calls had also increased to the point where you almost always fell asleep listening to her slow breathing, and woke up to a good morning. 

But despite your increasing closeness, the two of you hadn’t defined what you were. And you had absolutely no clue where you stood. 

You pulled your knee closer to your chest, resting your cleat-covered foot on the bench next to you, and undoing the three special knots you always put in your custom red laces. 

You were thankful that camp was over. That you would get to spend some time in the city after the win. 

“Is there a reason you were terrorizing Colombia? Or was it just for fun?” Emily smirked, appearing on the bench next to you. 

You raised your eyebrows at her, a cocky smile pulling at your lips. “Do I need to have a reason to play well?”

“No,” Emily shrugged. 

It wasn’t your fault that their entire back line had crumbled under your and Alex’s pressure. It wasn’t your fault that Christen had cut through them collecting the balls you sent her way. 

It wasn’t your fault that the keeper had missed the chance to save 4 of your shots. 

“The crowd certainly enjoyed the display,” Rose added, sitting on your other side, effectively trapping you between them. “Just seems like your celebrations were a little too on the nose for you not to be… directing them at someone,” 

You rolled your eyes. Just because you blew a kiss towards a section of the stands after your 3rd goal, didn’t mean that it had been directed. And just because the chanting of your name only got louder after that didn’t mean it had been for them. 

Well, it didn’t have to mean it was directed, even if you did have a person in mind to receive it. 

No one else had to know that. 

“It was the section who did the Morgan magic chant,” You mumbled, pulling off your cleat and lining it next to the fancy pair of Vans you had chosen for tonight. 

“Got a hot date?” Emily asked, nudging your shoulder with her own as Rose turned from the two of you and became engrossed in a conversation with Sam. 

“Something like that,” You mumbled, moving on to your other cleat. “I’m still not sure… where I stand. With my friend.”

“The one you’ve been sending half-naked photos to?” Emily wiggled her eyebrows at you. 

You would never live down the after-training snapshots you had taken or the pictures from the weight room that you had sent off. 

You nodded reluctantly. “We’ve been more flirty since September,”

“Since the kiss?” She asked, watching as you shed your game shorts and grabbed a pair of jeans instead of your usual post-game sweats. 

“Yes,” You nodded, pausing for a second and biting your lip. “But I just… I’m going to fuck this up,” 

You ran a hand through your messy hair, still damp from the post-game shower. 

“You’re not,” Emily rolled her eyes, and she stole your shirt from your locker before you could pull it over your head, forcing you to look at her. “You’re doing pretty well so far. Just don’t make it complicated,” 

You met her eyes, swallowing hard. 

“Just go with it,” You repeated her own advice back to her. 

You were just having dinner and a movie night with Taylor. It would be familiar. Easy. 

It didn’t have to be complicated. 

“Exactly,” She agreed, tossing your shirt at you. “You seem to be going with the flow pretty well,” 

You pulled the green material over your head, reaching into your locker for your trusty hair wax, rubbing it between your hands, and trying to smooth out your hair. 

You glanced down at your phone when it buzzed. “Speaking of going with it, I’ve gotta go,” 

You slid the device into your pocket along with your wallet and hooked your fancy watch on your wrist. You shoved your feet into your Vans and sending a wink towards Sonnett. 

“I’ll make sure your bag makes it to Kelley. Tell Taylor I said hello,” She smirked, patting your back as you headed towards the locker room door. 

You looked over your shoulder at her. “No,” 

Before slamming the locker room door shut. 

You turned the corner, finding a quiet place in the hall, and leaned against the cool brick of the stadium, hoping no one would see you. 

Maybe you had directed your hat trick kiss towards where you knew a specific person was watching. 

You pulled your phone out of your pocket and opened your messages. 

You loved Emily, and Rose. You really did, but their propensity for butting in while you were texting had been particularly grating after they found out who you were sending messages to. 

They had already gotten a hold of your phone twice. Once they tried to call her and the second they sent a string of cryptic texts that had Taylor convinced you had gotten hurt at practice. It took you almost 3 hours to convince her that you were actually fine. You had even had to put her on the phone with Luke from the physical therapy staff to convince her that she didn’t need to fly in from Nashville early. After that, you stopped texting around them altogether and changed your password to a 37-digit code. 

Plus, Mal glared at you whenever you were on your phone. 

Athena 👸🏼: Tony and Jason are taking me to the back tunnel by the car. Do you want to meet us there, or do you want us to meet you somewhere else?

Your eyebrows pulled tightly together and you looked away from your phone and down the long hallway. 

You certainly didn’t want her to be anywhere near the locker room where your sister and your nosey teammates were. You weren’t ready to… share Taylor with them yet. You weren’t ready to answer questions when you weren’t even sure where you stood with her. 

Your relationship felt… fragile… and you weren’t ready to mess that up yet. 

Soccer hottie ⚽️: Stay put, I’ll meet you there. 

You pushed yourself off the wall, turning to your left and strolling down the maze of hallways. You didn’t need to look at the signs to know which way to go, you had been to Red Bull (and snuck out of it with company you wanted to keep away from prying eyes) enough that you had the layout memorized. 

“Hey hotshot,” 

“Hey,” You smiled widely as you rounded the corner and Tony came into view. 

You had been seeing him far more frequently since the kiss. Part of you thought it was because he just lived near you in Chicago. He liked the same smoothie place you did and frequented the same restaurants. 

But a smaller part of you wondered if Taylor had something to do with it. 

“I thought you would be waiting with Tay,” You said as he squeezed your arm, pulling your overnight bag from your shoulder and slinging it over his own. 

“She sent me to come find you,” Tony said, a teasing smirk pulling at his features. 

You knew it wasn’t you he was teasing. 

“I don’t need a babysitter,” You sighed, running a hand through your still-damp hair, brushing the unruly curls from in front of your eyes. 

“She was impatient,” He shrugged, unbothered by (or entirely used to) your protest, gesturing to the barely noticeable clear earpiece in his right ear. “I offered to find you and give her an eta,” 

The wire disappeared down the back of his shirt where you were sure it connected to a radio. You rolled your eyes. 

Maybe you should be flattered that she wanted live updates of your whereabouts, but you couldn’t help the sinking feeling in your chest that she didn’t think you were capable of making it to the car tunnel on your own. 

“I told her I was on my way like 2 minutes ago,” You huffed, glancing behind you. 

You hadn’t taken long after the game to exit the field. Well, that wasn’t entirely true. You finished the obligatory lap and then stayed to sign autographs for the fans that had cheered for you all game. 

You rushed through the showers after Vlatko’s post-game droning and changed quickly. 

“I know,” Tony agreed, falling into step beside you as you continued down the corridor. “She’s just excited to see you. You put on quite the show,” 

You wiggled your eyebrows. “The crowd got into it and that made scoring and setting up my friends more fun,” 

Tony made a low humming noise as he stepped in front of you, pushing open the double doors that led to the private car tunnel so you didn’t have to. 

You barely stepped through before a body collided with yours. 

Your hands caught Taylor’s hips as you stumbled, and she wrapped you in a very tight hug. 

“I missed you,” She mumbled, and you felt a hand on your back to steady the two of you. 

You hummed, tucking your nose into her collarbone and squeezing her. “I missed you too,” 

It was true. 

It had only been six weeks since the last time you saw her in person, and you talked at least once a day, but it was a feeling of longing that saturated your being. Her presence was a deep… need that seeped into your bones. 

It was a little alarming how… dependent you felt.

The two of you embraced for another long moment, and you let the smell of coconut and lavender from her perfume wash over your senses and soothe the post-game dip that always prickled your brain. 

“You played so so well,” She said, pulling away, a wide smile radiating off of her.

You let your own cocky grin pull across your features. “Thanks, I like to get the crowd fired up,” 

“They were electric,” She hummed, letting her hand trail down your arm and landing lightly on your stomach. 

You opened your mouth to respond, but Your stomach ruined the moment with a loud rumble. 

Taylor frowned. “Have you eaten today?” 

“Not really. I had lunch and then just a protein bar and a veggie shake,” You shrugged, sending a guilty look her way. “I don’t like to have a lot in my stomach during games,” 

It was a bad habit you had picked up in highschool after a very hot game in August ended up with your pasta lunch making a reappearance in a sideline trash can. 

“There’s a fantastic Italian place by mine?” Taylor offered, almost shyly as your stomach rumbled again against her hand. 

You leaned in and pressed a very sweet kiss to her lips, unable to resist, and enjoying the light red that dusted her cheeks. 

Your hand slipped into her back pocket, and you sent her a cheeky smile. “Lead the way then,”

OoOoOoO

Dinner with Taylor was absolutely incredible. Well, confusing for you, but amazing nonetheless. 

The restaurant she had chosen was small, intimate, and expensive. You looked through the entire menu, choosing the cheapest pasta you could find, even though you fucking hated pesto because it was the only dish that wouldn’t mean you would have to raid the Chicago locker room for snacks when you got back. 

It hadn’t mattered because Taylor paid anyway. 

Conversation flowed between the two of you like water. It was so easy to talk to Taylor, and you were slowly growing addicted to making her laugh. 

It was exactly like it had been before the two of you shared the kiss(s) until you got back into the car. 

She had been very… handsey in the ride back. And you had been handsey too, your fingers dipping past her skirt to squeeze her ass at every opportunity. 

Things hadn't slowed down in the elevator, and you had attacked her neck as she fished out the key to her apartment. 

You were growing addicted to the taste of her skin as well. 

She pressed you into the island, her lips dragging down your neck and towards your collarbone as soon as you were through the door. 

That’s when the anxiety clenched in your stomach, thinking of the way your heart pounded in your ears when you walked out of the tunnel and into a stadium, your eyes trained on the jersey numbers in front of you. 

You needed a way to slow her down. To… delay the inevitable. 

You saw your pale, terrified face in the reflection of her sliding glass door, and it felt like a lightbulb flashing in your brain. 

“Want to go swimming?” You asked suddenly, and her hands paused on your waist as her lips ghosting just over your pulse point. 

“What?”

You felt her lips curl into a frown against your skin.  

“I didn’t take my post-game ice bath,” You said, pulling away, so you could meet her eyes and gesturing towards the city lights glinting off of her infinity pool. “and your pool should be cold enough,” 

Her eyebrows knitted tightly together. “You want to go swimming in October, in New York? Wouldn’t you rather continue this?”

You shrugged, painting a charming smile across your face (hoping she wouldn’t see through it).  “When else will we be able to enjoy a view like this,”

Her lips turned even further down, and your heart beat a little bit faster. 

You didn’t want her to think you were rejecting her. You weren’t. You just…

“You don’t even have a bathing suit,” She said softly, and you could hear the hesitation in her voice. The concern. 

You needed to redirect her. To make her think that everything was ok so you didn’t lose her. 

“I don’t need one,” You wiggled your eyebrows and caught her fingers, tugging her towards the sliding glass door. “Come on,”

The view was even better from outside, the lights of the city twinkling in time with the stars and reflecting off of the pool back at you. 

“Let me at least turn on the pool lights,” She grumbled, reaching for a small remote on one of the lounge chairs. “Wouldn’t want you to miss the edge and get hurt before the end of the season,” 

You smirked, releasing her while she squinted at the clicker. 

***SECTION CONTAINING SLIGHT SMUT***

You easily slipped out of your shorts and pulled your shirt over your head, leaving you in a pair of boxers and your sports bra as you stepped towards the infinity pool. “Don’t mess with it for too long,” 

You didn’t wait for her to respond before diving into the icy water. 

It immediately prickled at your skin like a million tiny needles, pulling the air from your lungs and giving you the sensation of the world's worst brain freeze. You kept your eyes closed, forcing yourself to relax against the painful assault, letting yourself sink to the glacial blue tiles on the bottom of her pool. 

You could visualize the heat seeping out of you and into the shimmering floor, and you allowed yourself to give in to the sensation. To imagine it was the tension in your muscles, the aches that always came after a game, slowly leaching into your frigid surroundings. 

Letting the water numb your anxious mind until all that was left was a serene sense of calm. 

It felt familiar. Good in a masochistic sort of way that you couldn’t accurately put into words. 

Your brain absentmindedly reached its countdown from 45, and you pushed yourself off of the bottom. 

You let out a long breath as your head broke the surface, wiping your curls out of your eyes, and turning towards Taylor. 

She was at the edge of the pool, the remote hanging loosely in her hand, her wide eyes glinting off of the fairy lights strung along the balcony and over the pool. 

“You coming?” You asked, plastering a playful smirk across your lips. “Or are you just going to stare?”

Her mouth opened and closed, reminding you of a fish. 

You rolled your eyes, gilded towards her, stopping at her feet and looking up at her through your lashes. 

You dragged your fingers along the seam in the tiles and gently laid your hand on her foot, trying not to smirk at the shiver that ran down her spine. “It’s kinda lonely in here,” 

She blinked at you, slowly pulling her shirt over her head and dropping it behind her. 

You couldn’t help the way your eyes dragged down the newly exposed skin of her collarbone, between her breasts, and down to the waistband of her jeans where she was thumbing the button there. 

All of your attention was glued to her as she slid the material down her long legs, revealing creamy skin that made your mouth water accented by the deep blue material of her underwear. 

It stirred butterflies in your chest like the sight of no other woman had. You wanted her like you had never wanted anyone. 

Not even Mal. 

“It’s unfair how hot you are,” Taylor mumbled, settling on the edge of the pool, her legs bracketing you as she slid them into the frigid water. 

You ran your fingers up her calves and onto her thighs. “You’re not bad yourself,” 

She rolled her eyes, reaching down and smoothing your curls off of your forehead, dragging her hands down your face to cup your cheeks. Her bottom lip disappeared between her teeth. “It’s criminal how much you show your abs during games,” 

You shrugged, floating closer to her and letting your thumb toy with the elastic on her underwear. “Sweat burns when it’s in my eyes. Plus the fans like it, and so do you,”

Taylor made a low noise, drawing you closer to her, so you could feel her breath on your lips. “You’re a tease you know?” 

“You dig it,” You smirked, leaning in the final centimeter to connect your lips in a slow kiss. 

You couldn’t help the low sound that came out of the back of your throat as her tongue gently pressed against your lips, and you opened them to meet her. 

She tasted like red wine and strawberries and something that was so… Taylor. 

It was sweet and spicy and addictive. 

And it made you want her. 

You pulled away when air became an issue, trailing down her cheek to her neck, under her chin, and lavishing the skin you found down by her pulse point with your tongue. You enjoyed the way you could feel her heartbeat, how you could feel it quicken under your ministrations. 

You tried to keep your mind focused as you made your way down her neck, to her chest. You tried to focus on the softness of her skin and to memorize the way it tasted. To imprint in your mind how your tongue glided in velvet skin. 

You tried not to let your thoughts drift towards how a soccer ball felt at your feet. How you were still working on how to twist your hips to not give away which direction you were going to kick. How you needed to point your toes to perform the newest trick you were learning. 

Her fingers tangled in your hair, weaving through the wet curls close to your scalp and pulling you impossibly closer. 

You mouthed the edge of her bra, placing feather light kisses in a line between her breasts (paying special attention to the barely visible freckle you found there), ghosting down her stomach, and landing on the elastic of her underwear, letting her hand guide you where she wanted you. 

You looked up at her, meeting her hazy blue eyes. “Are you sure?” 

Her fingers tightened, pleasantly scratching your scalp. “I’ve never been more sure,” 

Your lips tilted into a devilish grin, your body sipping lower into the frigid water. “As you wish,” 

*****

Taylor panted heavily against you, each breath warming your neck as you spun in slow circles in the cold water. Her legs wrapped tightly around your waist, and your hand worked slowly between your bodies, bringing her down from her orgasm. 

You had lost track of what number she was on. Actually, you had lost track of pretty much everything after her underwear came off. 

It didn’t matter how hard you fought to stay present, you couldn’t help the way your brain slipped away. How your thoughts slid from Taylor the second you were level with her center. How the all-encompassing butterflies in your stomach fluttered away and you faded into familiar sensations and your thoughts turned to soccer. 

You knew it was weird to be working through a double-pivot formation while you were having sex. It was weird for you to be thinking about ball rotations and through passes or lineups for upcoming games while you were getting a girl off. 

Except it’s where your mind always went. 

Taylor made a low noise against your throat, and your fingers stopped gliding through her velvety folds. Your other arm tightened around her as you pulled your hand away, bringing it to your lips and lightly sucking your fingers. 

You sighed at the taste, sweet, salty, and a little tangy, happy that Taylor's pool was salt water instead of chlorine. It would have made this entire experience much less enjoyable. 

“Don’t do that,” Taylor said, her nose nudging the space under your chin. 

“Hm?” You hummed around your finger, your abs flexing as she shifted. 

She reached for your wrist, pulling your finger from your lips. “I need a minute before I can go again, and you make it hard to wait,”

You leaned in and connected your lips, your tongue probing at her bottom lip and gently slid your tongue in when she parted her lips. Her hips rolled and you flexed your abs to give her a better surface. 

“I can’t help it,” You smirked as you pulled away. “You just taste so good,”

She shivered against you, but you weren’t sure if it was from overstimulation or the cold. 

“Come on, let’s get cleaned up,” You said, walking towards the pool stairs. “And you can recover,” 

Her legs tightened around you as you carried her up the steps, and her head rested on your shoulder. “I forgot how strong you are,” 

You made a low noise, focusing on your feet so you didn’t slip and send you both back into the freezing pool. 

“Where is your bathroom?” You asked, carefully sliding her glass door open and stepping into her apartment. “I don’t want to get water everywhere,” 

“Down the hall to the left,” She said, lifting an arm to gesture down the hallway, but not moving her head from its safe space between your neck and shoulder. “It’s through my bedroom,”

You nodded, easily making your way through the hallway, across the dark carpet of her bedroom, and into the massive master bathroom. 

You set her down on the Marble counter you found there, placing a light kiss on her head before you turned away towards the giant bathtub, and began fiddling with the golden faucets. 

It took you a second to make the water a good temperature and to flick the drain plug before you returned to her, slotting between her legs again.

“Do you want a drink or something?” You asked as she pulled you back in for another kiss.

“I’d love one,” She breathed against your lips. “I have wine in the fridge,” 

“I’ll go get it,” You hummed. “You just stay here and look pretty,” 

Her mouth curved against yours, and you finally pulled away, kissing her nose before you padded off toward the kitchen (ignoring how she tapped your ass as you left). 

It felt like a weight left your chest as you exited her bedroom, and you took a long breath as you made it to the kitchen. 

There had to be something fucking wrong with you. 

You had a naked woman two rooms over. A woman who had gone skinny dipping with you. A woman who was recovering so you could give her another orgasm. And here you were, doing your best to stall. Trying to quell the growing dread in your stomach. 

You shook your head, going to the wine fridge and pulling out the half-full bottle of red you were sure was the one Taylor wanted. You also grabbed two water bottles and found a wine glass in the cabinet. 

Just because you had hooked up with her… were actively hooking up with her… didn’t mean that she wanted your relationship to change. 

You took another deep breath. 

Being weird about any of this would just make it worse. 

You could be normal. 

You could save your friendship. 

You turned from the kitchen, slowly making your way back to the bathroom. 

Taylor smiled softly at you when you returned, holding out her arms to you. “I can’t believe you never took your clothing off,” 

You painted an easy smirk on your lips, setting the bottles and glass down on the counter before, letting her wrap her arms around you. “You were distracted,” 

She hummed. “You’re… very good with your hands,” 

You wiggled your eyebrows, leaning in to peck her lips before you turned away. You turned off the water in the tub and held your hand out for her. “Get in first. I’ll pour you some wine and join you. This way I can show you the other things my hands are good at,” 

She rolled her eyes, but let you guide her into the tub, sighing as she immersed herself in the warm water. 

You waited for her to get settled before you poured her half a glass of wine and passed it her way, and you grabbed a bottle of water for yourself, cracking it open and taking a very long sip. 

Taylor made another low sound, and you felt her eyes on you, following every movement. You flexed your arm and abs for effect as you finished off the bottle. 

You smirked at her as you pulled it away from your Lips, setting it on the counter. “Lean forward so I can get into the tub,” 

She eyed you, shaking her head. “This is a clothing-free zone,” 

“Is it?” You asked, cocking your head to the side. 

She hummed. “It is. I can’t believe you still have boxers and a bra on,” 

“You were distracted,” You shrugged smirking devilishly at her, placing the bottle on the counter and easily slipping out of your soaked boxers. “Something about the water being too cold,” 

“Try freezing,” She huffed, her eyes tracing the newly exposed skin of your thighs (your muscles standing out because of the cold), up towards your hips, taking a large sip of her wine. “But you warmed me up,”

“I’m good at that,” You murmured, pulling your bra over your head and stepping towards the tub. “Please lean forward so I can get in,” you 

“You are,” She breathed out as you slid into the tub behind her. She shifted so your thighs could encapsulate hers. 

Your arms wrapped gently around her middle, your palm laying flat on her stomach and your chin resting on her shoulder. 

You would have laughed at Taylor being the little spoon (because you were the shorter of the two of you), but you liked holding her. You also liked that the only places she could reach were your arms and legs. 

Safe territory. 

Territory that put you in control of the pace. 

“It’s unfair how you look so good, and how good you are,” She let out another breath, wiggling so her back was pressed more tightly against your front. 

You made a low sound, rubbing your hand up and down her stomach, your fingers just barely brushing her pelvic bone on each pass. 

You didn’t like how… pronounced they were. It was something you knew you would have to address at some point but now did not feel like the right time. 

“You’re pretty gorgeous yourself,” You murmured into her neck, kissing behind her ear, and letting your lips travel lower to the special spot you had found near her pulse point. 

Her head tilted to give you more room, and her hands fell to where your knees were bracketing hers just below the steamy water. She pressed very gently into a dark bruise forming on your calf from a mistimed tackle. “You have no idea what you do to me. How much those stupid videos your teammates are always taking make me want you,”

You smirked against the soft skin of her neck, letting your tongue linger for a long second as your left hand dipped even lower on her stomach. 

You knew the videos she was talking about. The ones that always seemed to catch you with your shirt off because you preferred to train that way. You hated when the damp material of your training top clung to you, so you normally forgoed one unless the media team was filming some behind-the-scenes stuff. 

“I’ll have to send you my own videos now that I know you like them,” You said, dragging your lips up her neck towards her ear, and very gently letting your teeth close around the soft tissue. 

She released a shakier breath as your fingers found her clit, and began rubbing very gentle circles. “I’d like that,” 

“You got it,” You hummed, pressing a little harder, and dipping down towards the heat that had nothing to do with the bath water while your other hand sliding up to her chest to toy with her nipple 

You smirked when her wine glass shook dangerously, the red liquid tipping out of the top as your fingers curled, pressing into the very special patch inside her. 

It reminded you of when a ball tipped off of a keeper's fingers. How it bobbled before landing back on the grass. How you always held your breath to see if it would land on the right side of the goal line. 

It was the perk of playing in Chicago, you supposed, that you had Alyssa as your starting keeper. You always felt like the ball was safe in her hands. You felt comfortable taking chances because you knew she was capable of cleaning up any messes you made. That her and JJ would protect the goal well enough that you could push forward. 

Taylor tensed around your fingers, and the glass finally fell, landing thankfully in the water instead of crashing to the ground outside of the tub. 

You kept your pace as she rode out her orgasm, your eyes focused on the red dissipating into the water until she finally relaxed against you. You finally pulled away when you were sure she was finished, kissing behind her ear and listening to her labored breathing as she came down. 

Her head turned, and you laid a kiss on her cheek. “You made me spill my wine,” 

“Oops,” You chuckled, not at all sorry, tweaking her nipple again before letting go and resting your hands on her stomach. 

She giggled in response, swatting your knee and then soothing her hand over a large bruise forming just below it. “Behave,” 

“I’m not known for behaving,” You said as she reached over and grabbed the fallen glass before either of you could accidentally break it. “It’s why the equipment staff are always following me around with extra shirts,” 

“Try for me?” She asked, her lips curving into a smile you hadn’t seen her send to anyone else, making you melt. “I don’t think I have any more orgasms into me tonight,” 

“Whatever you want,” You agreed, laying another kiss on her cheek. 

She hummed, leaning back into you, and you tightened your arms around her. 

You wondered if you should suggest that the two of you clean up and get ready for bed, but you didn’t even know if she wanted you to stay. You didn’t know if you would be welcome now that the two of you were done. 

You had never not snuck out after. You didn’t know how any of this worked, and you were too afraid to ask. 

“Just give me a few minutes and I’ll return the favor,” She mumbled. “You deserve it,” 

You shook your head, tucking your nose in the space between her neck and shoulder. “I’m good. I got enough watching you,” 

She sucked in a breath.“Are you sure?” 

You hummed, kissing the junction where her neck and shoulder met. “I’m good. I’m with you,” 

It was the truth. 

It was easier this way. You knew how to deal with things this way. 

She made a low noise of agreement. “Let’s just sit for a bit then, and then we can get cleaned up and go to bed,”

“Whatever you want,” You placed another kiss on her velvety skin, content to follow her lead. 

Maybe you would get to keep your friendship after all. 

***END OF SLIGHT SMUT***

OoOoOoO

Mornings were always your favorite. 

You loved the way soft light fluttered through curtains, casting a candle-like glow on the room around you. The way the oranges and yellows melted into brilliant white, chasing away the darkness like lanterns in a cavern.

It reminded you of when you were little, cuddled up to Alex after a nightmare. She would run a hand through your hair, and tell you stories into the early hours of the morning, insisting that tales of Knights and Princesses could chase away the monsters that haunted your dreams. 

“Just close your eyes monkey. I’ll protect you. Always,”

She made you feel safe. The rise and fall of her chest allowing your restless mind to relax.

It was no different here in Taylor’s bed, wrapped in perfect white sheets, her arm draped around your middle, her head resting on your shoulders, and her soft breaths tickling your neck at each exhale. Your bodies were pressed together, and you could feel her bare legs tangled with yours. 

She made you feel safe and warm and like you mattered and that fucking terrified you. 

It kept you up long after Taylor’s breathing turned deep and heavy, staring at the ceiling like it would give you the answers you were searching for. 

You kept your arm wrapped around her, your fingers playing with the very tips of her hair and drawing shapes on the skin of her bare back. 

You had to fight the urge to flee as soon as you were sure she was asleep. The urge that you had always indulged with your hookups. The one that meant you would never have to face the consequences of a hookup. 

But Taylor wasn’t a hookup. 

Even if she didn’t want a relationship, if you got to hold her like this, then you would accept whatever little part of herself she was willing to give you. And that terrified you too. 

You promised yourself you wouldn’t do this again after-. 

You let out a long breath from your nose. 

It wasn’t fair for you to think about that… relationship. If you could call it that. 

You should go before Taylor woke up. Escape before you ruined this like you ruined that. 

“I can feel you thinking,” Taylor mumbled against your neck, her lips tickling your skin. 

“Sorry,” You murmured, running your fingers very gently over the skin of her back and laying a kiss on the top of her head. “Go back to sleep, it’s still early,” 

She shifted against your shoulder, tired blue eyes peering up at you. “What time is it?”

You squinted at the clock on her bedside table. “Just after 6,” 

She groaned. “Why are you awake?”

“Habit,” You said, looking back up at her ceiling, ending the debate in your brain. “I have to go to team recovery?”

It wasn’t a total lie. You did have to pick up your kit bag from the hotel, and you liked to do morning jogs after games to work out your muscles, but really, you needed… separation to quell the monster threatening to rip your lungs into pieces. 

You didn’t know how to not ruin your friendship. How to navigate your feelings without losing her. 

You needed to go for a run, to feel the ache in your chest and your legs to help you figure out what the fuck you were supposed to do. But at the same time, you didn’t want to leave. 

You refused to let her become another hookup. You would just run for a few hours and then return. 

You weren’t running like you did with the others. You were just… catching your breath. You were just getting your head straight. 

“The cold plunge you took last night wasn’t recovery enough?” Taylor asked, smirking up at you. 

You let your lips pull to match her expression. “Unfortunately no, but I can bring lunch back here when I’m done?” 

“I think that sounds like a fair trade,” She said, leaning up on her arm and pressing a gentle kiss to your lips. 

“Does it?” You wiggled your eyebrows at her. 

“Hmm,” She made a low sound, connecting your lips again. “Do you have time for a shower before you go?”

You chased her lips with a teasing smirk as she pulled away. “I think that can be arranged,” 

OoOoOoO

“Is there a reason you’re running a one-woman marathon, or are you just trying to make it impossible for Al to beat you this week?” Kelley’s voice cut through the running commentary in your head, and you blinked up at her from where she stood on the steps next to a big Chelsea market sign. 

You glanced down at the smartwatch on your wrist. You didn’t remember putting it on. It had become such a normal part of your morning routine that you didn’t think about putting it on anymore. You had honestly forgotten that Alex was getting alerts about your run until Kelley mentioned it. 

You tried not to think about the connection it had to your sister. You only paid attention to the stupid app when it alerted you that you were losing anyway. 

“Is that why you decided to join me?”

“I know you like the Chelsea market and running the high line,” Kelley said too casually, falling into step beside you. “I joined you because you and your sister only run long distances when something is bothering you, and I thought you would prefer me over Alex,”

You glanced at her, but she adamantly kept her eyes ahead of her. It felt purposeful like she didn’t want you to know she was watching you. 

You were very glad that Alex hadn’t decided to come herself, or that she had been talked out of it. 

“And you thought I’d want to talk,” 

Kelley shook her head. “No, but I do have a way with Morgan women, and I figured I’d support you,”

“Hmm,” You hummed, unable to stop the slight smile that cracked across your face. 

She would never let it go that she was basically your celebrity crush before you met her. You had been obsessed with college soccer when you were young, and Stanford had always been your favorite team. 

While things had changed significantly since her and your sister started dating (and you actually met her), she thought it was hilarious that both of you had been in love with her at some point. She also thought it was hilarious that she was you quote-unquote gay awakening, but you really didn’t like to think about that. 

You let out a long breath as the two of you jogged another few blocks, enjoying the sounds of the city around you. It was strange, but you already associated the city with Taylor. 

“There’s a girl that I really like,” You mumbled, as you both passed a dumpling stand. “I stayed the night,”

Kelley made a low sound next to you. They all knew you met up with someone, but no one knew exactly how that night turned out. And you staying was kind of unheard of. “And you two slept together?” 

You opened your mouth to answer but closed it quickly. Did it count if you never took your clothes off? Did it count if you didn’t let her touch you?

“You got her off like with the others?” Kelley amended, after a quick glance your way. 

“Yes. Then I stayed, and we cuddled,” You admitted, your voice going very soft. “All night,” 

You felt like you were in a weird dichotomy. Sex with Taylor was supposed to feel different because you felt so deeply for her. 

You thought it would because the before was so romantic. You thought it would because you wanted her like you had never wanted anyone before. 

But the act itself had felt… almost routine. It was like you were on autopilot. It was the same as it had been with every other girl you had been with. 

Her body responded the same way theirs had, and it had been so easy to get lost in your own head. 

It was only when she pulled you to her chest afterward. When she kissed your cheek and let you wash her hair before you got out of the bath. When she held you for the entire night, you ran your fingers down the line of her spine. 

It proved that she wasn’t like the others, and you let yourself enjoy the intimacy. It was why you stayed. 

She was still your friend. 

You spat the word in your mind. 

You didn’t want to end up in the no man’s land between friend and more than friend. Not again, the first time nearly ended in disaster, saved only by your mutual love of soccer and the goal of winning the World Cup.

You and Taylor didn’t share the same… uniting factor. 

And with the feelings bubbling in your chest, you knew you would never have the strength to walk away if that's what she asked of you. 

“So this is more than a one-nighter?” Kelley asked though she was already sure of the answer. 

“I think?” You nodded. “I’ve never…I don’t know how to do this, so I called Emily for advice,” 

Kelley’s nose scrunched. She knew how close you and the blonde defender were, especially since the two of you had been going to youth camps together since she could remember. She also knew that Emily knew more about the mysterious Taylor than she did. 

“This is the hypothetical friend that you didn’t think you were dating who had never had a burrito?” 

You hummed again, smiling at one of the dollar slice guys as you passed his little alcove. “I don't want to fuck this up, and I thought Emily would help. She didn’t,” 

“What did Emily say?” Kelley pushed. 

Your shoulders lifted and fell. “To just go with it,” 

Kelley couldn’t help her frown. That had to be the worst advice known to man, and Sonnett should have known. “So you slept with her, even when you weren’t sure you wanted to?”

“I wanted to,” You said, your voice going very soft. “I just…-“

You didn’t know how to explain that you got so caught up in your head that the experience felt like every other. That it was robotic and routine and expected. 

“It felt… generic…when I did it to her. It’s not supposed to be routine when I do it to her.” 

Kelley caught your arm and pulled you to a stop. 

“Sex isn’t something you do to someone. It’s something you do with them,” She said seriously, brown eyes boring into yours like she was trying to read your mind. “It’s a mutual activity,” 

It was a terrifying prospect that you didn’t know that, and it sent red flags twirling in Kelley’s head, especially when you shrugged it off. 

“I like her, so it was supposed to feel different,” You muttered, pulling your arm out of her grasp when the crosswalk sign came on. 

It was supposed to be emotional and you were supposed to feel connected. You should have been so hyper-focused on every movement, every twitch of her body that the world faded into nonexistence. 

You shouldn’t have had to stop yourself from running through lineups in your head halfway through. You shouldn’t have felt like the only important part of the experience was the finish. 

What the fuck was wrong with you?

She sighed but followed after you as you jogged across the street. “And it didn’t?”

“Before did,” You said, keeping your eyes focused on the sidewalk in front of you. “And so did after,” 

“But the middle?” She asked. 

You shook your head, unwilling to put into words that you were too defective for it to be anything more than a quick fuck. 

Taylor deserved better, especially since the way she held you made you feel so… safe. The way she cuddled into you made you feel loved. More loved than your tongue could ever make her feel. 

“And that freaked you out?” Kelley asked, as you finally slowed your jog to a walk. 

You scratched the back of your neck, noting the annoying way your hair rubbed against the skin there. You really needed to get it cut. 

It wasn’t the connection that freaked you out, it was the prospect that you could now lose it. That you were fumbling around with no clue how to move forward, liable to fuck up something that had just started. 

You weren’t even sure if it was something. You had no clue where you stood. 

She looked at you like you weren’t a broken toy, and one misstep could prove her wrong and send her running. 

“I don’t know how to do this. It’s why I avoided sleeping with her in the first place. I was doing the friend thing well, and now… I have no idea what’s next,” You murmured, barely above a whisper. So quietly that you weren’t sure if Kelley heard you until her hand found your arm and gently pulled you to a stop yet again. 

“I think we can agree that Emily’s advice wasn’t great,” She started, making eye contact with you, and squeezing your arm gently. “I think what you should focus on are the things you do like to do with this girl. Do those take slow steps, and communicate with her. It’s a relationship, not a race,” 

“Slow steps,” You repeated, turning the words over in your mind. 

“Yes, and communication about what you like or don’t like and what you want or don’t want. Figuring out if you’re friends or more than friends would be a good place to start too,” The defender reiterated with a nod, emphasizing the back half of her sentence. 

She knew how much of a people pleaser you were, and how often you set aside your own feelings to make other people happy. If it happened with simple things like you refusing to stop Emily, Rose, and Lindsey’s teasing when it became too much because they were “still having fun” then she feared what other things you were willing to let go. 

You swallowed hard and matched her nod. 

You could do slow steps. 

You ran a hand through your sweaty hair, glancing around you. At least your slight crisis had landed you in Mulberry Street. 

“Do you wanna grab a snack before I head back? I told her I would bring her something for lunch after team recovery,” You asked, gesturing towards one of the many Italian restaurants surrounding you. 

Kelley raised an eyebrow at you. “You told this girl that you had training the day after a game and she believed you?” 

“I don’t think she knows that much about footy,” You shrugged. “She’s more of an American football fan,” 

Even if Taylor had played when she was young, you knew her knowledge was pretty limited. 

Kelley cracked a smile at you and nodded toward the restaurant you had pointed out. “As long as she’s not an Eagles fan, we’ll be fine then,”

You made a low sound of agreement knowing Kelley wasn’t as serious about Football teams as she was about premier league teams. Her main concern was that you were treated well after all anyway. 

OoOoOoO

You had calmed down significantly by the time you made it back to Taylor’s apartment, but Kelley had always had that effect on you. 

She had been the one who helped you breathe before your first cap (along with Alex, though you hated talking about it). She was the one who talked you down after you tore your Achilles during the World Cup. 

She always knew exactly what to say, and this was no different. She made you laugh and slipped in little pieces of advice without forcing you to ruminate on the situation. She made you believe that you could talk to Taylor and it would work. 

And as you sat across from Taylor while she snacked on the penne à la vodka you had picked up for her, your confidence didn’t waver. 

Kelley swore it would only take 5 seconds of bravery. 

“Are we dating now?”

Taylor paused, chewing her bite and swallowing as a perfect eyebrow arched in amusement. “Do you want us to be dating?”

You frowned, you hadn’t been expecting a question back. You thought it would be just a simple yes or no. 

“I think so,” You said slowly, meeting her eyes.  “I don’t know how to date,”

Her head cocked to the side. “You’ve never dated?” 

“Not really,” You shook your head, scratching the newly shortened hair at the back of your neck. “Besides a weird situationship, it’s all been one-nighters, so I’m not sure how any of this is supposed to work,” 

Taylor put her fork down, and she leaned a little closer to you, frowning. “Hold on, your realest relationship was a situationship?” 

“Yes,” You said sheepishly, your fingers digging more harshly into the back of your neck as you felt heat crawl up your cheeks all the way to your ears. 

“Why?”

It was asked with a giggle, but it didn’t rub you the wrong way. Taylor wasn’t making fun of you. 

You cleared your throat, eyes flickering away from her and back. “She was straight, and one of my friends,” 

It was a hard thing to admit, that you had fallen into a friends-with-benefits relationship with one of your closest friends, and that you hadn’t been able to keep your feelings locked away in a little box. You let things go too far. You let yourself believe that your favorite striker would leave her perfect boyfriend. 

You let yourself believe that she would return your feelings and pick you. 

She didn’t, and you had sworn off relationships after that. 

Why would you get involved when everyone always left?

“We were under a lot of pressure in the U20s and it was a good way to blow off steam,” You continued, your voice going soft. “Things just… went too far and ended messily,”

“Situationships usually do,” Taylor said gently, reaching across the island to place a careful hand on your arm. 

“We stayed friends though. We had to, because of the team” You murmured. “Eventually I just got over it,” 

Taylor hummed, her thumb lingering on a thick scar on the inside of your elbow. 

It seemed to her that a lot of your stories ended with you just getting over things. She wondered if you ever actually processed them, or if you just enjoyed pretending it never happened. 

“And now we link up really well,” You finished with a shrug, an easy smile returning to your features. “Anyway, back to the question. Are we dating?” 

Taylor felt her lips tilt up in return. “Again I’ll ask, do you want to be?”

“We’re going in circles,” You sighed, dragging your hand from the back of your neck up through your newly trimmed curls, thankful Kelley had stopped with you to get it cut on the way back to Taylor’s apartment. 

Taylor rolled her eyes. “Just answer the question,” 

Your nose scrunched. Had you not just explained that you didn’t know how to date? You didn’t even know what it entailed. 

How would things change? What would she expect? 

But she was looking at you with so much softness, so much… understanding. It made something tug in your chest. 

If you were going to try dating anyone, you wanted it to be her. 

“Yes,” You breathed out, fighting to keep your voice even and steady. 

“Then we’re dating,” Taylor shrugged, picking up her fork. “Easy,” 

“Easy,” You mimicked, trying to ignore Emily’s voice ringing in your head. 

It didn’t have to be complicated. 

[midwesternvibes]

Hi! Love your One Jump au is so interesting!!! If you don't mind, I'll ask some questions ... Please feel free to not answered them if you're not in the mood ... So, is Leo like street smart? Those he still goes to Run of the mill? How Splinter, Big mama and Draxum found out the others are alive? How is the dynamic between the brothers?

OOO ONE JUMP I haven't thought about these guys in a while I miss them.... (I'm gonna divide these by question lol)

(Also cut because I cannot summarize for the life of me lol)

Is Leo street smart?

Yep! The name "One Jump" is actually after the song in Aladdin, so think of him very much like Aladdin! He's gotta steal to eat, gotta eat to live, he'll tell ya all about it when he's got the time! All jokes aside though, he's very street smart. He's all but been raised by the streets, so he quite literally knows the Hidden City like it's his own home. He knows all the vendors by name, and they know him. Whether or not they *like* him is an entirely different story......

2. Does he still go to Run of the Mill?

He used to. I'll leave it at that 🩵

3. How did the adults find out each other were alive?

In a different post I talked aboit how Raph got sick and needed to come down to the Hidden City, where he ran off and ran into Mikey (linked here). Big Mama basically saw this lost child who looked eerily like a child she once wanted to raise and took him in. Cue Draxum freakimg out for several days until he realizes that woah, Big Mama is still alive??? He goes knocking on her door and finds her playing tea party with His kid and another litfle turtle who looks just like the kid he wanted to raiss with her.....

Happy reunion all around! Raph and Mikey are excited to move in, and while Raph continues to go to school on the surface world, they still hang out all the time and the adukts are working out some kind of way to get between the surface and Hidddn City easier. Meanwhile, Big Mama and Draxum just keep wondering, well, if they're both alive, and their two kids, then what are the chances of their other two children and partner being alive as well?

4. DYNAMICS! (i live for these kids of questions!)

Raph and Mikey - Bestest of bros! Met each other first, hang out all the time, both prodigies in their fields and love to talk about their interests! Both have a pretty poor perception of safety, so they get into trouble from time to time, but are also pretty good at getting out of it. The silliest of guys, nothing wrong with them at all and I'm sure there's no danger to their relationship on the horizon! : )

Raph and Donnie- Overprotective brother extraordinare. Draxum drilled it into Raph's head growing up that Donnie is a bit squishier than the rest of them, and he kinda internalized that idea that he needs to protect Donnie, even though Donnie is a very capable person and can handle himself! They fight a lot about what is and isn't appropriate for Donnie to be doing, but they really do love each other, and outside of thise fights, they get along really well (especially when Donnie lets Raph help with explody experiments)

Mikey and Donnie- Mikey is just a touch overbearing for Donnie tbh. Donnie's used to being an only child, so Mikey's clunginess is a bit much for him a lot of the time, which drives a bit of a wedge between them. Parallel Play is their favorite thing, they love to just exist together. Mikey also doesn't treat Donnie like he's made of glass, so they like to sneak out and cause mischief and sometimes even solve crimes! They are silly, and their newest crime to solve is who in the world dares to steal from the children of Big Mama, Baron Draxum and Lou Jitsu, they're famous dammit!

Raph and Leo- Leonardo? The fourth turtle? Dad's mentioned him sometimes, but he gets pretty sad when talking about him, so it's best to just not think about lost things!

Mikey and Leo- Who? A slider? Like a sandwich? Now that you mention it, she's pretty hungry, maybe Mama will take Mikey to go get some dinner!

Donnie and Leo- There's a blue spark somewhere, in a place Donnke can only reach when he's truly trying to connect with his ancestors. Maybe a distant cousin? He's not sure, but he's got pressing matters at the moment, don't bother him!

And I think that's it! That was fun, keep asking me questions! If you get specific enough I might answer the more vauge ones better lol, I love secrets!

First // Previous // Next

[would-this-pokemon-be-a-friend]

Would A Delibird Make A Good Pet?

For no particular reason, it’s time to cover delibird! A delibird would indeed make a good pet, though caring for one would come with some interesting quirks.

At nearly three feet tall, delibirds are certainly taller than I assumed, but they’re certainly not too large to fit in most homes. While, due to their resemblance to real-world penguins, one may worry about how well delibirds can handle warmer climates, have no fear: this species prefers cooler climates but is able to withstand the weather of locations as warm as the Alola Region (Sun)! One thing to keep in mind is that a delibird would most likely prefer to rest somewhere up high. Wild delibirds build their nests at the edge of sharp cliffs (Silver), indicating a surprising skill in either flight or climbing.

Delibirds have been known to get along great with humans, which isn’t surprising given their happy-go-lucky attitude and generosity. You see, this pokémon loves to share their food with humans and other pokémon, especially those in need (Diamond/Pearl/Platinum). There’s even tales of a delibird using their food storage to help a famous explorer reach the top of Mount Everest (Ruby/Sapphire)! This is a result of natural instinct: wild delibirds spend a lot of their time gathering food to carry back to their young in their bag-like tails (Silver). Delibirds aren’t picky about their food as they are omnivorous (Ultra Sun), which should make it easier to find the best way to feed them.

Their scavenging behavior won’t be without its difficulties, however. Delibirds are said to always be scrounging for food to share (Moon), so don’t be surprised when anything your delibird can reach that they think is food disappears into the folds of their tail, be it actually edible or not! You must also be prepared to graciously accept gifts that may not be the tastiest to you, like bug pokémon that they find outside (Ultra Sun). Just as you would need to keep your food away from a curious child, dog, or cat, you would need to make sure your delibird doesn’t get their hands on anything dangerous or precious. On the bright side, unless they’ve already eaten your missing item, you’ll always know where they’re hiding it!

Delibirds aren’t very dangerous at all. They can only naturally learn two moves: Present and Drill Peck. Drill Peck might hurt, sure, but given the species’ small beaks it would be far from lethal. Present, on the other hand, depends on what your delibird has managed to get their hands on. In a pinch, wild delibirds defend themselves by lobbing whatever they’re carrying at enemies to fend them off (Crystal). If a pet delibird tried to use Present to attack, what they’d be able to throw is entirely dependent on what they’re able to find. Not to victim-blame, but it’d kinda be on you. Thankfully, delibirds seem to only be violent if attacked (Crystal), so the chances of ending up in this situation are low.

Delibirds are small-ish, kind-hearted, nonviolent pokémon with a quirky lifestyle that may delight or annoy, depending on who you are. Overall, however, I’d wager that they’d make pretty good pets.

[femmemortes]

My top five most brutal SAW traps even though absolutely nobody asked for my fucking opinion:

5 — Pound of Flesh, SAW VI

I feel like this isn’t a trap that’s talked about often enough considering the actual shit you have to do to survive it. I mean come on. Cut off enough of your flesh to survive? And it’s not even like there’s a set amount anyway, it’s a competition between you and another person to see who can do the most. No guidance as to what specific body part to cut off either. You just have to take the knife and just start going crazy. It makes having the punishment for not doing it look not as bad but, then again, actually thinking about having screws drilled into the sides of your temples? Yeah, no thanks babes xxx

Simone was a total badass just hacking her arm straight off like that and living. Just sent it all the way and won, you love to see it.

4 — Silence Circle, SAW 3D

If someone asked me to do this trap I would actually just kill myself instead. Gun in my mouth, bang, gone. Same with all of these to be fair but the fucking idea of the key on a fishing hook in your stomach? And that just raking up your insides as you’re trying to take it out? Fuck that. Fuck. That. I think the only thing that would make me do this would be the other person pulling out the string because if I had to do that shit myself? I’d just scream as loud as I could to make the spikes impale me instantly. I am not doing that shit.

This one gets bumped down a bit because we don’t actually see the visual of the hook going up through her? Which makes it an easier watch than the others on this list, but I still think it deserved a place here because of the sheer insanity of the entire thing.

3 — Bone Marrow Trap, SAW X

Fuck. This. Trap.

Actually fuck it. In my opinion this was the most brutal trap in SAW X. Yes, I know some people make arguments for the brain surgery trap being pretty brutal and yes taking out your brain is just… Wow. And I’ll agree it is bad. But you don’t FEEL your brain.

THIS ON THE OTHER HAND?

CUTTING OFF YOUR LEG AT THE THIGH? WITH A GIGLI SAW NO LESS? The amount of blood loss, the fact if you want to live just have to take that fucking saw to your leg and just DO IT? And then once you’re done you have to take that stupid little fuckoff tube and stick it in your bone and get the bone marrow out, which is ALSO PAINFUL???

Also the part where she grabs the gigli saw in-front of her with her hands… Fuck, just fuck.

Valentina really didn’t deserve to die here, I won’t lie to you. She cut off her leg, was taking out the marrow. I believe had the tube thing for the vacuum to measure how much bone marrow or whatever the fuck had been shorter, she would’ve lived. Yes she started later but like, come the fuck on.

2 — Venus Fly Trap, SAW II

I’m going to start this with, this trap being the first trap of SAW II is an actually insane tone shift from what we had in the first movie. Like, the only trap I really consider brutal in SAW is the reverse bear trap, but we don’t even see that one go off since Amanda survives it.

So seeing this shit right out the gate is just… Oh my god. Wow. Just wow.

This trap has always given me reverse bear trap vibes in appearance, it’s probably the whole thing of, it’s on the head, closes, shuts whatever. I don’t know but it’s got a similar energy to it.

First of all, the whole nails in your face thing? Yeah, hate that. But what I’m most concerned about is the KEY BEHIND THE EYE.

FUCK.

THAT.

SHIT.

The visual of him cutting into his eyeball with the scalpel? And you actually just have to fucking go at it and just… ugh. I was pretty torn between either this trap or the Bone Marrow trap for this kinda reason. Cutting off a leg or cutting open your eye? And honestly the eye is just. Worse. Like just digging into your eye to get out a fucking key? Like all things given, at LEAST I can turn off my brain somewhat while cutting off my leg. Just back and forth with a saw. I don’t even have to look!

THIS? WHAT I’M CUTTING IS DOING THE LOOKING. I STRUGGLE TO PUT ON EYELINER, HOW THE FUCK DO YOU EXPECT ME TO DO THIS?

1 — The Rack, SAW III

There is a reason why people think this trap is the worst one. There is a reason and it’s fucking obvious.

You’re on a mother-fucking crucifix looking ass thing, legs and arms out, and if this other guy doesn’t take a bullet for you, your limbs are going to be twisted.

YOUR ARMS, LEGS AND NECK are going to be ROTATED 360 DEGREES. ONE. BY. ONE.

Oh and the guy who’s taking the bullet for you? It’s Jeff by the way, stupid fucking Jeff. So you have no chance xxx

The visuals. I can’t watch this trap without looking away, I see the limbs start turning and my line of sight is directly away from the screen. No.

No.

The image of twisting flesh and the fucking shot where you see one of his legs start to move?

NO.

AND HIS HEAD. HIS FUCKING HEAD.

NO.

I DON’T NEED TO EXPLAIN WHY THIS IS NUMBER ONE. FUCKING LOOK AT IT.

Honourable mentions under the cut:

Honourable mentions go to The Angel Trap and Ten Pints of Sacrifice. I didn’t include the angel trap because I feel like, while yes getting your ribs ripped out is horrific, you don’t really suffer much while alive? Which to me, the more they suffer while alive or trying to complete their trap, the more brutal it is. Ten Pints of Sacrifice isn’t on here because I was doing 5, had I been doing like 10 you would’ve definitely seen this on here. Oh and also, Needle Pit isn’t on here because I’m entirely unfazed by it. I hate to do Mandy like this but I just personally don’t really wince at it at all.

[storiesofsvu]

Sonya Paxton SFW Alphabet

Sonya Paxton x reader no real warnings, y'all know the drill. People have been wanting Sonya recently and I am only here to give the people what they want!

A = Affection (How affectionate are they? How do they show affection?)

Sonya’s generally not that affectionate, especially when it comes to PDA. She’ll hold your hand in public and isn’t afraid of people catching a sense of something more than platonic going on, but it’s very likely the most you’re getting is a kiss on the cheek. At home she’s a little softer, she likes her privacy. Arm around you on the couch, wrapping around your back while you cook dinner, soft kisses pressed into your skin when no one’s around to see.

B = Best friend (What would they be like as a best friend? How would the friendship start?)

She’s not going to beat around the bush, she’s always going to give you the absolute truth and her honest opinion (even if you don’t ask). There’s no sugar coating when it comes to Sonya she tells it how it is and honestly? Everyone needs a friend like that. I like to think she’s also incredibly loyal. She’s not a super approachable/friendly person when it comes to acquaintances so once you’re in her inner circle and she cares about you, you’ve got a ride or die for life. She’s always gonna be the first one to stand up for you, whether you’re there or not, she’s got your back.

C = Cuddles (Do they like to cuddle? How would they cuddle?)

She doesn’t like to admit it so much, but she does enjoy it. You’re usually the one who initiates, snuggling into her side when you’re watching a movie and the first time you did it she nearly tensed up before glancing down and noticing the happy smile on your cheeks and she relaxed into it tentatively wrapping an arm around you. She’s normally the big spoon in bed, looping an arm around your waist while you sleep.

D = Domestic (Do they want to settle down? How are they at cooking and cleaning?)

Settling down is something that’s never really been on her radar. There’s some kinda bad history in her life, whether it be watching her parents abysmal marriage suffer or deteriorate or a relationship of her own meeting the same end that left a bad taste in her mouth. I think she’s someone who’s pretty hyper Independent and a little anti social, dating isn’t even something she’s actively pursuing. So when she does find herself in a safe loving relationship, she’s content leaving it at that, a life partner. There’s no need for rings or certificates.

When it comes to around the house, she’s pretty tidy. Most of her laundry is dry cleaned and the stuff that isn’t usually sits out a little longer than needed, but the dishes are usually done within twelve hours and the entire space is clean. Cooking wise? She’s not as great, breakfast’s are easy, she’s got some go to’s for lunches that are fine but there’s a lot of take out consumed.

E = Ending (If they had to break up with their partner, how would they do it?)

Hear me out: it depends on how invested/in love she was/is. If it’s an easy one for her, it’s gonna be in public so it can be quick, to the point, rip off the band aid and it’s done and she’s out the door. If she’s still harbouring some feelings but knows it’s the right thing to do she’ll add in a little bit more privacy, but it’s not going to be at her house, it’s somewhere that she can make her peace, say goodbye and then leave to go have a drink and get over you.

F = Fiance(e) (How do they feel about commitment? How quick would they want to get married?)

Whoops. Already covered this one lol. She’s down for a lifelong partner, a good relationship that she knows is sturdy and is happy in. She doesn’t want to get married at all, she’s seen too many of them fall apart and end horribly with both parties hating each other because of all the other strings that have to be untangled. At least if she’s not married and a long term relationship ends, it’s easier to sort out.

G = Gentle (How gentle are they, both physically and emotionally?)

As stated in the bff one, she’s always pretty blunt and to the point, so some of the things she says might cut a little bit, especially if you don’t have thick skin or weren’t expecting it. She’ll catch herself most of the time, realizing she’s toeing or crossed a line and will likely apologize, realizing you were asking for support not a reality check kinda thing. She never means to hurt you but wants to always be clear and truthful.

Physically, I like to think she’s a fucking softie but doesn’t realize it/want to admit it. Like, she’s not used to it, but she really does enjoy the way your arm will wind into hers while you’re walking through the park. She warms up to all of it, finger tips tracing patterns on your skin when you throw your legs over her lap on the couch, gently fixing a piece of tangled hair, wiping a stray smudge of lipstick, her touch is almost always gentle.

H = Hugs (Do they like hugs? How often do they do it? What are their hugs like?)

I don’t see her being a hugger *at all*. She shows her affection in other ways, greeting you with a gentle kiss to the cheek, her lips brushing the top of your head before she leaves the house. Her favourite hugs are when she wraps herself around your back, or the soft embrace before she kisses you.

I = I love you (How fast do they say the L-word?)

It slips out in more of a casual way first, she barely notices it. You catch it, but don’t say it back because you pick up on the slip. The realization dawns on her a few days later as she’s watching you cook breakfast in the golden sunbeams and she’s just so happy and content to be spending a quiet morning with you. “I do you know…” “hmm?” you glance up at her and she smiles softly. “Love you.”  “I know.” You lean over to kiss her gently “and I love you too.”

J = Jealousy (How jealous do they get? What do they do when they’re jealous?) If she does get jealous, it doesn’t show very strongly. It’s the tiniest purse of her lips, the slightest narrowing of her eyes as she watches you get flirted with and it always depends on her mood whether she lets it pan out and wait for you to return to her, or if she slides up to your side to interrupt things.

K = Kisses (What are their kisses like? Where do they like to kiss you? Where do they like to be kissed?)

Her kisses are soft, a lot of the time they’re quick, little kisses to say hello/goodbye. The more passionate ones she usually lets you take control of, happy enough to submit for a bit. She usually kisses your cheek, the top of your head in a greeting if you’re already curled on the couch. And she’s got a huge soft spot for the way you’ll grab her hand and pull it up to your lips to leave a kiss on the inside of her wrist, the special little thing you only do for her.

L = Little ones (How are they around children?)

Listen, Sonya’s the wine aunt, we all know this. She has no interest in having her own kids, and she likely doesn’t want to babysit yours if they’re under like… twelve and even then she likely thinks they’re annoying af and they back talk too much. That being said if she is your “aunt” (biological or not) she definitely has your back and will take you out to do fun things your mom hates her for kinda thing. Like, she’s the one sneaking you booze/cigarettes, taking you to get your first tattoo, bailing you out when you get in trouble, like I said earlier, this bitch is loyal.

M = Morning (How are mornings spent with them?) Coffee. Just so much coffee, she prefers time to sleep in over breakfast and sometimes lowkey hates that she chose a career that means she has to get up early. Once coffee is brewed she takes her time to get ready and then is out the door.

N = Night (How are nights spent with them?)

Evenings are relaxed, a nice dinner a bottle of wine (or sparkling cider) while watching a movie sprawled together on the couch. She’s a bit of a night owl, staying up later to finish paperwork or catch up on non work related readings and such.

O = Open (When would they start revealing things about themselves? Do they say everything all at once or wait a while to reveal things slowly?)

It’s not really a waiting to reveal things, but more so when the topics come up in conversation/situation. I like to think most of us humans are like that, sure there are some info dumps that come out of nowhere but the less important things kinda just slip out whenever. It’s likely on one of your first dates you offer her a drink and she simply replies that she doesn’t drink. It might not even be until weeks later when something comes up again that she mentions “well I had a bit of a problem”. That kinda style, ya know?

P = Patience (How easily angered are they?)

Not angered, but *annoyed*. She gets frustrated, letting out little huffs, eye rolls, scoffs and the like. It kinda just depends on the day on if she walks away (likely to go smoke) or if she ends up getting snippy. With a partner she’s clues in quicker and usually walks away, but there does tend to be a little bit of unneeded bickering in her relationships. In her professional life, the back and fourth is more needed and she doesn’t walk away as often as she can quickly prove her point.

Q = Quizzes (How much would they remember about you? Do they remember every little detail you mention in passing, or do they kind of forget everything?)

She’s not great with small details, she probably fucks up your coffee order the first couple of times, thinking it’s 2 cream and 1 sugar when it’s the opposite way around kinda thing. She’ll remember the most important parts, any allergies, things you absolutely cannot stand, your birthday, those kinda things.

R = Remember (What is their favourite moment in your relationship?)

It’s the moment that she knew you actually loved her, that you wanted her around and preferred the hours spent together rather than apart. A day that she came home early to find you in her apartment cooking dinner in an attempt to surprise her, there was no faking the smile that broke out on your face over excitement that she was finally home. She finally felt like she belonged somewhere and she was done for in that moment.

S = Security (How protective are they? How would they protect you? How would they like to be protected?) Sonya can get fiercely protective, but it’s only when you need/want it. You work together and someone starts yelling at you/blaming you for something that you didn’t, you can bet she’s physically inserting herself in between you and tearing the other person a new one. She knows you can handle yourself when you’re out in the city, but if she can tell you’re getting uncomfortable she’s not afraid to wrap an arm around your waist and tell someone to back the fuck off and leave you alone.

When it comes to herself, she’s pretty self sufficient, but it’s more that she likes to be emotionally protected by you. The way that you remind her that she’s loved, that she’s good at her job and deserving of love and the like. It’s the way you make her feel safe when you’re around that she just absolutely adores.

T = Try (How much effort would they put into dates, anniversaries, gifts, everyday tasks?)

The standard amount of effort I’d think lol. It’s nothing too crazy and over the top, standard dinners, take out, cooking together, movie nights snuggled up on the couch. Anniversaries and birthdays are a bit more effort, a gift or two, a surprise of flowers, extra dessert with dinner. Everyday tasks she keeps her space clean and tidy, always has an extra blanket on the couch for you, makes sure there’s copies of your skincare in the bathroom, back up toiletries/period supplies. She keeps your favourite coffee creamer in the fridge, makes sure to have your favourite snacks on hand.

U = Ugly (What would be some bad habits of theirs?)

I mean… there’s the obvious. LOL. Then there’s the smoking, which is something that she leans on more now that she’s sober to get her fix and help her not be stressed but she knows she shouldn’t do it as much. At the very least she doesn’t smoke inside, so you’re not too bothered by it.

V = Vanity (How concerned are they with their looks?)

She always makes sure that she’s decently enough put together. The bulk of her suits are designer, but it’s not a must for her. She’s not obsessed with looks, definitely isn’t going to dive into any kind of plastic surgery or anything but will amp up the skincare products as she ages.

W = Whole (Would they feel incomplete without you?)

Honestly? No. Obviously there is a reasoning behind Sonya’s very icy and standoffish exterior and I think she’s got some pretty fucked up history/experiences in her life, but we can figure that out as we get there lol. Once she finds you and finally feels comfortable, safe and loved in a healthy relationship, she’s grateful for what she has and likely is one of those people who worries about losing it relatively often. She’s more than aware that she’s a human with some pretty big flaws and doesn’t want to fuck things up. Like, she’s fine if you’re on a vacation with your besties and she’s at home. It’s if you were to break up that she feels completely empty again. When she’s with you, she finally feels like she belongs.

X = Xtra (A random head canon for them.)

Is a hardcore cat person. Has at least one, if not multiple. Does not like dogs and will likely fight anyone who says they’re better than cats.

Y = Yuck (What are some things they wouldn’t like, either in general or in a partner?)

She doesn’t like bullshit, beating around the bush or playing games. You’re either in or you’re out. She’s generally straightforward with her intentions and expects you to be too. She also doesn’t have the patience for someone who is overly needy, she needs a little bit of her own space, especially during the work week she has enough on her plate.

Z = Zzz (What is a sleep habits of theirs?) She definitely takes some sort of melatonin at the end of the day to help her sleep, and she’s a night owl, going to bed much later than someone who has to be at work by 9am should be. But she just overcompensates with coffee to balance things out lol.

_______________

@alexxavicry @anya-casablanca @onmykneesformarvel @kmc1989 @irishavengersassemble @louderfortheback @imlike-so-gaydude @baubeautyandthegeek

[hylianengineer]

Have you ever wondered how scientists know what earth's climate was like in the past? Thousands of years ago, long before humans started to measure and record these things?

It's a really fascinating question with a VERY cool answer! Ice cores! Basically, they go to someplace cold, like the Arctic or Antarctic, and drill really deep into the ice to take a vertical section of it.

[ID:A cylinder of ice, about an inch in diameter and perhaps a little over a foot long (that's around 2.5 centimeters in diameter and over 30cm long, for those of you sensibly using the metric system), held in thickly-gloved hands. End ID.]

Here's what they look like. Kind of - they're a lot bigger when they come out of a glacier, but they get broken down into smaller pieces for transportation and study.

The US National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration has a cool article on it here, but I'll go over the basics because tumblr science communication has a uniquely fun dialect, and I much prefer to learn things that way. I'm also putting it under a read-more because it got long.

If you've ever taken a geology class, you probably know that rock gets deposited vertically over time, with the newest at the top and the oldest at the bottom. In places where ice stays frozen for a long time, it's basically the same principle - year after year of snow and ice layered on top of each other. Ice cores can include stuff that's been frozen for perhaps thousands of years - including air bubbles, dust, sea salt, volcanic ash, etc. Both those and the ancient ice itself can tell us things about what earth's climate was like when they were first frozen.

The water in the ice cores contains, just like water from today, varying ratios of oxygen isotopes: oxygen-16 and oxygen-18. Remember, the difference between isotopes is the number of neutrons in each atom - oxygen-16, with 16 neutrons, is the 'normal' one, which makes up over 99% of oxygen atoms. It's also lighter than oxygen-18, which has two extra neutrons, and that means that it's slightly more difficult to get out of the atmosphere via precipitation - and this is easier at colder temperatures. So, as global climate gets cooler, the ratio of oxygen-16 to 18 increases, and as global climate cools, it decreases. We can measure those ratios in ice cores to figure out what Earth's climate was like in the past - as far back as we can find ice. How far is that? Up to 800,000 years. Yeah, that's some fucking old ice.

That's a lot of ice, I can hear you thinking. You're right - the deepest ice core ever collected was 3769m - 3.7 kilometers of ice (for my fellow Americans, that's over 2 and a quarter miles). That is a stupidly long piece of ice. Now you know why they have to break it up to analyze it.

Also, remember those air bubbles I mentioned? We can measure the concentrations of gases in those to learn about the composition of Earth's atmosphere a long fucking time ago, including the concentration of greenhouse gases like carbon dioxide and methane. (How do you get air bubbles out of ancient ice you ask? NOAA has the answer: crush it under a vacuum hood. That means there's no other gases around to contaminate your sample while you put it in an airtight vial.)

How do we know how old the ice is? Same way we date other ancient stuff - there's two main methods.

Radioactivity and radioisotopes! Mostly naturally occurring, although for recent ice, radioactivity from nuclear testing can also be used. Carbon dioxide can be radiocarbon dated, volcanic material can be argon/argon dated, etc.

Layering! Especially looking for distinctive stuff like volcanic ash from significant geological events. This can be used to synchronize ice cores from different places, or for relative ages (i.e. this section is older than this one).

These are far from the only things ice cores can teach us, but this post is already very long so I'll leave it here. Check out the NOAA article for more details, and a fun anecdote about how no fieldwork project ever goes entirely according to plan - especially when there's polar bears.

Sources: 1, 2

[boygiwrites]

Harley D. Dixon 22

An amazing edit inspired by this story! (Cred to Cora_Line99) Harley D. Dixon's Pinterest Board! Harley D. Dixon's Playlist!

📖Chapter List.

Author's Note.

Okay, last time, I swear! Next chapter will be longer and more productive.

Enjoy! 😊

Next to me in the backseat of Rick's car, Carl prattles on and on about all the new wilderness facts I taught him.

"And there's these mushrooms called Morels. You can find them growing on trees and they're edible, too. They taste kinda nutty."

Rick answers him with another half-assed, wow, like he's been doin' the entire drive, making me giggle when I catch his amused expression in the rear-view mirror. In the car behind us is Maggie, Glenn, Jacqui, and Jimmy, who were all pretty keen on joinin' our shooting lessons after all the commotion of the past couple days. We didn't bother Carol with an invitation, though. She seems to wanna stay locked in the RV all day, not talkin' to nobody. I feel real bad for her. We all do. Dad once said that having a child changes your life, but I suppose losing one changes it all over again, too. People die, people mourn. Life moves on. The only reason I'm here is 'cause I'm pretending I'm that strong.

"Oh, and when you're skinning an animal, you gotta make sure you don't press too hard, otherwise you'll pierce the poop tube."

Rick lets out a disgusted chuckle. "What the Hell's a poop tube?"

"You know. It's where the poop goes down before it, uh...."

"God," He shakes his head, peeling off the road and driving us into a small, green field. "Don't go tellin' your mother that one."

Once he brings the car to a stop underneath the shade of a big tree, Carl and I unbuckle and hop out, Maggie pulling in beside us soon after. He opens the trunk, unzippers the duffel bag, and I wait patiently beside Carl as Rick hands out pistols and ammo to the other adults first.

"Okay. First thing's first, these are semi-automatic handguns." He professionally explains. "One bullet per squeeze of the trigger."

Carl grabs for one, grumbling annoyedly when it goes to Glenn instead, who easily loads a clip into the chamber.

Maggie copies his fluid movements, getting familiar with the weapon. "Where'd you come across so much firepower, Grimes?"

"Long story." He shares a funny glance with Glenn as he passes the next gun to Jacqui. "Give ya the short version, we went through a Hell of a lotta trouble to get our hands on a bag from my old station, kept it ever since." The last two go to me and Carl. "Remember. These ain't toys."

We both give understanding nods. I know they ain't toys. I got that drilled into my head since I first laid eyes on my family's supply.

"Alright, let's go line up in front of that fence over there, see if we can't hit some targets. I'll give y'all the rundown on how to do it."

As we move to the centre of the field, Rick walks the fence line, carrying the bag of empty tins and bottles he brought with him, placing each one a fair distance apart. After that, he tweaks everybody's stances and grips. Maggie's is near perfect. Glenn's is perfect. He gives us a little look that says, uh-huh, that's right, making Carl roll his eyes and Jacqui smack his shoulder. He goes pink when Maggie laughs. They begin shooting as soon as they get the green-light, and after Rick checks over Jacqui and Jimmy, he does the same with me and Carl.

"Got it down pretty good." He hums. All he needs to do is square Carl's shoulders. "Guess your little woodland fieldtrip went well, huh?"

His tongue stuck out, Carl takes a slightly-off shot at one of the tins before saying, "Yeah, it did. Harley taught me."

"Well, if y'all managed to hit a rabbit, you'll breeze through this no problem."

Line up the sights, breathe in, breathe out, squeeze. My heart leaps as the bottle I was aiming for explodes, but I keep a straight face.

Much easier than hittin' a rabbit. Also much easier than hitting a group of walkers in the middle of the woods.

Rick smiles. "Nice work, Harley. How's the hearing?" 

At another bang from down the line, the ringing in my ear turns up a notch. I cringe, "It's ringin' again."

"Too bad we don't have earmuffs." He mutters to himself, before getting an idea. "Here." Stepping behind me, he cups both his hands over my ears. Ooh. That's much better. All the sounds are muffled now. It makes the splitting of metal and the shattering of glass a little more bearable. When I realize he's asking me something, I pull his wrist away and look up at him, curious. He chuckles. "I said, 'Is that better?'"

The corner of my mouth twitches upwards. Embarrased, I answer, "Yeah."

"Lemme know if you need a break or I'm squeezin' too hard." He says kindly before covering me again. "Here we go. Start shootin', missy."

For the next five minutes, I focus on pointing, breathing, and shooting, managing to hit my target once every three tries, and then once every two, and then I ain't missin' at all, anymore. Even though I can't hear 'em all too well, I see the others cheering me on every now and then.

After my last target goes flying off the fencepost, I lower the gun, tapping Rick on the arm to let him know to pull away.

"Doin' really well," He praises. "Especially with your reloadin', you got that down to an art. You need that break, now?"

I hate to admit it, but, "Yeah, I think so."

He understands. "Alright, go grab some water and sit in the shade for a bit. No harm done."

"Maybe when you come back," Carl adds cheekily, "I'll be able to hit even more targets than you."

I don't bother responding. I take myself back over to the cars, snatching up my water bottle from the pile on the ground before climbing onto the hood and taking a long sip. I spend some time just watching the others, doing my best to ignore the cruel headache crushing down on my skull but it's near impossible. I wish I could just reach inside my ear, rip out that ringing noise, and crush it like a bug beneath my boot.

At some point Glenn taps out as well, breaking away from the group and approaching me with a half-smile.

"Hey, Harley." He says, grabbing his water and a small snack. "You okay?"

"No. My stupid ear, it's hurtin' still." I complain, groaning wearily as he leans next to me on the car. "As if it bein' butt-ugly weren't enough."

"Hey, it's not ugly." He nudges me gently. "It's cool. Just like Rick's hat or your Dad's crossbow, it just makes you more interesting."

I don't get how people see badass or interesting when they look at my mangled ear-nub. Dad even called me beautiful. I'on get it.

When I don't respond, he hesitantly offers, "You wanna talk about it?"

"Not really." I mumble. Ain't much to talk about. Some things are better buried, like bodies in graves. "What 'boutchu? Why you over here?"

"I— I don't know." He shrugs. "Couldn't concentrate, I guess. I kept missing my shots, so I thought I'd quit while I was ahead."

I raise a brow. He must have something on his mind to be messin' up his aim like that. "You got sum' you wanna talk about?"

Chewing his lip nervously, he gazes out at Maggie as she reloads another clip into her gun's chamber, Rick as he jokes with Carl. Then with no warning, he awkwardly confesses, "Lori's pregnant. Rick doesn't know. And Maggie said she loves me but I didn't say it back."

Woah, uh... I don't know what to say. Lori and Rick are havin' a baby? Maggie and Glenn love each other, like boyfriend-girlfriend? Dang. No wonder his aim was shit. Those are some hefty secrets. I had enough trouble keepin' my one secret, but keepin' two?

Once I've swallowed down my surprise, I ask him incredulously, "Why you ain't tell nobody? Why you ain't tell Rick?"

I'm not too sure what happens when people find out they're having a baby, but don't they gotta, well, find out?

"Because Lori said she'd throw me back down the well if I said anything to him... I already spilled to Dale, though, and now you." Guilt crinkles expression. "Ugh, I'm so bad at secrets. I got her that test the other day, but now she doesn't even know if she wants to keep it."

Oh, that's right. The lady products. I didn't know you could decide if you want a baby or not once you got it. "How ya mean?"

He shakes his head. "Never mind. Just don't tell anyone else, please."

"Well, ya gotta tell him at some point, right?"

"I'm kinda just waiting to see what Lori does. It's her choice to make."

"And you and Maggie?" I prompt as he snaps off half his granola cookie and hands it to me. I take a bite. "She loves you?"

"Well, she said she did." He spends a long time chewing, thinking, staring at her. "I don't think she meant it. She's confused or something."

"I'on think Maggie's the type to get too confused 'bout things." I quip, doubtful. "She must'a meant it in some way, at least."

Lori guessed they was sweet on one another. I don't know too much about this sorta stuff. I never liked movies with princes and princesses in 'em, or books where the boy and girl kiss at the end. Real life ain't like that. There's things like suicide and custody. No, instead I liked the ones with adventure, like the Fox and the Hound and Alice in Wonderland. I liked pretending I was in some other, better world.

I know about Glenn, though, and I know I want him to be happy. If a strong, pretty girl like Maggie can do that for him, then I'm happy too.

"It's just, I didn't say it back." He sighs. "I was still too shaken up from this morning. Got scared, I guess. I mean, we barely know each other."

"Don't gotta. I loved Tank the second I saw him," I shrug, "I ain't know a thing about him."

"That was your guys' dog, right?" He smiles when I give a nod. I think he likes how simple my answers are. "So, you think I should talk to her?"

"If you don't, you'd be an idiot." I tell him. "Seen so much death by now that if a girl said she loved me, I'd count my dang lucky stars."

He chuckles at that. "You're not planning on stealing her from me, are you?"

"Might just."

"Whatever. Gimme that." He steals back the remainder of the cookie from my hand, making me squeal in protest. "I don't share with traitors."

"Hey!" He pops it in his mouth before I can swipe it back, whining, "Glenn!"

As he laughs around his mouthful, Rick comes up to us with a fond look on his face. "I gotta break somethin' up, here?"

I scoff. "He stole my damn food."

"Well, it was mine to begin with."

"Hey, no fighting while class is in session." He takes another cookie from the tupperware container and hands it to me. "Try pickin' on someone your own size next time." Taking a bite, I echo, yeah, somebody your own size. Then he asks me, "How's the ear doing?"

"Oh," I haven't even been paying attention to it until now, just Glenn. It's actually stopped ringing. "It ain't so bad anymore."

"That's good." He hums. "I reckon we'll be headed back soon, anyway, so just take it easy 'till then."

Glenn asks, "It's the sound of the gunshots, right?"

"Yeah. Definitely ain't doin' you any favors, huh?"

No shit. "I just wanna be able to shoot like you guys."

"Hey, you're pretty damn close already. You just need to start thinkin' about relying on quieter weapons, that's all. Like that knife of yours."

It's hard not to get angry when one mistake ruins a whole bunch other things. Lost an ear, gained tin-eye-dus, and now I can't even shoot no more. I was just startin' to get good, too. Ain't no use sulking, though, so I suck it up like a big girl and listen to Rick's advice.

"Knives are better, anyway." I say off-handedly, trying to convince myself of my own words. "Can't skin no rabbit with a gun."

He smiles and gives my shoulder a pat. "Exactly."

The three of us finish off a couple more cookies and talk about random stuff, like Rick's first day at his cop academy's shooting range and who we think is the best shot outta everyone still practicing. We don't talk about the baby in Lori's tummy, though. I feel a little giddy looking at Rick and knowin' something so exciting about him that he don't. It's like tryna hide a surprise party from someone. I just wanna tell him!

Wow, a baby. I ain't never been around one of those before. For once in my life, I won't be the youngest.

That might'a made me sad a couple days ago, but I think I'm ready to be growing up now.

Besides, I'll always be my Dad's baby no matter how old I am.

On the way home, Carl takes to rambling about how much he loved shooting, and how he can't wait to go again sometime. 

Author's Note.

Harley's so lucky to have such a supportive group of people looking after her. I'm jealous!!

Thanks for reading, everyone! 💙

[vodika-vibes]

Arachne is not getting the nickel version so now she has to sit and listen to these terrifying villains explain Everything Wrong

Vod’ika I’m trying to keep track of all my questions here you know . . . 😅

Victor Von Doom has someone to monologue too, and he's going to take advantage of it. It helps, I suppose, that Arachne is a spider rather than a member of the Fantastic Four.

And also, hehehe~ There's some angst at the bottom, just fyi.

Meanwhile, on Coruscant- "Let go of me!" Dogma spits out, struggling against his brothers, trying to get to the glass and metal coffin that his Arachne is sleeping in, "Let-" Fives throws his weight over Dogma, joining Echo and Jesse in restraining him, "Come on, vod." Fives tries, "Kix is checking on her now. See?" There's a laugh from the opposite side of the room and the look up at the man standing there, "There's no need to worry. She's just having the sweetest dream. She might not ever want to wake up." There's a look on contempt on his face, "And you were foolish enough to come here without a jedi. So you'll be joining her soon enough." At the same time, in Manhattan- Doctor Doom's voice is like a drill, boring into her brain as he drones on and on and one- Stars, and you thought that Rhino was bad about monologuing. "Okay!" Arachne finally interrupts when he pauses to take a breath, "So, basically, my options to end this simulation or whatever are to die or to break it." "Exactly so." "Great! So, how far do I have to go to break the simulation from the inside?" "As far as you can," Doc Ock says, "Though, it really would be easier to let us kill you." "Yeahhh...I'm not doing that." She opens her mouth to say something else when the building above rattles with an explosion. Fisk, largely ignored until this point, turns to the room at large, "The Avengers are here." Arachne watches as the men around her done their battle gear, and then she yelps as the Green Goblin grabs her around the wrist, "Time for you to go." She's barely able to pull her mask on before she's being flung away from the battle between the Avengers and a lot of the super villains. "Oh boy." She breathes out as she turns and flings herself towards the Brooklyn Bridge, "Good thing this isn't real or the damages would be astronomical-" Arachne is halfway across the bridge when an arrow cuts through her web, causing her to fall to the ground. She lands, hard, on the ground, and immediately rolls over to her feet. "Working with Fisk now, are you Arachne?" Captain America asks as he stalks towards her with several other Avengers on his feels. "Well," She replies as she lowers herself to the ground, her gaze darting in every direction to look for an escape, "Needs must and all. You know how it is." His eyes are cold, and Arachne's heart sinks. She's never, ever, wanted to fight Captain America. "Surrender Arachne." "Oh, you have no idea how much I wish I could." She replies. "...so be it." Arachne's mind races, she needs to remove Iron Man from the field first and then focus on Captain America. Or else this is going to be a very short fight. Arachne is a very talented fighter. She's been heroing since she was 13 years old...however, the Avengers have both number and experience on her. Even so, the fight lasts longer than any of them expect. And then Hawkeye gets a lucky shot, and she goes down. Her head thumps aganint the concrete and she probably could get up, she probably could keep fighting. Her gaze drifts to Captain America, looming over her, and then drift back to the blue skies of Earth. She really, really hopes Victor was right about this. Captain America lifts his shield, holding onto the edges. Arachne keeps her gaze locked on the sky, "I was glad to see them. One more time." She whispers. He brings the shield down. She closes her eyes. Captain America's shield is embedded in the concrete of the Brooklyn Bridge, blood splattered across the white ring of his shield.

[themuffin2649]

SYVNH Short: The Nightmare

A continuation to The Dream

TW: 18+ Due to Live Dissection, Gore, Drugging, Violence, Vomiting, Death, Uncencored cursing, and Graphic Descriptions.

Caption: Vincent Torture Fic….. that’s it.

It was easier than he thought it would be, it was so easy, that he questioned why he didn’t do this sooner. All he needed was to find him alone after school, grab a rag and chloroform, smother it on his face, and he was all his.

He turned around to his companion as she approached him, and presented their new science project cradled in his arms.

“I’ve done my part in this, now you do yours.”

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

He was definitely awake. The first thing he smelled was the alcohol, as if he were in a doctor’s room. The next thing he noticed was that he was flat on his back.

As he opened his eyes, he saw a very familiar face paired with a shorter girl with blonde and pink hair. He recognized her as a well-known student named Reme.

This isn’t wasn’t what he was waking up for.

When he tried to speak, he noticed the rag in his mouth which gaged him. He tried to get up and run, God knows what He is going to do to him, only to find that he couldn’t move his limbs. Not only were his limbs chained to the surgical table they placed him on, but his body was also numbed.

His eyes darted around in panick, and he was muffling, but his body did not cooperate no matter how hard he tried.

“I see that the anesthesia is working.”

“Should we take the chains off then?”

“No, we still need him in place.”

With the fog clearing up, his eyes adjusted to a dimly lit room with a bright light shining over his exposed chest. On the right, he saw the box-cutter used to cut his shirt, and on his left was a table with tools he’d seen in movies when somebody undergoes surgery.

Oh God… They’re not going to do what I think they’re gonna do, are they?!

Seeing Reme pick up a scalpel, his eyes dialated in pure terror on what was to come.

OH FUCK! THEY’RE ACUTALLY GOING TO DO IT! NO, STOP!

He closed his eyes as the blade met his skin, only to feel… nothing? When he opened his eyes, he instantly regretted it. The knife dragged across his chest, exposing the layers of skin and fat that were never meant to see the light of day.

He couldn’t bear to look, but he couldn’t look away either. He saw at Reme carefully pulled the skin away to reveal what was inside him. She then placed two metal clips to keep the incision open, was this even the first time she did this?!

“Perfect.”

It sickened him, but there was an odd fascination. All this was in him, and he finally got to see it… wait no! This wasn’t amusing, they were going to kill him! He looked at the incision before the sound of a drill being activated caught his attention.

“mmm, MMmmm!”

“Shhhhh…”

He looked over and saw Leon beside him, holding a finger over his gaged mouth as if to comfort him in a sadistic manner. He enjoyed his suffering, but there was a certain discomfort in his pleasure, almost as if they shared a mutual disgust towards this.

He heard the drill getting closer, causing him to close his eyes. He pretended that it wasn’t the sound of his bones being drilled, but imagined that the sound was wood being sawed outside, yeah, that was nicer.

He didn’t even know if feeling pain was even a blessing at this point, it was all so disorienting. Pain was much simpler, he knew what he felt with pain, but this… this didn’t even feel real.

Then he felt it, she took the two halves of his ribs and separated them. Despite being under some anesthesia, he could still sense the unnatural motion within his chest.

Oh God, it’s so disgusting… I-I don’t, I Can’t

He suddenly felt a wave of bile crawl up his throat and leak onto the rag. Reme only watched in fascination as the muscles of his esophagus convulsed while he vomitted. Leon on the other hand had to look away.

“So that’s what it looks like.” Reme said, chuckling at the sight.

She removed the rag to prevent choking, which caused the vomit to spill out of his mouth. It was beige and green just like a cucumber sandwich.

“Leon, help me clean this up.”

Leon gaged at the sight before putting on gloves and a rag to clean up the mess. Once the vomit was cleaned up, they threw the gag in the trash can, allowing Vincent to finally speak.

“r-re-eme… s-to-p… h-hel…p… l-leo-n….”

That sentence was just as broken as his body, and his two perpetrators looked at each other without pity.

“Why should I help you? You’ve been nothing but a thorn on my side.” Leon said, looking at his eyes with a scorching hatred.

Reme didn’t look like she was willing to stop either. She was too enthralled by her little science project to listen to his pleas.

“Reme, I think we’re ready to take the heart out.”

“n..no…”

“Here Vincent, why don’t you have a good look at it!” He said, and he raised the chair at an angle where he got a better view of what they’ve done. Leon then parted his sweat slicked hair to make sure he was seeing it.

There, he saw his own heart beating like a parasite within his body. All this time, this thing had been in him, yet he never saw it for himself.

“There it is. Isn’t it beautiful Vincent.” Leon whispered in his ear as he unlocked the chain attached to his right arm. He brought the hand to the organ and his fingers started moving along with his beating heart.

Reme also hovered her fingers over the arteries connecting his heart, and started scribbling something down.

“You see that, your arteries and veins? They lead all over your body and always back to your heart.”

She got some needles and tubes and started plugging them into the arteries. As if they were part of his veins, he saw the blood leave his body, making him lightheaded.

Leon then took one of the scalpels, moved the arm away, and started cutting everything that connected his heart from his body: Skin, muscle, tissue, arteries. Everything was sliced until he finally saw his heart in Leon’s bloody hands. With a serine smile, he held it like it was the most precious thing in the world.

“There you are.”

Their voices became blurry and his vision started to fade. He didn’t want to die. Even if he wasn’t asleep, he wanted to wake up somehow, he wanted to get out of here, he wanted to say goodbye.

Mother, Father, Uncle, Honey, somebody… help.

Using the last of his strength, he muttered out one of those words, but the ringing in his ears muffled it out.

He’ll never know what his last word was.

————————————————

Author’s Note: Holy Shit, that was my Heaviest fic I’ve written yet… I hope nobody questions why my search history consists of medical surgery content. I also hope that no minors or sensitive people read this because MY GOD is it BRUTAL! I hope this was a good attempt for the first gore-fic I’ve ever written.

[infinitesimaldna]

Have You Ever Considered Killing Your Title?—Chapter 12

Masterpost

______

Fifteen, Remus had decided, was not a lot better than thirteen. 

At least now he got to properly hit things with swords. Last time they trained, the head knight had actually called Remus forward as an example. His father had even started talking about Remus talking over as the leader of the training sessions, perhaps when he turned 16. 

Even more than that, Logan had been moving up right alongside him. 

The older boy’s plan had worked well throughout the years, Remus was actually amazed at how it had done so. He was now the right hand to the head knight, normally the first example called forward to demonstrate a drill and the one who was in charge of getting the newest knights up to speed. 

Remus really was proud of his friend. He just wished both of their increased responsibilities didn’t mean they scarcely saw each other anymore. 

It was one of the rare moments where their schedules aligned with one another's, allowing them a moment of peace. Unfortunately, Janus had been too caught up with his duties to join them (an expected visit from some royals in a few days adding to his list of chores) which left the group shy of a usual member. 

Remus didn’t really mind, though, even if that left him feeling slightly guilty. Logan around Janus and Logan around just him were two different people. He liked both versions, he just hadn’t gotten to spend time with just Logan in a while, and he missed this side of his friend. 

It was also easier to talk about some things when it was just the two of them, Janus not around. Sue him for taking advantage.

“Hey, Logan?”

“Yes?” came the reply. 

Remus hummed. “Have you ever kissed anyone?”

He was met with a dry silence. How did Logan do that? Make a silence dry? There were dry looks, sure, but Remus and Logan were both looking up at the sky right then, cloud gazing. There was no look, he just managed to convey it in the air; it really was a talent.

“I’m not asking for like, a weird reason. I, just, you’re older than me—”

“Only by three years—”

“And Janus will make his comments about people all the time, you know?”

“Oh, I know.”

Neither boy was exactly unaware of Janus’ multifaceted attraction, the servant more than willing to declare how pretty or enticing he found anyone. They had both heard their fair share of stories detailing Janus’ dalliances, brief as they may be. He had gone for serving girls, delivery boys, and flirted with just about every face in the lower town. 

It was good for Janus, even if it left Remus confused.

“I was just wondering if that was like, a thing that I should still be waiting on. If it’s just an age thing, you know?”

“Remus, you cannot seriously expect to be feeling attraction in the same way as Janus—”

“I don’t! I know that he’s a little different, and nowhere near the standard. It’s not just him.”

He paused then, giving Logan a chance to talk but was met with silence. Somehow, the older knight seemed to always know even before himself when he still needed to talk more, to get something further off his chest. 

He still delayed for a moment, craning his neck up slightly to check their surroundings and make sure they truly were alone in the castle garden they had chosen for their rendezvous. Logan thankfully let him, keeping his own gaze up and seemingly following the path of a cloud as it made its way across the sky. Remus chuckled a bit when he saw his finger tapping the seconds, probably trying to clock the wind speed based on its travel. Seeing Logan doing something so, well, Logan, eased his worry a bit, and he laid back down. 

“My parents have started talking about the noble group visiting in a few days. Telling us to be on our best behavior, all the normal stuff. But they’re also emphasizing that whoever’s coming has two daughters around our age. I think they want us to talk to them, start looking at potential matches. It’s… weird. I don’t feel like I’m old enough to start thinking about that stuff, you know? But Janus is only two years above me, and it’s certainly a thing he thinks about. So I guess I just wanted another perspective. ‘Cause I love Jannie, but relying on him in this issue might be a disaster.”

“I have to agree there,” Logan said. “While I enjoy Janus’ company, he is certainly more… outgoing than us in certain areas, and a lot less nuanced about it as well.”

“Exactly. So, I have no idea. What’s so enjoyable about kissing and stuff anyway?”

“Well, I suppose it might answer your first question, but I have no idea either.”

Remus turned to face Logan then, repositioning himself on his side. “Really?”

Logan shrugged, moving a bit to mirror him. “I’ve never felt particularly inclined to court any individual. I’m still rather young, and I do have my focus more on my career currently. It’s never been a priority for me. Besides, I don’t get around the castle nearly as much as Janus, so I have less opportunities to meet people.

“Plus, Janus has already gone after most of them, which unfortunately makes them less appealing.”

Remus laughed at that, feeling a lightness enter his chest for the first time in the conversation. “That’s so fair. He really does have a way of getting around. And smooth talking people, it’s honestly impressive. I’ve only seen him actually flirting once, but it was like he knew exactly what to say.”

“He does have a way with words.”

“And yet the only thing he ever tells me is ‘stop that.’”

Logan smirked. “It’s normally not your actions that need to be stopped, but I agree with him on the word front.” 

“Hey!”

“You went looking up terms for different animal genitalia the other week so you could use them to insult others without them knowing.”

“And I think it’s worked splendidly, you dork.”

“That one is surprisingly tame.”

There was a silence that passed over them, the two still facing each other on the grass. It was nice, peaceful, just a moment between friends.

------

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[paper--moons]

Regressor!Hawks Headcanons

(with multiple CGs)

Although it is perhaps the hero industry's biggest open secret, age regression isn't exactly something the Hero Commission promotes or even knows how to handle. Which is why they aren't exactly pleased when it becomes apparent that Hawks is an age regressor—and one that falls on the smallest side of the spectrum at that. Keigo tried to keep it private, or course, but his entire life has essentially been monitored by the very organization that "saved" him (at the cost of using him, though that's neither here nor there, now is it?). But it's difficult to keep something like this private when big brother is watching you, especially if your little counterpart is entirely too trusting and gets lonely. Really, Keigo didn't want his handlers to know...but who else was he supposed to call when he drops at his agency after another day of nonstop going and going and going until he could go no more? It would be bad if word got out, wouldn't it? Keigo has had it drilled into him that public appearances are everything to a hero, knows he shouldn't be so little where just anyone could find out. And so he does the best he can when the world starts feeling bigger and bigger, holing himself up in an office he barely ever uses and calls the chairwoman. It's the emergency line that only he is supposed to use, and while it isn't exactly an emergency it's easier to press one button than to try to remember a whole string of numbers that will only put him into contact with some secretary until they can "get back to him about his concerns" (they never do). While the situation is handled in the moment, it gets decided very quickly that they can't just have anyone taking care of their former child soldier best agent. And so the Hero Commission sets off playing matchmaker!

Keigo has mixed feelings about the whole "matchmaking" thing, but has come to accept that the Commission does as it pleases—plus maybe they will actually find someone that won't mind taking care of him. It's been incredibly hard to be so small on his own for so long, and he thinks it might be nice to have somebody make his bottles for him or maybe even hold him for a little bit. And while it doesn't surprise him that they set their sights on other top ranked heroes to handle him, he is surprised that their first pick is Miruko. Their reasoning makes some sense when it's explained to him; they are close in age and it won't be questioned too much if they start hanging out more (if anything it'll be good for their careers, or so he's told). Which is what leads to the pair spending their day off together to see what baby Keigo thinks of Rumi—and it is a guarantee that Keigo will regress on his off day, goodness knows he's on such a strict schedule that it's a given. She's excited at the prospect of getting to hang out with the little guy and, while not one for planning, does come at the situation with lots of ideas. Rumi has tons of games and snacks and activities ready to go. And at first Keigo is also excited! Finally, someone that sees that he isn't always a hero! She's prepared to get down on his level and isn't afraid to let him be messy and make mistakes. But Keigo finds himself conking out wayyy before his naptime after their fifth game of hide and seek. At the end of the day, it turns out Rumi is way too high energy for the baby to keep up with and is more suited for older kids or teen regressors.

The Hero Commission's next attempt in finding Keigo a caregiver has them nudging Best Jeanist in his direction. While he's a little over a decade his senior, it wouldn't be too odd for them to hang out since they are both high on the charts and could easily claim they were coordinating on a job. Or at least that's what Keigo figures is the reasoning behind this match-up (because if there's one thing he knows, it's that the Commission is relentlessly calculating in its efforts to create the most ideal public image). Regardless, Tsunagu is a pretty cool guy and they've interacted at plenty of professional functions and whatnot and got along just fine. And unlike Rumi, he's a lot calmer, which is better for when Keigo is small, resulting in a regression day that goes well without wearing the baby out in the process. There's a whole lot more structure than he would have guessed though—it's like Tsunagu had a schedule prepared with him in mind, despite the whole thing being more or less sprung on him. Not to mention how attentive he seems to be. When presented with his snack, he's surprised not to find the handful of trail mix his handlers always gave him after training, but a childish plastic plate covered with apples and cheese clearly diced with a careful precision. It's a small gesture, as are the concerned words when he doesn't dig in right away (Would you prefer something else? You need to eat.). Or at least they would be to most people, but Keigo finds it nearly overwhelming. Even after a few weeks of having him be his cg and adjusting to all the little things like that, something still feels...off. While there wasn't anything wrong with the way Tsunagu took care of him, they didn't exactly click either. But he would appear ungrateful to bring attention to this, and it isn't like he has any other options anyhow.

They're at some exclusive party for pro heroes disguised as an uppity awards ceremony a few months later when he finally figures out why he felt like they didn't click. It's on what should have been one of Keigo's rare nights off, and so he (unsurprisingly) finds himself slipping whether he wanted to or not. He knows his newly assigned protocol in situations like these now though, and stumbles through the myriad of other pros and waitstaff crowding the floor of the party hall trying to locate Tsunagu. Luckily the man is fairly tall, and Keigo has no issue finding him talking to Present Mic. Keigo is just about to tug on his sleeve when he catches a bit of conversation—a mumbled Jeany, can't find Eraser—that indicates that perhaps the flush on the voice hero's cheeks isn't from too much champagne as he originally thought, and suddenly he's connected the dots. The reason Tsunagu had so much more experience in a carer role is because the Commission defaults to him as a sort of stand-in cg and obviously points other heroes in his direction should they need it. Despite everything being relatively perfect it felt too much like being handled still, regardless of the other hero's genuine care. However this conclusion doesn't ease the hurt his small side is feeling about the situation, which ultimately leads to him running smack into a very broad, very familiar chest as he attempts to leave in a hurry. Keigo is stumbling backwards, about to fall for sure before he can even remember his training about balancing himself with his wings, when a hand grabs his shoulder to steady him and he finally looks up.

And who should Keigo find but his own personal hero, Endeavor? Being around the guy already makes his baby brain go !! though typically he can push that aside, but when he's well on his way to being regressed? There is no hope of recovery, Keigo is fully small and awestruck by the man. They have something akin to a staring contest before Keigo finds himself wanting up, even though he hadn't even fallen. Wanting up, wanting to be held, wanting wanting wanting. Keigo has never really been allowed to want like this, and it takes all he has to even find the simplest of words when Enji asks if he's alright. The "'m 'kay" he manages to peep out must not be too convincing, because Enji leads him out of the main area and into a more private alcove to give him a proper look over. Because while he isn't necessarily the brightest bulb, he is familiar enough with the younger hero to recognize that something is off about him. Usually he would be living up these sorts of functions and (more recently) would drag him along for the ride. But he seemed...uncharacteristically standoffish? Too quiet for sure. That's the best Enji can figure at least, until he gets Keigo talking more and gets a nervous string of baby babble about how first they tried having Rumi take care of him and then Tsunagu, but now he's too busy and he doesn't really know how much he liked him anyways and, and, and—and Enji, surprisingly, listens and nods along with what the boy is saying. More surprising though is the fact that he sits with him for the remainder of the event, keeping a careful eye on him much to the boy's delight.

It doesn't take long before small Keigo has decided that he wants his cg to be Enji, much to his big self's embarrassment. Not a whole lot gets to him, but this is something deeply personal that he may or may not be making a fool of himself over. The fact that Enji doesn't turn him away doesn't help matters either, instead only encourages them. For as much as Hawks is supposed to be just that (i.e., like a hawk), Enji finds it becoming more accurate to think of him as a baby duck. A baby duck who is making frequent visits to his agency to "help out". A few months ago this would have annoyed him and he wouldn't have hesitated to kick him out, but lately Enji has been trying to do better, trying to be better for those in his life; even if he can't make up for his past actions, he's figured out that isn't an excuse to continue in the same manner moving forwards. And so he's been letting go of inconsequential frustrations and unproductive anger, focusing more on practicing the patience and understanding that a hero is supposed to embody. So even if Keigo may childishly tease him about being grumpy, he isn't going to make a big deal about it. In fact he'll continue on with his day, with his unsure, awkward attempts to make the kid happy. A pat to the head, a snack bought from a street vendor on impulse because he saw the kid staring (though it turns out he was staring because he thought it looked yucky, apparently), small things like that that all feel foreign to them both. The little gestures mean the world to Keigo, even when Enji gets something wrong. Perhaps even especially when he gets something wrong, because it means he's going to try again and is actually making an effort to figure things out through trial and error; no one has ever made a continual effort like that for him, nor has anyone been so determined to get it right.

Keigo finally gets his moment, his click, when he approaches Enji about if he'd be down to watch him when he's fully small and not just put up with him middlespacing around him on days when criminal activity is slow. There's a bit of hesitancy, and at first Keigo is scared that he's misread the situation before Enji is asking for details on the practical things—the where and the when seeming to weigh most heavy on his mind, though the hesitancy eases when Keigo suggests his apartment given that all his regression gear is already there. When the day arrives, Keigo is trying to stay big long enough to give Enji the grand tour and show him where everything is before he slips too small to tell him, when he finds that Enji has stopped and picked something up from his pile of stuffies he's come to acquire kept in his nest of blankets. Keigo lifts up a little to peek over his shoulder, curious at which toy has caught his attention. The fabric has faded over the years, and despite being well-loved it's obvious the doll has been well-kept. In any other situation, it might have been funny to see the large man holding a tiny replica of himself, but Keigo's regressed small enough that old fears seem closer than time has made them. There's a need to apologize that he doesn't fully understand, but his words aren't coming out right and he's working himself up to tears because he just knows that somehow he's made Enji mad, that he's not even supposed to have toys let alone a hero doll. By the time the first few tears can bubble out of his eyes, Keigo is being shushed and the doll is being placed in his hold as Enji apologizes to him of all things. It's unexpected but not unwelcome, as is the fact that he's being scooped up and rocked back and forth. This is the click that Keigo did not know he had been waiting for, and it goes both ways. While Enji may not be a ball of energy like Rumi or a perfectionist like Tsunagu, he is the one Keigo chose for himself to be his cg. And perhaps for the first time, Keigo believes everything will be alright in the end after all.

[dianight]

1 month (long, TMI as they say)

So I was planning on making a list of changes, sort of, stuff I've noticed but when I try to put it into words it gets quite difficult. Anyway. In no particular order and with the caveat that it might be placebo or simply something that I've never paid attention to or some other unrelated factor:

My hair looks nicer? It used to get tangled pretty often, now I simply get the drill hair curls unless I comb it a bit. Do I notice less hair falling overall? Maybe(?), I still get some loose ones on my hair ties or in the shower. But I feel like (<- feel like) it's less now. Not quite how I'd like it yet but better (<- even if not a thing still feels nicer).

I was genuinely looking forward to having an easier time crying, no luck yet. What emotional changes I've gotten are "villainess behaviors" instead which if I were to elaborate is an incredibly difficult time containing myself when someone antagonizes me in any way. As an example I had a celebration (not mine) recently and some relative said something passive agressive to me, I wanted to just ignore instead I found myself laughing in their face and telling them to mind their business (<- less nice than that). Other minor "I should not let this matter to me" stuff feeding the urge to be cruel. I'm fine but it's funny in a way since it's harder to be nice when people are assholes.

Shaving is much much worse and a bit better now. It used to be something that if I ignored/forgot about for a while it'd not matter, now I had a moment where I couldn't sleep and had to go shave at 2am due to how bad it was making me feel. It does feel nicer now, but only for a while.

Less smell? It's summer, it's hot, I'm not particularly sweaty and yet. It's too big of a change to be something I'm imagining. Weird, in a really nice way.

[I lost track so I check the table for reference to see what else.]

Oh yeah. Big changes happening (<- exaggeration). My nipples randomly get sore, one of them is sore all the time! No noticeable size changes though. Way more sensitive to the point of almost being painful (<- in a good way). Actually concerning. I could talk more about it but perhaps not right now.

Body hair is all the same(?), no differences on skin softness/oiliness. My skin condition remains the same.

Body fat redistribution and pelvis changes seems to not be happening yet. My hips are massive anyway and the dimples in my lower back have always been there (<- bragging).

Decreased muscle and strength. Yeah, not from E I can tell you. It's more the disability and the injuries.

This one is kinda funny. "Changes in mood, emotionality, and behavior". It could be. It could also be the sheer relief of getting something I've been trying to get for 8(9?) years, while being able to focus on other stuff that was simply asking too much of me. I'm biased obviously but apart from the slightly stronger urges it's mostly the same.

Sex drive and all that stuff. Let's just say expected changes. Shooting blanks now, which is amusing. No morning wood. You know the drill. I know there can be atrophy if you don't use it and I'll gladly let that thing rot, but. Let's think about how it might be necessary later on. Bear with it for now.

Another interesting one that comes with those emotional changes is how little I care now about certain things, sexually speaking. And how some others will instantly fill a metaphorical bar until it says !!! MADNESS !!! out of nowhere. Case in point, that drawing about the two girls playing the rhythm game(?) while one holds the other's leash. Yeah funny mental image. Somehow it got stuck in my brain for a couple days. Wait what. I'm also much more picky about what types of works I read. It all just seems so boring now. Seen that setup before, that one's got very bad art, that one is too misogynistic, that one is just uninspired.

Anyway I could type more about how it feels different now but words fail me a bit and I think that's enough for now.

[verfound]

MINIFIC: Oct. 23: Day 7: Cats & Bats (MLB, Lukanette, DLM AU)

For @lovebugs-and-snakecharmers October Minific Challenge 2023.

Read on Ao3

To Feel Alive Again: Day 7: Cats & Bats

“…twinkle, twinkle, little bat,” Luka sang despondently, staring at the same water spot on the ceiling that he’d been staring at for a few hours now.  His fingers moved almost listlessly over his guitar, picking out the rudimentary tune he’d learned so many years ago now.  It had probably been the very first song he’d actually learned, back when he was still in diapers and his ma had first placed a guitar in his grubby hands.  It was so deeply ingrained in his bones by this point.  He should be able to play it in his sleep.

…he hadn’t actually touched his guitar in a while, though.  Years.  Not since Mendeleiev had fished him out of the ocean after his dad’s plane had gone down.

He’d never actually thought he’d get to play with the old man.  Jagged had never owned him in life, and Luka had always tried to avoid the livelier circles in death.  It was easier that way, not mingling with the living.  Keeping your connections to that world sparse.  Getting to reap Jagged Stone – posing as his guitarist and playing with him on what would become his last plane ride – had been…surreal.  Definitely unexpected.  A gift he still wasn’t sure he was grateful for, even all these years later.

It had also been the last straw – or string, if you would.

Luka had replaced the strings the saltwater had warped, stuck Claire II in the corner of his room, and hadn’t touched her since.

“How I wonder what you’re at,” he sighed, his fingers stilling on the strings again.  It had been too long.  The willingness to play – the need – was there, but his fingers were so damn stiff.  He’d been at it for a few hours now, ever since he’d come home from…well.  His job, technically.  Because he’d dropped Pip off and gone straight to his reap, and that song that had been teasing at his mind since he’d seen Marinette at that café still hadn’t left him alone.

…it had been teasing him a lot longer than that, if he was honest.  He was just…usually better at ignoring it.  He was usually better at ignoring a lot of things these days.

“Luka Couffaine’s just a big ol’ softie…”

Maybe Marinette was right.  Maybe he was going soft.

It had just been too much today, though, so after a quick shower he had sat down with a notebook and tried to scribble down some notes.  They had been a jumbled, confused mess, though.  Nothing had sounded right, and thinking that was because paper sounded like nothing at all he had gone to retrieve his guitar.  It had been so out of tune, though, and then he’d felt too rusty to produce anything coherent, so he’d just…dropped back on his couch, staring at the ceiling as he ran through basic drills.  Rudimentary songs.

Twinkle, twinkle, little bat, how I wonder what you’re at…

“Oh, Luuuukaaaaa!”

He jumped, nearly dropping his guitar at the sudden pounding on his door.  He glared as the annoying voice called again, still dragging his name out.  Fucking Théo.

In some ways, the guy made him think of his old best friend.  In all the ways that grated on him with not enough of the ways that mattered.

“What the hell do you want?” he groused, rubbing at his eyes as he opened the door.  Théo grinned at him from the other side.  It took Luka a moment to realize he was holding a black cat to his chest: it blended in to his sweater almost completely, save for the white patch on its belly.  “And what the hell are you doing with that?”

“What?” Théo asked, frowning.  “You’re a dog walker.  Can’t I be a cat walker?”

“…that’s not a thing,” Luka said, his eyebrows lifting above where he was pinching at his sinuses.  “That sounds so dumb, Théo.  Who the hell would want a cat walker?”

“You have your side hustles,” Théo scoffed, slapping a yellow post-it against his chest.  Luka’s eyebrow rose as he glanced down at it.  “Let me have mine.  Ladies love cats, I’ll have you know.”

“They love cats,” Luka said, looking at the post-it.  Early morning reap tomorrow – scheduled before breakfast.  Well, at least that cleared up the rest of his day.  “They don’t love you.”

“You wound me, Couffaine,” Théo sniffed.  “And here I am, doing you a favor, making sure you don’t miss your – oi!”

Luka slammed the door in his face, cutting him off.  He turned around and leaned against the door, staring at the post-it.  The address was close to Fred and Marinette’s.  Maybe he could swing by after.  Catch them on the way to breakfast.  Walk with he…them.

“It’s bad manners, Luka!” Théo snapped.  Luka rolled his eyes and thumped his fist against the door.

“Fuck off, Barbot!”

[fentrashcat]

Tourettes Awareness Month, June 8th!

I don't really know how to talk about this except to just tell it. Going to be heavier topics today. Most of this is from my senior year of high-school, when I had a principal who just seemed to hate neurodivergent people. We also thought since I was at a small school with a loy of neurodivergent students in my last year it would be easier to not worry about the record stuff like 504 and IEP.

TW- abilism, bullying

⚠️everyone who has TS or other tic disorders will have different experiences, this is just mine.

Listen to me!

Someone with tics will ALWAYS know their tics and triggers better than you will. Mr. Principal decided that he knows my disability better than me. We had weekly school meetings where ~200 students were all forced into the lunch room (think about the size of a tennis court, maybe a bit bigger). People were packed like sardines, most of them sitting on the floor, as we got talked to about school news and some other things. It was often loud and people were frequently told to applaud.

I'm claustrophobic, only liked/trusted maaaaaybe 5 people at that school, and loud noises set off my tics. My mom talked to Mr. Principal and told him I need to not be in that room. I really did try to participate but it caused me to tic so much my grade in the class after it was suffering. For a while I was able to sit in an adjacent room with another noise sensitive student, and I was fine.

Mr. Principal decided that wasn't good enough and told me to sit in his office (open to the lunch room). I told him "no, that won't work, it'll be too loud". He told me the other noise sensitive student was okay sitting in his office. I repeated that it wouldn't work for me. He threatened to give me detention if I didn't do as he said.

I sat in his office. I was right and had a tic attack. Spent the next class unable to focus or participate, couldn't even ask someone to come pick me up early. Thankfully that class was with a teacher who was really understanding and just told me to do anything I needed to make me feel comfortable.

Don't pull me aside!

Another tale involving Mr. Principal not listening. Another request from my mom and I was to warn me before fire alarms. He warned me once when he knew she was in town (I was practically living on my own bc my mom was in and out of town). He didn't warn me the next time, and of course I had a tic attack. It happened at lunch and my main safe person had already left for the day. My two friends did their best but people were of course staring at me.

The drill finally ended and we started to go inside. A teacher I didn't have but recently disclosed that I have TS sees me ticcing and pulls me aside. She's trying to help, but told my friends to keep moving so I was separated from my support system. She also didn't take me anywhere, just pulled me to the side of the doors where everyone was going inside. So now I'm away from my support, stuck with someone I don't know, and being seen by EVERYONE. She kept asking if I was okay and how to help but she was just making it worse. By the time she let me go (I can't remember but I think a teacher who knew me stepped in and sent me to class), I had a complete breakdown in my next class. Luckily it was the good teacher and there were only a few students who all knew me, so class was canceled for the day and teacher gave us a free day so I could work on calming down.

Hold bullies accountable!

So Mr. Principal is somewhat involved with this one, but not right away. There were some really shitty people in my school, as there is in all schools. One day they decided to make me tic by stomping behind me repeatedly. There was only an office administrator there, and she didn't do anything to stop them until I screamed "WILL YOU FUCKING STOP". I didn't raise my voice much at all in school, and this worked to stop them but scared my friend who doesn't like yelling. So I went to try and help him while the administrator finally talked to the bullies.

I found out later they took a video of me ticcing, and the administrator made them delete it. She didn't report it or give them any kind of consequences except a talking to. I didn't want to stress my mom out since she was dealing with some other stuff but eventually it slipped out and she went to talk to Mr. Principal. Apparently it was too later to do anything (last few weeks of school), and there was no proof (he didn't want to talk to witnesses and administrator never reported it).

This same principal CONSTANTLY threatened to not let people walk at graduation if they didn't finish a project in time. In my mom's opinion Mr. Principal is "a small, disappointing man".

To bring a little peace, I found out Mr. Principal was fired soon after I graduated.

Sorry for rough topics today, but thank you for reading. Asks are open and I'll answer any questions to the best of my ability.

[shiraishi--kanade]

hi! im sorry if this is a far too personal question, it just comes from a place of curiosity — since you have aphantasia, how do you experience books/fics/writing in general?

if movement or specific body language is being described, is it harder to interpret it? can you like, ‘see’ the words in your head instead of the images or is any sort of visualization impossible? also how does math work for u…..

Hi! Don't worry, I don't mind talking about it all (I don't post about anything I would be opposing to discussing or sharing my experience with publically as a rule of the thumb), and this is actually a very thoughtful and interesting question! Because yeah, it does impact my ability to both enjoy reading and write something of my own, and I've talked about it quite extensively with other people - just not like, posted about it. But with that said my experiences don't represent everyone, every aphantasic person has a different expectations, you know the drill.

I think I approach reading more mathematically than other people, but in general I don't tend to enjoy books. Like, at all (especially adding dyslexia to the mix). Non-fiction is easier to get through than fiction - around 80% of books I've read in the past three years or so have been non-fiction. Fan-fiction is also easier because you don't have to put in effort into getting to know the characters and their environment, but original fiction is the ninths circle of hell - double if it's set in a fictional fantasy word or whatever. I can appreciate nice world building, but, my guy, those two pages you've just spend describing the castle worth nothing to me. I can't see shit (guy being a metaphorical writer, whatever metaphorical castle are we talking about here).

Anyway, back to approaching it mathematically - it is as you said, I don't interpret body language in writing. Things like people moving across the room, or standing up or sitting down, I think they don't really translate over in my brain because I never thought or needed that information anyway. However, I do understand things from narrative point? As in, I don't "see" a character crossing their arms, but as a person who is reading about it and knows how to interpret real life body language, I know the author intended to write that gesture to portray a character being defensive or discontented. This is generally how it goes for every facial expression/body language thing in a book - I notice it and analyse the intent behind putting it there, and that's about all there is to it. I guess you could say reading is more of a conversation with the writer for me in that respect? There is still merit to pointing out those things for me, and I know the purpose of putting them in the text. I think, for me, everything that requires imagination is a bit of a "blue curtains" dilemma - it's always the "why"s it's in the text, and honestly this is what I enjoy in reading, figuring that stuff out.

This also means my experience will vary depending on writhing style, on a case by case basis. Flowery language, abundance of metaphors, a lot of descriptions that don't serve an overarching narrative purpose usually amounts to Did Not Finish on a book for me. It's just not enjoyable. On the other hand, dialogue-driven, heavy-hitting "no-nonsense" and more factual writing styles is something I usually enjoy.

Also, while I do have aphantasia (no visualisation. No images in my brain whatsoever), I don't have total aphantasia - which means I still have an ability to mentally recall and imagine other senses, mostly aural for me. So I both enjoy dialogues in books overall, and especially dialogue-heavy fanfiction and such. Also, no, I don't exactly "see" the words themself in my mind either (although I think some people do?), but I can imagine how they would sound if spoken aloud - just kind of narrating everything without actually picturing it. I don't know if there's any use to it, though.

Edit: also forgot to add - math works for me in a way that it just kind of doesn't. I finished the subject with D.