#I’ve been pressuring myself to post so much only to be met with dismissiveness when I do

[kimtaegis]

I’m feeling quite sad about how much the active bts fandom on tumblr has shrunk and/ or how selective the community has become regarding content interaction. I’ve heard people pointing out a clique-building here lately, and while I’m well aware of closer mutual circles existing – and I can only speak on behalf of my friend group here – these pretty much develop naturally when there’s just no one else who reacts, reblogs from and talks to you anymore except for these handful of people. I don’t like that some people perceive these “cliques�� as “exclusive”, for example to content creators only. that’s bullshit; it’s certainly not great to have only other cc’s support your work because they personally know how much time and effort it takes. also, knowing how lovely most of these people are, you’d get immediately followed back and showered with love too as soon as you’d even show a speckle of kindness on a regular basis, regardless of whether you make gifs yourself or not. ccs dedicating sets to each other isn’t a sign of exclusivity, but rather us holding onto and appreciating people who still give us at least some motivation to create and post in the first place anymore, because there’s quite literally no one else left by now.

[trimitive]

So… I’m not going to call you a bigot, but I am going to, as politely as possible, remind you that the experience of trans individuals, pre or post, are not a universal experience.

I can and will agree with you that transitioning is not a cure for depression. If you are a young person who’s chronically depressed, this isn’t a fix-all, and take into consideration that depression might trick you into thinking this is what to do. Take time to experiment with your gender expression— celebrate your body as it is, if you can, and make EDUCATED choices. Resources are becoming more and more available.

I’d like to share my counter-story. I had severe dysphoria. The first time I technically came out to my mother was when I was 5, 2 days after kindergarten started. I was understandably dismissed as an imaginative child.

When I started puberty, I was in Hell. Life had been hard, but the best way I can describe it is walking around in a mascot outfit, and being known as that mascot, not me. Having to play the role of someone you inherently weren’t, not fitting in with boys or girls. Having to try too hard to be “enough” of a girl. I had more imposter syndrome as a CIS women than a trans man. I couldn’t look in mirrors, couldn’t see pictures of myself. I hated myself so much, I’d cry every day. I went to therapy after my first suicide attempt, but it didn’t address the root of my problem, which was bodily dysphoria.

Then I cut my hair off.

I didn’t have a big light bill by moment.

I didn’t have this grand epiphany.

I just saw myself in the mirror and had a moment like “oh, there you are.” I tried on some clothes for men… started staying that way.

This was back in the old days. Transgenderism wasn’t a common word or lingo. In fact, it was insulting. It was only after doing a ton of research that I understood what it was, and that there were people like me out there.

I was then told by a therapist I’d be just as unhappy as a boy as I am a girl. So I went back in the closet for another 10 years.

10 adult years of trying to be female enough, trying to see myself again, trying so hard to be something I just wasn’t. In the meantime, I managed to get myself 2 bachelor degrees, one in which was Human Gender & Sexuality studies. I did this because I needed to know I wasn’t broken. That the suffering I endured due to something so small wasn’t for nothing. I needed to understand it culturally, biologically, psychologically, and more, just to be able to say to other people without a shadow of a doubt that I’m a man. I did 3 award winning thesis papers on it, taught classes, and even gave lectures at Cambridge.

Our trans experiences were very different. I am so sorry you went through this, and that it was something you felt was pressured on you. I’m sorry that you thought that this was a cure for unhappiness. I am so happy that you have found the happiness of motherhood, the love your dreams, and your child is blessedly healthy. I’m happy you are healing from a mistake you made, and you felt was necessary for your own growth.

I agree that people who are considering it need to understand that the changes your body will have are more or less permanent. So you really need to know for sure before you start. That’s the part I’m concerned with.

I have been happily transitioned for 3 years after coming out over a decade ago. I’ve met the woman of my dreams, and we are getting married very soon. I can take pictures now without grieving, my confidence has improved, and I’m finally seeing myself. What’s more, I haven’t considered committing suicide or have locked myself inside due to my body. I have hair where I want to see hair, a voice that matches my internal voice, facial hair, and even inherited my father’s male patterned baldness. I would never ever go back.

The original post is an amazing cautionary tale about transitioning before you know it’s what you need.

But as a trans man who has found himself, I’m never going to tell other closeted people not to consider the option. But I want you to do it safely. I want you to do the research; understand the changes you’ll have, that they’re irreversible, consider your desire to change to be the product of anxiety, depression, or rejection. Change in other ways first— exercise more, eat better, check for behavioral issues or trauma issues, and really rule out anything that can cause you to make a decision you might one day regret.

OP, I’m proud of you for what you’ve accomplished, and I wish you all the happiness in the world on your own journey.

hey everyone. Hope you’re doing well, though I question that if you’re still active on tumblr.

just wanted to log back in to say that I am detransitioned, married, and 38 weeks pregnant. I am very grateful for my fertility and the healthy pregnancy I have had. Due to my elective double mastectomy in 2018, I will never be able to experience breastfeeding. Yes I was warned about this, but I was so deeply deluded about my gender that it didn’t matter to me. Life was about fulfilling my fantasy, not about my future family, which I knew, deep down, I would need to face at some point.

i decided to stop taking synthetic testosterone in May of 2020, met the love of my life, married him in December 2021 and found out that despite my efforts to run away from my femaleness, my body graciously allowed me to conceive a child 10 days later. Even more graciously, it allowed me to have an easy pregnancy and a thriving baby.

All I will say is this is way better. Way better than what I was doing, or whatever the fuck I was planning on doing with my life.

one more thing, and i risk offending people with this, if you are thinking about transitioning, don’t. You don’t need to. Don’t even do step one. Don’t change your pronouns or your name. But above all, do not try to change your body. You will not succeed. Maybe I’m too late in warning whoever is reading this. But on the odd chance that I’m not, and you’re a young and insecure person trying to figure out what to do in order to not be miserable, transition isn’t it. Please try to resist the urge to call me a bigot or scoff or dismiss my mistakes as meaningless. Yes, they are my mistakes, but I wouldn’t have made them if it wasn’t for this website and the hours I spend on it. I believe that 100%. Wait. Just wait. I see you and I know you’re in pain. Perhaps an amount that you never thought would come with simply existing. There is a light at the end of this dark tunnel.

Don’t transition. Turn around NOW while you still can.

[infjsnightmare]

This will be chapter one of the Fyodor×female!SO amnesia fic that I am working on. I haven't posted a fanfic in who knows how long so the quality is probably on the poor side. Any feedback is appreciated! I'm hoping to continue this, but it will probably be on the back burner of my schedule. I also am not used to tumblrs platform, so any advice for formatting would be greatly encouraged. I'm not adding character tags to this since I don't want it to clog up the fandom, but if you end up liking it and would like me to tag you in future updates, don't hesitate to ask. Anyways, I think that's about all in the way of introductions!

*************************************************

She glanced over at the dark-haired man as he worked, yet again, into the early hours of the morning. The pale blue of his various monitors was the only thing to illuminate his snow-white skin. His tired eyes barely blinking as they scanned the database in front of him while his long slender fingers danced along the keyboard. She sighed knowing that arguing his work schedule would prove futile. In all the years she'd known the man, he would never put himself before his cause, even for a few hours of needed rest. Still, she wouldn't sit well with herself without at least a half-hearted attempt.

"Fedya", the shorter woman lightly placed a scarred hand on the back of his swiveling desk chair, "you'll never create a promised land without proper sleep." Her tone was sharp and came out as an order as opposed to a suggestion. The woman winced upon realizing her terse composition, a remnant of her time as a child soldier. "Hmm?" The man hummed his response, inflection rising as a question. He was being gracious with her, giving her a chance to correct herself. There was no doubt he had heard what she said, but this was a mercy he spared for only her. "I mean to say, that your promised land will wait for you, but I worry that your health may not," She turned his chair to face her, pleading eyes betraying her stoic expression. "Please come to bed." Her eyes were always a point of weakness for the Russian. Her straight posture, tight jaw and tense shoulders could never take away from the pure wealth of emotion her eyes gave away. "This is important work," Fyodor began as he already saw those precious eyes relax in resignation. So, she was fully prepared for him to reject her offer. Noticing the puff of air she let slip, he decided that perhaps he had been too persistent in his goals the past few days. He tilted his head thoughtfully, stray black hairs like a silk spider's web swaying over his crimson orbs. "But, since Decay of Angels will be moving into its next phase soon, it couldn't hurt to prepare myself and rest." He punctuated his decision with a soft smile, grabbing her hand from the chair to lead her to bed. Eyes widened the faintest amount, the only hint of shock she portrayed. "Thank you, sir." She nodded while examining his pale elegant hand in her much rougher calloused digits.

Everything about him spoke of grace. An angel among men, with the unfortunate disposition of a demon. But that's what she admired in him. When they met all those years ago, her rifle placed directly at his temple. Even then, she couldn't fathom the young man in front of her leading such a dangerous life. But, when their eyes met, he had just chuckled lightly, grabbing the barrel. "Would you like to see this world burn?" All it took was one question from his lips and she knew she would follow him to the depths of hell. Being a soldier, recruited for her ability that never let her miss a mark, forced to kill from such a young age, the world to her was a pile of rubble, but this man, this god, would show her paradise. When she stared back into his eyes, she knew it was the truth. That was the day she left the Russian Special Ops. That was the day she massacred the rest of her division and escaped. That was the day she vowed her body and mind to Fyodor. At the time, she believed she no longer had a heart and so it was not something she could offer, but now, looking up at his tired profile, feeling that tightness in her chest, realized that he already possessed it.

She followed him wordlessly through the corridors until they came to their shared bedroom. Her hands moved to his shoulders, lightly massaging his exhausted body, while removing his jacket. "What is it that's on your mind, Milaya?" The deep voice disrupting her thoughts. "I was just thinking of all we've been through. I truly would do anything for you, Fedya." She stared straight into his eyes, and any lesser man would've cowered under her gaze. Instead, he let out an airy chuckle "You say such sweet things as though you are about to kill a man." An amused smile played at his lips while tucking a lock of hair behind her ear. "If all goes according to plan, there shouldn't be much for you to do in any case." Fyodor dismissed the though with a wave of his hand as he dropped to the bed, all his muscles giving in to the plush bed and warm blankets. "If all goes according to plan, you'll be tucked away in a cell in Europe." She smirked playfully pushing him until his head hit the pillow. Her smile faltered briefly at the thought of how far away he would be. Sure, he'd been gone on missions before, but she always knew when to expect him back. This time was different. This time relied on the other members of the organization to play their part.

"And if I'm captured? I've heard that there are abilities that could extract information about you from me. Similar to Sigma." Her brows furrowed as she continued "I've been thinking a lot and I believe that if I am to be found, I will need to forget you.... to protect you." She finished and looked up at him, seeing the faintest trace of worry etched in his face. "Don't be ridiculous. It will never come to that." His voice was even, though his agitation was apparent to her trained eye. "Now isn't the time to discuss such matters." She nodded in agreement. "You're right, you need to rest. We'll talk about this in the morning." She wrapped herself around him, laying her head on the space between his shoulder and chest. He rolled his eyes at the prospect of continuing this discussion at any point in time but planted a chaste kiss to her temple regardless, as they both drifted off to sleep.

The warm smell of steeping Lady Grey roused the young woman from her slumber as she blearily rubbed at her eyes. Sleeping next to Fyodor was the only way for her body to relax as she rested. She knew that she was safe. Her training had taught her to always be on alert and for a long time she could have awaken at the drop of a pin. But, whenever she slept with him next to her, she would wake to find him already dressed for the day, tea on the bedside table and she would not have the faintest inkling of how long she must have slept through his routine. "Good morning." Fyodor's voice sounded like honey to her as he traced a gloved finger underneath her jaw. She lazily scanned the room before her eyes settled on his form sitting next to her bedside. "Good morning, Fedya. How long have you been sitting there?" Pressing her cheek lightly against his hand before straightening her posture, slowly reverting to her tense state of being. The raven haired man smiled watching the remnants of his dazed princess slip away into the strict stance of his loyal soldier. "Not long." He gave a quick reply, his façade nearly perfectly covering the truth. He'd been watching her for about 32 minutes at this point, memorizing her rhythmic breathing and the delicate parting of her lips. He wracked his brain for every possible scenario of how last night's conversation would play out this morning and every route led him to the same conclusion: he wasn't going to change her mind. She was his soldier after all and she was loyal to a fault. If she believed her own mind could put him in danger, then she would destroy it. If she believed her love for him would put him in danger, then she would let go of her own heart.

"Milaya, I-" "You've already deciphered how this conversation ends, haven't you?" She cut him off before he could even start. The way his eyebrows slightly contorted on his soft features relayed his worry. He must have been recalling last night and she knew if she gave him too much room to talk, there was a chance his silver tongue could change her mind. "I have." Lowered voice, clipped. He was unhappy with her decision, but he wasn't going to waste time arguing around a pre-determined outcome. Maybe he could change her mind, but not without manipulating some aspect of their conversation, not without toying with her emotions and using her like a pawn. He frowned bitterly at the thought. She was a queen in his chest set and he could never allow her to be set like a pawn. A queen was always there to defend the king, roaming the board freely, but always returning back by his side. Against the odds, he would have to trust that she would do just that. That if she were to throw away their past, throw away her memories, that she would still find him again and return to his side.

A squeezing pressure against his hand brought him back out of his own head as she gripped his hand with hers. “I promise you, I will return to you. We will stand together in the new world. Just promise me, no matter how long it may take, that you will wait for me?” The sincerity held in her eyes shown brightly before him. Not just sincerity, but something else. Love. The most basic and most complicated on the spectrum of human emotions. It had the ability to make weak men strong. To make strong men crumble. To make a feeble man think. And to make even the most genius of men fall into stupidity. And here he was, staring into the eyes of the only being he gave merit to, stupidly agreeing to let her follow through with her plan. He stared into her eyes with such intensity she was sure that her soul was bared naked before him as he made his promise. “ya obeshchayu tebe, moya lyubov.” The air in the room hung heavy, and it almost seemed as if time had stopped as the pair gazed, entranced by one another. She felt her jaw clench and tighten with an emotion she wasn’t sure how to name, lost somewhere between heartache and contentment. “Thank you, Fedya.” Standing abruptly, she wrapped her strong arms around his slender frame, face pressed firmly into his chest. A rare display of raw emotion from the woman, fighting her natural composure. It was only in these moments, just the two of them, that she could be this weak. It was only times when they were alone, that he could allow himself to be this warm. And, as much as the lovers could wish that time had actually stopped, it would continue on regardless. “Of course, that is only in the event that I even be captured.” She straightened, fixing herself with a quiet confidence. “I never miss a target. I would never be taken easily.” Her expression remained void of any defining emotion, but her eyes held the credence and self-assurance that a soldier of her caliber is sure to possess. “Good.” The simply reply held the acknowledge of her skill and all the weight of an order. The implication that she would raise hell and only enact this contingency plan as a last resort was not lost on her. Cool lips brushed delicately over hers in a chaste kiss, faint and fleeting as though it were a ghost. Her lips were warm like fire against his as she chased the kiss adding the slightest pressure. The pair exchanged one last fervent glance before regaining their aloof composure and exiting to continue their work.

[aroacechillzone]

We Must Fight in Unison

This post is for the March 2021 Carnival of Aros which is about “Intersectionality and Inclusivity Within the Aromantic Community.” 

2020 didn’t give us much, but it did give many people, myself including, a lot of time to think. Many people used this time to learn more about themselves, including questioning their gender and orientation. Questioning gender in particular is quite common because gender is enforced by society. When you remove that pressure it’s much easier to start analyzing how you truly feel.

I’ve been identifying as aroace for about two and half years now. Even before that, I always had the sense that something about me was different from everybody else. But whenever I showed any kind of disdain for romance or romantic media, I was met with a “you’ll get it when you get older.” After a while though, those words started to wear off. Once I heard of the words aromantic and asexual, it took me maybe two weeks at max to start identifying with them. Since then, I’ve never questioned my orientation. I have no reason to and I likely never will. Even though my aroace-ness was easy to figure out, my gender isn’t. For the longest time I identified as cisgender because there was always this voice in my head that said, “you’re a girl.” I had a few meaningless thoughts about questioning my gender, but I never seriously considered them until December of last year. I’m still not entirely sure what my gender actually is. The chances are pretty high that I’m just a cis woman, but something about that doesn’t entirely seem right sometimes. I’ve toyed with the idea of genderfluid as well but I’m not sure if it’s my actual gender or my attitude about gender that changes. One day, I’ll figure it out. But quarantine not only made me question my gender, it also made me question my political beliefs. The older I’ve gotten, the further and further left I have shifted from the moderate Democrat base my parents rose me in. I’d say two events were the keys that shifted me from being a liberal to being a leftist: the death of George Floyd and the 2020 election. The outcry from the first made me really start to examine the mainstream narrative and my own racism as a white person. The second was when I lost faith in the general perception of American idealism liberals and conservatives alike. All of these pushed me off the “Overton window” of acceptable political beliefs into leftism. 

Currently, I identify as socialist. It’s a good catch-all label that sums up my political beliefs quite well. Capitalism always has and always will be a system that requires the exploitation of others in order to function. It creates and upholds discrimination based on race, class, orientation, gender, neurodivergency, and disability. The ultimate “goal” of capitalism is for the white, rich, neurotypical and able-bodied cishet men to be able to exploit the rest of society that does not fit any one of those definitions. This includes us a-spec people. We’re certainly not straight but we’re certainly not gay either. Many people say that we don’t experience “real” discrimination or experience it “less” than other groups. I always hated this narrative because firstly the discrimination we experience doesn’t change anything about our identities but also it kinda dismisses it what we do experience? Like yeah, I probably won’t get killed for being a-spec, but that doesn’t mean my struggles are any less important than any other allo queer person. Along with anticapitalism, one of my other core beliefs is solidarity. So many people in the queer community are so intent on driving wedges between in our to determine who is The Enemy™ who is using x identity to do bad thing xyz. I’ve said it on this blog before but all of this gatekeeping only benefits the very people we’re trying to fight against. If we divvy ourselves up like this we have no chance of achieving true equality and liberation. We only stand a chance if we unite. This isn’t just the case among queer folks, but all marginalized members of society. We have to collaborate and support BIPOC, the poor, disabled and neurodivergent people so we can all fight back together.  Taking it back to aromanticism, I find it absolutely wonderful that AUREA is taking more efforts to include aros of marginalized identities. As I’m writing this after the original roundup was posted, I enjoyed reading everyone’s thoughts on this topic. As a white, able-bodied and neurotypical person I still have a lot to learn and unlearn. I am and will continue to be the best ally that I can be. It’s time to stop letting our ignorance divide us.

[perriewinklenerdie]

I’ll be your light (Ethan Ramsey x MC)

Open Heart, Ethan Ramsey x MC

Author’s note:  Hello, hello, hello! I've had this one sitting on my PC for at least two weeks, and finally got to posting it. It's fluff. Like, fluff on fluff, literally no plot at all, just fluff.

This fic is part of the Ever since I met you series. If you want to catch up on it, the links are in the Masterlist, and all you need to know about this AU of sorts is that Ethan and Claire met when she was in med school.

AO3 link:

https://archiveofourown.org/works/23317561

Tag list:   @paleweasels , @lilyofchoices , @hopelessromantic1352, @kittykatchoices, @valiantlychaoticbarbarian , @radlovedreamer , @usuallyamazinglyaverage, @strawberrwess @palestazure, @cordoniaqueensworld, @universallypizzataco, @princess-geek, @faithhasnowords, @mightyfangirlofthefandoms, @drakewalkerfantasy, @timmagicktoad, @laceandlula, @greywitchyshots, @llamasgrl, @gingerjane15, @bucket-harrington , @marywrites-things , @ethanplaysfavorites , @mfackenthal , @betelgeusebee , @simsvetements,  @i-only-signed-up-for-fanfiction, @buzz-bee-buzz, @owleyes374, @cora-nova, @aworldoffandoms, @l822, @cream-ray, @ughhhxjazzy, @silverlitskies, @justendlesssummerfeels, @togetherwearerapture, @desmaranj, @edgiestwinter, @friedherringclodthing, @daisy-ashton, @waytooattuned, @choicesgremlin , @lapisreviewsstuff, @the-soot-sprite, @writerapprentice, @chasingrobbie, @choicesobsessedd, @x-kyne-x, @thisperfectmemory, @drakewalker04, @rookie-ramsey, @jlynn12273, @thepinknymph @dr-brianna-casey-valentine, @a-i-n-a-a-s-h

Enjoy! <3

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The moment he walked into the hospital that day as the clock striked the sixth hour, he knew that he was in for a long one. Pressure in his skull was beginning to irritate the living light out of him, causing his vision to be blurred around the edges. By the time he managed to dig through a couple of his responsibilities, he had already taken painkillers twice, and it didn’t seem like it would be the last time.

Claire’s path crossed his around noon, and the second her eyes landed on him, she knew something was not right. Their gazes met for a split second, just long enough for him to notice her nodding slightly, a secret signal they came up with to let the other know that they wanted to talk in his office.

His body fell into his office chair with a heavy thud, standing out against the muffled sounds of the life of the hospital on the other side of the door, the never-ending string of words, the endless series of signals. He vaguely noticed the soft sound of door opening and closing, the gentle steps that led to his desk.

Her cool fingers touched his temples, massaging his skin with tender touch, wordlessly giving him what he needed to survive the day. An action so simple that many could dismiss it as unnecessary but welcomed by him with a low hum.

“Did you drink water?” her voice remained nothing more than a whisper, answered only by something awfully close to a whine. “Do you want some tea? Cause I assume you already took painkillers.”

Gathering what was left of his energy, he muttered how much he loved her, how she was a saint. As soundlessly as she could, she placed the mug on his desk and bent down, kissing the top of his head, her breath warm against his skin.

“Actually, I’m your wife. But ‘saint’ works too I guess.”

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

Claire’s fingers tightened around the steering wheel, knuckles turning white as she bit her lip to remain absolutely silent. She had to be, she couldn’t so much as say a loud word, but in her head, she was screaming, using just about every profanity she knew, in any language she knew. Ethan was sleeping in the seat next to hers, and she was in the dead center of the worst traffic she has seen in a while. All because some idiot clearly found his driver’s license in a bag of chips and didn’t know the basic rules. They were supposed to be home thirty minutes ago, but instead here they were, and from the way things were at the moment, they would be home in an hour at best.

In her peripheral vision she saw Ethan stirring in his sleep, and once she turned her head to look at him, she noticed how his face twisted at what he saw in his sleep. Her hand found its way to his cheek, careful and mindful of its movement, while her other hand kept the car’s trajectory stable. Sensing her presence near him calmed him down, stilled his movement and he seemed to fall back into the deeper sleep.

They were almost out of traffic when he woke up, confused about where he was or what was happening. She grinned briefly, amused by his behavior almost as much as worried. Tapping her fingers impatiently against the smooth material of the steering wheel, she leaned sideways to see how many more cars they had ahead of them before they could finally get home. Her action caught Ethan’s attention, sparking his interest as he finally began dissecting the situation around them.

“How long have we been in this traffic?”

“Almost two hours now. At first, I thought that it would go quickly, two cars crashed against one another, nothing too serious. But people are dumb, and there were two more crashes as people driving by the first accident didn’t pay attention and caused another one.” she recalled the last two hours of her life, shaking her head in frustration. “It’s good you woke up when you did.”

“Why?”

“Cause I’ve been keeping quiet for so long that if I have to bite it down one more time to keep myself from opening the window and screaming at some asshole to start using their brain if they have one, I’ll lose it.” All on one breath, the words rushed past her lips, leaving her tired and struggling to catch any oxygen for a short moment. He placed his hand on her shoulder, squeezing lightly. His thumb traced the line of the column of her neck in an attempt to calm her down.

“Thank you for letting me sleep. I don’t know what’s going on, it should pass soon.” He spoke slowly, keeping his eyes trained on her, allowing him to see her cheeks lift slightly when she smiled. “I mean it. Thank you for taking care of me.”

She glanced at him briefly, her eyes sparkling with affection, running deep within her. He burst out laughing when, as soon as she looked back at the situation on the road ahead of them, she slammed her fist against the steering wheel, cursing.

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

“Ethan?” her voice broke through the thick mist of the tangle of his thoughts. He looked up from his spot on the couch, expecting to see her ready for bed, but instead was met with a sight of his wife in her bathrobe. She crossed the room, crouching next to his head, her fingers brushing the stray lock of his hair away from his face. “Come with me.”

“I’d say ‘anywhere’, but if you want to drag me to bed to watch some movie, that will be a ‘no’ for me, Darling.” He muttered, a slyly grinning at her. A sound of air leaving her lungs was loud in the otherwise quiet room. Her hand took his, pulling him up from the couch gently, wrapping her arm around him and guiding him to the bathroom.

The bathtub was filled with hot water, the lights turned off, the room illuminated with a few candles. Ethan turned around, just in time to see Claire let the bathrobe fall to the ground, revealing her naked body underneath. She came closer to him, helping him take his clothes off, and then hugged herself to him, a silent moment of perfect comfort. He inhaled her scent, taking a deep breath, letting the feeling of her next to him calm his senses and relax his muscles.

Without saying a word, they got into the bathtub, sinking into the hot water with a breathless sigh. She sat behind him, his back to her front, her hands washing his body gently. Snaking her arms around his chest, she pulled him back against her, lying down together. Neither knew how long they remained that way, the closeness far too comfortable to leave it behind. After what seemed like eternity, he turned around in her arms, lying down with his head on her chest, holding her as close to him as he possibly could.

She raised her hand out of the water, away from his side, and began running her fingers through his hair, massaging his scalp. He nuzzled into her even more, like he was afraid to let her get even an inch away from him, as though the thought of her leaving was unbearable to him.

“I really love you.” he muttered under his breath, pressing his lips to the skin of her neck and letting them stay there, breathing deeply.

“I know you do. I love you too.” She hugged him closer, her grip on him stronger, to show him she was there. To express to him that she wasn’t going anywhere. There wasn’t a single thing that could take her away from him. “Are you okay?”

The only answer she got was a nod, barely palpable, and another kiss, much softer, a barely-there touch that sent sparks throughout her body.

They remained submerged in the water until it ran cold, and even then, they didn’t want to move. It was Claire’s decision to move them to bed, to avoid getting sick. She stood up, getting two towels from the shelf, passing one to his extended hand. He wrapped the soft material around her body, drying her tenderly, paying attention to every curve of her body that he loved. She returned the gesture, standing on the tips of her toes to reach his head, patting his face dry, then moving down his chest, and then finally draping the towel over his shoulders, the same way he did for her.

He helped her get into her nightgown and she helped him into his nightwear. The silence spoke volumes, their actions screamed the amount of love they had for each other, and once they finally fell into bed together and got under the covers, their minds were halfway gone, just barely registering what was happening around them. Ethan pulled her closer to him, pressing his lips to her forehead in a warm kiss, smiling the same way she did.

[cutenessinanutshell]

You know what i’ve been thinking today?? How it’s been ten years since I started actively writing about my life on the internet. I started sometime in 2011 on Xanga, when I’d write about all the dirty day dreams I’ve had as a hormonal teenager.  I have clear memories of writing about all the things I wanted to do to him when we went to see a school play. And I remember reading all the comments and feeling heard, whatever I was talking about. Then Xanga shut down and I couldn’t find a blogging site I liked (and i still can’t high key), so we came to tumblr. A few different blogs and a couple years later and here we are. 

All the boys, all the sadness, all the adventures later. I think what we can all conclude, I am hella dramatic and emotional LOL I also LOVE Taylor Swift hahaha

I was thinking about how it took tj seven years but he���s finally starting to be better to me. I still think he’s bluffing but the ball hasn’t dropped yet.  And so I’m happy these days. Things feel more quiet. It felt really loud a month ago, but not because of him. The studio’s been closed since November. Ontario has the record for longest lockdown in the world. If you add the amount of days we have been closed since COVID hit us, it adds up to 368 days. An entire year without a consistent income. I’m tired of it. I missed winter and spring with the girls. Sad. I miss having things to do. Vanessa and I want to find a new space. One with hopefully more windows or natural light. Open brick would be the dream but it’s hard to find those kind of spaces in the suburbs. We want to offer more than just pole and circus. We want to make it a space that has turf, and weights and barbells and physiotherapists. But not up tight like a regular gym. Still very feminine and in line with the brand. Glamourous, fierce and epic. The studio that throws the best showcases in the GTA. But with so much more. I want to elevate the brand and be able to pay myself properly by the end of the year. My plan to move out went out the window with the pandemic, so this is the next best thing and my only hope. 

I have to build my following more. I   know I could be worthy of a bigger following. But I’m terrified of sharing on social media because of November. It makes me so anxious. I’ve started experimenting with Facebook and I’m comfortable with it i think, but posting on IG, where majority of my community is active, gives me the worst anxiety.  There’s just so many people watching me. So many people that don’t like me watching me. Sooo many people that would smile if they heard I failed. All watching me and that’s a lot of pressure. I know you’re not supposed to care what those people think but I do.  I hate them for making me feel like I’ll never be good enough, and still I can’t help but freak out at the idea of them seeing my stories and thinking “pft.”  I’m just bitter because girls showed so many colours to me. Girls I trained with all the time, who showed that they never thought I was good enough, and they were keeping up appearances when they talked to me because I was on the inside.  Girls who I would help and give free training time to, just dismissed me. Let me go over their head because I was just the ditzy admin without a real people job like them, so I could never. Those are the girls watching me. The people who watch my stories and laugh at me and gossip in group chats. 

My stalker is also back. Yall I hadn’t heard from her since August. Like bruh I went to vegas in 2019. Why is she still on my ass, i literally can’t figure it out and its gonna drive me mad. I just don’t get what her issue is, I’ve literally never met her. Ever. But she thinks I’m running my mouth about her, when I only know that she’s constantly calling me a sand n word, and telling me im a loser prostitute on a pole and that I’m a loser bitch whatever the fuck lol. She’s trying to blackmail her but I’m not engaging. I haven’t engaged at all and it’s still been going on for 2 years.  She lives in arizona, i do not know this bitch LOL. You get tagged in a guys IG post once and then you’re fucked forever i guess.  She’s a literal crazy person and someone needs to commit her

My life is boring because of the pandemic haha. I just wanted to write. 

\

[colour-anon]

Why I love the Henry Stickmin Collection

WARNING: I mention mental illness, implied suicidal tendencies, death, and a few other sensitive topics.

Also this is long.

 So I was thinking about the Henry Stickmin Collection, as you do, when I remembered why I got into the Flash games all those years ago, and why I latched onto the collection when it came out. I’m posting it because it’s a story I almost forgot once, but I never want to forget. I want to be able to look back on this post later and smile. It’s probably not an interesting story, and people most likely aren’t going to read it, but I don’t care.

Soon after Stealing the Diamond came out, I stumbled across it on some website (pretty sure they didn’t have permission to have it on their website, but I’m not sure). I played it for like three choices, then quit.

Then in about 2014, my brother asked if I had played Henry Stickmin. I didn’t remember it, so I said no. We then spent several hours playing the games together and getting as many endings and fails as possible. I remember playing Stealing the Diamond a while ago, and wondered how I had dismissed it. I was having so much fun with my brother! We had no idea what order the games were supposed to go in, so we were kinda confused, but it was still fun.

Two years later, I came across the games yet again while browsing the internet on the computer at my grandmother’s house. I played through them all (Fleeing the Complex had been released a little while prior, but I wanted to play the others again too). I did, and I was so excited when I saw Ellie. Now I’m nonbinary, but I’m biologically female (I’m not out to my family, so I’m still a female to them but that’s besides the point). At that time, I still identified as female. I was sick if girly stereotypes, so an awesome, feisty, red-headed criminal in a series I already admired was just what I needed.

I never drew any Henry Stickmin art (until recently), but the series still kickstarted my festive journey. At some point in this whole thing (I think when playing with my brother), I remember thinking to myself how much I loved the art despite it being simple. I figured I could do it, too. Come 2020, and I see MatPat and Steph playing it on GT Live. Seeing GT Live in my recommended already hit me with a nostalgia blast (I remember watching them several years prior that felt like a lifetime), but Henry Stickmin, too? Dang.

So I watched it, then released they weren’t playing the Flash game I knew and loved. Oh no, it was new, bigger and better. I don’t think I’ve ever wanted a game more.

I hate spending money for myself, though. It makes me feel terrible and guilty.  Even 15 dollars felt like too much for me. But my brother heard me raving about it, and the next thing I knew I was given 15 dollars that I was only allowed to spend on THSC because no, sis, you are not spending that on more art supplies just to make gifts for other people because you feel like they won’t lie, you otherwise. You’re getting the game, got it?

And got it I did, both the point and the game. I played it to 100% completion (endings, fails, achievements, bios, the whole shebang) in two days. I had a great time. 

With most games, that would be it. I completed it, nothing more to do. Not Henry Stickmin though. Now what I didn’t mention in the above stories, is during this all, is I developed depression. It started around the time I rediscovered the games on my grandma’s computer. Soon after playing the games, her husband, the only one of my two grandpas who didn’t die before I wa shorn, died. That didn’t help my depression in the slightest. Whenever I talked to my grandpa about being sad I didn’t get to meet my other grandpa, he would say “well, twice as nice pays the price!” But now they were both dead, and no one could be extra nice to console me. 

Then my grandma died just over a year later. At that point, I was already in a very, very dark place. Her death crushed me. I kept smiling though it all. I’m fact, no one knew I had depression until this year I kept it hidden so well (my dads a psychologist and taught me all about mental health, so I knew I had bad depression, I just wasn’t formally diagnosed because I didn’t want anyone to know). My mom told me that me staying strong made her happy, so I felt pressure to hide how devastated I was. For her sake. That’s a toxic mentality, and that’s not what my mom wanted to encourage. She couldn’t possibly have known how damaging that would be to me.  Around the same time, things got tense at home. It wouldn’t be appropriate for me to go into it, but I will give you the vague gist: things would get tense in my family sometimes and would result in things being broken and angers exploding   Things happened, and I further retreated into my mentality that I shouldn’t make things worse by adding my emotions into the mix. I also was traumatised by this experience, and still am. I also grew to somewhat resent my brother.

This continued for several years, and then 2020. We all know so much happens in 2020. My mental health which  has been garbage since literally birth was it’s being pounded over, and over, and over again. Then THSC, and GT Live.  It reminded me of playing the game on my grandma’s computer, which reminded me of all the other computer games and various activities we work.s so together.  It reminded me of being besties with my brother, no trauma whatsoever, and playing THSC with him.  It made me so happy. I kept the game to myself, not playing it with my brother. I  wanted to cherish the memories, not confront the still-healing wounds left by all of the recent events around me.  It became, and still is my comfort.  I met friends online because of it.  The characters’ stories inspired me to keep living my life, write y story, and not cut I short like I was so close to doing, and still consider at times.  I owe this game so much. 

[its-pronounced-quoassoint]

Power Rangers AU-Chapter 9

Pairings: romantic Logicality, Prinxiety, Demus, Remile

This Chapter features: Roman centric, brief coming out story, again another ‘filler episode’, sorry

This Chapter Warnings: swearing, talks of passive aggressive homophobia and transphobia from another character, talks of therapy and seeing a therapist, mentioned first kiss, food and eating, sympathetic dark sides

Credit for this AU goes to @when-day-met-the-knight (specifically this post).

If you would like to be added to the taglist for this fic please let me know in reply!

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Chapter 9-Faith

Roman would always remember his first homecoming. Logan had been his closest friend since the fifth grade, but in the few months leading up to Homecoming he had been pulling away. Roman didn't know why at the time but he was determined to get their friendship back to how it used to be by asking him to homecoming. Roman remembered it all so vividly. Logan wearing a long-sleeve pale blue dress and ankle boots. Roman wearing his favorite dress shirt and pants. The two arrived at the dance, went into the full gym, and listened to one song. Then Logan ran.

Roman was so shocked he couldn't move. He just watched Logan go. Roman looked around, worried that people could see him all alone. Then he ran after Logan, scolding himself for even thinking about other people's thoughts before Logan. He was terrified. Why had Logan been so distant? What had Roman done wrong? He thought this dance would help, but now it seemed to have backfired so bad he might lose his best friend.

When Logan returned to Roman's worried side, he was with Patton Valentine, a sweet boy who Roman had subscribed to on YouTube months back. The most surprising sight however, was that Logan and Patton, who were roughly the same size, had switched clothes. When Roman asked about the outfit swap Logan simply smiled and asked Roman to join him outside, saying a quiet goodbye to Patton. That was the night Logan had come out to Roman as trans. Then it became the night Roman came out to Logan as gay. Then the night Logan also came out as gay. Then the night they both talked about crushes without it being as awkward as before. Finally, the night they both shared a bag of microwave popcorn with Remus while they sat in the twins' treehouse and watched Star Wars Clone Wars on a portable DVD player.

Roman also knew that he would never forget his second Homecoming. Logan had decided not to go, and Roman figured he wouldn't push it. Roman actually had a boyfriend named Breyden at the time so he went with him. Roman had a good time and at first it didn't seem like that night would be all too magical. Until Breyden kissed Roman. Roman's first kiss. At a school dance, with a cute guy, and during the song 'Die Young' by Ke$ha. Roman's and Breyden's relationship lasted only a few months after that, but it wasn't a bad breakup. Roman still considered Breyden a friend and life went on.

Junior year Homecoming was the first school dance Roman didn't attend. Homecoming was mainly for the Freshmen and Sophomores, besides Roman was busy preparing for his first lead role in a musical.

Now, as a senior, Roman was spending his Homecoming night sneaking Logan into his car and driving with him and Remus to Thomas's for impromptu therapy. The three arrived at Thomas's fairly quickly, but not without Logan complaining that Roman didn't have to pick him up.

Patton was already there when they entered. He sat on the couch looking down the hallway toward's Emile and Thomas's rooms. Thomas was in the kitchen making something that was sizzling, and humming along to Wicked.

"Hey, Pat." Roman greeted him.

"Heya kiddos!" Patton smiled cheerily back.

"Whatcha makin' back there Thomathy?" Remus asked, plopping himself down practically on top of Patton and pulling out his phone.

"Quesadillas." He replied.

"Oh that sounds good." Roman said.

"Smells good too!" Remus shouted distractedly. "So is Dee here yet?"

"No, sorry." Patton shrugged.

"Hmm." Remus only looked at his phone more intently.

"What are you two?" Logan asked, taking his place next to Patton as well, though farther away that Remus was.

"What?" Remus asked, an eyebrow raised.

"You and Dee. I'm confused by the manner of your relationship." Logan began.

"We're friends. I think. Most of the time. Maybe." Remus said with a sideways glance.

"I assume you know that answer made no sense whatsoever." Logan leaned forward to look at the other boy.

Remus huffed and put his phone down. "Look, I've told him how I feel about him and he just ignored it. He wants to stay, whatever we are, and that's fine with me."

"That's bull crap Remus and you know it." Roman stated.

"Well, it's not my call Roman." Remus retorted. "I'm not gonna force him. Besides, even if he wanted to date me-"

"I'm still not convinced you two aren't dating now." Logan leaned back.

"-I wouldn't go out with him. He's still friends with Kayley and I personally want to rip out each fake eye lash and injection on her stupid face." Remus growled.

"Wow." Logan pursed his lips.

"Oh I can't stop picturing it." Roman groaned.

"How sure are you that he doesn't want to go out with you?" Patton asked.

"Pretty sure. Like I said, he ignored me earlier. And more to the point he's friends with Kayley!! She disgusts me." Remus went back to his phone. "She always goes on about how much of an ally she is! She said the A in LGBTQIA was for ally. Like bitch, no!"

"Language." Thomas and Patton said at the same time.

"I think I'm allowed to call her a bitch." Remus sneered.

"I don't like her too much either Remus, but you still shouldn't call people that." Patton said.

"Why don't you like her?" Roman asked.

"Like Remus said she talks constantly about how much of an ally she is, but when Juleka came out as a lesbian, Kayley started saying just awful things and called her slurs." Patton stated. "She kept talking about how Juleka had a crush on her and how gross it was that she's gay."

"When I began my process of coming out she pretended to support me, but when it came to actually helping me with bullying or actual transitioning, she didn't do anything." Logan added.

"What? Why didn't you say anything?" Roman asked astonished.

"Well, it didn't matter, you enjoyed sitting at her lunch table, besides it really didn't bother me as much as it may seem." Logan dismissed.

"Well shit." Roman's voice cracked. "I can't believe I let her just get away with this."

"It's not your fault Roman, it's not your responsibility to police her for her actions." Logan stated.

"But I still could have noticed. Why do I even sit with her?" Roman ran a hand through his hair and knawed on his bottom lip. He knew what Logan was saying was true, but it still didn't sit well. He was supposed to be there for protect his friends when they needed and he had let this girl get away with hurting them for too long.

"Kayley only wants to sit next to you for clout you know." Remus interjeted.

"Well I'm not sitting with her any more." Roman scoffed.

"You can sit with me." Patton suggested. "Naomi thinks you're all very entertaining."

"What are you guys talking about?" Dee's voice asked from the door, shutting down the conversation immediately.

"Nothing." The four replied, looking in different directions.

"Okay then." Dee shrugged, not sounding totally convinced. He went over the the couch and sat down next Remus.

It was quiet, though not uncomfortably so. Roman perked up when he heard a door open and close down the hallway and Emile stepped into view.

"How's this?" Emile asked, walking down the hallway. He entered the livingroom and gave a small twirl.

"I like this one a lot more." Patton told him.

"Like what a lot more?" Logan asked.

"The outfit." Patton explained. "Emile's got a date to homecoming tonight!"

"Who ya going with?" Remus asked.

"My girlfriend, Sara." Emile responded.

Everyone seemed to be looking at Emile in some form of confusion on Roman spoke up.

"Oh my god for a second there I forgot straight people exist!" He laughed. The seniors all began laughing with him.

"Ha, ha." Emile crossed his arms. "And just so you know, I'm not straight. I just don't feel like labelling myself right now."

"You shouldn't be pressured to anyway." Logan stated.

"Thank you Logan." Emile nodded. "Now! Outfit thoughts?"

"I already said I liked it. Very cute." Patton remarked.

"I have no issues with the clothing." Logan said plainly.

Roman examined what he was wearing. A shell-white dress shirt, small pink bow-tie, and black pants. Simple, comfortable, adorable; Emile.

"Very dashing." Roman told him.

"Alright by my standards." Remus shrugged.

"You have no standards." Dee pointed out. "Very nice Emile."

"Great!" Emile sighed. "Alright, have fun with therapy tonight, I'm leaving."

A series of farewells were said to Emile as he left, and the Rangers went back to silence. Thomas finished making quesadillas and began handing them out. They munched while awaiting Renette's arrival. It didn't take too long, but Roman had watched Remus practically inhale his quesadilla and he didn't need anything more. When Renette knocked and opened the door she gestured for each of them to enter a car. Roman saw she was on the phone and looked particularaly exhausted.

Roman hurried his friends out the door and into cars before they could protest his choices in seating. Patton and Logan next to each other in the first one. Remus and Dee in the next. Finally, Roman and Thomas in the last one. Roman figured his matchmaking for the night was over and hopped in happily.

Renette got into the passenger seat of the last car and looked back to smile at Roman and Thomas.

"No! Listen to me, you listen to your mother." Renette continued, signaling for the driver to start the car.

The other cars started their engines and they pulled away.

"You know what I mean when I say listen to your mother. You're not going out tonight. I don't care that it's friday. If your mom said no and your dad said no then what makes you think I'm gonna say yes?!" Renette continued. "Oh don't you 'Ma' me Remington! You've been sick for a whole week, and you know that those kids do-"

She listened to what the other person was saying.

"Well I didn't know Emile was going to be there you should have led with that! Emile going is your most valid argument so far!" Renette pasued again. "No this doesn't mean you can go! One good argument from you doesn't change my mind. Besides, your mom and dad both said no, even if I wanted you to go I'm outnumbered! Nope, I'm sorry hun but I'm not risking it! You're sick and this is Florida, people don't exactly vaccinate down here. End of discussion."

Roman looked out the window trying to make it seem like he wasn't eaves dropping.

"Yes yes, love you goodnight." Renette hung up and sighed into her chair. "Roman, if you ever want kids meet my son, he'll change that real quick."

Thomas, the driver, and Renette laughed.

"Then again, you've met Emile so you probably think kids are just little angels." Renette added.

"Oh he's certainly not a little angel." Thomas rolled his eyes. "Emile may seem like it, but I've seen him sucker punch people a few times."

"Only cause you trained him to!" Renette laughed.

It fell into a lull of discussion between the adults after that. Roman pulled out his phone and began texting Logan. Until Patton took over to text using Logan's phone. When the cars stopped it was at a building a ways outside of town. The sun was going down earlier and earlier as winter drew closer, and currently the sky was just fading into a deep blue.

Roman, Thomas, and Renette stepped out of the car. The other Rangers followed quickly and together they all went inside. It was well lit and smelled of lemon scented cleaner. Renette led them past a few doors until reaching a counter with a woman sat in front of it.

"Hey Janica, how are ya?" Renette asked.

"I'm doing good Renette. They should all be ready for you boys." Janica replied, she handed Renette a piece of paper. "I need your signature here." She pointed to a line at the top. Renette signed and Janica took the paper back, then gave Renette another paper. "These are their assigned rooms."

"Thanks Janica." Renette smiled, taking the paper and moving to enter the door right of Janica's desk.

"Oh, best of wishes to you and your family Renette. There's a little something that a few people in the department put together for you. We heard about Remy and wanted ot help." Janica smiled.

"Thanks!" Renette smiled warmly, opening the door and walking in. "Okay boys, Roman you're room one. Logan room two, Dee room three, Remus room four, Patton room five, and Thomas you know where to go."

"Thanks Renette." Thomas nodded.

Roman looked to his right and saw a stretch of doors, marked one to fifteen. He walked all the way down with the others, each friend leaving him to head into their respective doors. Roman finally reached the door with a bronze 1 nailed to the front and inhaled. He put his hand on the doornob and twisted. He felt his stomach tighten but he didn't entirely know why.

"Roman?" A sweet voice inside asked.

"Yes." Roman nodded. He looked over to see a larger woman sitting casually in a chair. The room smelled like carmel scented candles.

"Come on in." She told him. "It's okay, whatever you're comfortable with. Want some tea, coffee, water?"

"Um, no, I'm good." Roman replied, taking a seat on the grey leather couch across from her.

"Okay. My name is Doctor Faith Hop, you can call me Faith." She smiled. "Are you ready to begin?"

---

It was Tuesday the next week when Renette showed up again.

"Hopefully you all set up a schedule to meet with your therapists weekly?" She asked.

The Rangers all nodded.

"Wonderful." Renette smiled. "Now, a couple things I need to get out of the way. One, I set up a meeting with a couple friends of mine, some higher-ups in foreign governments. It's very important that you meet and discuss with them next week. Two, I need to hear any and all strategies from this moment on. Especially now. That fiasco during the last attack cannot happen again. We need results. I'd hope you all have come up with some idea as to how you can get any closer to defeating Virgilius. I want to hear everything."

"Okay, uh, Renette, what do you mean we're meeting with your friends?" Roman asked. "I don't really have a lot of time to drive somewhere like Washington D.C."

"Yeah and my moms are getting really sick of my excuses as to why I can't be home for take-out night." Dee said. "I miss eating chineese food with them."

"Don't worry about that, my friends are coming here. I cleared this with Thomas weeks in advance."

"And you're only telling us now?" Logan quirked an eyebrow.

"I could only tell you now. Anyway, you all share science class together I believe, and your teacher and our current official working at the school has agreed to give the whole grade a large group project, with which you will claim you are all working on Saturday, so you can arrive here." Renette said quickly.

Roman looked at her incredulously. "Mrs. Ryans?"

"Yes, she works for me." Renette smiled.

"She works for you?" Patton's eyes went wide.

"I believe I just said that." Renette stared.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa," Dee put his hands up. "So you're telling me, that Mrs. Ryans works for the government and has been spying on us-"

"I certainly never said she was spying on you but yes since you've become Rangers she has been keeping a closer eye on you."

". . . Right." Dee deadpanned. "So she's making our entire grade do a group project just so we have an excuse to leave the house on Saturday?"

"That is correct." Renette nodded.

"If we're here on Saturday when are we going to work on said project?" Logan asked.

"Well that's not my problem." Renette dismissed.

"Hold up, hold up!" Roman started.

"No, no, no, no, no." Dee started waving his hand.

"Wait a minute, what?!" Patton exclaimed.

"I'm gonna fail science." Remus sank into his blow up pink chair.

"Oh you boys will figure it out." Renette tried to wave off their concerns. "What you need to focus on is the meeting with representatives from the UN who expect a level of professionalism from the only people on Earth that have acess to weapons that can defeat the Dragon Witch."

"Oh god." Roman sighed.

"I shouldn't go." Remus shook his head.

"You're all going. Whether you like it or not." Renette stated. "Now, I am hoping, praying, you boys have some kind of lead or strategy that can be used against Virgilius."

It went quiet.

"What happened to those letters you found on the map?" Thomas asked.

"Oh, yeah, that turned out to be a dead end." Roman grimaced.

"What letters?" Renette asked.

"Um, yesterday, we were looking at this map of the county." Patton got up and pointed. "Logan put pins into the places where Virgilius previously attacked. Even attacks from a year ago. Anway, we were just looking at em' and I thought these kinda make the shape of an 'H'."

"We figured he was trying to say 'help' or send a message." Dee sighed.

"And?" Renette asked impatiently.

"When we traced them all out it said 'Ha suckers!'." Roman said in an annoyed tone.

"Exclimation mark included." Logan reminded.

Remus started laughing. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry. I mean I'm not really that sorry, but come on that's good. Like he got us."

Roman looked at his brother and just shook his head slowly.

"Clever child." Renette pondered. "Distracting you, throwing you off his scent."

"We're pretty sure he's like in his twenties." Roman said. "He's tall so."

"Yeah taller than me." Remus said, almost impressed.

"Okay, good to know." Renette nodded. "But, other than your failed attempt, do you have anything more for me?"

Roman looked around. Logan, the one who usually concocts their plans, had nothing. However, when Roman looked to the others, he saw them exchanging glances. Thomas, Remus, Dee, and Patton lookedas if they were all in silent debate with each other. Finally Thomas gave a firm nod and the four looked to Renette.

"We may have something." Patton told her.

Taglist:

@tulipscomeinallsortsofcolors @maddarc @pheonix-inside-reblogs @thisismysanderssidesblog @almost-all-my-ships-are-gay @mostpeopleannoyme @the-smol-est @i-sexually-identify-as-a-mistake @nadja-chamack16@too-bi-too-function @rainbowbowtie @mistypelt1234 @tricksterangel25 @authorized-trash @echocw @stripestar128128 @coffee-mugz @slitherynchicken

[angst-fairygodmother]

On Her Father’s Wings (The Umbrella Academy S2 Fic)

CHAPTER 2: FATHERS

What if there was one more thing left in Five’s care at Hazel’s untimely passing? Something more precious than a briefcase, more useful than a tape, and infinitely more infuriating. A smart-mouthed girl determined to pick up where her father left off and help save the world, whether the Hargreeves like it or not.

Word Count: 5230 Rating: T for canon-typical violence, swearing

Warning: this chapter contains major spoilers for both S2:E2 (The Frankel Footage) and plot twists later in the season. Read at your own risk.

Cross-posted to AO3: here Previous Chapter: New Sidekick

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“So that went well…” Piper drawled, leaning back against her elbows on the edge of the bar.

Five startled, causing her to snicker.

“How did you get in here?” he asked, sounding less surprised or impressed than she’d hoped and not even bothering to look up from his drink.

“Fun fact, they’ll let anybody in when you’re dressed like a cigarette girl,” she said wryly. “So what are you going to do now? Besides mope into a whiskey?”

I don’t know,” he admitted with a sigh. “I’ve struck out with both siblings I’ve been able to find.”

“So far. But you all landed in the same place, and Elliot said they all went back to the alley looking for the rest of you, so odds are these two aren’t the only ones that stuck around Dallas. Just have to keep looking.”

“And what if I say no?”

“Then I’ll kick your scrawny ass and do it myself.”

He looked up at her finally, surprised by her determination, only to quickly look away again, blushing from her sequined and very revealing outfit.

“Do you want me to stick around, keep an eye on this brother and see if he leads us to the rest?” she asked, tilting her head to one side.

“No need. He said he thought we were all dead.”

“Cheerful. Could he be lying? I mean he wasn’t exactly thrilled to see you from where I was standing. Maybe he thinks he’s protecting them?”

“Protecting them? From me?”

She shrugged. “Anything’s possible. I mean you are a time-travelling assassin. And I don’t know what family Christmases are like at your house.”

Five sighed in exasperation. “Stay if you want. I’m going back to Elliot’s. He’s still, unfortunately, my best lead.”

He continued to sip his drink. She rolled her eyes, not liking the feeling of being dismissed. Still, she decided, she may as well spy on his brother and Jack Ruby while she had the opportunity.

Just as she was about to walk away, Five finished his drink, muttering about how their father should have left Luther on the moon as they both watched the larger man “escort out” a drunk. Then he stood, the pocket of his jacket catching on the back of the chair and tearing away to reveal a bulky yellow box. He took it out, staring at it, puzzled.

“Do you know what this is?” he asked her almost absently, voice sounding like his mind was far away.

“No idea,” she answered, eyes fixed on the label, on handwriting as familiar to her as her own. “It was in your pocket. Why would I know about it?”

“I think Hazel put it there. When he saw those goons get off the bus.”

“Well, it’s probably important then. You should go figure out what it is. I’m going to stick around here and see if I can’t find out a little more about your brother problem.”

Five frowned, glaring as she turned the tables, dismissing him for once, but she was already walking away, a cheerful smile plastered on her face as she held out her cigarette tray in question to one of the other club patrons.

Not long afterward, Piper watched as Luther exited through a back door, and followed, keeping far enough back that he wouldn’t notice, or at least she hoped not. He seemed to freeze, staring as he watched a mystery woman climbed into a car near the payphone out front. Piper couldn’t see his face, but she didn’t really need to to recognize the shock written across his entire body. The woman stared back for just a moment, confusion on her expression evident.

“Vanya,” she heard Luther whisper as the woman shut the car door and drove away.

Luther turned, watching her go, and Piper caught a glimpse of his distress before she ducked back inside to avoid getting caught tailing him. Back inside, she leaned against the wall, biting the nail of her thumb as she debated sticking around to see what other events unfolded for the night and reporting back to Five that she had at least some idea of where another sibling was.

Her decision was made for her though, when an unnervingly large arm pressed across her, pinning her to the wall by her shoulders.

“Who the hell are you?” Luther asked, face mere inches from hers and twisted into a scowl.

“Relax, there’s no need for violence here,” she said, trying to placate him.

“Why are you following me?”

“I’m not. I mean I was. Sort of. I mean it was more general surveillance than ‘following.’ Although it did…also involve following…”

“Shut up and answer my questions.”

“Um, which of those would you like me to do? Because I can’t simultaneously shut up and…speak, which I need to do to answer your questions.” She tilted her head questioningly to one side and put on her most charming smile.

He pressed his arm harder across her collarbones, shaking her, the pressure making it momentarily harder to breathe until she adjusted to it.

“Quit playing games. Who. Are. You?”

“My name is Piper Rofa. I’m with your brother, Five. A fact that he’s not super thrilled with because of his whole grouchy loner thing, but I’m not about to let that stop me. I stayed behind to keep an eye on you in case there was more you knew or something, even though he’s willing to write you off as a lost cause. Because I’m not about to let the world end based on the fact that your asshole family can’t get their shit together.”

His hold on her slackened, though the arm was still large enough that even slight pressure kept her in place. “I don’t know anything. Until Five showed up, I thought everyone was dead.”

“So that wasn’t your sister in the car?”

“It…was. But tonight was the first time I’d seen her since…”

“Since she blew up the moon and tried to kill you all? Or was that the other sister?”

“No…that was Vanya. How do you know so much about us?”

“It’s a long story. One I’ll happily tell to all of you once you’re rounded up in the same room but I really don’t want to have to keep going over.”

“I’m done with that life.” By now he had released her completely, but she remained rooted in that spot anyway.

“But they’re still your family. Don’t you want to see them?”

“Are they?” his voice was soft, pained. “All I’ve ever done is push them away and hurt them. It’s better for everyone if I just…don’t go back.”

“Bullshit. Family’s hard, but also family’s family. Whatever you’ve fucked up, they still love you. Or at least, the one I’ve met does. You should have seen his face…”

He stared at her, mouth open in shock, face twisted in uncertainty. “How…how many of them are together right now?”

“None. But we can make it at least three, possibly four if you give me that address, and you come with me back to our makeshift base of operations. We still haven’t found Allison or Klaus?” she hesitated, unsure she had the names right. “And the other brother is locked up in an asylum which Five for some reason decided not to spring him from, but that’s…fixable.”

“I’m not going to give you this address. I don’t even know if Vanya actually lives there, but if she does…I don’t know you, no matter what you claim. And I need to talk to her first. Alone.”

Piper rolled her eyes. “Fine, suit yourself. Just, when you’re done, both of you should come to Morty’s Television and Radio.”

“I’ll think about it.”

“I guess that’s all I can ask,” she shrugged. “Now unless you’re planning any other secret sibling reunions or interesting events, I should probably be off.”

She gave him a wink and wave as she sauntered away.

~

“I can’t tail a car on foot!” she shouted in frustration as Five raged. “And what else was I supposed to do? Fight your brother for the wallet? He could snap me in half like a toothpick!”

“You incompetent…useless…” his face was rapidly reddening. “What is the point of you if you can’t even do a simple task?”

“Hey!” she glared, folding her arms over her chest. “At least we can confirm that she’s still in Dallas. And that she’s either a very good actress or didn’t recognize your brother. Neither of which we’d have without me sticking around, which you called a waste of time. Besides, Luther all but said he was going after her, so we can tail him there.”

“Don’t bother. Let’s just focus on this tape from your father and hope it’s more helpful than you are.”

She bit back the first retort that came to mind, sticking her tongue out petulantly. “Do you have the magic power of film development now too?”

His jaw flexed as he gritted his teeth angrily. “No. I don’t have the power to develop the film. But I’m sure I will find someone who can.”

“Some stranger? When there could be signs, clues, or references to the apocalypse? Great plan. Definitely won’t lead to panic or getting arrested as a terrorist or anything. Especially if you drag them out of bed to do it.”

He sighed angrily. “What would you suggest then?”

“Wait until morning, see where these came from,” she gestured to the photos around the loft. “Until then, do some more research through all this junk to see if we can find where the last two siblings are?”

She watched him struggle with himself, not wanting to admit that she was right.

“Now pass me that box,” she gestured to a large cardboard box overflowing with sheets of paper and newspaper clippings, clearly things that Elliot thought were important but hadn’t gotten around to sorting into his desk or “conspiracy wall.”

~

Hours later, Elliot shuffled out of his bedroom, setting up a pot of coffee before noticing that the two time-travelers were there, each wrapped in their own heads and oblivious to the world.

“Do…do you like eggs?” he asked them, stammering out an offer for breakfast, cutting through their thoughts. “Or cereal?”

Piper looked up, smiling politely as she accepted and Five waved him off, muttering about “just needing coffee.”

As the girl and Elliot ate, Five looked around again, eyes falling to focus on some of the strange images on the walls.

“Elliot, did you develop these photos yourself?” he asked, leaning in to look closer at one of them.

“Of course. Can’t exactly drop that stuff off at the neighborhood Fotomat,” Elliot stood, walking across the partition with his bowl of cereal. “Government has eyes everywhere.”

Piper rolled her eyes, half listening as they discussed the lack of darkroom and Five asked him to develop the footage her father had slipped him.

As Elliot began listing supplies and excuses for why they were difficult to get, she rose, moving to lean in the doorway, arms folded.

“Elliot,” Five said, face taught with frustration.

“It’s like five, maybe six hours.”

“Would it go any faster with a sweet ride?” she asked, spinning her keychain, complete with neon orange rabbit’s foot, around on her finger.

Elliot’s eyes lit up at the prospect and Five became distracted by the call over the radio.

“The hell is a code 3-15?”

“Fugitives on the run,” Piper and Elliot said at the same time, glancing at each other in surprise before focusing back in on the rest of the call.

“Oh, Diego,” Five sighed, pressing his lips together and turning his eyes toward the ceiling as if to ask God ‘why?’

“Who’s Diego?” Elliot asked and Piper gave him a puzzled look.

Hadn’t they talked about it the day before, when he’d shown Five the mugshot? Or was the at least 30 hour day starting to mess with her memory? She shook it off, surreptitiously pinching the flesh of her own upper arm, the quick, sharp pain waking her up some.

“Imagine Batman, then aim lower,” Five explained before turning away from the radio.

She snorted at the description, which just about matched up to what her father had told her.

“You get started on that film,” he told Elliot. “We’ll be back as soon as we can.”

“Actually, it’s probably faster for you to go alone,” she pointed out with a shrug. “I mean you can just pop to him and sort things out without…awkward introductions or sidetracking. Plus, I can get the supplies, help Elliot here; we’ll know what’s on that tape a lot sooner.”

Five hesitated. She flashed him a reassuring smile.

“I promise,” she said. “We’ll play nice. I mean, I can only hope the feeling’s mutual but I like Elliot, and this is something actually useful I can do. Now go teleport after your crazy-escapee brother.” She waved her hands in a shooing motion and Five rolled his eyes, heading for the door.

“Alright, Elliot,” she said, turning back to the man and planting her hands on her hips in an exaggerated, almost-superhero pose. “Hope you’ve got a shopping list and some cash because I have neither. But I’ll drive.”

~

Several hours later, she sighed, brushing hair out of her face as she bent to the task Elliot had given her, focused intently as they neared the finish line. Suddenly, something heavy clumsily smashed into the side of her head and she staggered away from it, dropping her tools and turning, shifting instinctively into a defensive stance to face her attacker.

“Elliot?! What the hell are you doing?” she shouted, watching the nervous little man drop the lamp he had swung moments earlier.

“I saw the footage!” he shouted. “I know what you are!”

Her head throbbed from the blow.

“What are you talking about?” she asked, frowning. “What exactly did you see?”

“I saw enough! And I won’t let you get away with it!”

She sighed, uncoiling her fists and trying to be as nonthreatening as possible. Holding up her hands, palms flat and facing him, she locked eyes with Elliot.

“Calm down Elliot, please,” she said, voice trembling almost imperceptibly. “I don’t know what you think is going on, but I promise there’s an explanation.”

“I’m not going to let you warp my mind!” he shouted. “You’re some sort of demon or alien or…or Russian spy!”

“What?”

Rather than responding, Elliot charged at her and swung a wild haymaker, so unexpected (and surprisingly quick) that it caught her off-guard. Striking on the same side he had already hit her, it drove her to her knees, vision swimming. The last thing she noticed as the world fell away were hands on her wrists and her only thought was that she had failed.

~

When Piper woke up next, she was somewhere completely dark. She could feel that her wrists and ankles had been bound together, trapping her in a hunched over position. Luckily, her captor (Elliot she suspected) made the mistake of putting the ropes in front of her, and probably didn’t know about her training in escape artistry. Gritting her jaw against the waves of pain and nausea that her movements triggered, she set to work, among other things discovering that she was in the darkroom closet.

Outside, she could hear shouting, and then, worryingly, the blast of a gunshot. Elliot wouldn’t actually shoot Five…she hoped. Though she also didn’t expect him to knock her out cold and tie her up, so maybe she didn’t know the nutter as well as she thought. And even if he wouldn’t really shoot Five, she couldn’t say the same in reverse if Elliot threatened him.

Finally, she felt the ropes go slack and stood.

“Where is she Elliot?” she heard Five ask through gritted teeth.

Her hand stilled momentarily on the doorknob, curious to hear where this would go.

“The one you left here to kill me when I found out the truth?” she heard Elliot snap. “I took care of her. Bet you weren’t expecting that.”

She rolled her eyes. So dramatic.

“I swear, if you hurt her…”

“Who are you talking about Five?” she heard another voice ask. “Is Allison here? …or Vanya?”

So that must be Diego then. Before things could go any further, she decided to make her grand entrance.

“Christ,” she said loudly as strode casually out of the converted closet, shaking the remaining ropes off her wrist. “That was uncalled for.”

Elliot stared. Diego and the mysterious woman with him stared. Five pointedly avoided looking at her, but she thought she might have caught a flash of relief cross his face.

“Seriously,” she smiled at Elliot who she now noticed was pinned down by the one she assumed was Diego. “That was an impressive punch from such a wimpy-looking guy,” her face fell into disappointment and she held out the rope, “but it was super unnecessary.”

“He managed to take you out with one punch?” Five asked, tone somewhere between mockery and incredulity.

“I mean, there was the element of surprise. And I think a lamp?”

“I had to do it! You people are dangerous! I know!” Elliot shouted, trying and failing to struggle as the strange woman tied his legs together.

Piper rolled her eyes. “You don’t know shit, Conspiracy Brain. Which would have been obvious if you let me explain instead of giving me a migraine. Now you had better have aspirin somewhere or I am going to be very annoyed.”

“Who the hell is this girl Five?” his brother asked.

“I like her,” the woman chimed in, earning her a glare from both Hargreeves and a smirk from Piper.

“My name is Piper Rofa, it’s really nice to meet you,” she called as she rooted through the bathroom medicine cabinet. “Do you want to explain the rest, Old Timer, or shall I?”

“Rofa…why does that name sound familiar?” Diego muttered.

Piper caught sight of Lila’s eyes, narrowed and studying her shrewdly. Something about her calculating look put the younger girl’s nerves on edge and she looked back with the same faux-casual inspection.

“Let’s just watch the film, see what’s got Elliot all worked up, and we can do introductions later,” Five said, brushing aside Diego’s curiosity.

They tied Elliot more securely, to one of the dental chairs he had inexplicably laying around. Lila dug out an old bottle of sickly green nail polish and began doing her fingernails and the captive man’s toes. Piper couldn’t help but chuckle from where she sat with her boots resting up on the corner of the kitchen table; the other woman was really doing a bang-up job of playing the loon.

They all sat in silence as the tape began. And then, realizing what it was, Diego leaned forward with a new intensity of focus.

‘He really is obsessed with JFK,’ she found herself thinking. ‘Professional interest or crush?’

“How do you have this?” Diego asked his brother.

“Hazel died to get me this footage,” Five explained, eyes flickering to his brother, and then to Piper who tried to hide her distress behind a blank mask, before turning back to the projector screen. “It must be the key to stopping doomsday.”

“It had better be,” Piper muttered.

“Hazel?” Diego said with an accusatory frown.

Piper stiffened, swinging her legs down to the floor. She did not want to deal with a confrontation right now when her headache was finally going away, but she wasn’t going to stand for anyone disparaging her father’s memory either.

“Long story,” Five said dismissively, still focused ahead of him.

“What’s doomsday?” Lila asked, looking pathetically up at Five from her seat.

“Longer story.”

“What exactly did he say to you?” Piper’s eyes flickered to Five’s face, equally curious for his answer as his brother was.

“Well he was killed before he could explain. But whatever he wanted us to see, it’s on this film.”

Her teeth found the middle knuckle of her thumb, biting down on it gently while she wracked her brain for something her father might have told her that could help, feeling useless. How could she claim to have known him, to be his protégé or fill his shoes if she didn’t even know what he died for?

Four sets of eyes flickered determinedly over the screen as chaos unfolded, only Lila looking away, confusion and fear on her face as she instead watched the watchers. Suddenly, Five muttered something under his breath and moved to rewind the tape, shifting the projector around to change the focus. Whatever he saw, Diego noticed the second time around, hesitantly unfolding himself from the countertop, mouth hanging open as he approached the screen in shock to get a better look. Elliot meanwhile, was thrashing about and struggling in his chair as if he still thought he could get away. It was distracting, and for a brief moment, Piper considered the lamp and returning the favor just to get him to calm down.

“This can’t be,” Five said, his focus fixed.

“Okay are you going to fill me in now?” Lila snapped. “What the hell is this shit we’re watching?”

“No that’s impossible,” Diego’s statement might have been a denial but his face seemed to say that whatever the realization the two Hargreeves had come to, it was as plain as the hair on their heads now.

“Clearly it’s not.” At least Five had the decency to sound awed at the new information.

Information Piper still didn’t understand.

“What…what is it?” Elliot asked from around the makeshift gag in his mouth.

The two remained transfixed on the grainy image in the center of the room.

“I gotta say I’m with Lila and Elliot on this one. You two might recognize the mystery blur, but the rest of the team’s,” she gestured around, “in the dark.”

“Dad…” they both said softly.

“Oh shit.”

To call what followed a discussion would have been giving far too much credit to the participants, and vastly underplaying the childishness of their sniping at each other.

“No, you’re jumping to conclusions,” Five said, pacing back and forth.

“What the hell else is he doing standing on the grassy knoll, holding an open black umbrella, on a sunny day, in Dallas, the exact same moment the president gets shot?” Diego shouted, gesticulating wildly at the screen.

“It doesn’t look good, I admit,” Five snapped back.

“I mean your father clearly had a thing for umbrellas, given the academy, tattoos, etc. so that could be nothing,” Piper drawled, inspecting her nails as the brothers went around and around in circles, physically and metaphorically. “Or it’s for shade, and maybe he’s there to watch or meet the president, like everyone else in Dallas? He’s not a supervillain, right?”

“You think it’s a coincidence? No. He’s the signalman for the whole goddamn thing.” Diego turned to face her, eyes ablaze. “And what would you know anyway? Who the hell are you?”

“I told you. Piper Rofa. I’m…a friend.”

“Bullshit.” From seemingly nowhere, he had drawn a knife, pointing it at her threateningly. “I saw your face while we were watching the footage. You know something.”

“I wish I did! I wish I could answer your questions or villain monologue or whatever it is you’re looking for. But I don’t know jack, except that the world is ending. It might be connected to Kennedy, it might not.” She shrugged, slapping her hands back down to her sides. “My father is dead, and he told me that The Umbrella Academy were the best chance at saving the world. So get your stupid knife out of my face, and figure it the hell out.”

“Who…?” Diego looked momentarily taken aback. “Who’s your father? How does he know about us?”

“Piper, don’t,” Five cautioned. “Now is not a good time to be bringing that up.”

She sighed, turning away from both of them and folding her arms around herself. “Hazel,” she admitted softly, almost apologetically.

She thought she heard Lila gasp and frowned at that, but there wasn’t time to address it as Diego seized her shoulder and slammed her into the nearby doorframe.

“Your father killed my…friend,” he hissed through clenched teeth, knife pressed to her throat and face in hers.

She rolled her eyes, undaunted. “Oh cry me river. Good people die all the time. Besides, that’s in the past…or the future? And I’m not him. Nor will killing me do anything, other than make a mess of this lovely apartment and delay what’s important. So can we focus back on your dad, who you apparently think is just as bad or worse than mine?”

He growled, pressing the blade harder into her neck, enough that she felt a thin trickle of blood, clearly not taking kindly to her opinion on the matter.

“Easy Diego,” Five interrupted, placing a hand on his brother’s arm and drawing him away.

Piper rubbed at her neck and shoulder where the majority of Diego’s weight had been, adding them to her growing catalogue of bruises to expect.

“Seriously,” Five sighed in exasperation.

“No, it makes sense,” Diego insisted, shifting instantly back to the topic of Reginald Hargreeves and JFK as if there had been no interruption at all. “This is what Hazel was obviously trying to tell you.”

His eyes flickered over to Piper and she shrugged. Lila stood up, offering to help her with the wound and hesitantly she accepted, both women leaving the brothers to argue.

“We have to stop dad from killing the president,” Diego declared dramatically.

Piper rolled her eyes and caught Lila doing the same. She frowned. There was something about this woman…something that set her teeth on edge but felt very familiar.

“Do I know you?” she asked.

“No. I don’t think we’ve met,” Lila answered with a smile that seemed to waver uncertainly. “But I can tell we’re gonna be good friends.”

Piper bit her lip, wanting to say more when Five’s voice cut through again.

“Dad’s clearly in Dallas, right? Let’s just go talk to him. Maybe he can help us fix the timeline.”

“That sounds like a terrible idea,” Piper muttered, brushing aside the rest of Lila’s first aid to return to the main room in case she had to referee between them.

“Dallas is a big place,” Diego pointed out. “We need to find him first.”

“Gee, if only we had some magical, old-timey way of finding people and their addresses.”

Piper tossed the October 1963 phone book at Five, “Or should I pull another fast one on the 911 operator?”

He dropped in on the table. “Let’s start simple, his name.”

Before he could, Diego had already opened the book and bent over it, scanning for ‘Hargreeves’ with increasing frustration. When they didn’t find it, Five suggested looking for his company instead.

“D.S. Umbrella Manufacturing Co.”

“Yeah, I know the name,” Diego shot his brother a look.

“Seriously, more umbrellas? I think it’s time to consider it was a fetish,” Piper joked, drawing a laugh from Lila and a disgusted shudder from Diego.

When they found what they were looking for, the two almost immediately turned to go, rolling up the screen and heading for the front stairs down into the showroom.

“He okay to leave here like that?” Diego asked quietly.

“Yeah, he’s fine. What about the girl?” Five answered.

Both men looked behind them to find Elliot, still tied and gagged, and Piper flipping aimlessly through a magazine, once again leaning back in a chair and resting her feet on the table, making it all to obvious  that she was eavesdropping. There was no sign of Lila.

“Shit,” Diego muttered, turning back.

Five sighed. Piper pointed over her shoulder to the darkroom closet Lila had scurried off to as soon as their backs were turned. He sat down across from her while Diego went to check on the other girl.

“Are you coming with us?” he asked, eyebrow raised.

“No. I think I’m going to stay here. We still need to find the rest of your family as fast as possible, and I have a few ideas. Plus something’s not quite sitting right with me that I want to follow up on. And I don’t think your brother likes me much.”

Five chuckled. “Diego doesn’t like many people.”

“He likes Lila a hell of a lot. You sure that’s not going to be a problem?”

“No, I’m not. But it’s one we can deal with later.”

She sighed, fidgeting with her hands on the table. “You wanna take my car?”

His expression softened, understanding the gesture of trust it was meant to be.

“No, I don’t want to draw attention.”

She raised an eyebrow.

“It’s a very flashy car, Piper.” The tone of his voice sounded almost like a scolding father, or like her mother’s not-quite-disapproval when she’d cut the picture out of a magazine and pinned it to her corkboard at fifteen. It made her smile sadly, rubbing at the sting of loss she hadn’t let herself feel completely yet.

Diego emerged from the cupboard, Lila following behind a few moments later.

“You three play nice now,” Five said, faux-sternly. Diego turned to him, surprised, but his face was blank, showing no sign that he might have just made a joke. “We’ll be back soon.”

~

Piper waited until Five and Diego had been gone for some time, and until Lila had finished painting Elliot’s nails, in case things went south – it would be rude to leave him with only two thirds of a mani-pedi after all.

“We need to talk,” she said sternly, setting aside the article she had been reading and sitting up to face the other woman, arms folded across her chest.

“About what?” Lila’s tone was the epitome of innocence and Piper found herself impressed. She was one hell of an actress.

“You’re Commission right?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Lila frowned in confusion.

Piper scoffed. “Oh please. My father was a Field Agent til he met Mom and settled down. But you knew that.” She cocked her head to one side in question, inviting Lila to deny it again. “He taught me how to spot another agent, in case they ever decided to use us to force him into un-retirement or something.”

Lila tensed, body movements subtle but still there, noticeable to a trained eye like Piper’s as she got ready to attack.

“You can relax,” Piper sighed, waving a hand in the air dismissively. “You don’t get in my way, I won’t get in yours. Or rat you out.”

“And what if our missions are incompatible?” Lila’s eyebrow quirked, finally dropping her ‘scared little crazy girl’ act completely.

“Still no reason to bring extra parties in. If it comes to that, we settle things the old fashion way, and may the best woman win.”

The two women locked eyes, sizing each other up, baiting each other. The air practically crackled with electricity. Elliot, still bound and gagged and distinctly uncomfortable, tried to mumble something as his eyes flicked frantically from one to the other. Surprisingly, Lila broke the stare first.

“Yeah sure, I’ll agree to that, at least for now.”

“Excellent,” Piper smiled wryly. “Like you said, I can tell we’re gonna be good friends.”

[maraudererasmut]

The explanation you gave to Sirius being mean makes sense but it just doesn’t show in the writing I guess

Normally, I don’t feel the need to defend myself when I see things like this, mostly because I know that lots of people have differing opinions and they are totally entitled to them! 

However, I can find parts of Black and White that clearly examplify all of the things that I said in my last response… 

 And I’m kind of confused that my writing ability is brought into question, because I can pinpoint all of these instances (and more) with ease. 

 So let’s break it down line-by-line, anon! 

 "For me, I see him as a very troubled person. He comes from a very wealthy, abusive family who solved all of their problems by throwing money at him.“

 ((Sirius’ family wealth is seen in Part 1)): 

 "Sirius Black, son the illustrious Orion and Walburga Black, is following in his parents’ footsteps as a curator of magnificent works of beauty.“ 

 ((Sirius’ absusive family can be seen in Part 16)): 

 "Before you ask, no, I’m not close with the other Blacks. They're… the only thing we share is the name. I’m not… well, I’m different. We don’t speak anymore. It’s better that way.“ 

 ((And Part 18)): 

 “Anyway…” Lily continued. “One of the main reasons that Sirius left was his parents. They were… well, they were cruel to him. They drank. A lot. It… never ended well…” 

 "Keep in mind, Lily and James both love and care for Sirius— There must be something they see in him that Remus hasn’t noticed yet." 

 ((Lily and James’ love for Sirius can be seen in Part 18 where Lily insists that Sirius is a nice person. She believes this strongly.)): 

 "He’s more than that, though, despite what the past few weeks have shown you…” 

 Remus responded with a laugh of his own, recalling the look in Sirius’ eyes at the coffee shop. He had seemed so apologetic, so genuine, so different from the gallery owner version of Sirius. 

 “I don’t doubt that…” 

 “I’m sorry about him, by the way. I swear, he’s not usually like this. He’s a really nice guy…” 

((Also in the same chapter, Lily shows Remus that she talks to Sirius outside of what the reader sees, and that Sirius is genuinely worried that he made Remus upset)): 

 “Good. Don’t worry, Remus. He’s not mad at you.” 

 Remus raised an eyebrow skeptically at Lily. 

 “You sure?” 

 “Positive. He doesn’t see this as your fault at all. As far as he’s concerned, he’s worried that he upset you.” 

“What? Upset me? How? Why would he think that?“ 

 “That’s what I keep telling him. Now we just have to wait for him to believe me. Things will be fine in a few days. The dust will settle and you two will be able to get back to… whatever it is that you call normal…” 

 ((And in part 25, Lily is absolutely convinced that Sirius would never take advantage of another person, almost as if she knows he’s a good guy…)):

 “Positive,” Lily said with absolute certainty, as if she had been there to verify. “Sirius would never do that. Never.” 

 Now, we can get to examples in the fic where Sirius has shown good qualities, such as caring for other people and putting them before himself: 

 ((In Part 2, Sirius offers Remus an interview after just meeting him. This isn’t really something most gallery owners would do)): 

 "I’m an artist, actually.” Remus’ cheeks were beginning to ache from his forced smile, but he kept it up. “I’ve been looking for the right gallery to show in for some time now.” 

 “Well then,” Sirius responded, his eyebrow raised ever so slightly, the corner of his mouth turned up. “You’ll have to stop by with your portfolio at some point. I’d be remiss if I didn’t give James’ friend an opportunity to show me his work.” 

He put a particular emphasis on the word friend, as if he was entirely aware of the fact that Remus and James had only just met a few moments before.  

((In Part 19, Sirius shows Remus a softer side of himself)): 

 "Thank you, Remus. Not… not just for the coffee… but for coming. Here. I… appreciate it.“ 

 ((In part 21, Lily says that Sirius has been telling her that Remus’ work is great)): 

 "Don’t worry so much, Remus, you’ll be fine. From what I’ve heard, the pieces you’ve made are great. People are going to love them." 

 ((In Part 22, Sirius notices that something is wrong with Remus, and immediately goes to try to take care of him, even when Remus says he’s fine)):

 "Remus, are you okay?” 

 Remus reached out a hand and pressed it into a black lapel. The fabric was so soft, he couldn’t help but run his fingers across it. 

 “Yeah, ’m fine,”………..“Are you okay?”

 “Yeah, I'm… I’m fine?” 

 Remus felt two surprisingly strong hands brace against his arms, and he leaned into the touch, his fingers still grazing soft material. 

 “Are you sure you’re okay?” Remus nodded aggressively, immediately regretting that decision. The room was feeling quite dizzy. 

 “Let’s get you some water…”

 Remus felt himself being guided across the room, he felt pressure on the small of his back, an open palm, fingers spread out. He liked that feeling. 

 ((Same chapter, Sirius realizes that kissing a drunk person without their consent isn’t right, and immediately dismisses himself from the situationa fter apologizing):

 “I— I shouldn’t have done that,” Sirius murmured, taking a step back, putting distance between Remus’ body and his own. “You’re not thinking straight… I shouldn’t… I’m sorry, Remus.” 

 ((In part 24, Sirius tells Remus he was worried about him. True, he’s not handling his emotions well, but he clearly cares about Remus)): 

 "You left without saying anything, you ignore my calls all day… Hell, I even went to your flat, Remus! I was worried about you!“ 

 ((In part 25, it’s revealed that Sirius took care of Remus while he was drunk, including cleaning up after he vomited and having his clothing (the only suit that Remus owns) dry cleaned by the time he woke up)): 

 “When the party was over, you were too drunk to go home on your own. James and I were fine with you staying, but Sirius had insisted…” Lily trailed off, recalling the events of that evening. “He brought you back to his place, saying he wanted someone to keep an eye on you. You… well, your alcohol didn’t stay down. Sirius helped you out of your messy clothes and put you to bed in his spare room. He had his assistant get your clothing dry cleaned early the next morning.” 

 Look. I’m not normally one to not accept critique of my work, but I’m fairly confident that I included enough instances of everything that I had discussed in my previous post within my actual fic. 

Throughout Black and White, Sirius is shown to be someone who has a short temper and who doesn’t handle his emotions well. He is also shown to be someone who cares about his friends and is capable of good things. I show my viewers a very limited perspective (through Remus) and I have put these characters through some challenges. 

Sirius is not handling things maturely, and he is acting out, but I don’t think it’s a valid assessment that I have painted him as "irredeemable”. I think instead of “it doesn’t show in your writing”, a better statement would have been “but I didn’t pick up on it throughout the story.” The evidence is there. Whether or not you noticed it does not mean that it is not included.

[porkchop-ao3]

A Thrill I’ve Never Known (Chapter 15)

Slow

We’re 15 chapters in; here’s a sprinkling of action... a very fine, stingy sprinkling. I did say this story was going to be slow burn lmao :’) 

(All chapters tagged with #ATINK and also posted on Ao3, username PorkChop)

 -

Arthur and I had sat ourselves down underneath a tree, he was leaning up against it and had taken his hat off to give me a good view of his face. I sat a few feet away in front of him, holding the paper he'd given me from his journal and a book about wildflowers and herbs that he'd given me to lean on. I observed him for a while as he settled, getting comfortable. He looked a little shy all of a sudden with my eyes on him, but he didn't say anything and just looked out towards where Rayna and Jet were grazing. 

When he was ready and seemed to have relaxed, I started sketching out some guidelines. I started with a light oval shape and a few lines to place his eyes, nose and mouth, then worked lightly as I started mapping out his features. I went over the same place a few times until I got the shapes as close as I could, slowly warming my wrist up and getting my artist's eyes back. When I drew for a while I would start to see things differently. Back when I'd draw myself the image in the mirror would turn into a collection of lines and shapes that could be more easily replicated than a face, but when I was drawing Arthur I could not lose his image. I was constantly reminded of who I was drawing; it required a little more effort and focus, but it was good practice. 

It certainly threw me back into the water when it came to drawing again. 

It was an interesting experience being able to really stare at him in a context where it was entirely appropriate to do so. I noticed things about him that I hadn't before; the scar on his chin, the dimple on the tip of his nose, the slight signs of his age in the form of creases around his eyes. All it served to do was make him even more attractive to me, and my hand would shake a little each time he met my eyes. 

My drawing certainly wasn't anything to write home about. I supposed you could tell that it was him but things were a little off; his eyes were definitely too big, his chin was too small, he was certainly better looking in the flesh, but it wasn't a terrible drawing. I worked on the shading, darkening the side of his face furthest from me where it was in shadow and put a little more detail into his eyes. Gosh, his eyes. I'd never be able to do them justice with a stick of graphite but I sure did enjoy trying. The longer I drew for, the more relaxed Arthur seemed to become and he kept his eyes on me more often than not. 

If felt strangely intimate, just sitting and drawing him, sharing eye contact as a breeze rolled through the grass. It was peaceful, too, with the sounds of tree branches rustling and songbirds flying overhead. It was lovely, really, and I found myself threatening to overwork my drawing simply so I could drag it out for longer. With a soft sigh I looked between Arthur and his graphite impression, pursing my lips. 

"I think I've worked on this all I can," I told him. "I guess it's okay, though it's not going to hang on anyone's wall."

"Did you enjoy making it?" He asked me and I nodded without hesitation.

"I really did," I grinned. 

"If you enjoyed it, that's all that matters," he said, putting his hat back on. 

"Thank you for sitting for me, you're an excellent model," I told him, resulting in a bashful chuckle. 

"If you say so."

I paused for a moment, looking down at my drawing and thinking about my next words. 

"Do you wanna see it?" I finally asked, nervous to see his reaction but wanting to share it all the same. 

"Really? I'd love to. Only if you're happy to share," he said. I turned the drawing around and tilted it towards him. Arthur looked at it, then moved away from the tree to scoot closer to me. 

Arthur studied the drawing for a moment, an unreadable expression on his face. 

"Wow, I ain't never seen a drawing of myself before," he noted, leaning in closer. With how I was holding the drawing it meant his head was above my lap, so close to me. "You did a good job, looks like me!"

"You think? I reckon I did you a little injustice," I snorted, flushing a little. 

"What'chu mean? Looks fine to me."

"You're better looking than that," I assured him and he glanced up at me. He only leaned back just a little when he noticed how close he was. He looked a little stunned, like he didn't know how to respond; so I saved him the trouble. "You got any tips for me?"

"Oh, I don't think it's my place. I'm hardly an expert," he said, looking back down at the drawing. 

"You're more skilled than I am, I'd say that makes you qualified enough. I'd appreciate the advice, since I'd like to draw more often," I said, watching Arthur run his thumb along his bottom lip. "Please?”

"Alright. I'm not really sure what to say, you've clearly got skill already but I guess if I was gonna give you some advice…” he trailed off and paused for just a moment. 

"I noticed as you were drawing, you tend to go over the same place over and over, I see what you're doing, I do it myself. You're feeling out the line," he pointed out the edge of his nose in the drawing as an example. "But you do it real quick every time, trying to get the line right in one quick stroke. Sometimes you gotta slow down a little, guide the pencil down slow as you look at what you're trying to draw. Either that or you do a series of shorter strokes, go in stages. Take a little pressure off yourself, take your time."

"Oh, I see what you mean," I nodded, turning the drawing to have a look at it myself. "That's definitely something I tend to do, the quick lines. It's sort of like I'm taking a stab in the dark and hoping it looks right," I laughed. 

"There's nothing wrong with it, it just might save you some hassle if you slow it down."

"Right," I agreed, absorbing his words. "Thank you, Arthur. Anything else?"

"Just keep at it," he shrugged his shoulders and looked up at me. "I'll keep my eye out for a sketchbook for you. Then maybe we can do this more often; come out and do some drawing together.”

"I'd really like that," I told him, failing to keep the grin from spreading across my face. Arthur was still so close, his eyes studied my face for a while, a certain warmth appearing in them.

"Yeah, me too," his voice was quiet and smooth, and he wasn't moving away. He was close enough for me to hear his breath and feel it too, and I was a little embarrassed to realise that must mean he'd notice my own breath pick up. 

Arthur licked his lips, glanced down at my mouth and a spike of hot, bright anticipation lit up my body. I was frozen still and yet he tilted his head and edged forwards. Something was about to happen, something that'd never happened to me and all I could do was sit there and panic on the inside. From my lips, his eyes moved back up to my eyes and he seemed to see something in them – probably the panic – because just like that, his head tilted back down to my drawing. He let out a breath, sort of like an awkward laugh mixed with a sigh, then he sat back to give me some space. 

What? No! No, no, no!

Had I imagined all of that? Was he actually just looking at a chunk of something stuck in my teeth? Probably. 

Idiot.

"I'm sorry, I–” he started, pausing to take out the pocket watch I'd gifted him. "I should be heading towards Valentine, I reckon." 

"Oh, of course. I'm sorry to have kept you," I said, clearing my throat and holding out his pencil and book. He took them from me very carefully, like he was conscious of avoiding contact with my skin.

"Nonsense, this was nice," he told me, then rose to his feet. I stood up too, quickly, so that he wouldn't feel obligated to offer his hand to help me up. "I'm sorry we never got to find that oleander."

"It's okay, I'll probably stick around here and look for some, since I'm already here." 

"You sure? And you'll be okay on your own?" He queried and I gave him a look. He remembered he was speaking to little miss lone wolf and chuckled. "That was dumb, I'm sorry."

I dismissed his concerns with a shake of my head. "Thank you for riding out with me, and for the paper and the art lesson."

"The pleasure's all mine, my lady," he dipped his head a little.

We stood facing each other for a few moments, not quite meeting each other's eyes. Something hung in the air and I was starting to think that perhaps I wasn't just imagining things; in which case, how disappointing that things hadn't unfolded in the way they seemed to have been going. He and I could've been rolling around in the grass together, his lips on mine, by now. 

"Uhh, anyway. I best be getting back to it. I'll see you back at camp," he eventually said, reaching out to give my upper arm a gentle squeeze and caress. I certainly didn't mind those little touches of his.

"Sure, see you later," I replied, my voice sounding much sadder than intended.

"You look after yourself, alright?"

"Will do. You too," I nodded. He gave me a little smile before slowly making his way over to the horses. He walked oddly, like he wasn't certain he was going in the direction he wanted; each foot being placed awkwardly and hesitantly. He turned and looked back at me as he went, and for lack of knowing what to do I gave him a silly wave, which he returned. 

He mounted Jet, giving me a final nod before setting off, leaving me to stand there watching him go… feeling like I wanted to punch something; preferably my own face. How could something have come so close and yet crumbled to dust so easily? Maybe if I had looked a little less terrified, maybe if I had leaned in too, maybe if I had said something when he looked back at me just then, maybe, maybe, maybe. 

With a quiet whine I stomped over to Rayna, putting my drawing of Arthur away in the saddlebag before mounting up. 

"How awkward did that look from over here, girl?" I whispered to her, patting her neck. She shook out her mane, and I wasn't sure what to make of that. 

With a wistful sigh I headed back to the trail, going in the opposite direction to Arthur to head towards Bayou Nwa, on a quest to find some oleander. 

-

When I rode back into camp that evening, saddlebags stocked with Charles' oleander, I noticed things looked sparse. Bedrolls were packed up, fires were out, some tents were already gone and others in the process of being pulled down. I dismounted my horse and jogged over to Dutch who was in his tent, speaking with Hosea. 

"What's happening, Dutch? Where's Arthur?" I asked him, worry creeping into my tone. Dutch looked up at me and sighed like I was an inconvenience, though perhaps that's all I was.

"Arthur has gone with Charles to scout out our new camp. We're moving."

"Why? Did something happen?"

"Of course something happened, now, I ain't got time for this so you can either clear off on your nag, or stick around and help us! It's time for you to choose your loyalties, I don't care either way," he snapped at me, clearly extremely stressed out, before getting up and stomping past me. 

I watched him go with widened eyes before turning back to Hosea who had a sad look about him.

"Don't take it personally, my dear, he's had a lot on his plate as of late," he told me wearily. I glanced in Dutch's direction before meeting Hosea's eyes again. "Though, he has a point. If you're going to leave us, now's the time to do it. No one'll be counting heads."

"And no one'll miss me, huh?" I chuckled, not taking it to heart. Hosea gave me a look, one that said that wasn't what he meant and I knew it.

"You're more than welcome to come with us. You've been a hard worker, but it's entirely up to you. I won't try to convince you either way," he continued, speaking through a sigh before rising to his feet and moving past me.

"Thanks, Hosea," I spoke after him. He paused to look over his shoulder at me and we shared a look for a few moments, a comforting smile passed between us before he left. 

I took a deep breath and turned, marching towards Susan. 

"Miss Grimshaw? Point me towards someone who needs my help."

[jennadorn]

Old Navy Denim

I’m 24 years old and I’ve just slept with a woman for the first time — and though it was by no means the sex of my dreams, so much so that I nauseously declined the morning after sex, I think about it regularly with fondness and a desperate sense of nostalgia. Because in my mind, it officially confirmed my physical and romantic attraction to my own gender. Or anyone with a vagina for that matter.

If I had to guess when my first “gay” thought occurred — (as if all thoughts aren’t inherently gay to some degree) it was likely during my childhood friendship with my next door neighbor, Jolie. During the five years that I lived across the street from Jolie, we were glued at the hip. Every day after elementary school, we’d run through the neighborhood together on a sour candy-induced high, pushing one another down the Doral Avenue hill on skateboards, ding-dong ditching the old prunes on our street. We’d celebrate Pesach and Hanukkah together; we’d swim in her pool until the warm hours of each summer day cooled into bittersweet evenings; we’d pretend to be grownups with British accents and lollipop stem cigarettes — we’d play house together (which I realize now is a fucked up game centered around internalized domesticity and the American idealization of the nuclear family, but that’s beside the point). During our bourgeois family shenanigans, I’d insist that we were married (fuck you patriarchy). And as innocent as this sounds — there was a feeling brewing within me that I couldn’t articulate then — but that I can finally characterize as a pure, but tragic crush.

As we grew older, Jolie, with her striking green eyes, flushed olive skin, and golden locks, blossomed and classically found popularity every direction she turned. Boys ogled at her, girls fought over their ranking friendship with her. And I, in my baggy, torn denim from the boys’ department of Old Navy, absolutely crushing it (not) with an endearing unibrow, and overcome with social anxiety, slowly faded into her peripherals, eventually becoming the shy, weird girl dressed in boys’ clothing — Gameboy Color or Judy Blume book always in hand — who she avoided eye contact with at all times.

This continued until high school, when I grew into my body, traded in my swim trunks for shorts that hardly covered my coochie, my books and journals for friends whom I had nothing in common with other than raging hormones and body image issues, and invitations to parties.

I tried to differentiate my feelings for boys and for girls: I liked boys, whereas I just experienced a strange combination of admiration and deep envy for some of the girls I hung out around. I hopelessly wanted to be them, maybe, not be with them. It was the sole explanation that I could rationalize. 

And sometimes when I’d look longingly at women holding hands and kissing in public, I’d force myself not to look. But then I couldn’t look away. And sometimes I’d just change my dating app preferences to women because I was only curious. If I were gay, I would have already come out, right? It would have been obvious to me. I would have had a relationship with a woman… I would have already slept with one. If I told anyone that I liked women now, I’d just look like a fraud. And maybe I was. And what if my friends became weird around me when I told them? So I buried. I buried myself inside my own discomfort and denied this mystifying void expanding faster than my own universe.

It wasn’t until I found some semblance of queer community with new roommates post-college, who I could gush about crushes to, who I could open up about my experiences to…and lack thereof, that I could acknowledge my sexuality. I was not doubted by them like I’d feared. My roommates were the only ones who knew initially, and with enough validation, I found the courage to go on dates with women.

Enter: Cameron

A baby-faced butch writer I met on Hinge. She mirrored me in passions and personality, mostly — until she quickly revealed a superiority complex bigger than her own head. She evoked in me waves of embarrassment and shame that I hadn’t even known existed, only within hours of meeting. It had been my fourth date with a woman.

We quickly descended into heated conversations about film and politics, our families, our dreams. Like the gays we were, we unpacked our birth charts — both of us scorpios — which could only explain the ensuing events. Our chemistry was so palpable that I had to physically placate the butterflies in my stomach with my hand. We flirted, teased one another about potentially making out later that night, and before leaving the bar, exchanged coming out stories (which was initiated by her because mine was clearly still TBD). She shamed me for not telling my parents, for not having a “story”. She didn’t understand my fear as a bisexual/queer person that others would think I was experiencing “just a phase”. She made me feel like an imposter for not having already coming out to everyone. Lastly, she was incredulous that I was interested in men. She’d responded with such inflated disbelief that it rendered me paralyzed and defenseless. And she made sure that I was aware of these facts about myself every succeeding hour.

Several spellbinding drinks deep, we wandered back to my apartment. We pushed each others’ buttons so precisely that it felt like we’d known each other for years. It wasn’t until I later re-assessed her digs, that I realized every cutting word seemed to refract a cruel, blinding shard of truth. She wasn’t teasing, but criticizing me. I’d brushed it off in the moment, much like one does with rose-saturated glasses. And then the shock of a verbal attack is finally processed, let alone absorbed, when you’re wide awake in bed that night, tossing and turning over the painful remarks etched into your memory. And you can only think of what you’d have said, reliving the moment over and over again, grasping for the missed, gratifying opportunity at calling someone out on the shit they gift you, adorned in a glittery bow and rainbow-themed wrapping paper.

Sprawled along my couch, I made the first move after she insisted that the ball was in my court. I either made the move or the night was over. So after enough nerve-numbing alcohol, I took her in my hands and brushed her lips. And we kissed some more. And some more. And suddenly she’s on top of me. We entreated to my room as the blanket of steam around us thickened. Under my satiny covers, I told her that I was unsure if I wanted to have sex. I prefer not to on the first date, or until I feel comfortable with someone inside of me. She willfully dismissed my explanation. She said that she might understand if it was a man I was in bed with, but this wasn’t the same. And it was clear I was comfortable with her. And wasn’t I having a good time? Why shouldn’t we have sex? I froze in shock. To placate her, I said that I’d let her know when I wanted to stop.

So we had sex. I was simultaneously enthralled…swooning…exhilarated that I was literally pussy deep in the reality that I’d denied for so long, and also heartbroken that it ensued over a crushing pressure that I’d experienced endlessly from men, and never expected to confront from another woman.

We fell asleep baby cheek to baby cheek and she spooned me all night. It was all so newly wonderful that I was nearly ready to look over each problematic chapter of our evening together. So when she was offended upon my asking her to leave the next day, and when she gaslit me after our second date which she assumed was ending with sex, I reluctantly cut all the ties with which she’d suffocated me (in a non-horny way). They say you never forget your first love, but hell hath no fury on your first lesbian romance.

[umccall71]

Decision of a Lifetime

Chapter 5: Better with you

Characters:King Liam x (mc) Queen Sexy

Rating:mature/NSFW

Word Count:

Disclaimer: All characters used are sole property of Pixelberry. I am simply borrowing them for entertainment .

Summary: Liam x (mc)Sexy knew they were destined for a lifetime together, but his world had other plans. The couple share a fateful night that would forever alter their future. Does fate stand strong together or banish his love to the shadows.

Warning:If you are reading this series, you are acknowledging you are 18 +.

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~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~||~~

Later that evening after the barn raising, Liam escorts Sexy back to her room to relax.

“Are you feeling okay my love?, he leans down and places a soft kiss to her cheek.

She stretches slightly, “I’m a little tight, but I’ll be fine Liam.”

Liam extends his hand to unlock her door when he hears the sound of a man clearing his throat.He turns to be met by the stern gaze of King Father , Constantine. “Father… what brings you here?”, he asks as if he was clueless to the bomb he had dropped on the royal family earlier that day.

“It’s getting kind of late… should you not be preparing for bed?”, Liam tries to redirect his father away from this line of inquiry.

“Liam… Lady Sexy… I caught the press appearance. Do you think it wise to parade your…”

“ I wouldn’t finish that thought if I were you”, he raises his hand to silence his father. “ Sexy my love… you go inside and i will be in there shortly. I promise I will help you relax”, he smirks before placing a kiss on her cheek.

Liam waits for the door to close before he acknowledges his father once more. He turns slowly facing Constantine eye to eye. Liam leads his father to his room in the same vicinity as Sexy’s. Constantine surveys the proximity of the two rooms, “ Liam, do you think this is wise?”

Liam opens the door to his room leading his father inside, he walks over to the bar cart and pours 2 fingers of scotch for himself and his father. “Should you be drinking at all in your current health?”

Constantine lifts the tumbler from his son’s hand and sips the Macallan 12 year old scotch.His face flashes a grimace as the burn of the drink makes its way down his throat. “Drinking a good scotch is the least of my health concerns.”

Liam shakes his head dismissing the former king’s comment. He sits on the couch in his sitting area, he gestures for Constantine to sit down beside him.Liam sighs, “ I love to discuss a good scotch as much as the next man but I’m sure that’s not what’s brought you here after sundown.”

“Son, you know you could have made Sexy your…”, he trails off.

“Madeleine has already suggested me keeping Sexy as a hidden lover”, he scoffs, “ Sexy is the woman I love and she’s the best woman for me . Father… I don’t see how you could come to me championing me marrying Madeleine.Its my choice to marry Sexy … and that’s all there is to it.”

“Liam… you know of Cordonia’s enemies. I only want you to be prepared ruling alongside a fitting woman.. a fitting queen. It’s not that I don’t like Sexy, she’s a lovely woman… but she’s not ready to rule as queen”, he tries to persuade his son of what he considers the best option.

“Enough!... I have heard enough of this talk. You chose Regina after my mother was poisoned… but you chose her willingly. Madeleine was forced upon me although she had already been engaged to and dismissed by Leo. He preferred to abdicate rather than marry that cold bitch… she’s not the queen for me. I am going to stand beside the woman I love… the woman that is my destiny. Sexy is more than the woman i love”, he pauses considering whether to share something so personal. “Sexy is carrying my child… your grandchild. We just learned of the pregnancy, but we are elated at the news. I have to follow my heart and be the best man to my child .. especially to Sexy. I’m tired of leaving her behind to perform before the court with Madeleine on my arm.I have to be true to myself and forge my own path forward.”

“Liam you need…”, he cut off abruptly.

“ I need to get back to my fiancée… the mother of my child to make certain they are alright”, he smiles but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes.Liam senses that this is not the end of this discussion. “We need to clear her name of this ridiculous scandal, but that will not dissuade me from marrying her regardless. Once our people witness her in action , they will come to accept her as they did before… even not being of Cordonian blood”, he breathes deeply, “ now I wish you a good evening.I need to get packed for the train leaving in the early morning hours, but I am needed elsewhere right now.”

Constantine nods before showing himself out, hiding the look of disdain behind his eyes. “ Good night son.”

A short while later Sexy heard a tap on her door, she went to answer where she was met by the most beautiful set of blue eyes smiling down at her lovingly. “I’m all yours love… sorry it took so long.” Sexy steps aside allowing Liam to gain entry into her bedroom.Liam wraps her in his arms, leaning his forehead to rest upon Sexy’s head. “God I love you so deeply”, he whispers tenderly, “ you know that right?”

Sexy closes her eyes , relishing his warmth being projected and felt so perfect. She bats her lashes , flashing her hazel eyes. “ I know you love me my king, but… what’s brought this on?”

Liam leans forward, thumbs gently grazing the skin of her cheek and lips.

“Mmmm”, she moans out.

Liam leads Sexy to the bathroom where he turns on the water in the luxurious tub, filling with steamy water and jasmine scented bath oil. Without saying a word, he starts to peel away the layers of soft fabric that serve as a barrier between his hands and her soft skin.Liam feels goosebumps peppering her skin as he gently kisses each exposed area. When the last bit of lace is removed from her inner thighs and ass, he breathes in her scent deeply. “ Mmm… you smell amazing my love”, he guides her body into the fragrant warmth of the water. Sexy sinks deeper into the bubbles , eyes watching intently as liam strips down to display his chiseled abs and sculpted chest. Sexy bit her lip as she watches him unclad his bottom half , removing his trousers and promptly follows with his underwear.

Sexy’s gaze grows in its intensity, feeling her core permeating from an arousal so deep, her nerve endings are on fire. She slides forward making room for her king to join her in blissful warmth. “This is amazing Liam… I can’t believe that your here in my room , sharing this bath”, she utters in disbelief.

“ Believe it.. my place is with you.. I’ve known it from start, now the whole of Cordonia knows it too”, he smiles as he leans down and gently nuzzles her neck. “I informed my father that my decision has been made… we are going to have our future together, I promise.”

They share the quiet pleasure of just being together. Liam’s hands massage Sexy’s shoulders tenderly.She leans into his touch as he kneads her flesh, knots slowly escaping her body.He whispers, “ Sexy I would love to properly celebrate our new circumstances. We have so much to celebrate … the new baby… our being back together… our engagement.”

“You are so right Liam… a lot has changed in the last several days, we should properly express our joy”, she sheepishly grins.

Liam stands up from the water and holds out his hand to help her out of the tub.Sexy notices the glint of lust and wanting in his eyes. She knows the reasoning for her denying him … is no more. Here he stood before her as her fiancé… her king… the father of her child...the man that would become her husband.

He steps out of the tub and silently turn to face his betrothed, he leans down and scoops her up into his waiting arms. He grabs a towel and cast it over her wet skin as he makes his way to the room and … to her bed. Liam’s eyes scan the length of Sexy’s body as he carefully dries her and reaches for the moisturizing cream. Sexy’s head falls back into the bed as she feels Liam’s hands working her body head to toe.She melts beneath his touch with every tantalizing feeling of pressure falling from her body, she’s his in every way. “Liam”, she pants out. Sexy feels her desire growing exponentially with surveying his naked form in front of her eyes.

“Liam… I want you so badly right now”, she feels his mouth wrapping around her toes as he drove his fingertips into the arch of her foot.

“ In due time my love… you will have me.. every inch of me”, he chuckles in a deep groan. “ I can’t wait to feel your body wrapped around me and I will never leave you unsatisfied.”

Liam kisses his way down her calf as he extends her leg in the air. She feels his tongue gliding along her inner thigh making his way to her wanting center.He teases her , moving in an agonizingly slow pace, taunting her body as pleasure builds. “ Liam… what are you doing to me?”, her breath hitches feeling the need inside of her body grow.He stares down at her through hooded eyes, she teases his fully erect swollen length. Liam was blessed in that department, he had length and girth that he was all too happy to use to please the woman he loves. Sexy bites her bottom lip , toying with his manhood , urging him to come together as one.Liam leans down capturing her lips in a searing kiss. His tongue motioned slowly across her lips as he gently penetrates her lips dancing with her warm tongue . They felt the heat forming over each inch of exposed skin as they swallow each other’s breath. She feels Liam’s hands slide between her thighs, fingers softly massaging her pearl to wetness from her piquing desire.

“ Look at me love… do not look away.. watch my eyes. I want to watch you as you come undone by my touch. I want to watch you cum for me love.”, he whispers against her lips. “Do you understand me love?”

Sexy’s body quivers beneath his weight, “oh god yes … yes my king.” He can feel her walls gripping.. pulling his fingers in deeper. He curls his fingers slowly and gently torturing her spot while his thumb delivers a deepening pressure building against her clit. “I’m about .. i'm about to cum Liam.”

“He sucks her lip gently, “ come for me my love”, he groans working her body , chest rising and falling, her sex building against his manhood, she moves her hips against him. She was willing him to bury his length deep inside of her body.Liam increases his pace between her legs.Just as Sexy was about to release her growing heat, Liam lunges inside of her in one deep thrust. Sexy’s body gives way to a gush of wetness, her floodgates opened wide. “ Fuck Liam”, he stifles her scream with his tongue forcefully making his way into her mouth. Sexy rides her release while Liam continues to make her core crest over and over. He thrusts into her deeper and harder, pressure building as she feels her innermost heat momaway from another release .

“Damn Sexy… your so tight.. you feel so damn good”, he groans , “I can’t believe I get to make make love to you for the rest of my life.”

Sexy’s grips his shoulders, pulling him closer, wrapping her legs around his waist allowing for deeper access to her throbbing sex. She lifts her hips meeting every thrust delivers in agonizing pleasure. Her hips ripple like waves surrounding his length, her walls giving way to another mounting flood of pleasurable delight. She runs her nails down his sides , Liam feels an uncontrollable desire for her in each touch.

“ You Love it when your king is inside you.. don’t you?”, he tries to put forth a command of his senses.

“Ohhhhh… liam yes… I love feeling you fuck me”, she snaps, she locks his shoulder between her teeth biting down ever so softly. This sends Liam over the edge.. “ damn baby, I’m..”, his words escape him as he feels the perfect unison of her body release beneath his body. To feel both his and Sexy’s wetness meeting in pleasant sensations overtaking all their senses. Liam felt her wetness coating his length as she milks his manhood within her walls. Her body jerks uncontrollably as he too gives into the tightening of his core and his bliss.

Liam collapses beside Sexy, drawing her body near to him… lost in endless kisses. They are lost in endless I love yous.They lay there legs entwined together in sated pleasure. Liam’s finger tips lazily drawing absent circles on her slick skin.

Sexy feels the heaviness of her eye lids trying to fight the sleep that has laid upon her head. She glances over and notices that it’s well after 1am. “What time does the train leave Liam?”, she drifts in and out of consciousness.

“ The train is set to pull out at 6 am, we should definitely get some sleep…have you packed?”, he asks inquisitively.

“Almost… I still have a few more things that I need to get together”, she kisses his chest. “Have you packed, or is the staff handling that task.”

He frowns, “ the staff will pack for me, but i still need to pull out the items I wish to have included.”Liam pulls her frame on top of his body , arms enveloping her frame. “ I need to let you get some rest, but I must head back to my room to get things in order”, he hesitates to sit up in the bed, “I will see you shortly my love. The royal motorcade will see us to the train and we will of to Italy.”, he sighs contentedly. “ You will be able to nap on the train, but until then my love…. sleep.”

Liam slips his clothing back on before leaning down to kiss her good night. “ Your adorable when your tired love”, he laughs. “ I love you… he leans down and kisses her belly, “ and daddy loves you too.”He walks over to the door and glances back smiling .. he can’t believe this is now his life. Sexy whispers into the pillow, “ good night my king,”

A slip of paper catches his attention by the door, “ what’s this?” He flips the note open and reads ,

Meet me in the boutique of the train at 5 pm…. O.

Liam looks to Sexy whom has now gave in to her weary , tired body. “ She needs to rest … she’s taking care of our baby.”, he murmurs to himself, careful not to disturb her. “ I will get to bottom of this...good night my love.”, he whispers and head to his own room. Wondering what fresh hell is being thrown at his love….

[winterverses]

Walking Wounded - Chapter Sixty-Nine

Carol looked great, as always, and Kirk had told her so when they’d sat down. She’d brightened, but they’d headed straight into work conversations, the torpedo refit taking precedence over everything else. She’d been right-- her design would have helped in the initial encounter with Krall’s drone ships. Not enough, he judged, but it would have helped. Not wanting to dwell on that thought too long, he’d changed the subject slightly, asking about her work. She was doing well, he was glad to hear. Life wasn’t as exciting as it could be on the Enterprise, but the stability made it easier for her to keep up with current research. Carol had always had an insatiable need for information, and sometimes the predicaments of shipboard life meant she didn’t have as much time as she needed to stay abreast of new developments.

“I was thinking about trying for a post on the Enterprise again once the deployment cycle is complete,” she’d said, stirring her drink with her straw.

The sentiment wasn’t surprising. It was amazing how often people who left the Enterprise wanted to come back, especially in light of how dangerous life on board could be. What did surprise him was that she wasn’t ears-deep in some new project already. “You know I’d be glad to have you back. Chekov is on weapons and security specialties right now, figured it would be useful when he goes for Captain down the line, but you were the best with tactical theory and weapons applications. He could learn a lot from you.”

She smiled a little half-smile, one that he recognized as her trying and failing to be modest. He’d always thought that was cute. “I’ll give it some serious consideration. The way the deployment cycle works, I can either oversee it, or I can start development on something new, but it’s nearly impossible to do both. Another year or two on board the Enterprise would give me enough time to start something new, and if I could transfer to a base for the end-stages of research and the deployment phases… well, let’s just say it would be worth it for me. And you? What do you think?”

“Are you asking me as Captain, or are you asking me as your crewmate?” She gave him a noncommittal smile, so he just decided to jump in with both feet. “As a crewmate, you’re part of the family. That hasn’t changed. As Captain…  If you’re thinking about leaving me high and dry every couple years, I’d want some guarantees.”

“Like what?” Carol asked.

His communicator chose then to chirp at him. Frowning, he flipped it open. “Kirk here.”

“I’m so sorry, I didn’t want to bother you but Spock and Nyota are coming over for dinner and drinks. If you like, I can chase them out before you get home, or ask them to stay later. Your choice.”

Anne. He could hear her embarrassment at interrupting him, and couldn’t help a grin. “No problem. Tell them I’ll be home later. If they want to see me they’ll stay. Anything else?”

“Nothing. Enjoy yourself.”

“Kirk out.” He flipped the communicator shut, and was surprised to see Carol pressing her lips together, looking a little hurt. “What?”

“You’re living with her?” She immediately backtracked. “I know it’s stupid of me, but… I thought I knew you better than almost anyone. This is really surprising, Jim.”

“It’s a long story,” he said. If he’d been a different person, he might have tried to minimize Anne’s presence, but that was a little more deceitful than he wanted to be with his friends. “But yeah. Until I go back out. After that…” He shrugged.

“I’d heard that you were acting strange. And the things you read in the news…” Carol shook her head. “Of course I don’t believe them. But it’s just so far from how I remember you.”

Frowning, Kirk sat back in his chair. “I doubt you’ve stayed exactly the same. Changing is part of getting older, isn’t it?” Her agreement was tepid at best. “Can I ask you something personal?”

Carol sipped her drink, giving herself a moment before answering. “You can ask me whatever you like, Jim.”

“Is this an ex thing? I mean, had A-- Ms. Hardesty not shown up, I would have jumped at the chance to spend my time here with you. You’re still one of the most amazing people I know, and I know a lot of amazing people. But were you thinking that we might still have had more?” Briefly he wondered if that had been the reason she’d considered trying for a post on the Enterprise again, then dismissed it as unworthy of her. Carol would never stoop to accepting a post specifically for benefits to her love life. She was too ambitious for that.

Carol looked out the window to where the Enterprise hung, graceful in her sleeping weightlessness, her arched neck and sweeping nacelles tended to by little clouds of workers. “I’d considered it. I won’t lie, it was one of the possibilities of being back aboard ship. You’re one of the best men I know, Jim. I’d have to be dead not to have some hopes.” She looked back to him, her eyes calm and contemplative. “If I hadn’t left, we’d still be together.”

“Probably,” Kirk said, and he couldn’t help the hint of disapproval in his voice. That was taking a lot for granted, wasn’t it? “Nothing is ever set in stone.” What if he’d met Anne while he’d still been with Carol? He couldn’t imagine what kind of mess that could have been. Or, well, it could have been nothing.

From his perspective now, that seemed pretty unlikely. Ignoring those silvery eyes of Anne’s felt impossible.

“But we were happy. Weren’t we?” Carol shook her head. “I’m being so selfish asking this, and I know it, but hearing about all this makes me wonder how happy you actually were with me. Especially if you’ve moved in together, and you’re having dinner parties, and… it’s just not what I expect from you. And the other things make me worry about you. What if she wasn’t innocent? They’re saying she murdered women--”

“Carol, stop,” he said gently. When she did, slowing to a halt, he continued. “I don’t know what you want out of this. I was happy with you, yeah. She makes me happy too, but they’re completely different relationships. Comparing them would be like comparing warp cores to apple cores. And I know I should shut this line of thought down right here. It’s not a good idea for either of us to drag out old relationship stuff. But... I don’t want you to worry about me so I’ll answer a couple of things.”

“That would make me so much more comfortable,” Carol said. “I know part of this is selfish, but I don’t want to worry about you either.”

“You don’t have to.” He hoped. “About her-- she’s no more dangerous than you are. Don’t you trust my judgment?” Carol nodded. “Good, because I dated you too, and you didn’t turn out to be a murderer.” Just deceptive, when it would get her what she wanted. That wasn’t a bad thing, so long as his interests intersected with hers. Come to think of it, was Ella the only woman he had a longstanding relationship with who was as upfront as he was? Even Uhura had her moments.

Then again, he had his moments too. Maybe Ella was just the only straight shooter he knew.

“I just can’t help worrying, Jim. This is really odd, coming from you. It’s a big change.” She brushed a lock of hair out of her eyes. “Yes, there are aspects that are more selfish than I’d like, but what would you think if I suddenly quit my research, or if I became devoutly religious? You would worry.”

“I don’t think it’s quite that bad.” He paused, wondering whether he should continue, but… it was Carol. If there was one thing he could count on, it was that Carol would try to understand where he was coming from. She always had, even when he’d been partly responsible for the death of her father. That was something he could easily have seen her holding against him, despite his lack of choice in the matter. He decided to keep talking. “I don’t think it is, anyway. I don’t know. To be honest, Carol, everything’s been moving so fast that I’ve just been doing what feels right.” He shrugged. “It was supposedly a bad idea, getting involved with her. Everyone’s been telling me that from the beginning. There’s been all this pressure on every side, from Starfleet, from my senior staff, from that-- that waste of life that kidnapped her, and then there’s her, and she needed someone, and no one else was stepping up.”

Carol smiled, a bittersweet expression. “You really do care. I’m not… I’m not elated about that, exactly, because it raises a lot of questions about us for me, but if it’s been worth it, Jim…”

“I don’t know. And I won’t know until it’s all over.” He laughed bitterly, looking down into his drink. “She and I knew, going in, that there were things that were more important to us than any relationship, and that in the end those things were going to separate us whether we liked it or not. You would think that would put some distance between us, keep it light-- but that’s not how it’s worked out. I keep wondering if she couldn’t just bend, if she couldn’t just… get used to shipboard life. She’s not writing. It hasn’t come back. If she can’t write, there’s no reason she can’t just… stay. She could adjust. And then I catch myself thinking that and wonder how I could be considering the upsides of something that would be so devastating for her… That puts me on the same line of thinking as that piece of shit that told her he was going to force her to have his kid. That same kind of selfishness at the expense of someone else, and someone I care about so much.”

It was out. He shouldn’t have said it, shouldn’t have even thought it, but it was out, and it felt good not to have it lurking in the back of his mind anymore. He shouldn’t have said it, shouldn’t have thought it, and he knew that he shouldn’t have laid it on Carol, who had her own problems with the situation… but it had been building ever since he’d gotten Anne back, that knowledge that his own desires were betraying him, that what he wanted from her was something that could wound her deeply.

Carol reached over and touched his hand. “Oh, Jim.” When he looked up at her, he could tell she was hurt by his admissions, but stronger than that was her sympathy, the understanding he had hoped for. “Have you talked about it with her?”

“No. How could I? She’d be so hurt. I couldn’t lay that on her, not after everything else that’s happened. I’ve been trying so hard to make sure she knew she could trust me, how could I turn around and just throw all that out?” He threw back the last of his drink, beckoned to the server for another one. “Besides, it’s not my choice what happens. I’m not giving up the Enterprise, so there’s nothing left for me to say.”

The server came and laid down his drink while they were silent, thinking their separate thoughts. After he’d left, Carol sighed. “This may come back to haunt me, but… you should tell her anyway. Not that you want her to lose her livelihood, because that doesn’t sound like it’s true at all, but that you want her to stay if she can. You’re due some concessions from Starfleet. She’s got a rank. If you could make it work, and it would make you happy, then you should talk about it with her and see what she has to say.”

It took him a few moments to answer. “I don’t know, Carol. This was supposed to have an ending. We knew that maybe it wouldn’t be the happiest ending, but knowing that eventually it would just disappear meant I could do whatever I wanted without worrying about consequences down the line. If it doesn’t end, then I’m in a relationship that’s way more serious than I’m ready for.”

Even as he said it, he was wondering whether it was true. It felt so natural with Anne. The demands she made of him were weighty, but relatively few: she needed to feel safe; she needed to be in control of her own life; she wanted his affection and trust. He could handle that. All the rest, like where they lived and what they did and who they slept with, was secondary. And what did he ask of her in return?

Her attention, her time, her affection, her consideration. Her trust. She lavished those things on him. Her acceptance of how important the Enterprise and its crew was in his life. That wasn’t a problem, beyond the obvious. Her ability to look at him as a person separate from his command without denying how vital the command was to him. That, most of all, set her apart from anyone else. Sometimes when he was with her, it was hard to imagine things being any other way. Did that mean he was more ready for something permanent than he thought?

While he thought it over, Carol regarded him evenly, then finally sighed, her shoulders slumping. “Does she know how lucky she is?” she asked, her voice wry.

Kirk’s smile echoed her tone. He knew what he’d done to her. He could only be grateful that they were good enough friends, even now, that she’d put aside her own feelings for what she thought would be best for him. “Would it make it better or worse if she did?”

“Worse… but better, in the end.”

“She never forgets it. Goes out of her way to make sure I know that.” He knew what she would ask next. “Yeah, she’s good to me. Maybe a bit too good sometimes.”

“At least I know you’re in good hands, then,” Carol said. “I hope things work out for the best for you, no matter what that is.”

“That means a lot, Carol. Thank you.” Kirk paused, then added, “I guess this means you haven’t been so lucky.”

“Not that lucky, no, but you know how I am, Jim. I can barely find time to eat, let alone have wild romances. Even when it was the two of us, you were the one doing most of the romancing.” Her eyes were misty with wistful remembrance. “I was always so grateful for that. I’ve always been too busy with work. If that was what you really wanted--”

“Hey, let’s not start second-guessing,” Kirk said. “We broke it off because there were things that were more important to us than relationships, but I was happy with you. Just because it wasn’t what you’re seeing now doesn’t mean it wasn’t good. Like I said, if this thing with Anne hadn’t blindsided me, I would have jumped at another chance.”

“That’s good to know… and a little bad, too. I don’t like wondering what might have been, but I guess there’s no help for it.” She finished the last of her drink, then looked up at him, worried. “You’re not going to be in trouble over this, are you? Being out with me, I mean.”

“No. She’s, uh… she’s not the jealous type.” It would be a terrible idea to tell Carol that Anne had encouraged him to sleep with her. Carol wasn’t like Vergne. “I know you probably won’t go for this, but if you want, you’re welcome to come over for dinner sometime and get to know her a bit. Not that I think you’d be best friends or anything, but if you think it would help…” He thought briefly. “Or we’d been planning a party. I know everyone else would love to see you.”

“I’ll think about it. I’m pretty busy right now.” Finishing off her drink, Carol glanced at the clock, and then said, “You should probably go, though. Spock and Uhura will be waiting, and I have to get back to work early tomorrow.”

“All right.” Standing, he helped Carol out of her chair and gave her a hug, kissing her cheek. “I’m glad we talked. And… I’m glad you’re all right with this, or at least as much as you can be.”

“I want you to be happy, Jim. If that’s not with me, that’s a possibility I accepted when I left the Enterprise.” She gave him a crooked smile. “Go on. We’ll get together in a few days. I’ll call you.”

He nodded, and headed out of the bar to the rail system, where he hopped a train for home.

About halfway through the ride, however, he got an itchy feeling at the back of his neck. Something was ringing alarm bells. Instead of finishing his ride, he got off at the next stop, stepping behind a column on the platform to see if he could figure out who it was that was giving him the creeps. The old man with the hat? One of the younger men, the one with the padd in his hand? What about the woman who’d started to scan the platform as soon as she’d stepped off the train, looking for someone?

It was impossible to tell. Avoiding being seen by any of them, he walked a short ways down the street, then ducked into a transporter booth and set it for one of the entertainment districts. As soon as he materialized on the other side, the feeling vanished, but to be safe, he took an aircar to another transporter and materialized just around the corner from the apartment.

It was worrying. Maybe he was being paranoid, but he’d rather find out for sure. As he walked past the security checks on the way in the building, he pulled out his communicator, contacting Ops to request some discreet surveillance. If there were people following either him or Anne, he needed to know who they were. And he needed to get Anne that communicator.

Nice.

[slytherindragonfly]

Prejudiced - Pt. 10

Masterpost of previous parts

Recap: Having had to brew Amortentia in potions class and having smelled your scent in there, Sirius was forced to come to terms with the fact that he might just like you more than he had intended to. But just what is he going to do about it?

Word count: 5.6k

Warning: Bullying (not of the reader!)

A/N: Sooo... after this story has been two years in the making, it has finally come to an end. I can’t thank everyone who has dropped a nice comment about it enough, I also cannot believe how wonderful everyone has been with me and the ridiculously long hiatuses, the constant teasing that I might post and then turned out not to... No one has ever made me feel bad about those, no one has ever pressured me and for that I thank you all from the bottom of my heart. It didn’t sit right with me to have never given this story a proper ending, and it might have taken some time, but it is finally here. I really hope you enjoy reading this.

Tagging (anyone who has ever asked even if a long time ago, just ignore this if you’re no longer interested!): @justagingerlivinglife @ihatenewusernames @abundanceofcarolines @fantasticchaoticwho @kararanae23 @aestheticallymarauderss @hello-fanfiction-goodbye-grades @livingwith50catsseemsfine

Right after classes, Sirius had gone to the library to catch you there. So, when he had realized you weren’t there, frustration started creeping up on him, building up as he made his way back to the Gryffindor tower. He’d spent all day not listening the slightest bit in class, trying to figure out what his next move should be, or actually attempting to decide if he should make a move at all. 

Remus had urged him to talk to you, and usually Remus had been known to be bizarrely insightful with this kind of situation, but this time something didn’t sit right. He’d always gone to girls as soon as he figured out he was attracted even in the tiniest, wobbliest way, but now for the first time he was considering taking it slow. Perhaps it was best trying to see if you fancied him back before attempting anything. Perhaps you not having been in the library like you’d said you would be was a sign he should read  into, or whatever his divination handbook would say.

Then again, as fate would have it, as soon as the thought had bloomed in his mind, he spotted you sitting on one of the benches by the courtyard, reading. The afternoon sun shone on your face like a spotlight singling you out from everyone and everything around, and in the span of a single second, his resolve to let things run their course organically completely dissolved. Had he been the slightest bit self-aware, he would’ve noticed how his heart picked up its pace as he made his way to you.

“Y/N!” he called to make you look up.

“Hey Sirius,” you smiled as he plopped down next to you, closing your book.

“I went by the library like you said and couldn’t find you there. If I didn’t know better, from this episode and you being in such a rush earlier in the hospital wing, I’d say you’ve taken up avoiding me,” he teased nonchalantly.

“Sorry about that,” you chuckled. “I’m waiting on someone before I head up to the library and he’s running late, so you can blame it on him if you wish.”

“I see,” he nodded, “And just who might the lucky fellow be?” he asked, trying not to come off as too curious.

He saw a flash of... something in your eyes, but you didn’t get the chance to reply.

“That would be me,” a dry voice answered.

Sirius looked up to see Severus was now standing next to you, books in hand and the same emotionless expression as ever on his face. In that moment, he understood how fires must feel when you choke them out by throwing a blanket on top of them.

“Sorry I was late, are you ready to go?” he added, to you only this time.

“Listen mate, don’t you see we’re in the middle of something? You made her wait, now take a number and go back down the queue, will you?” Sirius instantly brushed him off.

He did not like having him there when he didn’t know if the next words out of his mouth would be to ask you out.

“I can answer for myself, thank you very much Sirius,” you told him, and he noticed your smile had faded and your voice had tensed the way posh people’s voice did when they were mad.

Oh god, I don’t know if I could handle a posh girlfriend, he thought to himself, starting to panic from things not going the way he had planned. So much so he didn’t even think twice about mentally using the term ‘girlfriend’.

“Sirius just wanted to talk to me about something, but I’m sure it’ll be really quick, you don’t mind waiting do you?” you asked him much more politely.

He nodded. “I didn’t know you were friends with... his kind,” he commented coldly.

“Oh, piss off Snivellus,” Sirius rolled his eyes. 

“Sirius!” you scolded him, surprised. “What’s the matter with you?!”

“The matter with me?” he scoffed. “Why don’t you ask him that question, coming here interrupting us and acting all high and mighty like he’s not the bloody embodiment of filth,” he replied, getting worked up by the second.

Your mouth gaped open at his reaction. He could tell you really weren’t pleased with how the situation was escalating, but he was starting to get mad from Snape being there, and he could almost feel his self-control escaping him. 

“Charming as ever, Black,” Severus mocked him. “Where is the rest of your band of insufferable dimwits today? I thought you only flocked together like a pathetic little pack of strays.”

“Severus!” you exclaimed, stunned at how vicious the spat was turning.

“Oh you’re going to regret this mate,” Sirius warned, whipping out his wand and pointing it as Snape.

“How adorable of you to think you can take me on your own,” he snickered dryly. “You’re not even the second best out of the four of you.”

Sirius was nearly fuming with rage, and students were starting to gather around, anticipating a duel. Before Snape could even motion to grasp his wand properly, Sirius cast the knockback jinx on him, sending him to the ground.

“Flipendo!” he enunciated, his voice devoid of pity. A chorus of gasps and cheers erupted around them. “You have some nerve, attacking my friends when you don’t even have any of your own, Slytherin scum,” he spat, raising his wand once more. “Now this next jinx ought to teach you to hold your tongue, Snivellus. Langlo-”

“Expelliarmus!”

Before he’d finished pronouncing the jinx, his wand had gone flying out of his hand. He turned to see who was responsible, and he was met with an intolerable expression in your eyes, or intolerable to him at least. Instantly coming down from the high of his anger, he realized he’d completely lost sight of what he’d meant to be telling you. 

Before anyone could say anything, the resounding voice of Professor McGonagall resonated throughout the courtyard. Sirius had seen her angry plenty of times, but he knew this time was worse.

“Sirius Black, just what do you think you’re doing exactly, raising your wand against a fellow student?” she asked blazing through the crowd. “Since apparently all my warnings have gone unwarranted, I’ll let the Headmaster deal with you this time around,” she ordered, her angry stare scaring away the crowd that had gathered, leaving only him, Snape and yourself around. 

“Mr. Snape, did you cast any spells?” she asked him harshly, lowering her gaze to him as he was still on the ground, harbouring a blank expression Sirius knew was meant to cover up his rage and humiliation. 

“No, professor,” he replied smugly.

“Then what are you still doing here? Get on up and go, for Merlin’s sake,” she dismissed him, and he reluctantly walked away.

“What about you, Miss Y/L/N?” she asked, stern.

“I only casted the disarming charm so he’d stop, professor,” you answered, your tone levelled. 

“The both of you will follow me to Professor Dumbledore’s office then,” McGonagall ordered, and started walking away.

“What? How is that fair, I-” Sirius heard you start, but you were immediately cut off.

“Save your justifications for the Headmaster. No matter your intentions,  rules were broken, fundamental rules of this school at that,” McGonagall retorted, not bothering to stop in her tracks.

Sirius tried to meet your eyes, but you made it impossible for him, averting your gaze instantaneously. How the bloody hell did I fuck up this bad? he asked himself internally, feeling like he was collapsing on himself. Somehow, he’d managed to break his own heart.

He sulked all the way up to Dumbledore’s office, thinking over and over how he’d completely erased any chance he could’ve had at you liking him back.  He couldn’t help but think how you’d get punished because of him, and how he’d come to know these things really affected you. 

“Lemon drops,” McGonagall said once the revolving statue had been reached. 

She escorted the two of you upstairs, and you all found Dumbledore sitting behind his desk, writing with what appeared to be the longest, whitest quill known to wizard. Fawkes was perched by the side of the desk. Every time Sirius had wound up in the headmaster’s office, which there was no shortage of, he couldn’t help but be fascinated by the phoenix. 

“Ah, Minerva, in what trouble has Mr. Black managed to drag Miss Y/L/N which would warrant a visit to my office?” Dumbledore asked, looking up from his paperwork, peering over his half-moon glasses. 

“I am at my wit’s end with the boy, Professor. It seems no disciplinary measure I come up with prevents him from jinxing his fellow students. This time it was the knockback jinx,” she explained, concern bleeding through her exasperation. “More so, I’ve had to give detention to this exact pair earlier this semester.”

Sirius saw you wince at the last comment. 

“Ah, I see,” Dumbledore replied. “Fortunately these forms are boring me immensely right now. You may leave them with me. I shall ensure appropriate action is taken,” he dismissed her. 

McGonagall nodded and left, the clicking of her boots’ heels echoing through the office. Dumbledore gestured at the two of you to sit at the chairs facing his desk, signing one last document before pushing the parchments aside to observe you both better. After a short pause, he spoke up again.

“So, Y/N, why don’t you recall the events that lead you here for me?” he asked.

“... And then I could tell he was going to cast another jinx on Severus, and he seemed too out of it to be reasoned with, so I disarmed him to prevent further harm,” you concluded. “I never meant to engage in the fight Professor, I just wanted to make it stop, before either of them did something they would regret,” you added, your voice pleading.

“Very well,” Dumbledore nodded.

Slowly, the headmaster turned his gaze to Sirius, slouched in his seat beside you. You’d refused to look at him since McGonagall had escorted you both upstairs. How could things have escalated so quickly, without warning? You knew Sirius and his friends didn’t get along with Severus, had heard about confrontations between the lot of them, but never had you thought so little could trigger them to jump at each other’s throats like that. 

Just thinking about the spat made you mad. How could Sirius have been so vicious? How could he have called Severus ‘Slytherin scum’ when you had been right there next to him, after all the talks you’d had about house rivalries? You thought he had been genuine, but had he just been buttering you up? Oh, and the way he’d said it, like the words were poisoin themselves...

“Mr. Black, do you care to add anything?” Dumbledore asked, his eyes serious and his tone even.

Sirius stirred in his seat.

“I don’t think so, professor,” he said. “Every time I wind up here, I say I’ll do better, I’ll be better, but... I don’t think I know how. I guess I can’t,” he sighed, and had you not been so upset with him, you might’ve felt a pang of pity. 

This was not the confident Sirius you were used to. He seemed younger all of a sudden, because there he was, a boy not quite grown, defeated. He had stopped trying to meet your eyes. But none of that erased what he had said. Because that was what you cared about. The fact he’d cast Flipendo on someone else, that he’d broken the rules, you didn’t care about much, you realized. But the words he’d said had perhaps cut you deeper than they had Severus.

“Now, Mr. Black,” Dumbledore started replying, taking off his glasses to stare him directly in the eyes. “Just because you do not know how does not mean you can’t. It simply means you must learn it first.”

Sirius looked up, but something in his expression indicated he dared not yet hope. You suddenly felt out of place, like the exchange was part of a conversation started long before you had walked in on Sirius’s life. 

“I will put some thought on how Hogwarts can help you with your self-control, Sirius, and will come back to you shortly with a solution I will expect you to comply with as reparation for your actions today,” Dumbledore explained, a glint of benevolence in his gaze. “In the meantime, I am sure your friend Remus could share much wisdom on the topic with you, if you were brave enough to ask.”

You smiled inwardly at his word choice. You hadn’t met with the headmaster often yourself, not being a troublemaker by nature, but you could see so many students, alumni and staff respected him so. He was good at his job, if sometimes a bit peculiar, knowing how to appeal to people’s natures so they’d actually listen. Meanwhile, Sirius shifted in his seat, seeming in deep reflexion.

“As for immediate consequences,” Dumbledore continued, leaning back and seemingly bringing you back into the conversation, “I will deduct thirty house points from Gryffindor for the use of the knock-back jinx on a fellow student outside of permissible circumstances, and ten from Slytherin for the disarming charm,” he announced solemnly, putting his glasses back on.

You felt yourself deflate in your seat. You knew you were about to get an earful from your house prefect for failing your house, especially since you were nearly tied with Ravenclaw for the most points at the moment.

“However, I have always maintained it takes a special sort of courage to stand up to your friends to prevent them harm from themselves,” Dumbledore smiled, faintly amused. “For putting an end to the confrontation before it could further pan out, Y/N, I am awarding you fifteen house points. Just... do not make this a habit,” he advised.

“No, sir,” you replied wide-eyed, a bit stunned. “Thank you, sir.”

From the corner of your eye, you could see Sirius was trying to get you to look at him again, probably to give you some kind of “at least that wasn’t so bad” smile, but you refused to cave in to him. Just because his short temper hadn’t cost you house points after all did not mean he was forgiven.

“Now, if the two of you would see yourselves down to Professor Slughorn’s classroom, I believe he will have your detention ready. You two are to help him clean cauldrons until every last one is clean as new,” he dismissed you both, gathering back the parchments he had been working on earlier.

You sprung up and headed for the door immediately, your cheeks burning in embarrassment. In no previous year had you been given detention so often. As you walked out, you started to ponder whether it was possible that Sirius was more of a bad influence than anything else. Of course, he’d helped you a lot with your Animagus business, and he’d been so patient about it. But he’d also landed you in more trouble than you’d ever been in. Your mind was advising you to cool off your friendship with him, not shutting him out entirely but perhaps not entangling your life with his as much. And yet, at the mere thought of such a prospect, your heart inexplicably ached. 

“Y/N, wait up!” Sirius shouted after you, catching up outside of Dumbledore’s office, where he’d seemingly lingered longer than you.

You turned to look at him, but you didn’t slow down, keeping a fast pace towards the dungeons. You heard him curse under his breath as he accelerated, jogging to you. 

“Please just hear me out, I’m so sorry all this happened, I don’t know what got a hold of me,” he apologized, reaching out for your arm but not grabbing it.

“I don’t want to talk to you right now, Sirius,” you brushed him off, keeping on walking in the empty hallway. 

“That’s okay, I just need you to listen, I-,” he replied, but you cut him off.

“I’m not feeling particularly up for that either, I haven’t quite loved what I heard from you today.”

The bite in your tone took him by surprise, and for a second he stopped walking while you went on. You started climbing down a stairway when you felt it start to shift under your feet. Thankfully, its destination remained the same, but a quick glance upwards let you see Sirius was having a new route cut out for him. Taking a moment to breathe, you stopped walking down the stairs as they kept on realigning themselves. Despite all your time at Hogwarts, the feeling still made you uneasy. But then you heard it, the thud of a weight landing on the stairway behind you. Instantly, you turned around to see him stick the landing on the second step.

“Are you bloody mad? You jumped on a moving stairway? You could’ve tumbled all the way down, you knob!” you shrieked, instinctively running up to him, before you stopped yourself, seeing he was obviously fine.

“Good thing I didn’t then, uh?” he smirked, but stopped as he saw the scowl on your face. “Listen, just tell me what I have to do to make it up to you. I can’t stand seeing you so mad,” he pleaded, walking down to the step you stood at to look into your eyes at the same level. 

“Merlin, you’re so infuriating!” you exclaimed, inching away. “This isn’t the House Cup, Sirius, you can’t just lose points and make up for them by winning some more.”

“You’re right, I-” he started replying, but you cut him off once more, your anger bloating inside you.

“And you know what? If you don’t want me to be mad, why don’t you try not saying such... such vile things!” you burst, incapable of holding it in any longer, attracting many disapproving stares from the portraits lining the walls. “I can’t believe how cruel you were to him, Sirius! ‘Slythering scum’, is that really what you think?” you accused him.

Feeling a prickle in your eye, you willed yourself to shut the faucet of your anger just as quickly as it had burst open. Shaking your head, you started walking away from him.

“You... you know I didn’t mean that about you,” he stuttered, completely taken aback by your outburst. “And you’re not being fair!” he exclaimed after a pause, anger sprouting in his own voice. “And you heard what your stupid... boyfriend said to me, how was that any better?” he spat.

One last time, you stopped dead in your tracks to look at him.

“Don’t worry, there’s plenty of my anger to go around for the both of you,” you replied, your voice ice cold. “And my boyfriend, really? Don’t be fucking juvenile, Sirius.”

And with that, you marched on ahead without him. Had you turned around, you might have deciphered that the look on his face translated as him pondering whether banging his head on the wall would make him even more so juvenile.

Slughorn was showing you the cauldrons in need of cleaning when Sirius walked into the potions classroom, a few minutes after you.

“Ah, Mr. Black, very well,” Slughorn commented as he shut the door behind himself. “I trust you’ll remember what to do from the last time you were here under my supervision, am I correct?” he asked him in his distinct tone. Slughorn was mostly either proud or neutral about students, and rarely ever expressed disappointment for students he hadn’t elevated to the ranks of his little private club.

Sirius simply nodded, hesitant to come nearer the two of you.

“You may get started on the pile over there,” Slughorn gestured to a workstation covered in a few old cauldrons. With a flick of his wand, he transfigured the workstation right besides it into a basin filled with soapy water. 

Without a word, Sirius headed there, head hanging low. You hadn’t expected him to react to your lashing out like that. You’d expected more dramatic scowls, perhaps a gaze filled with resentment. But instead, he looked just like he had for a moment in Dumbledore’s office. Defeated.

You averted your attention back to Slughorn, who was demonstrating to you how to properly brush the cauldrons so they would not rust unevenly. When you’d asked him why it couldn’t be done with magic, he’d replied that it easily could be done, but that he believed in manual labour as a form of detention.

“Now, why don’t you show me how you would do it, and I’ll let you get to it, yes?” he asked you.

Nodding, you grabbed the bristled brush he was handing you and started scrubbing the bottom of a cauldron with it, working to get a thick tar to leech off the copper.

“Hm, what a particular scent,” Slughorn mumbled as you worked away. “Miss Y/L/N/, I hope you do not mind me asking, but what are the scents in your perfume?” he asked. 

You stopped scrubbing to look up at him, befuddled by his inquiry. You also saw Sirius stop working to turn your way, an odd look on his face as he stared at the Professor.

“I know it’s an unusual request,” Slughorn started explaining, “but you see one of my close friends - and former student, actually - is a budding master of fragrances. He was writing to me the other day, asking if I knew of any singular combinations of scents he should add to his catalog, and I simply must rely to him the scents in your perfume. The floral notes are obvious, but do I also detect notes of something woodsy?”

While the initial question remained odd, the explanation wasn’t far off from other things you’d heard the Professor say about other alumni, and so you did not think much of it. You wondered, however, what in it had made Sirius turn so suddenly livid.

“Well if you must know, it’s actually the scent from my shampoo, sir. My muggle aunt makes some for friends and families as a hobby,” you answered as a prelude. “Mine smells of gardenia and sandalwood, actually.”

“Hmm, yes, gardenia and sandalwood, fascinating,” the Professor commented, although he sounded more like someone who had confirmed rather than discovered something. “I should go write it down now, lest I forget later. I suppose your aunt won’t mind?” he asked.

“I don’t think she would, no,” you replied.

“Terrific,” he clapped. “I see you have mastered the art of the scrub already, so I will take my leave now. I will be in my office should either of you need me,” he said, before starting to walk away. “Gardenia and sandalwood, isn’t that just a memorable combination, Mr. Black?” he added, but barely even waited for him to nod back before he left, door shutting behind him.

“That was... odd,” you commented aloud after a few seconds of silence. You searched Sirius’s face for his opinion on the little scene that had just unfolded, but were met with a cool facade of self-control.

“Well, it is Slughorn after all,” he replied matter-of-factly, turning back to his basin. “When isn’t he at least a little odd?”

You shrugged, inclined to agree with him, and got back to work. You were still upset with him, but your earlier outburst had allowed you to cool down a bit, to a point where you weren’t quite willing to hear his excuses yet, but you were done trying to ignore him.

As you worked your way through the grime of the first cauldron, you took the time to ponder silently where you stood. You’d been so inebriated with your budding friendship with Sirius you’d never actually taken the time to consider wether the sum of his impacts on your life was more positive than negative. How embarrassing it would be, really, if it turned out he was nothing more than a drug, and you, the addict, were so taken with the pleasant first stages you’d forgotten all about its fundamentally bad consequences? After all, how many times had you heard the whispers of “Stay away from Black, he’s trouble” over the years? One sure thing was, they weren’t about Regulus.

And so you started doing the math in your head, going back to the very beginning. Had set your robes on fire in the first year; negative. Had talked to your brother after only chatting with you for a few minutes; positive. Had no qualms being disruptive in the library; mildly negative, but still. 

You suppressed a smirk as you recalled the howler prank you’d played on James with him and Remus. How giddy you’d felt when he’d locked eyes with you in the dining hall right after the letter had combusted, his silent applause which had stirred your chest aflutter. Not applicable, you decided. 

Then you recalled how he’d been so reckless that night by the kitchens, how he’d drunkenly attempted to kiss you and how your resulting laughter had landed you in hot waters with McGonagall, how it had landed you in detention. Definitely negative, you tallied, although your cheeks burned slightly at the memory. 

Next in line was the memory of the ensuing detention itself. It was then he’d discovered you were trying to become an animagus on your own - illegally. He hadn’t threatened to tell anyone, had even trusted you right away with the fact he was one as well. How he’d insisted you not go through your first transformation alone, and how he’d shown up before you even in the owlery on the night of the storm. Bad influence, good friend. 

From then on, he’d only been good to you, helping you get used to the animal state. Good up until today. As his words surfaced back in your mind, you knew your anger had transformed. You weren’t mad at him anymore; you were sad. Sad you’d believed him to be so wonderful until he’d been so cruel to Severus. Sad he was still just as prejudiced towards Slytherins even after you’d gotten close.

“You’ve got that look on your face,” he spoke up as he was crossing the classroom to get some vial, passing in front of you on his way back to his workstation.

“What look?” you asked, defensive.

“The one you make when you’re trying to wrap your mind around something,” he clarified. “What are you thinking about?”

“I’m... I’m trying to decide if you’re a bad influence, actually,” you answered carefully.

“How am I doing so far?”

“Pretty fifty-fifty, I’d say,” you said truthfully.

Your reply was met with a dry chuckle. “Yeah, well, that does sound like me.”

Silence filled the room once more, and you decided you were done with your first cauldron. Setting it aside, you grabbed the next one and plunged it underwater. Immediately, you saw the viscous liquid at its bottom dilute into the water, granting it a barely noticeable shimmer. 

As you started scrubbing it, you let your gaze wander to Sirius. His back was facing you, so you could freely stare as you tried to decide what to do of him. Soon enough, a scent you’d grown familiar with spread through the room.

“Good Merlin, Sirius, did you really have to wear so much cologne today?” you asked, your nose flooded with the smell of him. “The whole room already reeks of you.”

He turned around to look at you, puzzled.

“I don’t even wear cologne, what are you talking about?” he replied.

“Yeah, right,” you scoffed.

Before you could add any more, Sirius sprang up and walked towards you, an unreadable expression on his face. Kneeling beside you, he reached to cup some of the basin water in his bare hand and brought it up to his nose. The water was dripping through his fingers and down his forearm, but he didn’t seem to care.

He muttered something inaudible, springing up again, his gaze locked on the basin.

“What?” you asked, utterly puzzled, helping yourself up as well to keep up with him.

“Gardenia and sandalwood,” he whispered, slowly turning to look at you. There was a flame so intense in his eyes it troubled you, so you chose to ignore it.

“Listen, I know my shampoo is very fragrant, but I can assure you whatever smell you’re giving off, it’s much stronger right now,” you told him.

It wasn’t a bad smell, either. Just very... overpowering.

“I can’t believe you haven’t gotten it yet,” he said, his eyes still boring into yours. “Aren’t you supposed to have beat out Remus’s Potions score in the N.E.W.T.S.?”

“Sirius, what are you even on about?” you asked, growing restless by the second.

Wordlessly, he flicked his wand so the basin grew red hot in the span of a few seconds. Almost instantly, the water started evaporating in faint yet discernible smoke volutes. Characteristic, twisting volutes. Gardenia and Sandalwood. Oh.

“You know what’s going on don’t you?” he asked, cautious, waiting for your reaction.

But you were too petrified to give him one. Surely you couldn’t be... How had you not...?

“Y/N, I didn’t mean what I said earlier,” he started, half nervous, half apologetic. “It’s no excuse, but it was a stupid force of habit. I’ve got my own issues, and Severus, he reminds me so much of them,” he paused to swallow, ”of my family, that he never fails to bring out the worst in me. And I know now it’s not right, but I just... You were on my mind all day, Y/N. I couldn’t wait to get to you at the end of it, and when he showed up and he turned out to be the reason I almost didn’t find you... I lost it,” he sighed.

“Sirius, I... I...” you started but trailed off, words failing you.

“It’s okay, just let me finish, I’ve still got so much to say” he replied. “I won’t try and bullshit you, tell you I knew back in that first year when James and I nearly set you on fire. I actually still have no idea why we did that, if I’m being completely honest with you. But that first night by the kitchen this year, you might as well have cast a spell on me, I was so... intrigued. And then that other night, remember when I tried to kiss you?”

You nodded, gulping. How could you not?

“Remember how hard we laughed at that? That night I smelled gardenia and sandalwood in the vial of amortentia that was being passed around the Gryffindor common room, but I did not recognize you in it, not yet. But this morning, Slughorn made me brew it, and this time I knew, which is why I nearly lost my shit when you walked into the Hospital Wing, although you might not have noticed-”

“Oh, I did,” you bit your lip, smiling.

“You... you did?” he asked, surprised.

“I know you, by now,” you simply answered, your heart pounding so loud in your chest you would have sworn he could hear it.

“Oh. So anyways, uh, by then I... I....” he trailed off, at loss for words, his eyes trailing down to your lips. 

Immediately, he gave up on finishing his train of thought and his hands surged to cup your face as he leaned down to press his lips against yours. His kiss was tender, imprinted with a longing you wouldn’t have thought him capable of. As you kissed him back, you could have sworn time stood still in the silence of the classroom. His slightly calloused thumb brushed against your cheek, and you wanted to get lost in the smell of him, amplified by the basin at your feet which was still giving off the lazy volutes of its amortentia-infused water.

It was you who broke the kiss, needing to take a moment to breathe and collect yourself. 

“You know,” you told him, panting slightly, “I’m still upset with what happened earlier.”

“Okay,” he replied, breathing heavily as well.

A moment passed and you found yourself grabbing him by the collar, pulling him back to you to kiss him once more, and instantaneously he wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling your body flush against his as your own hands snaked up to the back of his neck, trailing up to run your fingers through his hair, earning you an appreciative groan. 

“I can’t believe I didn’t know how much I’ve been wanting this,” he breathed, breaking the kiss to lift you up so you could sit on the stool right behind you, stepping in between your legs. Resuming the kiss, he bit your lower lip gently, making your back arch so your chest pressed into his. His hands danced on you like his lips did on yours, and you got so caught up in the moment you never heard the door creak open. 

You did both however hear Slughorn’s loud cough, startling you apart violently. As you realized you’d been caught making out with Sirius in detention - bad influence -, you felt your whole face turn crimson all the way down to your neck. Beside you, Sirius himself looked sheepish.

“Sorry about that Professor, must be something in the air from all the potion residue you’re making us wash,” he attempted, which had you chuckling against your better judgement.

“Uhm yes, I’ll bet the smell of gardenia and, let me remember, sandalwood will do that to a young man,” he replied, thoroughly amused.

His response had your chuckle turn into a strangle cough from startling you so.

“I won’t report this incident, but do get back to work now, yes?” Slughorn ordered, raising an eyebrow.

“Yes, sir,” you replied, avoiding to look at him as you slid down your stool.

“Absolutely,” Sirius grinned.

[argotmagazine-blog]

Dear Worrier Princess: On Polyamory Pickles and College Coming Out Conundrums

Queery #1: Last summer I (32, queer) met someone (26, baby dyke) at the farmers market near my house, she lives in a town 2 hours away near the farm she works at. We started hanging out as friends and realized we had giant crushes on each other. We saw each other on & off through the winter. Now it’s April, & we really like each other, and have had fun sex a couple of times. The thing is: she says she doesn’t want a relationship—she’s busy farming, working 60+ hrs/wk and can’t commit to being in touch or making time to visit me. She also says she’s still processing her last relationship (5 yrs! her first queer relash!) so she needs to figure some stuff out. I totally get it. However, her actions are different from her words: she stays in touch a BUNCH and when we are together, she says a lotta stuff that feels VERY girlfriendy to me.

We both have established that we love hanging out, we feel fun and comfortable, we care a lot about each other, and we learn a lot from each other. I feel a lotta love between us although we haven’t said ILY but rn it doesn’t feel like we need that. For me, I really like her, I love hanging out w her. At the same time, I DO want to be in a relationship, but I don’t think a monogamous long-distance relationship would work for me. If I’m going to date someone I have needs! and want to have a lot of sex!! And only seeing someone like every other week *at most* doesn't feel enough, and if we’re monogamous, maybe there’d be a lot of pressure on those times to have a good time.

She is not comfortable with polyamory, specifically with me having sex with other people in the same time period as with her.  My question is about ethics, tact, care, and timing:: Should I break up with her now, knowing that inevitably I will be boning some local person? There is no one else in the picture right now but I would like to be dating people; I also really don’t want her to feel like a “placeholder,” you know? That would feel like a shitty dynamic.  Or, should we continue to “love each other while we can”? We’ve tried being just friends before and it was sad, there’s like this string that keeps wrapping each other together. Should I keep hanging out with her until it gets to a point where I am seeing another local person and want to bone them too? I’m feeling stuck between a rock & a hard spot, & it feels like an ethical decision which i don’t have the answer for. I want to be responsible and not be a douchebag.

I did not expect to see the words “she lives in a town 2 hours away” followed by “long-distance relationship.” As a lesbian from the Midwest, I have driven two hours for really good beef jerky and that is NOT a double-entendre. Two hours is not long-distance in my book, but I digress. We’re talking about you, not me and my horndog travels.

You’re in a pickle—an organic, free-range pickle from the farmers market, but still a pickle. You want an open relationship. Your farm boo does not. You want to spend more time together, but she’s overwhelmed by a semi-recent heartbreak and intense farming schedule. Neither of you are willing to compromise. This is a situation I see all the time here at Dear Worrier Princess: two people recognize that fundamental aspects of relationship aren’t working, but they stay together because the relationship is familiar and has redeeming qualities like good sex, rapport, or mutual love and care.

To be honest, it sounds like your farm boo is someone who wants what she wants when she wants it. The following sentences set off some alarms for me: “she can’t commit to being in touch or making time to visit me” followed by “she stays in touch a BUNCH and when we are together, she says a lotta stuff that feels VERY girlfriendy.” This is a boundaries issue and it’s 100% something you should discuss with her. Say something like, “It’s confusing for me when you say our relationship is one way, but then you text me frequently and say things like [EXAMPLE 1] and [EXAMPLE 2].” Similarly, you keep deciding to be friends and sliding back into romance-territory. This doesn’t mean you’re fated to be together, it means you need better boundaries and a solid chunk of time without any contact. I’m also wondering, during these stretches when you’re supposed to be friends, who escalates things? Who sends the first sext? Might be something to think about.

Is it wrong to date someone you don’t want to be with forever? No. I think most relationships fall into this camp. As long as you’re mindful not create a placeholder dynamic (which I interpret to mean becoming a dismissive or callous partner), it’s fine to see an end on the horizon. However, it’s never as simple as, “we’ll just date until things naturally end.” Even in the best of circumstances, breakups are hard. What if you meet someone available and local, but you’re still raw from the breakup? What if you struggle to establish post-breakup boundaries with your farm boo and this causes tension in your new relationship?

My advice is to set a course towards friendship, though I also understand how difficult it can be to end a relationship without the solid impetus of a fight or someone new. Ask yourself: if I end this relationship now, will I regret not spending more time together? If I keep seeing her, will my feelings become stronger and make it more difficult to separate? Is the agony is worth the ecstasy? Only you can decide.

Queery #2: Last semester (my first semester of college) I was pretty into this girl I thought was straight or at least very closeted. Almost immediately after returning to school after winter break we both got very drunk and ended up hooking up that night. Since then we've continued to see each other and the relationship seems to be getting more and more serious; however, only as long as we are in very private spaces. The only people who know about it are my friends and her friends all seem to believe that I am tragically in love with her, a straight girl. I have never been in any sort of serious relationship, I only first hooked up with a girl last semester but I've been out and open about my sexuality with those close to me for the past three years. I've tried to initiate conversations with her about this, which is hard as she freezes up with any sort of difficult topic that requires talking about ones emotions. We've gotten a little better at these conversations lately and it seems like she also wants a more serious relationship and wants to be able to be more public about it. In the past few weeks she has told one of the people she is living with as well as a close friend but it still seems like we're stuck in this strange place. I don't want to pressure her to do anything she feels very uncomfortable doing and I also recognize that feeling like I am, in a way, going back into the closet to be there with her is unhealthy for me. How do I keep my frustration for our current situation from clouding the good parts, if that's possible? Lately this is about all I think about or want to talk about and I find myself often getting stuck on these negative aspects. How can I best support her without damaging my own wellbeing?

While reading this queery, I realized that my first semester of college was TEN YEARS AGO. My mom drove me to Staples to buy an ethernet cable because my my dorm didn’t have wifi—that’s how we lived in 2009. I can confirm, in extreme retrospect, that your first year of college is overwhelming. It’s no small thing to leave home for the first time, make new friends, and balance coursework/relationships/a job. And then, on top of all that, your girlfriend is smacked with her own queerness and everything it entails. It’s a lot!

It doesn’t help that “coming out" is one of those those terms like “hooking up” or “middle class”—we pretend it’s this definite thing, when it actually means something different to everyone. As a femme lesbian, I come out to new people when it feels safe and pertinent. My butch friends, on the other hand, rarely get to come out on their own terms. Some people take years to come out, others make a snap decision and tell the world via Facebook. I have friends who are openly gay in the United States, but are closeted to their parents and extended families in their countries-of-origin. Sometimes I get DMs from women who say Instagram is their only queer outlet because marriage and other life circumstances make coming out impossible. On the opposite end of the spectrum, I meet a lot of young people who grew up in affirming homes and were exposed to queer adults and culture at an early age. All this to say that I totally agree with you: you can’t pressure your girlfriend to come out before she’s ready. I applaud you for recognizing that her life and decisions are hers and hers alone.

None of this changes the fact that your relationship makes you feel Bad. When you’ve escaped the deep closet, dating someone who’s struggling with self-acceptance can dredge up all sorts of insecurities and painful memories. It feels shitty to be someone’s secret; it implies that your sexuality is shameful and wrong. Like, have you ever had a friend who body-shamed themselves constantly and said stuff like “I’m so fat and disgusting”? Even though their comments aren’t directed at you, you come away feeling self-conscious and weird. Shame is contagious like that.

All relationships require compromise, but how do you know when you’re compromising too much? What do you owe yourself and what do you owe your partner? I ask myself these questions all the time. Kind of recently, I dated someone who habitually snapped at me. Like one time, we were walking dogs in a snowstorm and I joked that I could kick snow over the poop and it would be the perfect crime. They were full-on like, “THAT WILL CONTAMINATE OUR WATER SUPPLY.” It stung. Despite all this, I liked them a lot. I was in extreme cuffing mode and really, really wanted to be in a relationship. We talked it over and I left the conversation feeling hopeful. They acknowledged their outbursts and apologized, but the snapping kept happening to varying degrees. I could still feel the worst part of our relationship wearing me down. I kept second-guessing myself: “am I annoying? Am I difficult to spend time with? Is everything I say stupid and destructive to Wisconsin waterways?”

I turned to a friend for advice. L, who recently ended a complicated and bittersweet relationship, had the perfect response. I’m going to leave you with the text she sent me: “It’s your choice to stay in an imperfect relationship. Just make sure you’re staying because y’all are communicating openly and making the necessary changes. Stay cause you have a plan and solid reasons to believe things will get better, NOT cause you’re afraid of hurting her or afraid of being alone.”

dear worrier princess answers your qs about love and strife in relationships in this complex and modern queer world.

shoot an email to worrierprincess@argotmagazine.com or fill out the form below.

Maddy Court is an artist and writer based in Madison, WI. Keep up with her on Twitter @worrierprincess, or on instagram @xenaworrierprincess.

 All illustrations for this column are done by Sid Champagne. Sid is a freelance illustrator based in Baltimore by way of the Gulf Coast. You can find them on Twitter @sid_champagne, or Instagram (more cat pics) @sidchampagne