#and I rarely ever see people tackle her younger years

[valiant-portabella-pirkko]

You ever just get a thought at a ridiculous hour of the night and go...

‘Hm. Hm. Yes. I could do that. But is that actually a good idea tho or am I just sleep-deprived...’

[ceruleanwhore]

I get your points @sokkastyles and obv they’re super valid, but I also think @usernamesuggestionsarefunny has some points too (not including that age in any way actually minimizes abuse.) I think Azula’s age hugely contributes to how people view her beyond just the misogynistic double standards you talked about above. People keep sympathizing with her and wanting her to be redeemed because general perception is that she’s just a kid, she’s only fourteen years old, so it would be really truly horrible if, by such a young age, she really were twisted to such an irredeemable degree as is shown in canon. They want her to be redeemed because she’s young and they can’t accept that her life and her story are already over so early on, so aging her up would affect that.

Honestly, all the characters should’ve been older too, so a version with an 18 year old Zuko and older sister!Azula who’s like 20 isn’t even that wild of a thought. I get that there’s certain messages and value in presenting these characters the way they did, as the ages they are, but I also think that it wasn’t exactly something their audience was ready for and, even all these years later now that the whole audience is a bunch of adults, still isn’t. I think usernames touches on actually a really good point that it doesn’t matter as much what the original intent is or what the messages are supposed to be as what your audience actually gets from it. I’ve said before that, the way communication works is that it’s all about conveying a concept or idea to another person or people, so the only thing that actually matters is if/how they receive your idea, not what you actually say, and I think it’s also true in media. If people are missing the point with Azula or struggling to receive that message because of something like her age, then I think it’s valid to say that hey, maybe they should’ve changed her age.

I’d also like to finish by pointing out that this aired in like 2005 and is one of the first pieces of media many people ever saw that really covered sibling abuse in a real, meaningful way. Think about how many things before it showed brothers beating each other up or whatever and played it as a joke. So they were tackling a subject that, as far as I’m aware, was (and still is) a pretty new concept for a lot of people, even people who actually experienced sibling abuse themselves, and they chose to simultaneously challenge other preconceptions/biases by making the abuser a younger sister, like sokkastyles pointed out. I think what happened is that it was just too much that was new and too many preconceptions being challenged so even still the audience struggles with accepting all of it.

Does this mean that girls or younger siblings can’t be abusers? Of course not, but it does mean that saying hey, maybe they shouldn’t have tried doing so much simultaneously because it was clearly too much for a lot of the audience to take in and understand might actually be kinda valid. In this fandom, people rarely have a nuanced view of Azula and either just view her as a villain without particularly recognizing her abuse for what it was and just seeing it as “villain” behavior or they see her as a sad little girl who just needs some tlc and a redemption arc. Oh, and then there’s grown ass men on Facebook sexualizing her so that’s cool 🙃. But my point is that rarely anyone actually looks at her and sees her for what she is: a victim of abuse so she became an abuser herself as a tool of self preservation, like many others have done, but it’s a fantasy story so they also made her a major villain since her daddy is Ozai, and maybe changing her age would also help people to see that.

So anyway, I don’t think that age actually minimizes abuse, but when public perception is taken into consideration, I really do think it plays a role in how people see Azula. I think it is valid criticism to argue that aging her up could have made her character more effective in terms of audience reception, just as much as I think it’s valid to speculate that changing her gender might have helped or hindered that as well. I think username just uncovered some unexamined biases here and maybe this post will help with that, but I also think they’re harmless and also, to some extent, made a good point, and I thought it would be a shame not to acknowledge that, so I am.

I've heard that Azula was meant to be male originally. I wonder how different the writing would be for the character and how different the fans would react to it. I am glad that they made Azula female tho.

I remember hearing that male Azula was also supposed to be the older sibling, which does change the story quite a bit. It makes Ozai's favoritism into a simple issue of succession. Male!Azula would be naturally favored because he would be the crown prince. Zuko would be raised to be subservient to his younger brother and that would be considered normal. Even Zuko being sent on a quest to find the Avatar becomes much more reasonable from that perspective as a practicality. Historically, second sons often went on those kinds of quests because it gave them something to do that wasn't "usurp my older brother for the throne."

Ozai would be even more aware that this was a issue, since he himself usurped his older brother. Actually, now that I think of it, it's really rather odd that Iroh, as crown prince, was the one out campaigning while Ozai stayed home, and that gave him an opportunity to stage a coup against his brother. A politically savvy Azulon would have sent Ozai out to man the siege of Ba Sing Se while Iroh was at home preparing to inherit the throne.

As for how fans would receive Zuko's older brother? I know a lot of people might argue that male characters are more easily forgiven than their female counterparts, and I have no doubt that a male version of Azula would have people ready to excuse his every move (see the inexplicable fandom that has sprung up around the likes of Billy Hargrove), but I also think the ways in which he would be excused would be vastly different.

Because with Azula there's a lot of "oh, she didn't really mean it," especially when it comes to the way she treats her brother. This idea that she actually really loves him, she just doesn't know how to show it, or twisting the things she does and says to him in canon so that they're actually proof of her love. I've been thinking about this a lot in terms of people saying they want to see Azula be "humanized," and what they usually mean is that they want to see her given redeeming qualities. Which to me reeks of a misogynistic double standard because most male characters aren't required to show kindness or be really loving deep down to be recognized as human. Being cruel and arrogant and sadistic are also human traits, and women are just as capable of these things as men.

I also think that because Azula is female and Zuko is male, there's a certain perception that she can't hurt him that much, either physically or emotionally. And the first one can be dismissed because the show takes place in a world where bending eliminates most differences related to physical strength. The second one is just wrong and relies on misogynistic beliefs about boys being less emotionally vulnerable than girls.

I do think that the Ursa blame would still be present if Azula were male, and possibly worse, because there would be that Freudian current about how Ursa damaged her son by not being the perfect madonna figure.

If Male!Azula were still the younger sibling, I think it would flatten the character in a way because it makes his cruelty and resentment of Zuko about envy for the throne. One of the most interesting things about Azula is that the fact that she is younger and girl makes her cruelty towards her older brother less expected, and more personal. And it takes something away from the character to try and excuse it away or soften it.

[luvliewriting]

Could you write a Josh Washington x reader where reader likes to do trippy paintings and they made one that reminds them of Josh and were making it for him but he found it 💖💖

Please and thank you? 🦇💘

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A Paint Stroke For My Heart

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Pairing: Josh Washington x GN!Reader

Warnings: slight hallucinations, mental health, but mainly fluff

Note: this is in the year between Hannah and Beth's disappearance and the night I did my best to respresent the grief Josh was going through along with his schizophrenia by using my own boyfriend's experiences to the best of my ability. If how I wrote this is harmful or inaccurate at all, please tell me and I will do my best to correct it or just take it down in general.

If you are having any issues with schizophrenia or any other mental illness; my inbox or dms are always open :)

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Gifts weren't something that Josh usually found coming back at him, he usually had to give first to get anything in return. No one ever just gave him something just to give him something, there always had to be this extra layer to it. When he was younger he was used to the piles of birthday/christmas gifts he would get along with his sisters; but the older they all got, the less and less their parents seemed to care to go above and beyond. Probably didn't help that they were always busy, the Washington children usually sharing the large home alone most days except on weekends when their dad would get off work but he would just tuck himself away to his office, still busy like a bee.

Maybe Josh missed when he was younger, playing baseball with his dad and Beth. Hannah and his mom always watching from the side and cheering him on when he would hit the ball and run from Beth to get to the base. Usually ending him getting tackled down to the ground by his younger sister as Beth would always mock him, saying how much stronger she was then him. But he never complained, he liked seeing his sister be so proud of herself for tackling down her brother.

Of course now, he didn't have that company through the week. He was a college drop out that just spent his time at home everyday, a large home yet so alone. His sisters weren't coming back, Chris spent all his time with Ashley, the only people that ever really visited were Sam and well you. You visited more than Sam, you spent more nights over with him than anything, making sure he didn't stay alone since he didn't trust himself to be alone. He was fragile, he couldn't deny that, and being alone in that giant home definitely didn't help in his favour of hating being alone.

On the occasion he would pass Hannah's or Beth's rooms, which was rare, he found himself just staring into the room. Memories of his sisters' smiling faces and laughs after they would pull a prank on him or overhearing the two gossiping in Hannah's room with Sam and you. It was worse when he found one of Hannah's spare change of glasses on the bedside table and he picked them up, just a flood coming back to him that he couldn't stop making him collapse to the ground and cry.

"I never wanted you to die."

He forgot how many times he's said that same sentence over and over to himself. Sometimes to his hallucinations of his sisters, who constantly blamed them for their disappearance/death. He wanted to crawl up in a ball and ignore the fact that he existed, no amount of drugs could help himself.

"Hey Josh can you hand me the blue?" Josh's attention left the corner of the room where a painting of his sisters was on the wall towards you where you sat at the kitchen table. Multiple different paints around you and a canvas in the middle. He looked over at the bottom of the table where the little cup of blue paint was. He nodded kneeling down to grab the blue for you.

Before he could peak at your painting, you covered his view from the canvas, shaking your head, "It's a surprise, be patient." Josh nodded sitting down at the kitchen table with you, slumping his face into his crossed arms like a pillow as he glanced over at you. You looked at him, a small smile on your lips, "are you okay?"

He shook his head, he never was okay. Even if he wanted to be okay, he knew he wasn't. Dr Hill didn't help, his parents barely acknowledged him, someone who was supposed to be his bestfriend only wanted to hang out with his crush, you were truly all he had.

You felt his palm against the back of your hand, stopping your brush strokes as you looked over at him, watching him raise your hand up to his lips and feeling him leave a soft kiss to the back of your hand and continuing to hold it close to him. You smiled softly at him, rubbing his hand with your thumb as you whispered, "did you take your medication today?"

"Yeah," Josh's face was covered by his arms as he nuzzled his face away and grumbled, "not that they help."

"Hey," he felt your comforting hand on his head as he peaked up at you from his enclosed arms, "you don't have to suffer through this alone, you know I'm here and you're never alone, I'll never leave you alone."

He shrugged to himself, covering his face back into his arms. Sure hiding away was bad and didn't make the voices go away, but at least he didn't have to see them with their constant reminder of how much of a failure of a brother he was that night. Even if you tried to tell him as much as you could, he always knew that he was right; he was truly one huge failure.

"You wanna see it?" Josh peaked his eye out once more over to you, holding the painting to your ches with a cheeky smile on your lips.

He only nodded, still deep in his grief, as you turned the painting around to face him. His eyes blinked at the canvas trying to look it over and understand.

It looked like him, in the corner of the canvas with a skull beside him with eyes and all other kinds of things that he liked. Cameras, novels, all kind of things that he usually hid from people that were his interests. Josh's smile was small but definitely still there as he looked over the trippy painting, you made it for him. It was for him, it was confusing. Did you want somehting in return for this? Most people usually did when they gave him stuff but as he looked into your genuine eyes, he knew that you did this out of the kindness of your heart.

All he did was smile, his index finger stroking the painting feeling the dry paint strokes against his finger. His eyes were fixated on it, something that was actually his without consquence. It was his. This painting was his. You were his.

"You like it?" you asked softly, leaned down on your arms and trying to look into Josh's eyes as his eyes met yours.

"I love it," Josh smiled, a genuine one, not his fake one he usually put on for people so they would stop giving him those stupid pity looks. He hated hearing "sorry" or having to look into someone's face and just seeing the pity. He didn't want it. He wanted his sisters back. All he had was you now, even if that was enough for him, he still missed Hannah and Beth more than anything. And he would always miss them, he understood that even though it was hard.

You truly were his saving grace. Something as simple as watching you paint made his heart swell. You truly were found a way to turn his cold black heart into just a little bit of a rainbow by being there.

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Thank you for reading, please like and please reblog as it really does help me out <3

Taglist: @margowritesthings

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[miyuwuki]

Hello <3 Let's say miyuki kazuya has a sister older by a year! How will their relationship be as a big sister and younger brother! I always dream of being kazuya big sister because he deserves all love and care in the world❤️

this is such a cute idea! thank you for this :)

miyuki kazuya x sister!reader hc’s

miyuki’s older sister

you definitely teased him a lot growing up and never got rid of the habit

people thought miyuki was bad? just wait until they see how you treat him

when miyuki was a first year at seido, you would yell from the fences during his baseball practice just to tick him off

“GOOO BABY BOY CATCHER YOU CAN DO IT”

you can see him pop a vein from the field and you laugh it off

he can’t even tease you back because he knew you’d fire back ten times as bad

“you want to say something, kazu?? huh??”

you would call him embarrassing nicknames in front of his friends and teammates 

“baby boy kazu,” “bakazuya.”

kuromochi would be dying and miyuki would just grumble 

you also like to physically tease him

whether it’s a flick on the forehead or a slap to the arm or pinching his cheeks

it’s just funny to you

you would hear sawamura laughing at miyuki from afar and miyuki would just glare at you

but you weren’t fazed ofc

you usually support him by going to his baseball games

you were always amazed at his natural skill and was lowkey proud of how far he’s come

or highkey

“GOOO KAZUYA HIT THAT! TRAIN, TRAIN, RUNNING ALONG! TRAIN, TRAIN, ON AND ON!”

you both grew up without a mother so you always felt like it was your responsibility to protect him

and when he became seido’s best catcher, you were so excited for him you tackled him in the kitchen while he was cooking dinner for you both

“the miyuki siblings are the best!”

“you don’t even play baseball, sis. get off me.”

“shut up!” and you ruffle his head

miyuki is pretty protective of you, just because he knows how much you do for him

he’s always making sure if you’ve ate or he’d offer to buy you food at school if you forgot to bring it

if he sees some guys making you uncomfortable, he would definitely intervene and shoo them away

“if you don’t stop talking right now, i’ll make you.”

and seeing those bright brown eyes of his, they leave

“i can take care of myself, stupid kazu.”

“sure.”

your friends fawn over miyuki because of his looks and you just reply with

“miyuki familial genes. can’t help it!”

sometimes on both of your guys’ free time (which is super rare), you would spend the day together 

obviously you’d pay for everything like the good sibling you are

sometimes you guys would watch a movie, go out for lunch, or even go shopping once in a while

you find it important to have a good relationship with your brother since he’s the only one you have

i mean you both have your dad but he’s always busy

you know miyuki isn’t the one to open up, but you can pick up on his tells whenever he isn’t feeling the best

and you would approach this situation by cooking for him or teasing him less

when you feel like the time is right, you would ask him if something was wrong

more often than not, he does open up to you and you’d just listen

it goes the same way for you

miyuki can tell if something is bothering and will try to be supportive

sometimes throughout the night, he would check up on you to see if you were sleeping okay (since he would be staying up reading scorebooks and such)

if you had a boyfriend, you’d make sure him and miyuki would get along

because once again, you value your relationship with him

it would turn out to be annoying because they would gang up on you and miyuki can finally get you back after all the years you’ve humiliated him

“take that, sis.”

and if miyuki ever got a girlfriend, she would need to impress you first

because you weren’t going to let your brother get hurt by just anyone

you’d also be close with his girlfriend, helping her study and taking her to places

when you guys fight, there would be a lot of cussing and yelling, even over the minuscule things

“kazuya, i told you it’s your turn to wash the dishes today, fuck!”

“i told you, i’m busy looking over the damn scorebook!! don’t you want seido to win??”

“IT TAKES 10 MINUTES, YOU DUMB FUCK”

he would end up washing the dishes and then you’d guys would act like nothing happened

you guys would barely have any major arguments since you respect each other’s boundaries

and you guys trust each other more than anyone ever could

but if it did happen, you guys would talk it out together

nevertheless, the this sibling relationship involves a lot of teasing but also a lot of care. miyuki couldn’t have asked for a better sibling

BONUS

you would joke around WITH sawamura whenever you bumped into him and miyuki

“AH HA, MIYUKI-SENPAI IS ALWAYS LIKE GRRR EVER SINCE HE BECAME CAPTAIN”

“BAHAHAHAA BAKAZUYA? DON’T BELIEVE IT”

then miyuki grabs sawamura by the collar and drags him away from you

“you’re forbidden to speak to my sister again, sawamura.”

THIS WAS SO FUN TO WRITE DEAR!! THANK YOU FOR REQUESTING THIS HEHE

[moral-turpitudes]

Burnt Toast:

Trigger Warnings: Swearing, Angst.

Word Count: 4,226

Characters: Polly Gray + The Shelby Siblings x Shelby!Sister Reader

Requested: Yes

Requested by: @atjafshelby​, I hope you like it love!

Summary: After seeing her family turn to a life of crime, one incident causes Y/N to finally leave Small Heath in a desperate attempt to rid herself of the Shelby name. But when the family makes a sudden appearance after years of no contact, she soon realizes she’s not the only one with news to bear.

“Kids! Breakfast is ready!” Shouted Y/N from the kitchen, the smell of toast and crackling bacon snaking it’s way through the two story town house in the middle of suburban Manhattan. The sight of the meal reminding her of home when she’d help cook, practicing her craft until she rarely made burnt toast. The voice of her aunt telling her how long to toast it so it would be perfect, even if the family eating it was far from so.

As she prepared the table, the scurrying of little feet pattering away on the floorboards filled the room as they sprinted down the lavish hall. Giggles erupting as two bright eyed girls climbed into their seats.

“Now girls, you both have to get ready quickly today alright? I have some errands to run.” Y/N said, placing a mug of coffee in front of herself. Heavy footsteps came trotting down the stairs as her husband, a man of status in the banking industry, waltzed into the room.

“Morning love. I have to go in early today. Are you sure you and the girls are okay?” He asked, adjusting his tie.

“Yes, I’m going to take them with me. I have some...personal matters to attend to.” She said, her tone dropping slightly as the girls played with their food.

“I know plenty of children back home who’d love to eat what you’re playing with, now stop it...” She said sternly, memories of her mother swatting her hand when she’d go to eat with her fingers instead of the silverware.

“Is it your family again?” He asked, brushing a stray hair from her face as he sat down next to her.

“Yes.” She said, taking a sip of her coffee as her hands shook, the anxiety of ever seeing them again gnawing at her brain.

It seemed like only yesterday that it happened. Her younger brothers running out of the old shop in Small Heath to go on a another mission after their fathers business had been left on their shoulders after the war. The sight later that night making her swear off violence all-together.

Her younger brothers had a knack for messing with the wrong people, even before the war changed them. John was the feisty one, always rough-housing with the boys and bullies on the streets, always pestering her and Ada as they chased rats through town. “I’m trying to help you defend yourself sis! Don’t be such a baby!” He’d say after tackling her to the ground where she’d cry and hesitate to fight back, Ada always punching him in the shoulder to stop as their aunt Polly would come running out of the house with the Devil in her eyes.

“You’re too sweet for your own good, Y/N. Too sweet to be a Shelby.” Polly would say while bandaging any cuts or scrapes.

“You sure as hell didn’t get it from your father...” She’d say, looking at the oldest Shelby girl with a mixture of awe and pity. Y/N resembled her mother more often than not, her temper only shining through in certain situations. But she never thought she’d lose it like she did that night.

It was the night of her first real date, Polly helping brush her hair as she flipped through an old book she’d found in their house.

"That Tommy’s?” Polly would ask, looking at the cover to see a horse running wild in a field.

“Yeah.” She’d say, wishing she could be free like the horse.

“Where are you meeting this young man, Y/N?” Polly asked after a moment of silence.

“The pub down the road.” She said shortly. She remembered Polly’s grip on her hair tightening at the mention of it.

“Ow! What is it?” She asked yanking herself free and turning to look at her aunt.

“D-don’t go. Please don’t.” She said, a fearful look in her eyes.

“Why? Arthur, Tommy, and John get to go anywhere in town and I can’t?!” She said, angrily putting her hair up herself and adjusting her dress.

“It’s not safe...” Polly said, walking down the hall.

“Right...so you want to lecture me on what’s safe because I’m so nice aye? What do you fucking see in me anyway?” She asked loudly. She never really raised her voice to Polly, fearing her to a slight degree. But as her younger brothers went out on business more often, she was practically shoved away, only being able to see Ada and Finn even though she was the oldest.

Polly’s eyes welled up with tears as she spoke.

“I see hope for this god-forsaken family. You have more control over yourself than I care to admit and I can’t bare to see you squander it all away by becoming one of them. You should live for yourself, at least then one of us in this family would be doing something good for a change.” She said, sauntering off into the kitchen.

“Tommy’s planning something isn’t he? That’s why you don’t want me to go on the date.” She said, following her into the kitchen with tears in her eyes. Even if she was older than Arthur by two years, he and the rest of them never stopped being over-protective.

“Yes.” Was all Polly said before Y/N ran out the door. If she wanted her to live for herself then she was going to do as she pleased. She was tired of being seen as some family secret, some mystery sibling that was different. She never liked the violence she grew up in but was that such a crime? To know how to not hurt people? To be able to know when to call it quits? These were thoughts she still struggled with as she looked at her two little girls getting up from the table and racing up the stairs. Their hair wild and smiles a mile long. Carefree like she always dreamed of being, and like most of her aunts family always claimed to be.

“I want you girls ready in 10 minutes!” Y/N yelled as the girls moved about upstairs, her husbands voice breaking her from her thoughts.

“Well I’m off love. I’ll see you all at my lunch break.” He said, kissing her goodbye and heading off to his ordinary job. Despite him being successful and full of money himself, she couldn’t shake the fact that they led very different lives before they met. He’d go off to college while she stayed and helped Polly with Finn, and Ada occasionally staying to help as she was always wanting to be out and about. While he grew up with a silver spoon, she grew up with rusted broken ones. She couldn’t for the life her know why he chose her, maybe it was luck? But nevertheless they worked out together and she was grateful no matter how many times her past haunted her.

As she cleaned up the kitchen, she fell back onto the memories from years ago. Her heart still aching like it was yesterday.

Remembering herself sprinting towards the pub where her new date had agreed to meet her, seeing a rowdy group of men near the entrance. The sharp sound of bottles breaking and slurs being spewed as she warily made her way over. Her eyes landed on her date and her stomach dropped. Arthur was holding him by the neck as Tommy pulled off his cap, slashing the mans face open in one fell swoop.

Y/N’s screams soon pierced the air as she saw him fall limp to the ground, Tommy finishing him off with a harsh twist of his neck.

The blinders all looked up to see their older sister just mere feet away from their mess. Without thinking, she ran over to the man she had grown to know, his face almost unrecognizable after what they’d done to him. As she cradled him, her eyes blurred with tears as her brothers stood in silence, the rain washing the mans blood off Tommy and Arthur’s hands as they waited for her to speak.

“Tommy...” She said, seeing red as she started at the man she once knew, lying dead on the cold pavement.

Her brother walked over, a tired look in his eyes as he crouched down to her level and put his cap back on.

“We had to do it Y/N...” He said, trying to reach for her hand.

Without warning she slapped him across the face with all the strength she could muster. Her hand stinging with the impact.

Polly came running in the distance, stopping near John who’d been holding his rifle as he sat against the wall of the pub.

As she got up, she wiped the blood on her clothes as she stared down her brother. A red handprint forming on his cheek as she neared him. With one hand she took his arm and with the other she grabbed Arthur’s hand, leading them near Polly and John.

“I knew him you know. How was he so bad that you had to kill him? Why was this part of your fucking plan?!” She yelled as they all looked at her with sorry expressions.

“He was working with Kimber’s men. Remember him?” John asked.

She got closer to John as she spoke, her arms folded in frustration.

“No John. I don’t remember. I wasn’t part of the family meetings...remember that?” She asked, knowing they always kept her, Ada, and little Finn in the dark ‘for their safety.’

“He was bad Y/N...” Tommy said, sticking a cigarette in his mouth.

“Like you all are any better. You didn’t even know him!” She shouted.

“Y/N love, please calm down. We had leads on him. He was trying to get with ya in order to get to us.” Arthur said.

“No...he wouldn’t.” She said, shaking her head as her tears fell.

“He did. Not everyone has a good heart like yours alright?” Tommy said, lighting a cigarette.

“You know what? Fuck the lot of you!” She yelled, her eyes boring into Tommy’s specifically.

“I can’t even look at you all anymore. You took away my one shot at meeting someone that wasn’t associated with this family and you all ruined it. You all ruined everything I’ve ever tried to do and here I am, the oldest fucking Shelby and I can’t even leave me own house.” She said, giving a side eye to Polly. As she spoke she remembered her aunts words, her eyes tearing up as she spat out her frantic goodbyes.

“You know what? I’m listening to what you said Pol. I’m going to go live for myself and I don’t want any of you to come for me. I can’t stand to be around any of ya. Goodbye.” She said, walking through the familiar dark streets for what felt like the last time.

“Mum? We’re ready!” She heard her oldest yell from the front door, ripping her from her thoughts.

“Alright, c’mere you.” She said, swooping her youngest up in her arms and walking out the door. As she walked with her oldest hand in hand they noticed the rain falling slightly as the city life bustled around them.

“I wish daddy didn’t take the car. He’ll be at his lunch break before we get there.” The oldest girl said, her white dress flowing in the wind.

“We’re going right up to the bank. He’ll be there. I promise.” She said, her nerves getting to her as they entered the tall building.

“I got a call about a check being sent from Polly Gray?” She asked the teller.

“Ah yes! Here you are. She also left a note.” She said, handing her the envelope.

Y/N’s eyes widened at the figures on the check, having to clutch the desk for support.

“Jesus fucking christ.” She said quietly.

“Jesus fuckin cwist!” Her youngest mumbled excitedly.

“Hey! We don’t say that.” She said smirking down at the little girl.

“Darling! Didn’t expect you to be here so early!” Her husband said as he stepped out of his office.

“This was uh...one of the errands. Can we go outside for a moment?” She asked.

“What’s wrong?” He asked, looking at her with concern.

“Oh um...it seems me aunt gave us a check for...$100,000.” She said.

“My god...you’re kidding. How did they get that kind of money?” He asked, even though they were well-off in New York it was still a shock, especially since the shop back home was far from successful all those years ago.

“Oh...you don’t want to know.” She said, her eyes scanning over the letter.

“Dear Y/N,

I know you don’t want to hear from any of us especially after so long, but we wanted to let you know we’re planning a visit to New York. We have some business to take care of and Tommy saw it best to come there personally. We’d love to meet up upon our arrival if you’d like. We have some unfortunate matters we’d like to discuss. In the meantime though, I wanted to gift you this check, seeing as we’ve come into more than enough good fortune over the years.

With love,

Aunt Pol”

“I have to get to a phone. Watch the girls please? I’ll be back.” She said, running inside the bank.

“What’s mummy doing?” Their oldest asked.

“Calling her family.” He said, holding her hand.

“She has a family? Like us but somewhere else?” She asked.

“Yeah...” He said, not knowing much about them as well. She’d kept that part of her life a secret for a while, but she’d let a few things slip every now and then, and she always got a check from Polly despite her refusing her help, but they never got one for this much before.

“Shelby Company Limited.” The woman said over the phone.

“Yes, this is Y/N...Y/N Johnson-I mean...Shelby. Y/N Shelby....is Polly there?”

“I’m sorry miss. The family has left for America, they’re expected in New York at noon.” She said.

“Alright, thank you.” She said, her watch ticked towards noon at a fast pace, knowing they’d be arriving soon.

“Girls were taking a trip. We uh...have to meet some of my family.” She said rushing out of the bank, scooping their youngest up in her arms with the others following.

“We need to get to customs, now.” She said, hurrying towards her husbands car.

Within the next 30 minutes they’d scrambled to get there, seeing the passengers get off the ship in groups. Her heart sped up as she saw her family, more dressed up now than before, but still the same tired features give or take Finn growing up before her eyes.

“Stay here you three. It’s going to be a moment.” She said, taking a shaky breath as she walked towards them.

“Y/N? Is that you?” She heard Polly call out. She stood frozen as they walked to her, her eyes brimming with tears.

“Hello Polly.” She said with a small smile, her tears plummeting to the ground as she gave her a warm hug.

“Oi! Is that really you?! Look at ya!” Arthur said with a smile.

“Yeah it’s me. Same old Y/N.” She said, wiping her tears as her brother Tommy stared at her.

“Cat got your tongue brother?” She asked, he gave her a hug but it was half-hearted at best.

“Right...so what are you lot doing here aye? Why’d you send us all that money?” She asked looking at them, Tommy’s eyes were more dead than all those years ago. She couldn’t shake the feeling something had happened as Polly spoke.

“Can we talk about this somewhere private at least? We just got here love...” Polly said.

Y/N sighed as she turned to her little family, the ring on her finger glinting in the sun as she nodded.

“Of course...follow me. I uh, have some people I want you to meet.” She said.

“Y/N...” Polly said in a shocked whisper as she saw the two girls and her husband standing there looking at them with smiles on their faces.

“This is my husband. His name is Charles Johnson, he’s a banker in Manhattan. And these are our girls. Jane is 7, Polly is 3.” She said, picking the little girl up as she giggled and waved at them.

“You...you never told us you’d met someone. Never told us you’d gotten married...Never told us you had children...” Polly said, waving at the girls.

“Well the street goes both ways. Didn’t know you got married aye Tom...” She said nodding to him, he lit a cigarette as they walked ahead. The tension growing in the air as she nervously took her husbands hand.

“It’s complicated, but yes I did.” He said shortly, the smoke wafting through the air.

“No smoking...please.” She said, her girls looking curiously at the man with piercing blue eyes.

“You serious?” He asked.

“Yes, the girls don’t like it. You’re such a grump though love. You’ve turned into an old man, older than Arthur even. Jesus.” She said, none the wiser to what they’d all been through over the years. Tommy just nodded with a slight smirk, knowing his past couple years would’ve destroyed her.

As the Shelby’s made small talk with the little girls, Charles got them a ride to their house, the bustling city taking them a little bit by surprise.

“I don’t know how you live here. It’s hectic.” Polly said, sitting in a small armchair in their living room.

“Well you wanted me to live my life for me Pol. I came here and I loved it. Never saw a reason to move.” She said, pouring her a glass of wine.

“Anyone want a drink?” She asked as her worse-for-wear brothers sat around.

“Now there’s our sister. You got whiskey?” Arthur asked.

“Did you think I left all of Birmingham behind? Of course I do.” She said, pouring out a couple glasses and handing them out. Her husband taking one and giving her a small peck on the cheek, Tommy staring him down for a moment before she came to him with a glass.

“What kind?” Tommy asked before drinking it.

“Irish...what else would it be? You taught me that.” She said with a smirk.

“Right...” He said, fixing his golden glasses.

“So tell me, what’s life been like here? It seems...grand.” Polly said looking around the place as the girls ran around giggling.

“Jane! Polly! No running in the house...go out to the courtyard.” She said, taking a sip of her whiskey.

“You named the little one Polly? I’m touched.” She said, sipping her wine.

Y/N sighed before she spoke, her husband sitting near her on the large sofa, holding her hand as he knew she had some things to get off her chest.

“Look...I was....angry. I was angry at the world when I left and...I’ve held onto that for so long it’s eaten me up. I know you all don’t care for me now, hell I wasn’t invited to anything anyways, but I did the same. I did this for me. And I’m happy here. I’m happy with my children. I named her Polly because even though we wanted to rip each other’s throats out some days, you were the one that helped me realize who I wanted to be. You helped raise me and I couldn’t not name her after someone I loved dearly.” She said, the room falling silent.

“You want us to forgive you?” Tommy asked.

“No. Honestly Tommy I’m still trying to forgive you. It was because of you all that I watched you kill him. I moved here so you’d never take people away from me again, but no I’m not looking for forgiveness or anything, I just want it behind us.” She said finishing off her whiskey.

“That was for your protection, love. You can understand that now at least, since you have your own children now.” Polly said, clasping her hand over hers.

“I can. But I wouldn’t kill someone. That’s how we’re different. I’ve told Charles about it, because I’ve always been the nice one. He may think otherwise though.” She said smirking at her husband.

“But, I’ve tried to move on. I just want you all to know I’m happy and I’m honestly not that hurt by it anymore. I’m just plagued with the memories that’s all.” She said.

“What about back home? How’s Ada? I’m assuming she’s with her kid...Karl right?” She asked, trying to change the subject.

“Yes. She has another on the way as well. Different father. Deceased though.”

“That’s too bad, I know she’s probably torn up, the poor thing. Give her a hug for me will ya? God I haven’t seen her in so long.” She said and Polly nodded.

“What about John? Where’s the cheeky bastard at anyway?” She asked. Polly teared up as Tommy held her hand, which he never did unless it was something important.

“He....he got shot. One of the mafias with a vendetta against us got him...it was recent enough that we figured we’d come to tell you.” He said.

“No.” She said, getting up quickly.

“No...no I-I said the most hateful things the last time I saw him. He can’t be...” She said as tears poured down her face.

“Hey....shh it’s alright darling.” Her husband said attempting to comfort her as she clung to him, her tears staining his expensive suit as Arthur and the rest looked away, their hearts growing heavy after re-hashing the news.

“I’m sorry we didn’t tell you sooner. We couldn’t get to you in time for the funeral though, love.” Polly said, walking over.

“I have to sit down.” She said, her face paling as she sat on the sofa.

Her hands shook as she wiped her tears away. Polly kissed her forehead as she walked outside, observing the little girls as they played in the garden to keep from breaking down as well.

As Y/N settled down, she took another shot of whiskey, wincing at the burn of it going down. Since having her kids and working, she didn’t have as much time to drink, at least not like they did back home.

“I should’ve came back sooner...I-I should’ve written you all more often.” She said.

“Y/N that wouldn’t have changed much. We’re just happy you’re happy alright love?” Arthur said, patting her on the back.

“Yeah...” She said.

“Say...I know you all are tired. Would you all care to stay? We have enough room...” Charles asked as Polly walked in with the girls.

“Mum! Who that?” Little Polly asked in her sweet voice.

“Hello! Oh you silly girls! I hope you loved meeting Polly! These are your uncles, Arthur, Tommy, and Finn.” She said wiping her tears away as they came in, letting them walk over to them. Tommy smiled at them and put on his best kind expression, knowing how impressionable kids were.

“So uhm...Tommy do you have kids?” Y/N asked, circling back to the ring on his finger and trying to lighten the conversation.

“Yeah. I have a boy name Charlie, and a girl named Ruby. Charlie’s mum was uh...shot...by the mafia, Lizzie is well, she’s working at the office and helping with little Ruby.” He said.

“Shot! Jesus fuckin cwist!” Little Polly squealed out.

Y/N’s mouth dropped as she picked her up. Arthur and eventually everyone erupted in laughter.

“We do not say that Polly! Don’t repeat bad words!” Y/N scolded her, trying to hold back her own laugh in the process.

“I’m sorry about your first wife Tom...I’m also sorry little Polly over here has the mouth of a sailor.” She said playfully eyeing her daughter and giving her brother a pat on the shoulder.

“It’s alright love. Things happen aye?” He said, his heart still hurting after the loss, but warming at the sight of his little happy and not so nicely-mouthed nieces.

“Maybe we can visit the rest of the family sometime? I’m sure we can arrange that.” She asked looking at her husband.

“Of course! We’d um...we’d like that. Very much.” Polly said a genuine smile on her face as she watched her niece with her children.

“I’m so glad you’re doing well for yourself dear. Truly. We all are, and if we haven’t said it yet, welcome to the family Charles.” Polly said, shaking his hand.

“My offer still stands though by the way...” Charles said after a moment.

“What’s that aye?” Tommy asked, finally loosening up a bit.

“You all can stay here. You all aren’t the only ones with big houses you know. You’re family after all.” Y/N said.

“Well it’s not like we have anywhere else to go. What to do you say?” Polly asked, looking at Tommy. He smirked a bit before answering, Y/N could see the conditions he’d have with their stay floating around in his head.

“Alright...As long as we get to have the toast you always made. I’ve hired many a housemaid and none of them could make it like you do, they always burn it up.” He said.

She chuckled at the memory, always making a bunch of it in the mornings before they’d all go running off in the streets.

“Deal.” She said, giving him a small smile, knowing that even after all the years and all the losses, she knew she could never fully be away from family.

[joshjacksons]

Joshua Jackson interview with Refinery29

Against my better judgement, and at the risk of losing any semblance of journalistic objectivity, I start my conversation with Joshua Jackson by effusively telling him what a dream come true it is to be talking to him. See, like many millennial women who grew up watching the late ‘90s and early 2000s teen drama Dawson’s Creek, Jackson’s Pacey Witter means a lot to me. Pacey is one of the rare fictional teen boys of my youth whose adolescent charisma, romantic appeal, and general boyfriend aptitude hold up all these years later (unlike The O.C’s Seth Cohen or Gossip Girl’s Chuck Bass) and that is due in large part to the wit, vulnerability, and care Jackson brought to the character.

It’s the same intention he’s afforded all of his famous roles — Peter Bishop in Fringe, Cole Lockhart in The Affair, and even as a 14-year-old in his first acting gig as sweet-faced heartthrob Charlie Conway in The Mighty Ducks. Now, Jackson, 43, has matured into a solid supporting actor (with memorable turns in Little Fires Everywhere and When They See Us) and as a leading man who can draw you into a story with just his voice (Jackson’s latest project is narrating the psychological thriller and Canadian Audible original, Oracle, one of the over 12,000 titles available today on Audible.ca’s the Plus Catalogue) or find humanity in the most sinister men (he’s currently playing a sociopath with a god complex in Dr. Death). His magnetic pull is as evident as it was when he was the guy you rooted for in a show named after another guy’s creek. Jackson has never seemed to mind the fact that so many people still bring up Pacey decades later, and that’s part of why as an adult, he’s one of the few childhood crushes I still have on a pedestal. I tell him just a tiny slice of this, and Jackson graciously sits up straighter and promises to bring his A-game to our Zoom exchange. Jackson is in what appears to be an office, flanked by mess, like a true work-from-home Dad. He and his wife, fellow actor Jodie Turner-Smith, welcomed a daughter in the early days of the pandemic in 2020, and he tells me that fatherhood and marriage are the best decisions he has ever made. Jackson and Turner-Smith are a rare Hollywood couple who choose to let us in on their love, but not obnoxiously — just through flirty Instagram comments and cheeky tweets. Their pairing is part of Jackson’s enduring appeal. It’s nice to think that Pacey Witter grew up to be a doting dad and adoring husband, even if his wife’s name is Jodie, not Joey.

Jackson is an animated conversationalist, leaning into the camera to emphasize his points — especially when the topic of diversity comes up. White celebs don’t get asked about racism in Hollywood the way their counterparts of colour do, and when they do, they’re usually hesitant at best, and unequipped at worst, to tackle these conversations. Jackson is neither. He’s open, willing, and eager to discuss systemic inequality in the industry he’s grown up in. It’s the bare minimum a straight white man in Hollywood can do, and Jackson seems to know this. When he ventures briefly into trying to explain to me, a Black woman, the perils of being Black, female, and online, he catches himself and jokes that of course, I don’t need him to tell me the racism that happens in the comment section of his wife’s Instagram. The self-deprecating delivery is one I’m familiar with from watching Jackson onscreen for most of my life, and seeing it in person (virtually) renders me almost unable to form sentences. Jackson’s charm is disarming, but his relaxed Canadian energy is so relatable, I manage to maintain my professionalism long enough to get through our conversation. Refinery29: Your voice has been in my head for a few days because I've been listening to Canadian Audible Original, Oracle. What drew you to this project and especially the medium of audio storytelling?

Joshua Jackson: The book itself is such a page turner. I also love the idea of those old radio plays. It's like a hybrid between the beauty of reading a book on the page where your imagination does all of it. We craft a little bit of the world, but because this is a noir thriller married with this metaphysical world, there's a lot of dark and creepy places that your imagination gets to fill in for yourself.

I'm noticing a trend in some of the roles you've been taking on lately, with this and Dr. Death, these stories are very dark and creepy. But so many people still think of you as Pacey Witter, or as Charlie Conway, the prototypical good guys of our youth. Are you deliberately trying to kill Pacey and Charlie?

JJ: I'm not trying to kill anybody — except on screen [laughs]. It's funny, I didn't really think of these two things as companion pieces, but I won't deny that there may be something subconscious in this anxiety, stress-filled year that we've all just had. That may be what I was trying to work out was some of that stress, because that's the beauty of my job. Instead of therapy, I just get someone to pay me to say somebody else's words. So, yeah, that could be a thing [but] the thought process that went into them both was very different. Even though this is a dark story, [lead character, police psychic] Nate Russo is still the hero. [Dr. Death’s] Christopher Duntsch very much is not at all. I can't pretend to know my own mind well enough to be able to tell you exactly how [these two roles] happened, but it happened.

That might be something that you should work through with an actual therapist. JJ: Exactly. Yeah, maybe real therapy is on the docket for me [laughs].

So I was listening to Oracle and you're doing these various creepy voices — I’m sorry the word “creepy” keeps coming up.

JJ: Are you trying to tell me something? You know what? I wanted to skip straight to the creepy old man phase of my career. So, it sounds like I'm doing a good job.

You're doing amazing, sweetie [laughs]. So, I was thinking you must be really good at bedtime stories with your daughter doing all these voices. Or is she still too young for that?

JJ: No! She's all the way into books. Story time is my favourite part of the day because it gives me the opportunity to have that time with her just one-on-one. Her favorite book right now is a book called Bedtime Bonnet. Every night I bring out three books, and she gets to pick one. The other two shift a little bit, but Bedtime Bonnet is every single night.

I love that. Since you're married to a Black woman, you know a thing or two about bonnets. JJ: ​​Yeah, well I'm getting my bonnet education. And I'm getting my silk sheet education. I'm behind the curve, but I'm figuring it out [laughs].

You said in an interview recently that you are now at the age where the best roles for men are. And I wonder if you can expand on that and whether you think of the fact that the same cannot be said for the majority of women actors in their 40s?

JJ: What's great about the age that I'm at now as a man is that, generally speaking, the characters — even if they're not the central character of this show — are well fleshed out. They're being written from a personal perspective, usually from a writer who has enough lived experience and wants to tell the story of a whole character. Whereas when you're younger — and obviously I was very lucky with some of the characters that I was able to play  – you're the son or the boyfriend, or you're a very two-dimensional character. It's gotten better, but still a lot like you're either the precocious child or you're the brooding one. I will say that while I would agree with you to a certain point for women, I think that this is probably the best era to be a not 25-year-old-woman in certainly the entirety of my career. And it is also the best time to be a Black woman inside of the industry. There's still more opportunity for a 40-year-old white man than there is for a 40-year-old white woman, but it is better now than it has ever been. The roles that women are able to inhabit and occupy and the opportunities that are out there have multiplied. If I started my career in playing two-dimensional roles to get the three-dimensional roles, most women started their career in three-dimensional roles and end up at “wife” or “mom.” And that's just not the case anymore. There's just a lot of broadly diverse stories being told that centre women. So you're right, but in the last five years, six years I would say, there has really been a pretty significant shift.

And I think that shift is happening because who's behind the camera is also changing. JJ: Right? Who holds the purse strings. That's big. Who gets to green light the show to begin with? You have to have a variety of different faces inside of that room. And then, who's behind the camera. What is the actual perspective that we're telling the story from? The male gaze thing is very real. Dr. Death had three female directors. The central character of Dr. Death is an outrageously toxic male figure. Who knows more about toxic male BS than women? Particularly women who are in a predominantly male work environment. So these directors had a very specific take and came at it with a clarity that potentially a man wouldn't see, because we have blind spots about ourselves. We're in a space where there's a recognition that we've told a very narrow band of what's available in stories. There's so many stories to be told and it's okay for us to broaden out from another white cop.

I hope that momentum continues. Okay, I have to tell you something: I’m a little obsessed with your wife, Jodie Turner-Smith. JJ: Me too. As you should be! I love how loudly and publicly you both love on each other. But I need you to set the scene for me. When you are leaving flirty Instagram comments, and she's tweeting thirsty things about you, are you in the same room? Do you know that the other one is tweeting? What's happening?

JJ: We're rarely in the same room [writing] the thirsty comments because that usually just gets said to each other. But, look, if either of us misses a comment, you better believe at night, there's a, "Hey, did you see what I wrote?" One, she's very easy to love out loud and two, she's phenomenal. And I have to say, the love and support that is coming my direction has been a revelation in my life. I've said this often, and it just is the truth: If you ever needed to test whether or not you had chosen the right partner in life, just have a baby at the beginning of a pandemic and then spend a year and a half together. And then you know. And then you absolutely know. I didn't get married until fairly late in the game. I didn't have a baby till very late in the game and they're the two best choices I've ever made in my life.

I'm just going to embarrass you now by reading one of Jodie's thirsty comments to you. She tweeted, “Objectifying my husband on the internet is my kink. I thought you guys knew this by now,” with a gif that said "No shame." JJ: [laughs] That sounds about right.

She's not the only one though. There's this whole thirst for Joshua Jackson corner of the internet. And it feels like there's been a bit of a heartthrob resurgence for you now at your big age. How do you feel about that?

JJ: I hadn't really put too much thought into it, but I am happy that my wife is thirsty for me. What about the rest of us? JJ: That's great for y'all, but it's most important that my wife is thirsty for me. Good answer. You're good at this husband thing. You recently revealed that Jodie proposed to you. Then it became this big story, and people were so surprised by it. How did you feel about the response? JJ: Thank you for giving me the opportunity to give context to this story. So I accidentally threw my wife under the bus because that story was told quickly and it didn't give the full context and holy Jesus, the internet is racist and misogynist. So yes, we were in Nicaragua on a beautiful moonlit night, it could not possibly have been more romantic. And yes, my wife did propose to me and yes, I did say yes, but what I didn't say in that interview was there was a caveat, which is that I'm still old school enough that I said, "This is a yes, but you have to give me the opportunity [to do it too]." She has a biological father and a stepdad, who's the man who raised her. [I said], ‘You have to give me the opportunity to ask both of those men for your hand in marriage.’ And then, ‘I would like the opportunity to re-propose those to you and do it the old fashioned way down on bended knee.’ So, that's actually how the story ended up.

So, there were two proposals. I do feel like that is important context. JJ: Yes, two proposals. And also for anybody who is freaked out by a woman claiming her own space, shut the fuck up. Good God, you cannot believe the things people were leaving my wife on Instagram. She did it. I said ‘yes.’ We're happy. That's it. That's all you need to know. That has been a real education for me as a white man, truly. The way people get in her comments and the ignorance and ugliness that comes her way is truly shocking. And it has been a necessary, but an unpleasant education in just the way people relate to Black bodies in general, but Black female bodies in specific. It is not okay. We have a long way to go. Jodie is such an inspiration because it seems like she handles it in stride. She handles it all with humour and with grace. JJ: She does. And look, I think it's like a golden cage, the concept of the strong Black woman. I would wish for my wife that she would not have to rise above with such amazing strength and grace, above the ugliness that people throw at her on a day to day. I am impressed with her that she does it, but I would wish that that would not be the armour that she has to put on every morning to just navigate being alive. That's a word. That's a word, Joshua Jackson.

The 13-year-old in me needs to ask this. We are in the era of reboots. If they touched Dawson's Creek — which is a masterpiece that should not be touched — but if they did, what would you want it to look like? JJ: I think it should look a lot like it looked the first time. To me, what was great about that story was it was set in a not cool place. It wasn't New York, it wasn't LA, it wasn't London. It wasn't like these were kids who were on the cutting edge of culture, but they were kids just dealing with each other and they were also very smart and capable of expressing themselves. It's something that I loved at that age performing it. And I think that is the reason it has lived on.  We have these very reductive ideas of what you're capable of at 16, 17, 18. And my experience of myself at that point was not as a two-dimensional jock or nerd or pretty girl. You are living potentially an even more full life at that point because everything's just so heightened. [Dawson’s Creek] never talked down to the people that it was portraying. That's one of the things that I loved about it as a book nerd growing up. The vocabulary of Dawson's Creek was always above my level and that was refreshing. To go back to the “diversity” conversation, you can't really make a show with six white leads anymore and that’s a good thing. But I also don't know how I feel about taking a thing, rebooting it, and just throwing Black characters in there. 

JJ: I hear that. And there's certain contexts in which it doesn't work unless you're making it a thing about race, right? If you watch Bridgerton, obviously you're living inside of a fantasy world, and so you're bringing Black characters into this traditionally white space and what would historically be a white space. And now you are able to have a conversation about myth-making and inclusion and who gets to say what and who gets to act how. So that's interesting, but I don’t think you’re just throwing in a Black character if you changed Joey to a Black woman [or] Pacey to a Black man. What you're doing is you're enriching the character. Let's say one of those characters is white and one of those characters is Black. Now, there's a whole rich conversation to be had between these two kids, the political times that we live in, the cultural flow that is going through all of us right now. I think that makes a better story. All these conversations around comic books in particular like, "Well, that's a white character." It's like, Man, shut up. What are you talking about? It is a comic book character! Joey and Pacey don't have to be white. Dawson and Jen don't have to be white. And this is what we were talking about a little bit earlier. We get better the broader our perspective is, both as humans, but also in the entertainment industry. So if you went back to a story like [Dawson’s Creek], what was important in that show was class not race, which I think is true for a lot of small Northeastern towns. They are very white. But if you brought race into that as well, you don't diminish the amount of the stories that you can tell. You enrich the tapestry of that show. So I think that would be a great idea.

Make Pacey Witter a Black man in 2021 is what I just heard from you. JJ: Hashtag ‘Make Pacey Witter A Black Man’. There we go!

[penning-captain-underpantsff]

Tumblr exclusive fic

Jasper has rarely had the typical family experience. He couldn't really say he's had a typical family. It was those rare fleeting moments when his brother and sister came together .. for his sake..that he felt like his family was Normal.

Calling Nora, he's not sure what kind of response he'll get but he's got to try.

Or: I wrote a fic about the Krupp sister after all.

" Just talk to him." " About what?" She asked with bored annoyance. Jasper looked up with tired hopefulness. A worn smile on his face. Nora wondered how many times he's plastered that on when he was tired and trying not to show it. She knew he was always tired. Ever since he jumped into parenthood at far too young an age. Barely a man, he had a child on his hands. While she… She had done her best given her circumstances. So had he. The thought lingered on their missing sibling. Nora had been out of reach, not unlike him. Albeit at a more critical time. Ben had come back in the end, hadn't he? " About anything. I just want us to come together again. Stop drifting apart." Jasper pleaded. " You know Ben and I were never really that close." Nora pointed out. " It's been a couple of years since you two talked. Especially since.. whatever happened to-" Jasper trailed off, hoping that Nora would fill in the missing blanks. Truth was, he wasn't sure what it was that kept them at arm's length. Maybe it was because he has been too young, unable to keep up with what was going on. When they got older, he had hoped they would reconcile or that he'd understand. " It's not that simple. You're one of the few things we agreed on. We rarely saw eye to eye. It's not something we can just talk out." Nora explained. Jasper knit his brows as he looked down. There had to be more than that. Something that could be fixed. He remembered those days where they'd come together to help him. It was always for him. It was when his family felt the most whole. The warm fuzzy feeling that made him feel safest. When his brother and sister felt like they actually were. Not just people who happened to live together and be related. They may have been all grown up, with families of their own. Moved away and living their own lives. They could still have that whole feeling, couldn't they? They could still be a family, right? " Then, couldn't you two...come back together for me?" Jasper asked, not unlike when he had been so much younger. When his problems weren't about raising Kipper, juggling jobs and just trying to keep himself afloat. When his world consisted of struggling with school and of course, mom. She was always a problem. She was still a problem but one he could get away with ignoring much longer now. " There has to be more of a reason than that. What would we even talk about? Don't you think we've tried? How many times we've tried to tackle the subject?" Nora tried to be gentle but she was exasperated. " I just thought that after all this time- it's been so long- we could put it all behind us. I just want us to be a normal family. Or as close to normal as we can get." Jasper sighed, running his hand through his hair. " I know I'm foolish for hoping for this sort of thing. You know - you know I've always- always been the ...the more emotional one and- and-" Jasper's words trailed out into nothing but awkward silence. " I understand what you want. What you're after. I really do." It was Nora's turn for silence. Now she looked away, gazing at the clock on the wall. It was getting late. "I should be going." She said, standing up. Jasper wilted for just a moment before putting on that smile again. " It- it was good seeing you. I... you'll keep in contact, right?" Jasper asked hopefully as he got up with her. Nora paused, moving some strands of hair that had fallen into her face. " Look, Jasper, if it really means this much to you. I'll try and call him in the morning." Jasper's eyes lit up. He shouldn't hope too much, but he couldn't help it. Maybe this time it would work. " Really? You mean it?" He asked, his voice rising. " No promises though. You get that, right?" She gave him a weary look. " Yes, yes, of course!" He answered enthusiastically. She wondered if her words were lost on him. " Good night, Jasper."

Nora stood with the phone up to her ear, waiting for that secretary of his to get back to her. She tried to think over all the different ways they had already gone through to try and set their differences aside. Hearing the phone pick up again, she was quickly let down. " Mr. Krupp says he's in a meeting right now and can't take a call." Was the monotone response. Oh well, at least she'd tried.

[moonstars-marie]

I Found [1] - a crackle of electricity

Summary: Nadia Lisitsa was the lightning and thunder of Ketterdam. She was sent on a mission by her boss, but things took a turn when an incident happened and a certain Heartrender discovers her.

Warnings: Violence, Spoilers of the Netflix show obviously

Word Count: 1321

Main Masterlist

I Found Series Masterlist

Next Chapter: I Found [2]

important: this is owned by @moonstars-marie (which is me technically) and pls don’t copy the story, it’s considered plagarism and it’s disrespectful. someone pls notify me if the story is copied. and i don’t own the grishaverse except for nadia lisitsa.

NADIA LISITSA was the thunder and lightning that terrorized Ketterdam. The accompaniment of rain and the darkness. The thundering clap that scared children at night. She was a force that swirled around in the shadows and hid in them, only catching the glint of silver from her katana or the golden crow head on her dagger that was stashed on her right thigh and the glittering silver individual sequin from her navy blue scarf that covered half her face and her curled hair. Jesper Fahey was one of her first few friends in Ketterdam after being trapped in the White Rose. Although she was treated better than the girls in the Menagerie, she still hated being there because people treated her like trash for looking like a Shu Han despite growing up in Ravka.

All her life she was treated like that wherever she went. Jesper didn’t see her like the other people of Ravka or Ketterdam thought of her, he saw her as a girl who was tired of being treated like trash and so she hid within the darkness and lurked and terrorized those people. Besides her hard exterior, he saw a gentle girl who was hurt and abandoned and alone. At one point in one of their meetings, she saved him from a guy who was furious at him for stealing. Seeing her skills of fighting and the pipe she swung around perfectly, the Zemeni boy told his boss about her.

The night she met Kaz Brekker was a rainy night in Ketterdam. She was walking home from working at the parlour and he spoke up from a corner near to where she stayed. Unknowingly, he watched over her, watching and observing her every move. He saw that she can move swiftly and quietly from the way she carried herself when walking, he saw her katana and how she moved like the flow of a river with it.

Despite not knowing each other and having only met once, he was willing to pay her indenture from Onkle Felix and have her be a part of the Dregs. One of his Crows. One night, he promised that he’ll pay her off and have her work in the Crow Club. And he did. She now resided in the club with Kaz and Jesper, working as a barmaid and guard as well as gaining information. Kaz gave her a dagger with a crow head on the hilt he had gifted her after joining as well as a new leather belted saya (sheath) for her katana that will be placed on her back like a bag instead on her hip. She gained a new title among the Barrel, the Vixen.

After being a month with Kaz and Jesper, Nadia was walking back from her missions until she felt a lingering stare near Tante Heleen’s brothel. There she discovered one of the girls, a Suli girl named Inej Ghafa. A year younger than her, but she was quiet as a mouse. No one couldn’t hear her and even Nadia couldn’t the first time, but she noticed. She had seen her lurking about and Nadia had learned that she was skilled at getting information for Heleen, skilled with the daggers.

And so Nadia went back to Kaz and told him of a girl who was short and small enough to hide from people and can get information. That was the day Kaz approached Heleen. Where Inej had heard him. Where he got Inej to work for him and pay her indenture, and so Inej became a part of the Dregs. There, it started the friendship between Inej and Nadia. There, the Wraith was introduced in the Barrel.

A couple months had passed after Inej had joined the Crows, Nadia was being sent by Kaz to Novokribirsk and steal jewelleries as Inej was unable to leave Ketterdam because of Heleen. She wanted to free Inej from the brothel. Kaz and Nadia were doing everything to free her from the Menagerie and so the Bastard of the Barrel sending the Ravkan girl to Novokribirsk was a way to get more money for them.

Walking about the city she saw vendors, fruits, vegetables, and jewellery around. Being sneaky, she took a couple of jewels and rings and wallets and watches left and right with a few fake smiles and sweet words. Though some seemed to spat at her for her Shu Han looks. She was doing well and was about to leave until she was caught. Saints, she thought as she started to run. Jumping over wooden boxes and ducking under fences to get away. Her panting was the only thing she was hearing by the time she got to the edge of a forest.

She successfully got away from them until someone grabbed her from behind, feeling a hand going around her waist holding her there. She grunted and tried to get out of the grip her captor had on her. She suddenly slammed her head back causing her captor to let go of her. She screamed as she tried to pull away from them and tried to reach for her dagger or katana by her side. She felt a knife on her leg and she let out a screamed pain from the cut that was made. She gained strength back and fought until a sudden light from her hands went towards her captor and she fell unconscious.

Nina Zenik finished walking about Novokribirsk and was already in her room until she heard a thundering clap behind the room she was staying in. She went out to her balcony to see flashes of silver white light in the woods. Her eyes widened, it can’t be. She began to run towards the source of white light and saw a young Shu Han girl fighting a couple of guards. She was good at fighting, she had to give her that. But what was concerning and amazing to her was the little electricity currents going through the Shu girl and dancing around her body. She knew the girl hadn’t noticed her change with also the white light that she was giving off.

Nina watched as the girl knocked out two more men with the butt of her katana. She was doing well, until she was tackled and pinned down on the forest ground. Nina was about to help her, but was interrupted with a lightning strike towards the girl’s captor. Her eyes watched in astonishment, it was her. The girl fell unconscious after her fight with her captor, lying still on the ground. Nina didn’t hear a heartbeat from him and she knew he was dead.

With strength she had, she caught sight of two more men who were advancing towards the girl. She stepped out and held her arms up, her hands in a triangle shape with her index fingers, middle fingers, and her thumbs up. She waved her hands delicately and slowed their hearts.

Nina walked towards the Shu girl and heard her slow heartbeat meaning she was asleep. She was still breathing. Grabbing the katana and putting it back to where her saya is, she placed the dagger back to the girl’s thigh holster. She saw a cut on the right thigh and she slowed the blood flow from her thigh to keep it from bleeding more blood out. She would need to patch it up first before continuing the normal blood flow through her leg.

Hoisting the girl up, she dragged her towards the inn and up to her room where she’ll be kept safe until she sends a letter to her General and be ordered with her instructions. The girl’s dagger was taken by her and kept in her luggage so the younger assassin couldn’t reach it and attack her if she was ever to wake up. Nina smiled, she had found a rare summoner. A Lightning Summoner. Her General would be pleased to meet and see the girl.

[litwitlady]

Send Me Home (1/?)

Read on AO3.

‘The Braves are down to their last at bat, Jeff. And it’s Michael Guerin in the on-deck circle. What’s Ramon’s strategy here? Does he try to jam him up inside or keep firing fastballs and hope Guerin can’t catch up?’

It’s September in Atlanta and the Braves are playing the Marlins. Every game counts as both teams vy for a spot in October baseball. Michael Guerin is a lead candidate for MVP, and he’s always a threat in the bottom of the ninth with two outs and the bases loaded. The sellout crowd roars as his walk-up music begins to play.

I was born to the desert And to the desert I’ll return Sun-soaked and leathered Tattered and tethered Send me home, send me home, send me home

‘Ramon’s got that curveball, Chip. I’m not sure Guerin’s ever met a fastball he couldn’t hit. Especially in the bottom of the ninth. So, I think Ramon starts with the curveball even if that’s exactly what Guerin’s expecting.’

Michael steps into the batter’s box and takes a couple of quick practice swings, eyes wide and watching Ramon’s every move. He squares his hips and lowers his hands on the bat just a touch. It’s an adjustment he’s been working on for the past month or so with great success. Ramon lets loose his first pitch. As expected, it’s a nasty curveball and a pitch Michael has struck out on more than once during his twelve year career. But this time he’s prepared and anticipates perfectly where the bottom of the curve will land. He shoots a laser to shallow right field, and it drops in for a walk-off single. The dugout empties and everyone tackles him as he crosses home plate, one game closer to October.

--------

Later that night, Michael sits on the tailgate of his Chevy, beer in hand and staring up at the stars like so many nights before. Several of the guys had harassed him about going out to celebrate, but he’s not in the mood. He’s never in the mood these days. The winning still feels good and the possibility of the MVP is a dream. But for a long time now, he’s felt like there’s something missing in his life. Something essential, something elusive, something just out of his reach.

The truth is that he’s lonely. It’s a truth he can admit to himself when he’s alone underneath the cosmos watching the stars blink down at him against the wide expanse of space.

There have been relationships along the way. Women he’s dated earnestly. Once upon a time, maybe even a couple he could have loved. When he was younger, there had also been a few men. But none recently. The deeply rooted homophobia of baseball to blame. Mostly anyway. It’s strange now - everyone knows he’s bisexual, a simple Google search is all it takes. But he’s fairly certain baseball collectively decided to ignore his sexuality altogether after he got called up to the majors all those years ago.

He wants to believe he’s not afraid to be seen with men. He tells himself it’s just simpler this way, less complicated. Fewer awkward questions and the focus remaining on his athletic abilities rather than his sex life. Besides, only two major league players have ever come out and they both only did so after they’d retired. He supposes maybe he counts as the third. It’s not the stuff of fairytales, and Michael had learned that lesson during his brief stint in Double-A ball.

That feels like a lifetime ago.

Alex Manes’ new album drifts through the truck’s windows. His low, throaty voice practically purring into Michael’s ears. He’s been a big fan of Alex and his music for several years now. They’re both from New Mexico and the way he sings about the desert rings true enough to Michael that listening to one of his songs sends him right back home. Despite their many issues, he misses his brother and sister so badly sometimes he can barely breathe. Alex’s music reminds him of all the things and all the people he’s left behind - for better or worse. A couple of years ago, he’d had the opportunity to see Alex perform live but he’d turned it down. He still can’t explain why.

The night stretches out before him. Beer and music lulling him into a peaceful sleep until a bright light flashes in his face and startles him awake. He sits up and raises his hands peacefully. ‘Hey, Ernie.’

‘Oh, Mr. Guerin. I didn’t recognize you. What are you still doing here? It’s past midnight.’ He clicks the flashlight off and clips it back onto his belt. ‘Congrats on the walk-off!’

Michael shrugs. ‘Thanks. Didn’t want to go home just yet. Like watching the stars at night. But I haven’t seen you in a while. The grandkids still running circles around you?’

‘You know it! Caleb just turned five and is a holy terror. Michelle is eight going on eighteen. I can barely get a word in edgewise between the two of them.’ His eyes shine even in the darkness, crinkling at the edges.

Michael’s heart aches at Ernie’s easy, simple joy, but he manages a genuine smile thanks to the night’s shadows softening the edges of his jaw. ‘That sounds nice.’ He hops off his tailgate. ‘I’ll get out of your hair. Got an early game anyway. Need to get some sleep.’

‘Well, now, don’t let me chase you off. I don’t mind the company. It gets a little spooky at night. You can always come knock on my door if you ever need anything.’ Ernie opens the Chevy’s door for Michael and shuts it behind him. ‘All these other guys with their flashy sports cars and you in this old rust bucket. You’re a weird one, Mr. Guerin. But I like that about you.’

Michael runs his hands around the cracked steering wheel. ‘Most days this truck is about the closest thing to home I’ve got. There’s still desert dirt in the bed and an engine I rebuilt myself. What the fuck would I do with a Ferrari?’

They both laugh and Michael waves and honks his horn as he pulls out of the player’s lot. The streets are mostly empty, cars keeping to the well-lit interstate at night. He decides to stay on surface roads and take the long way home, radio softly playing old country songs. His thoughts drift to tomorrow’s game and the rookie pitcher the Marlins are starting. His own rookie year had been tough, and he makes a mental note to speak to the kid at some point during the game, ask him how he’s doing and if he’s being treated well.

The streetlights along Peachtree illuminate his path through Brookhaven. He crosses into Atlanta city limits and enters Buckhead just as ‘Lay Me Down’ by Loretta Lynn and Willie Nelson starts to play through his speakers. And all too soon, he turns down his street and opens the cedar gate at the end of his driveway, parking his truck and sitting in the darkness until the song comes to an end.

Climbing out of his truck, he unlocks the front door with his telekinesis, slipping inside quietly and deactivating his alarm system. He’d bought the house in foreclosure, spending most of his money on remodeling the mid-century ranch. It’s not extravagant, but it’s the most expensive thing he owns. He’d even let Isobel fly out to decorate the place within a very strict budget, and he’d had to admit she’d done a great job - one side of his front door Atlanta, the other side New Mexico.

But even so, it has never felt like home.

The first few nights he’d spent in the house had been rough. It was too quiet and too soft and too much. More than once he’d grabbed his ancient, worn sleeping bag and crawled into the bed of his truck. Sleeping hard on the uncomfortable. ribbed metal but beneath the stars he loved so much. The morning dew waking him with the sun each morning.

These days he manages to sleep in bed at night, but only because he’d installed two skylights overhead so that the stars would always be his. And only his. He rarely brings anyone home anymore, preferring their house to his. But when he does, he takes them to a guest bedroom. None of them ever seem to mind how empty the space is or how devoid of personality. Four blank walls and a lone bed filling the room. Why would they? It’s not Michael the foster kid from the desert they’re sleeping with. It’s Michael Guerin the multi-millionaire first baseman with the single-season home run record and the aw-shucks, good boy smile.

Tonight he doesn’t bother turning on any lights. He just pads through the kitchen to grab an apple and a bottle of water, undresses and climbs into bed. He takes a large bite of the granny smith and pulls out his phone, calling Isobel.

‘Congrats on the walk-off!’ He can hear another game in the background. Isobel had never watched a baseball game in her life - including any of his - until the day he’d gotten drafted right out of high school. But now she watches all of them. Or as many of them as possible. Her scouting reports are better than anything stamped official and readily available in the team clubhouse.

‘Thanks. Didn’t really see the ball that well tonight, though. Is Max there?’ It’s stupid to ask when he already knows the answer.

‘Out with Liz. They’ve been inseparable ever since she moved back to Roswell. It’s gross and I miss you.’ The sound on her tv goes silent and he knows she’s settling in for a long conversation. ‘Tell me about tomorrow. Any surprises?’

‘No. New kid on the mound just called up. Got a mean slider. Torres has some pain in his wrist so he’ll be benched.’ Michael finishes his apple in two large bites and guzzles his water, listening to Isobel pound away at her keyboard already deep in research mode. ‘Might get me moved up to the number two slot.’

They spend fifteen minutes strategizing. It’s what they do most nights. Isobel critiquing the numbers based on intuition and her own database of knowledge concerning the human psyche, while he runs statistical analyses and probabilities in his head faster than humanly possible. Michael suggests more than once that she’d make a great scout and that maybe when he retires they can go into business together. He’s told her this a million times, but she only laughs him off and reminds him that she already has a job.

‘A worthless job that doesn’t pay you what you deserve.’ He reaches for the tv remote on his nightstand but can’t find it. Not that it matters. He switches the television on with his mind and nods his head through the channels, stopping on an old western and muting the volume.

‘Philanthropy is not worthless, Michael!’ She sighs loudly to punctuate her exasperation. ‘And my salary is not the point - the point is helping people. Besides, I have all of Noah’s money and can negotiate more pay any time I choose.’

That he believes. ‘How’d your date go last night?’ Asking Isobel about her date absolutely means she’ll push him to share something just as personal. But it was her first official date with a woman and he genuinely wants to know how it went. No matter the price he’ll pay.

‘Really, really, really well.’ He can hear the grin in her voice and it makes him smile. ‘She’s a cardiologist and very good with her hands. Valenti makes a pretty superb matchmaker. Maybe I’ll ship him your way because you could certainly use the help.’

Michael rolls his eyes and fakes a groan. ‘You can keep Valenti. Don’t you think it’s weird to have your ex setting you up on dates? Do you really think he’s the best judge of character?’

‘Kyle knows me better than most. He was my first relationship after Noah and he put up with a lot. I trust him implicitly with my heart and yours. Plus, I was the one who broke up with him.’

‘My heart is fine, thanks.’ He lies smoothly and knows exactly how she’s going to respond.

‘I can’t stand the thought of you all the way across the country in that foreign place with no one to go home to at night.’

He snorts. ‘It’s called Georgia, Iz. And I’m not home enough for a relationship to work right now.’

‘Half the guys on your team - on any team! - are married. So that’s a pisspoor excuse. You keep pushing everyone away. Don’t forget who you’re talking to. I know you, Michael. As soon as you start to feel something, the doors slam shut and you become another stereotypical lonewolf cowboy.’ Her voice is loud now, vehement and self-righteous. They’ve reenacted this scene so many times it feels very paint by number at this point. ���I hardly ever hear a smile in your voice anymore.’

She’s right and she knows it. He used to love dating, meeting new people. First kisses and first fucks. Last kisses and farewell fucks. He lived for those moments and now he hardly ever looks anyone in the eye. ‘We have this conversation at least once a month. And nothing has changed. It’s too hard right now, Iz. I’m too known to ever really be known. Not the way I would want to be. Not in any way that I would trust.’

There’s no use arguing so they move on to easier topics. Max and LIz’s ongoing romance, details of Isobel’s date, Maria’s remodel of the Pony thanks to a very generous anonymous donation. Every word out of her mouth squeezes his heart a little bit tighter until it’s too much and he says goodnight.

Flipping onto his side, he reaches his arm out to the other side of the bed, running his hand over the cold, unwrinkled sheet. His eyes land on the empty pillow no head ever touches and tries to imagine a face looking back at him. A face that might smile suggestively or quietly murmur goodnight. But he’s unable to conjure anything beyond a blank, shapeless outline. It makes him feel pathetic so he yanks the pillow underneath his own head and forces his eyes shut, trying in vain to quiet his mind. Despite his best efforts, sleep takes its sweet time finding him.

The next morning he’s exhausted but gets to the field early. He’d woken up to a cryptic message from Isobel. There’s a surprise waiting for you after the game! Stick around this time, Michael. Don’t make me get on a plane. He’s sure that can’t mean anything good, but he attempts to put it out of his mind for now.

The ballpark is already bustling with activity. Michael heads into the clubhouse to change. He stops and asks Stan, their hitting coach, for some extra work before the rest of the team arrives. He’s worried about how he’s been shifting his wrists recently and wants someone else’s opinion. The adjustments he’d made last night seem to be working, but he’s worried about straining a muscle or tweaking the wrong tendon. Two of his teammates are already on the IL with wrist pain. He doesn’t want to be next, especially with the postseason race and his run at MVP on the line.

Michael finds Danny Marks asleep in one of the clubhouse’s leather chairs. He swats him on the head on the way to his locker, laughing at Danny’s loud yelp. ‘Fuck, man, you’re always asleep. How did you manage to stay awake on the mound long enough to put together two Cy Young seasons?’

‘Talent, Guerin. Talent. You should try it sometime. Maybe then you’ll win MVP.’ Danny yawns and stretches his arms over his head. Michael glares at him. ‘Don’t worry. You’re still the favorite. Our very own diamond darling. No one else is getting their own personal concert any time soon.’

‘What?’ He sits on the chair at his locker, blinking at Danny in confusion. ‘Personal concert?’ Isobel’s strange text message flashes through his head again while he inwardly groans.

‘Oh, yeah.’ Danny grins and crosses his ankles on the table in front of him, brashly enjoying the way Michael squirms. ‘Alex Manes is traveling down from Nashville just for you - baseball’s most beloved first baseman.’ He throws a toy football at Michael’s head, chuckling when it bounces off his curls. ‘He’s not bad looking, you know.’

‘Stop.’ Danny is Michael’s best friend on the team and the only one he feels comfortable enough to have this conversation with. ‘Whose idea was this? Did Isobel do something? Or was this you?’

Michael doesn’t want this. Not at all. And he can’t exactly explain why. Music is personal to him - profoundly personal. Always has been since he was nothing but an unloved kid trapped in various violent foster homes. It was music that had kept him warm at night and music that had loved him best. The only escape available to him during most of his darkest hours.

Over the years, there have been many artists he’s considered favorites. Most of them old country crooners or folk song heroes. Much like Alex Manes. But with Alex, it’s something more. Something he has a hard time vocalizing. They are both from New Mexico. Both spent a chunk of their formative years in Roswell. Michael has read or watched multiple interviews with Alex where he’s alluded heavily to an abusive father. His lyrics certainly do the same. Lots of kids grow up that way - Michael knows he’s not alone in that particular fate - but the way Alex puts that pain to music settles something inside his chest that has never been settled before.

So the thought of meeting Alex worries Michael. They say don’t meet your heroes for a reason. In his head, Alex represents a sense of safety, a sense of home. What happens when they meet and that’s taken from him? Because maybe Alex is a liar. Or maybe he’s a dick. Either possibility is very real. He’s also a vet, and Michael hates, hates, hates the military. And he doesn’t want to hate Alex. Doesn’t want to lose his music. Cannot emotionally afford to lose his music if he’s being honest.

‘Isobel apparently knows someone who knows someone who knows someone. I just didn’t try and stop her. Or Lena.’ Danny’s wife is Isobel’s favorite human. It’s the worst thing that’s happened to Michael since meeting Danny. The two of them have done nothing but make his life one unasked for surprise after another. ‘Besides, even if you hate it, the team could really use some fun before heading into the postseason. Some good old-fashioned team bonding, my friend. And this time, you don’t get to run away. The guys need to see their captain smile every once in a while.’

Michael sighs and changes into his warmups. Danny’s phone rings and he grins one last time at Michael before disappearing for some privacy. Michael decides to push Alex Manes to the back of his mind and concentrate on the game ahead of him. Stan is waiting, anyway. So he’ll focus on his wrists for now and worry about everything else later. The one thing he does do, however, is pull out his phone and send Isobel a very pointed text.

You should have gotten my permission first.

Isobel’s text response is nothing but the angel halo emoji. Michael wishes his telekinesis was strong enough to travel across state lines because he’d like to throw her phone into the wall. Since that option is not available to him, he sends Max a text instead.

Your sister is a menace.

He pockets his phone, not bothering to wait on an answer. Max tends to be too busy these days. Not that that’s anything new really. Unless your name is Liz Ortecho or Isobel Evans, he doesn’t have much time for you.

The morning stretches by as gametime approaches. Batting practice goes well and Michael works with Stan on keeping his wrists from turning too much when he swings. His teammates have all found out about the concert by the time the first pitch is thrown and none of them will let him forget it. Each time his walk-up music begins to play, Danny leads a small group of particularly bad vocalists in a sing-a-long. All of them belting out the lyrics at the top of their lungs. Michael tries to keep the stupid grin off his face and almost suceeds.

He won’t admit it, but he actually begins to get excited. Doesn’t even mind when Max only ends up responding with a snarky text.

Try living less than five miles from her.

He’d give anything to live five miles from Isobel. Michael loves his teammates. He really does. Atlanta has one of the best team dynamics in baseball. Maybe the best. They support each other, love one another, and when they say family, they mean it. Team dinners and family outings are normal even during the off season. Michael doesn’t avoid spending time with them because he dislikes anyone - although there have been various tiffs in the past but nothing long lasting. He avoids them because he loves them enough to let his mouth loosen too much, all his secrets threatening to tumble out with no regard for his safety or the safety of his siblings.

He knows this because it has happened on more than one occasion. Years ago during his rookie years when living hard and drinker harder were his nightly norm. On any given night you’d find him at the bar, four fingers deep into a bottle of bourbon, mouthing off about moving things with his mind. It wasn’t the booze talking; it was his loneliness. The throbbing homesick ache in his chest that only Max and Isobel could smooth away. Once he knew his teammates were shitfaced, he’d let some little comment slip about his abilities. Half of them never paid any attention to the things he said and the other half merely laughed at him.

He’d told Isobel one night about the things he said and she’d yelled at him solidly for an hour. The next day he’d gotten a nasty phone call from Max and has kept his mouth shut ever since that conversation.

Keeping their secret is important. Michael understands that, but the lying exhausts him. He loves Danny and hates that the most important part of himself Danny and Lena can never know. He loves his other teammates, and he doesn’t want to hide this huge part of himself from them forever. The lying has always made him feel unclean - distant and deceptive. Back in Roswell, it had been easier. He hadn’t had many friends and the people closest to him shared the same secret. But now, the people he sees every single day aren’t allowed to know the real him. It breaks his heart in a way he could never have anticipated, making him feel truly alien.

Michael and Isobel had jumped through enormous hoops to keep his DNA secret from team doctors and drug testers. It’s the only reason he’d ever agreed to her mind influence.

A major league baseball player cannot have telekinetic superpowers, alien or not. The cheating accusations would be immediate and relentless - his career over and his name shamed forever. Regardless of the fact that he would never dream of cheating to advance his career. Besides, he’s self-aware enough - or perhaps cocky enough - to understand that his level of talent doesn’t require any telekinetic assistance. Michael Guerin is just that fucking good.

During his last at bat in the eighth inning, Alex Manes’ face flashes on the digital scoreboard high above centerfield advertising the aftergame concert. Michael concentrates on keeping his wrists tight and imagines that Alex is somewhere in the stadium watching him. He swings at the first pitch - a fastball left too high over the plate - and knows he’s gotten every piece of it by the cracking sound his bat makes. He starts a slow run to first base and watches the ball sail over the leftfield wall. With his signature two claps, he rounds first and enjoys the cheering crowd chanting his name. Stepping on the bag at home plate, his eyes glance back up at the scoreboard, but Alex’s face has disappeared. And suddenly his nerves have returned tenfold at the realization that soon he’ll be face to face with a man he has no idea how to talk to - what to say or even if he’ll get a chance to say anything at all.

Despite the cheers and happy butt slaps from his teammates, the pit in Michael’s stomach stretches wide. In the clubhouse, he checks his phone again and one last final message from Isobel lights up his screen.

He wants to meet you first.

[gumnut-logic]

Who do you save, John? (Bit 1)

And here we have the beginnings of a new fic. It won’t be a ficlet, though I may attempt to keep it below 10K, honestly, I have no idea. There is a plan (wow, that’s rare), so we’ll just have to see what happens.

This is Fandomversary Fic Five - for @5hadow-alpha​ who asked for ‘Shopping and any of the Tracy brothers (but maybe Virgil?😉)’. Well, you got all five bros plus Jeff in this one and a weird take on shopping, but it is fic and I hope you enjoy it :D

-o-o-o-

Jeff leant on his cane and held his tongue.

His eldest was quietly juggling small talk as they waited for the assistant to bring out the finished product. Gordon and Alan were discussing something about a toy fish far too loudly to be polite, John was talking to Eos, and Virgil was eyeing Jeff with suspicion like he always was – as if he might break if he took those worried brown eyes off him.

An internal sigh.

It was a family day out. Well, it was supposed to be. A simple follow up trip to the tailors to collect and check the fitting of their suits. When he suggested they do this together, there had been a few odd expressions, but ultimately, his boys had jumped at the opportunity.

His mother had arched an eyebrow with enough angle to give Jeff the suspicion that this was very unusual. A quick question to her later that night, and his suspicions had been confirmed.

His boys hated shopping.

But this was a different kind of purchase. It was time to spend together as father and sons. Something he yearned for.

The fitting last month had gone really well. He had enjoyed spending time with his boys away from International Rescue. Getting to know each of them. Watching them interact as brothers.

If he was honest, the eldest boys hadn’t changed much in personality. Matured, yes. Taken on more responsibility, of course. But at their core, Scott was still the leader, the hovering, worried older brother. Virgil still had that touch of hero worship for Scott, and rounded up all the others, playing referee to all of them. John was the island he always was until one brother or another cycloned onto his shores and messed with him.

It was the younger two he needed to get to know better.

Something had happened to his little Gordon while he was away. Some things. There were scars on his body that hadn’t been there when Jeff left. His little fish had been through so much injury in his short life…Scott’s quiet voice reported while Virgil stood behind him, so much worry in those brown eyes.

Jeff had enough control not to react. Not until he was alone, late at night, when only Lucy heard his tears.

But there was a gold medal on Gordon’s wall. With the injuries came the triumphs, the list of lives saved.

Including his own.

He had nearly lost a son to Gaat.

Nearly.

He straightened where he stood and shifted his cane.

Of course, this just prompted Virgil to take a step closer, that familiar frown crumpling his brow.

“I’m okay, Virgil.”

The quiet statement interrupted Scott and his small talk. The commander flicked a glance between the two of them, narrowing on Virgil.

Jeff watched a silent communication bounce between them.

Virgil took a step back.

Scott turned back to the tailor, his gaze skipping over Jeff to focus back on the conversation.

Jeff swallowed.

Virgil was still watching.

Another internal sigh. His second eldest was a damned mind reader.

Okay, so he wasn’t feeling the best today. He had days like that. Days where gravity was too much. Days where people were too much. Days where memories were too much. He was getting used to tackling them and they were getting less frequent. Today wasn’t a particularly bad one and he was determined not to miss out this rare precious time with his boys.

“You okay, Dad?” Alan bounced beside him, as always, a ball of energy. His fingers brushed against Jeff’s arm, bright eyes peering up at him.

A half smile. “I’m okay, Allie. Just a little on the achy side today.”

In his peripheral vision, brown eyes across the room narrowed.

“You wanna sit down?” Alan pointed at one of the many chairs in the room.

“No, I’m better standing. Thank you, son.”

Alan eyed him sideways. “Virg, bugging you?”

That prompted a proper sigh. “He means well.”

“Well, if you ever need to hide, I know some good spots.”

“Alan!” Gordon shuffled over and poked him in the ribs. “That’s classified information.”

“Dad, needs our help, Gords.”

The aquanaut eyed his father suspiciously. “How do we know he won’t collude with the enemy in the future.”

Jeff arched an eyebrow. “Since when is Virgil ‘the enemy’?”

“See, that’s what I mean. Allie, you’re risking our security.”

“It sounds like the both of you have been risking your health and making your brother’s job harder.” He frowned at his two youngest sons. “Do you do the same to your grandmother?”

Both boys opened their mouths, but perhaps fortunately for them, they were interrupted by the tailor as the assistant brought out their six brand new suits.

Jeff eyed his youngest as Gordon poked him in the ribs again and whispered in his ear as they hurried off. Alan glared at his fish brother and got noogie for his efforts.

No, perhaps his boys may have matured, but they really weren’t that different.

He followed them into the dressing rooms, the tailor himself holding Jeff’s suit.

“Do you need any assistance, sir?”

“No, William, thank you. I can manage.” He shut the door and pushed the rest of the world out.

He needed a moment.

He threw himself into one of the two chairs in the small room.

The decor was on the opulent side. They paid top dollar for this service and the trappings reflected it. His mind threw up the first suit shop he had attended in Kansas. He had been looked up and down as a country hick. The price had been steep then, but was now less than pocket change.

He had come a long way.

Until eight years ago.

Then he was just a long way away.

He cut off that train of thought. Down that way lay depression and lost opportunities. They had no place here today.

Today was about his boys.

He forced himself to his feet, ignoring the ever present aches and focussed on dressing himself without falling on his face.

No doubt, Virgil, or even Scott, would be hovering outside his door shortly.

He made as quick work of the suit as possible. The dark grey material was soft and comfortable, the most subtle stripe emphasizing his shoulders and distracting from his drop in muscle tone.

A temporary thing.

He would get it back.

Eight years was a long time.

“Dad, you okay in there?”

He rolled his eyes. Scott this time. “Nearly done. I will be out shortly.”

It was like he was the child and Scott and Virgil were his parents.

His mother had just laughed when he mentioned it to her. “Honey, your sons are strong. They have become what they needed to be. Give them time to find their places again. Give yourself time.”

He sighed. Patience was something he had learnt while stranded.

Didn’t mean he had to like it.

He tied his shoes and stood up, grabbing his cursed walking stick.

The man in the mirror appeared professional, poised and, with the cane, a little regal.

The man inside felt anything but.

His eyes stared at him.

Haunted grey.

He shook himself. Focus.

With straight shoulders, he grabbed the door handle and strode out to face his children.

-o-o-o-

 Next

[restmyheadatnightcontent]

you are the sunshine of my life

enjoy the disaster family having some fun in the snow! another scene set in the same verse as love and life are the same and can also be found on AO3 here!

___

She’s awoken by a muffled conversation from the other side of the door and before she can wonder what is going on the door is being opened and she squints to see Jaskier opening the door and Ciri standing next to him holding a tray holding plates of, judging by the smell, freshly made pancakes.

“Good morning,” she murmurs, pushing herself up so she’s resting against the headboard “to what do I owe this pleasure?”

“You’ve been working hard this week and thought you deserved a treat.” Jaskier says as he takes the tray from Ciri’s hands and settles in on Yens lap.

Ciri climbs in next to her and snuggles into her side and begins to tell Yen all about the dream she had last night whilst tucking into her own pancakes. Yen glances at Jaskier sitting on the bed across from them, gasping and laughing at all the right moments during the story, no doubt already having heard it in the kitchen beforehand. He’s got some syrup on his cheek already because he seems incapable of eating anything like a normal adult. She stops herself from reaching out and wiping it away.

Ciri finishes her story and then demands to know if either she or Jaskier had an interesting dream, and before she can reply, he is off describing his incredibly weird dream involving him performing at a concert but the band was just made up of sea creatures.

(“We were underwater but, like we weren’t? I was the lead singer, obviously,and the octopus on the drums had a really good voice and- do you think I could teach a crab to play bass? Because she was really talented and I really don’t think it would be that hard.”)

Once he’s finished, Ciri is leaping out of bed and insisting they get up too as “We need to go and get ready!”

“Ready for what exactly?” Yen asks.

“Your mum hasn’t seen it yet, Ciri. She was being too lazy,” Jaskier says before yelping as Yen pokes his stomach with his foot.

“The snow!” Ciri says excitedly as she pulls the curtain open to reveal the world outside, which overnight seems to have been transformed into a white wonderland. It’s not the most snow they’ve ever had, but there is a lot. Looking at the street below, it is a few inches deep and has even settled onto the road which is rare.

“I don’t suppose the pancakes had anything to do with the snow? Perhaps a bribe so that I’d let you forget about your homework so you could go and play outside?”

Ciri just smiles sheepishly up her before asking “Can we go outside and play in the snow please?”

“I suppose so,” Yen smiles as small arms wrap around her middle “Go and get dressed then. Layers please, I don’t want you to catch a cold.”

---

“Come on,” Ciri tugs at the sleeve of her jumper, “We need to go before all the good snow goes!”

“I’m not the one holding us up,” Yen argues, gesturing with her coffee to the real reason they are not yet outside, as Jaskier runs down the stairs tying his scarf around his neck. He’d spent at least 20 minutes trying to decide which scarf and hat combination to wear.

“I preferred the first one,” she says drily and he sticks his tongue out at her as he picks up the bag and then they’re out of the house.

They walk to the local park and she sits herself down on a bench so that she can finish her coffee. Ciri is about to run off, having just spotted her friend Dara on the other side of the park, but Yen holds her back, pulling her hat down snugly over her ears before letting her go.

Jaskier stands next to her, shuffling on his feet, glancing between Yen and the children playing and it’s painfully obvious he wants to go and join them. He’s like an excitable puppy and she pushes at him gentlty, “Go on. You’re just as bad as Ciri, honestly.” He presses a quick kiss to her cheek, before he’s running over to join them.

She never had this. She never was the child running happy and carefree, instead spending her younger years trapped inside, the girl with the wonky fringe and crooked spine who no-one wanted to play with. That was until she went to live with Tissaia, and her spine was no longer crooked but she paid the price with scars, some from surgery and some not, and with a choice taken away from ger. After that, people weren’t playing anymore, they wanted something else from her. She’s spent her whole life fighting to get what she wants.

She’s distracted from her thoughts by a particularly loud laugh from Ciri who seems to have tackled Jaskier with Daras help down into the snow and shoved a handful of snow down the back of his coat, causing him to shriek in an octave that she wasn’t sure he could reach. He retaliates by wrapping his arms around them and dragging them down until they are both covered in snow too.

He looks up and catches Yennefer’s eye and his smile widens. He whispers something to Ciri and then gets up and begins making his way over to her. He looks good like this, she has to admit. Snowflakes clinging to his hair, messy and ruffled from his hat, which has disappeared during the ambush; his blue eyes bright and shining; and his cheeks rosy with the cold.

“Alright?” he asks, his breath billowing out forming a cloud as he sits down next to her on the bench.

She hums and takes a sip from her coffee, before raising her eyebrow and saying “Shouldn’t I be asking you that? I’m not the one that just lost a snowball fight to twos 10 year olds.”

“I’d like to see you try and beat them! Ciri is absolutely is ruthless with deadly aim” before smirking and adding “Wonder where she gets that from.”

Yennefer just slaps his arm and then holds out her mug to him. She hates drinking the dregs of her coffee and feeling the grounds in her mouth, but Jaskier will happily drink them and proclaims that they are the best bit, because he is a menace to society. He slurps them down quickly, before placing her cup in the bag and wrapping his arms around her and then suddenly she’s being lifted up.

She definitely does not let out an undignified squawk as he heaves her up over his shoulder.

“Idiot, what are you doing? Put me down right now!” she barks, smacking her hands against his back.

“No can do, I’m afraid dear. I’m under strict instructions from your daughter that you have to come and join the fun,” he answers, bending slightly to pick up the bag and then walking over towards Ciri.

She struggles for a while longer before accepting her fate, and then she is being gently placed down next to Ciri. He knows better than to drop her into the snow, as then she would not have been responsible for her actions.

“Come on Mum, we have to make snow angels! Look at how perfect the snow is!” Ciri says excitedly before throwing herself backwards into the snow and moving her arms and legs.

And when faced with her daughters pleading eyes and wide smile, she really has no choice but to fall backwards and join her. She closes her eyes and lets the childlike joy take over her as she begins to move her own arms.

Her mind wanders back to her life and how hard she fought to get to where she is now and the price she paid and decides, with Ciri’s laughter ringing in her ears, that it was all worth it.

[toonqueen]

Duckvember 2020

PART 1 OF 2

Part 2 is Here

Frenemy AND Paramour

This is my Negaverse Gladstone (Grimstone) and Nega Magica in my 87/Comics headcanon. SHELDRAKE is @cataradical 's and he’s a cool jerk. Wheee.

THERE IS CUSSING and dirty things said. It’s the Negaverse that's just what goes down there. PG-13ish?!

--------

Sheldrake was glad to have a very easy mission this time. It was planned to be the typical “act natural at a party, steal a thing, and then slip out” kind of job. And it was a solo mission; no coworkers to be annoyed with him (and vice versa). To top it off, he was actually invited to this shindig. Well, his paladin sect received the invite, but that meant he didn’t have to sneak in. With everything added up, it was practically a vacation!

What Shel expected to be a boring hunters’ gala was anything but. The leaders of different groups were trying to appeal to a modern, younger crowd. Instead of a stuffy meeting with the typical job fair flair, it was a real, honest to God party. A full bar! And dancers in cages! Sheldrake couldn't help but chuckle at how hard old fogey hunters were trying to get new blood. Crimey.

The paladin went to the bar and ordered a drink. He sat on a stool facing the crowd, keeping an eye out for his target. 

"Well, hello there," a sultry voice greeted him. A tall redheaded duck leaned up against the bar beside him. She motioned to the bartender to get his attention. "I'll have what he's having."

Sheldrake wasn't caught off guard by the attractive duck's flirting. Despite his cursed energy that often drove others away or made them immediately dislike him, people that were intentionally and professionally deceptive could overcome it in an attempt to get something they wanted. Lord, it was a test, though.

The lady’s tight red dress and orange wavy locks were clearly up to no good. She was a literal red herring if Shel ever saw one. However, he played it cool.

"First hunter's gala?" He sipped his drink and gave the mystery woman a smile.

"Oh, I've been to a few--none quite like this though. Luckily I dressed for the occasion," she paused like she was turning a knob to up the seduction. She moved around, but kept looking back at Shel. "It would be even more exciting if I had one of those VIP passes I've heard others whisper so much about."

Sheldrake smirked. He knew this overtly sexy duck was trying to weasel her way to being a plus one on a special invite. However, he was curious as to why. "Yeah, it would be great to have one of those. But what is it even for? To join an exclusive party with more go-go dancers in cages?"

The redhead let out a giggle. A high pitched one, as if Sheldrake were just the funniest, most charming guy in the room. "I heard it was for a special auction. A bunch of rare items retrieved and uncovered by different hunters,” she replied. “My, I couldn't afford any of them, but I would love to look. Be some nice arm candy for a kind gentleman."

Sheldrake just chuckled before taking a sip of his drink. The lady hadn't touched hers yet. She watched him, slowly drawing her finger around the rim of the glass with a bewitching glow in her eyes.

Finally, Sheldrake said bluntly, "I'd give your performance a 9 out of 10. It might work on those first year hunters over there.” He waved vaguely to a group of younger bachelor-types chatting and laughing on the dance floor. “However, not quite buyin’ what you’re sellin’.”

The redhead shot them a quick look before turning back to Shel. "But they're not my type," she pouted. She leaned in a bit toward the paladin, and placed her hand over his on the bar. "I’d rather have someone more seasoned who can answer any questions I may have about the artifacts."

"Oh, I see, I see; switching gears, okay, okay. Stroke my ego first, then go for my intellect? If sex doesn't sell, then try brains? Gettin’ any warmer?" Sheldrake downed the rest of his drink in one gulp. "Well, this has been very amusing, and I wish you all the luck. Unfortunately, my VIP pass is just for me and doesn't allow a buddy. Boo dang hoo. Maybe try one of those light paladins in the white capes over to the left. They're way more sociable and have to travel in pairs." He gave another general hand wave… everywhere.

The redhead narrowed her dusky eyes. It was the first time she had shown any annoyance with Shel--ah, there it was, back to normal. The paladin slid off his stool, but before he could stand, the lady pressed her entire body flush against his side, beak in his head feathers..

Sheldrake expected a final desperate plea. Something to the effect of “I really need to see this event for my research,” or “please help me, I lost my own pass and my sect will be furious.”

Instead he got a low, unexpected voice. A familiar one that could be likened to Antonio Birderas' role in “Debate with a Vampire”, except if he were a white peking duck raised in suburbia with a twinge of a farmboy accent.

"Shel, I need to get into that auction to obtain a crucial item," Grimstone's voice whispered clearly out of this petite, curvy redheaded lady’s bill, "you have to give me your pass."

The paladin did not outwardly act surprised. He had 100% picked up the fact this woman was hiding something--more than the obvious. He did not expect, however, that Grimestone would be involved.

Shel hummed shortly. With a coy smile, he slid a hand around the redhead’s waist, whispered, "I didn't know you were so proficient in glamour spells."

"I'm not," Grimstone said, his voice reverting back to that soft, playful feminine tone, "my wife is one of the gentlemen servers."

"Oh, how cute," Sheldrake teased, pulling away from the duck.

"She doesn't like to be… flashy," Grimstone explained, a little defensive, looking over his luscious figure and tight-fitting dress.

"I get it, I get it. Taking one for the team, hm?" the paladin smirked as he sized Grimstone’s disguise up, "give my compliments to the caster, though.” He blew a kiss from his fingertips, as if praising a delicious gourmet meal. “Great job. Succulent, divine, mouthwateringly juicy."

Grimstone scowled, crossing his arms. "Sheldrake, the pass."

"Sorry. I have business here, too," the paladin disagreed, "why don't you try those frat boys I recommended earlier?”

"I’ve already tried. You were my last resort. Trust me, this is for the greater good," Grimstone explained.

Sheldrake put his hand to his chin, pretending he was thinking deeply. Grimstone and him had an interesting work relationship; they’d helped each other on several occasions in the past, but also had been on opposite sides a few times, too. Finally, after much consideration, he said casually, "Yeah, no. I'm sure you'll find another way."

Grimstone’s tiny manicured fingers curled into tight fists. "Is there somewhere private we could discuss this more openly?" he pressed.

"Man, this is a borderline orgy sex party. I'm sure there’s a room we can get for a half an hour," Sheldrake replied, then gave an obnoxious wink. 

Grim rolled his eyes. “I don’t have time for this. People have been dipping out to the stairwell to smoke. We’ll talk there,” the disguised warlock suggested.

“Sure. Sure. I take it your high school prom wasn’t that exciting,” Sheldrake taunted. 

Grim sighed and nodded to a waiter nearby before taking Sheldrake’s arm in his. “Let’s walk, then. Hopefully no one’s there at the moment,” he said. Despite the voice coming from the redhead being so playful and demure, Sheldrake could tell Grimstone was using his “I'm taking charge of this operation” tone. 

Sheldrake would normally roll his eyes when Grim spoke to him so seriously, as if he were one of his many wild rugrats. However, he played along, swaying off side by side with this very attractive lady.

Once outside on the desolate stairwell, Grimstone exhaled heavily. "There is a magical person of interest I’m here to free, and it's of the utmost importance that I do.” He spoke in an unusual voice; neither his normal voice, or his disguise’s. Rather, a unique combination; feminine, but more husky. Kinda cute, actually.

"And you don't think what I'm doing here isn’t important, too?" Sheldrake replied, loosely crossing his arms.

"I really *do not* have time for this Shel. I’m handling a case where a school of children were transformed into inanimate objects, and I need to free this woman known as the Brunswick witch who specializes in these curses and can break it,," Grimstone explained. He glanced cautiously at the stairwell window.

"And I have an out of place artifact from a different universe I need to win--or steal, if I have to. I can't give you my pass," Sheldrake insisted. He was going to add a flirty comment, but quickly saw the short nod Grimstone gave in the window’s direction before looking back at him again. 

Sheldrake sighed. "You're really going to fight me in a building full of hunters?” He leaned close, booping his beak against Grimstone’s. “*Really*, my guy?”

"I need the pass, Shel. You leave me no choice," Grimstone lamented, rolling his hands up his arms as if drawing back sleeves. Sheldrake expected a punch, but was instead tackled around the waist like a damn linebacker instead. 

Sheldrake would’ve had the wind knocked out of him if he hit the ground like Grim intended. Instead, he wiggled his shoulder and pulled an arm free, grabbing his attacker. With expert ease, Sheldrake pinned Grim down on his back with one knee in a partial straddle. 

Brushing loose bangs from his eyes, he looked down to see if Grim had slipped out of his glamour in the brief scuffle. Rather, Grimstone’s disguise was shifting, brows becoming thicker, body filling out, patches of feathers turning black.

Grimstone was trying to copy and transform into Sheldrake. 

“Aw,” Sheldrake chortled at the struggling duck, “well, they do say imitation is the sincerest form of flattery.”

Grimstone gave a distinctively annoyed “ugh” before ripping an arm free and grabbing Shel by the throat; however, he didn’t squeeze or attempt to choke him. "And I do often tell you to go fuck yourself."

"That… trying to be a badass line doesn't quite work in your position, buddy," Sheldrake added as he fought to keep Grimstone's hand down.

"I just have to,” Grimstone's voice dipped back down to his own before changing into one eerily similar to Sheldrake’s, "keep you talking."

"Hol-lee shit. Well, the glamour spell might’ve been the missus, but you're totally doing that all on your own. How quaint! I can't believe you've been holding out on me. I thought you told me *all* the tricks you could do," Sheldrake replied. Grimstone went to grab something, anything from Sheldrake’s pocket. “Oh, no, you don't! Don't get handsy with me."

"You didn’t have a problem with it before," Grimstone snarked at the comment. He continued flailing and clawing until Sheldrake eased back to elbow him in the beak. Just enough leverage for the warlock to free his second hand, grip Shel’s shoulder tight.

Grimstone snarled, twisting one of his leg's around Shel's until they switched positions, the paladin now pinned beneath the demonic duck.

"How is it that we're both expertly trained in hand to hand combat, but whenever we fight, it’s like we’re stupid little kids slapping each other on the playground during recess?" Grimstone grunted. He continued searching desperately for some personal item on Sheldrake while also trying to hold the speckled duck down. Shel managed to punch him in the jaw before Grim hooked his arm around Sheldrake's to pin it back above the paladin’s head.

"I just assume,” Sheldrake grunted, arm freed and throttling Grim, "I assume we don't really want to kill each other, so we do all this bullshit ass grabbing--"

The stairwell door abruptly and loudly opened. Both ducks stopped fighting, looking up with eyes comically bugging from their shocked faces.

A paladin recruit in their early twenties stared back at them, blinking. “Um…” he gaped.

Two almost identical dudes, possibly, maybe twins, with one wearing a sexy dress, wrestling on the stairwell. 

“Look,” the recruit grumbled, raising a hand, "I'm not judging whatever fetish is going on here, but please do it somewhere more, uh, private? Some of us need to vape.” With a grumble, he left, shutting the door behind him.

"Well, shit," Sheldrake snorted. Grimstone sighed. The two relaxed and unwound, sitting side by side.

"We need to solve this. Now," Grimstone said firmly. Sheldrake watched as he stood, offering his hand to help the paladin up. "I don’t want to fight you, but I need to save those children."

Shel blinked then finally conceded with a big, exaggerated sigh. "Okay, okay.” He took Grim’s hand. “... Actually... I think I have an idea."

-----

The third floor of the hotel was unsettlingly quiet. There was a low murmur of voices coming from the auction room, barely audible outside the door.

"Grim! Grim!" the blonde duck whispered harshly as she walked up to Sheldrake. The male server uniform Magica wore was baggy when she was out of glamour. She fixed the bun in her hair as she said, "You have to be careful. I overheard a few disturbing things about the auction… I'm worried some of the items could hurt you. Maybe… maybe I should go instead."

"It's fine, it's fine. I know what I'm doing. Besides, I'm the only one who could get his voice right,” Sheldrake--Grimstone--replied. He smirked, a slight leer on his beak. “But how about a kiss for good luck anyway?"

Magica glanced around the hallway; with the coast clear, she leaned in to peck the corner of Grimstone’s beak. "Please, please, please do be careful," she pleaded.

Magica turned to leave, then stopped; turned back around quickly. She took Grimstone’s face in her hands and pulled him into a deep kiss. He could feel her tongue shyly stroke his for a second, hands affectionately squeezing his cheeks, caressing the corners of his beak. 

The light witch broke the kiss when she heard a noise from down the hall. Luckily, they were still alone.

"I'm getting this foreboding feeling off you, Grim,” Magica said dubiously, “you sure you're full up on luck?" She let his face go and stepped back, slipping into the form of a masculine Borzoi waiter. 

The “paladin” restrained an amused grin. "Really, I'm fine,” he reassured. “You do your job, and I'll do mine.” He winked, then entered the ballroom.

Magica took the stairwell at the end of the hall to the lobby downstairs, only to be greeted by Grimstone a second later. She looked up, eyes wide; it was Grimstone’s voice, undeniably, but he was still disguised as Sheldrake.

"Love, there’s been a change in plans," Grim stated.

With a blink and *poof*, Magica changed back to her normal form. "Who... what...? I thought I just spoke to you a second… You were that paladin, but... How?" She squeezed Grimstone’s shoulders, scanning his eyes and face closely.

"I’m disguised as the paladin I told you about, yes. He’s agreed to help us; we need to wait by the fire escape in case he needs emergency back-up should anything go wrong," Grimstone explained.

Slowly, color drained from Magica’s beak.

“What is it?” Grimstone asked, concerned.

"N-Nothing!” Magic squawked. How could she have been so easily deceived-- “I'll explain later. Let's go help your friend." She quickly disguised both herself and Grimstone as canine servers. "We'll just… act like we’re taking a smoke break in the back."

"Good, I was thinking the same.” Grimstone frowned and looked away. “And he's not my friend…” he trailed off.

"But we can trust him to help us, right?" Magica asked in her own voice.

"Eh, we can trust him, but not *trust* him," Grimstone said vaguely, “if you get what I mean.”

Magica rubbed her temples. "We're leaving this mission to a paladin *you don't fully trust*?"

"Oh, I don't know. I seem to remember doing the same thing a long time ago, and that worked out just fine," Grim said with a half smile, squeezing Magica’s shoulder.

"That's different! I was a lightbearer. I--" Magica was interrupted by the opening of a stairwell door above them.

Grim took Magica by the arm. "Let's go take that smoke break," he said quietly, guiding her down the hall.

------

[cherokeecharles]

What U Watchin’ #1: Degrassi High (1989) #1

Hi you guys, so currently I’m on break and I thought it’d be a good idea to write. Recently I’ve been catching up on Tv, more specifically old tv shows and rewatching to see if I missed anything I misunderstood when initially watched when I was a minor.

Degrassi was a teen drama show about a group of students, throughout this series they tackled issues like racism, homophobia, Islamophobia, mental illness and many other serious topics. All of these stories were told through the perspective of the students.

Now what I realized is that most people didn’t know that Degrassi started way back in the 80’s and we see some of the characters that we know as parents in Degrassi: Next Generation are actually students at the school. Spike, Snake, Caitlin, and Joey were the familiar faces that appeared in Degrassi Junior High. When I watched Degrassi junior high it was as if the adult characters who I knew and loved were completely different people, watching the show gave me context on why they were a certain way when on Degrassi: The next generation.

Archie ‘Snake’ Simpson was always the reliable friend who most people can depend on to do the right thing even when no one was watching. While watching you could tell that he was used to playing it safe so I now understand why he chose to become a teacher at Degrassi years later. What was really interesting was that in Degrassi high they tried to tap into his relationship with Spike, it showed that Spike had romantic interest in and he did too but it didn’t work out for them and they moved on from that plot in the episode, also it was cute to see him around Emma knowing that in DTNG he became a father figure in her life. It was a bit predictable to see snake as a teacher and a principal because he was always wise beyond his years. He looked out for the people around him and he often had his life together when other peoples life was falling apart. He was on a straight and narrow path to success due to his strict parents. Him being a principal and teacher to teach students right from wrong and not was something he was destined to do because of his natural leadership skills. What now makes sense to me since I watched the show is that is that in DTNG when he had a rebellions streak and cheated on Spike now since I have context behind him as a character I now understand that his rebellious streak came later in life because of how he was raised. He was raised with strict parents who didn’t even tolerate him having a gay brother so the minute he got a little freedom in a better hold on life he acted out in a weird way, and it looked bad on him because he was a grown man with kids when he encountered rebellious stage. Overall he was a predictable character but it was good to have context on Snake as a kid and why he chose to stay at Degrassi for so long.

Spike was the first teen mom in the Degrassi franchise ever. She got pregnant when she was in the eighth grade for her then boyfriend Shane McKay. While watching the show I was frustrated with her because I felt like she was unnecessarily harsh on Shane, Shane’s parents wanted to keep him away from the baby because they didn’t agree with teen pregnancy. When Emma was born he wasn’t there because they sent him away to camp for the whole summer. When she came back she was met with a cold shoulder Spike and she didn’t allow him to see or hold Emma only make child support payments. I thought that she was being hardheaded and making the situation worse than what it was, she did get an opportunity to meet Shane‘s parents and they told her to her face that they don’t support him having a baby and her keeping the baby so she already knew what the situation was. But when I thought of it later on she was only 13 or 14 years old having a baby in Junior high school. Spike had a harder because she was the mother and she didn’t have a choice but to take care of Emma since she wanted to keep it. She was lucky that she had a good support system like her mom behind her. I slowly understood her frustration towards Shane because she had to grow up at 14 years old and the only thing he had to do was pay the child support and even sometimes he couldn’t do that because he still wanted to be a kid. I respect spike as a character now than I did before because she had it harder than most of the other classmates. She was a good mother to Emma and I think she wanted her to be better than what she was, I admire the open and honest relationship they had with each other because it kinda reflects the relationship that Spike had with her mother.

Joey was the character I was most shocked by while watching. Joey wants to trade as a ladies man and the class clown. He rarely takes school seriously and that did lead him to getting held back a year in junior high while his friends went on. With him being left back in the eighth grade we got to see the relationship between him and Caitlin begin. While he was together with Caitlin you did see a huge improvement of how he was in school and how he treated other people. Joey was very selfish but with Kaitlyn she hardly tolerated his selfishness and she always get up for herself and let him know that she will leave if she felt like she wasn’t being treated right. While he was together with Caitlin he learned how to consider other people’s feelings and do better with himself as his grades started to get better when she was with him. Watching him on DTNG he owns a used cars lot, it was kind of funny to see that because in the original Degrassi he wanted this car so bad that he walked in school naked so he could buy one so it came full circle that he was now an owner. Also on Degrassi Next Generation, I feel like Joey often showed regret for how he acted when he was his younger self. From the first episode of the reunion he couldn’t even face Caitlin properly when he first saw her. To see him as a family man was unexpected, he was portrayed in Degrassi High as someone who only cared about himself but now he has to look after his mentally ill step son and his toddler daughter alone. I think the way Joey’s storyline played out was perfect because he was ‘the man’ in high school and to see him humbled and mature enough to care about someone other than himself was a perfect way to show his growth as a character.

This the end of the post! This post was mainly about the characters and some of their storylines, I’m not sure if I should go in depth about it yet but I’m working on more posts!

Now since I’ve written so much and I have a lot more to say this will be an ongoing series! I have more characters to review from this show and I’m so excited to share.

See you later🤎✨

[fangirlxwritesx67]

Cross Timbers

Dean Winchester x Donna Hanscum, Sam Winchester x Jody Mills, no warnings, G-rated

Chapter 1 - 1830 words

A/N: This story was just a passing idea until I brought it up in my Slack chat and got a ton of great ideas from the folks there! Friends, I hope I have remembered everyone’s ideas and done them justice. Thanks for this and everything else! 

@boondoctorwho​ , @cherry3point14​, @cracksinthewalls​, @dawnie1988​ @fookinghelljensensthighs​ , @icemankazansky​, @itmighthavebeenintentional​ , @justcallmeasmodeus​ , @lastactiontricia​ ,  @mskathywriteswords​ , @rockhoochie​ ,  @there-must-be-a-lock​ , @thoughtslikeaminefield​ 

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"You ready Sam? Ladies?" Dean asked.

"Oh yah, you betcha!" Donna exclaimed, swatting his ass playfully as she walked around Baby to hop in the passenger side. 

Sam was already in his SUV, Jody by his side. He gave his brother a broad wave.

"Cross Timbers State Park. Here we come!"

_/\_ _/\_ _/\_ _/\_ _/\_ _/\_ _/\_ _/\_

It had started one cold night earlier that year. The four of them were at Jody’s in Sioux Falls, relaxing with pizza and beers after a hunt. Sam couldn’t remember how they had gotten on the topic, maybe joking about making dinner in the fireplace.

Dean had begun to wax eloquent about the best parts of camping: cooking around a campfire, fishing, and of course, tent sex. Donna was nodding along eagerly before Sam scoffed. 

“That’s your favorite part of camping, Dean, really? The closest we’ve ever gotten to camping is sleeping in the Impala in a field somewhere when we didn’t have any place else to go.” 

Dean looked down and shrugged sadly. “Ok, so maybe I’ve never been camping. But it always sounded like fun.”

“Never been camping?!” Donna’s mouth dropped open. 

“Oh, boys,” Jody chimed in. “We have to fix this. There are so many great places we could go, either here or in Kansas.”

“We could show you such a good time!” Donna added with a giggle. “But not right now. It’s too cold right now to sleep any place but my own cozy bed.” 

It turned out that the bed in Jody’s guest room was cozy enough for Donna, especially once Dean joined her there. Sam didn’t mind, though, since he was in Jody’s own bed with her.

_/\_ _/\_ _/\_ _/\_ _/\_ _/\_ _/\_ _/\_

Sam and Dean had long since forgotten the camping conversation, but they soon discovered the ladies had not. In early April, the two of them began to hint in the group chat that the four of them should go camping. It took no time at all to realize it was less a suggestion and more a coordinated campaign to rope the Winchesters into camping. 

The ladies were pleasantly surprised when it didn’t take that much effort. Sam and Dean knew better than to argue with the combined power of Jody and Donna. They knew they were outsmarted in the camping department, but they were eager to learn, to try the experience. 

Jody and Donna had already determined that state park was the perfect camping spot. Remote enough to have plenty of trees, hiking trails, and water for canoeing or fishing, but still with a certain amount of running water and facilities for drinking and basic hygiene. 

Dean immediately appointed himself in charge of meal planning, because of course he was. Sam started researching camping equipment and gadgets, digging out back issues of magazines and shopping on Amazon. The group chat was busy for weeks while the four of them planned and prepped.

The ladies rolled into town and spent one night at the bunker so they could all shop and pack before heading out. It took a surprising amount of gear to go off-grid, tents and sleeping bags and more. Donna brought an air mattress, although Dean laughed and assured her they would be fine roughing it. They packed their clothes in canvas duffels: jeans and button downs, hiking boots and sandals, and of course, swimsuits.

Dean brought his guitar and fishing tackle. Sam brought a book, a notebook and new pens, as well as several boxes of unidentified tubes and pipes. 

“So many years after college and still a nerd, huh, big guy?” Dean joked when he saw it. 

“I don’t get much time to do what I want, whatever I want,” Sam retorted. “I’m not sorry I’ll be reading in a hammock while you drink beer and dangle a line in the water and call that fishing.”

“Hey, at least if I’m successful, we have something to eat.” 

“Everyone finds their own happiness.” Donna interrupted with a grin. “You boys ready?” 

_/\_ _/\_ _/\_ _/\_ _/\_ _/\_ _/\_ _/\_

Cross Timbers State Park was about 4 hours away, and the afternoon sun was still warm and bright when they pulled up. They rented adjoining camping spots, patches of clear level ground amidst the towering trees. There was a firepit already set in an iron ring, and the first thing the Winchester brothers did was haul the two picnic tables to either side. 

After that, they took a moment to ward the site, putting salt and sigils on every corner to keep themselves safe. Once done, they returned to the picnic tables where Jody and Donna were setting out supplies. 

Dean, as head of meal planning, reminded everyone that dinner that night would be in Donna’s hands. She had requested a list of sandwich supplies. She went to one of her bags and pulled out a set of sandwich making irons.

“These good old irons will make the best Pudgie Pies you ever tasted!” she crowed. 

“Pudgie Pies?” Sam whispered to Dean.

“It’s sandwiches and a campfire, I’m in,” he answered out of one side of his mouth. 

The two Winchesters left the ladies prepping food while they headed to opposite sides of the joined campsites to set up their tents. Their initial research into tent dimensions had been shocking. So-called “two person” tents clearly didn’t take into account one of those people being well over 6 feet.

In the end, they bought a pair of tents, each of them marketed to sleep six. Each tent seemed to have almost enough room for a couple, their duffels, and the Thermarest sleeping pads that Jody brought.

Sam spent a few minutes studying the instructions and then laid out the interlocking frame poles and nylon tent body exactly as directed. He understood the directions, but even with his reach, he couldn’t quite do it himself. Without him asking, Jody stepped to his side.

“It’s easier together,” she said as she took the opposite corner of the tent. 

The tent rose between their hands, and they staked it down securely. He arranged the bedding, rolling out sleeping bags and pillows, then stacked their bags neatly against one corner of the front wall. 

The tent had a small awning over the door, a space for them to kick off their shoes. Jody had brought a sun-bleached rag rug that she laid out right there. It was no bunker, but for a temporary habitat, well, he had seen worse. Once he had everything staked down, he looked across the campsite. 

Dean’s tent was a tangle of nylon on the ground. He was holding poles in both hands and swearing, the instructions nowhere to be seen. 

Sam started to close the space between them. “Can I give you a hand?” he called.

“I don’t need a hand!” Dean shouted, before throwing down the poles. “I’m gonna go get … water!” He stormed off into the deepening twilight. 

Sam followed the same steps he had before, but once he had the ridgepole assembled and in the tent, he called for his brother.

“Dean, I need help.” No matter how much Dean protested that he could do things by himself, he would never dream of letting his younger brother down when he needed him. Together, the two Winchesters finished setting up the second tent. 

Just in time, because Donna called from beside the fire, “Oh boys! Time to make Pudgie Pies!” 

Packages of ham and turkey were open alongside a stack of American cheese and a loaf of bread. There was mayonnaise and mustard, pickles and tomatoes too, Donna demonstrated how to coat the irons with cooking spray before layering in the sandwich makings, while Jody stoked the fire. 

A couple of sandwiches were burned in the process, but ultimately, everyone had dinner. They opened beers from the cooler and settled into folding chairs around the fire and passed around a bag of potato chips. 

“Hey you know what this needs?” Dean spoke up. “Ghost stories!” 

Everyone nodded enthusiastically, so he gave it his best shot. He opted for a classic, the hook hand in the car door. Somehow he managed to fumble it, much to the bewilderment of his audience.

“Dude,” Sam cut in. “How can you be so bad at this? Our lives are a ghost story. You literally could’ve told me how you spent your Monday morning and it would’ve been scarier than that story was. 

Dean looked to Donna and Jody for support but they shook their heads as Sam continued.

“You want a horror story? How about you in the morning, no coffee, no bacon, no nothing.”

“No nothin’?” Donna chimed in. “Now that I’d like to see.” She held out her hand with a smirk, and Dean took it. 

The four of them were comfortable together, Dean and Donna, Sam and Jody. This was a rare moment of ease for them, no one worrying about anything, just enjoying one another. 

But camping was a new thing for the brothers, still a whole different experience. They let the fire burn down and then everyone brushed their teeth at the pump out in front of their campsites, downing meds with handfuls of the metallic water. 

Sam and Jody ducked together into their neatly organized tent, leaving their shoes outside on the rag rug under the awning. That night, just being together was enough. They held hands and whispered to one another until they drifted off to sleep.

Dean and Donna tumbled into their tent, kicking their shoes off as an afterthought. They were too tired for more than sleep. But sleep eluded them. Well, it eluded Dean. Donna settled in comfortably and drifted off. But he tossed and turned on the hard ground.

By Dean’s watch, it was past midnight when Donna woke up and nudged him. 

“Still awake?” 

“No, I’m fine. I just -- can’t sleep.” He hated to admit it. 

He was a hunter, after all. He had been to heaven and hell and back. Damned if he would be beaten by a thin foam sleeping pad. But the front seat of Baby was more comfortable than this sad excuse for a bed. 

Without speaking, Donna got up. Dean reached for her but she was too quick. He heard the door to Sam’s SUV open, and then a motor running. He drifted in and out of a drowsy sulk until he heard her voice calling him softly in the dark.

“Dean,” she called from the door of the tent trying to wrestle in a giant air mattress. He got up and helped her to bring it in, lifting their sleeping bags and pillow on top. 

“Really?” he asked, his voice rough from trying to sleep.

“Okay, sure, Princess,” she answered with a giggle. “It’s me that can’t rough it, not you.”

Cross Timbers Tags: @deangirl7695, @elliloumom, @meeshw777​

“Hush,” he told her as he settled down and held out one arm. She sighed happily and curled into his embrace. Finally, for the first time all night, Dean was comfortable. His eyes grew heavy, and he yawned. Then he fell asleep with Donna’s blonde curls against his face. 

_/\_ _/\_ _/\_ _/\_ _/\_ _/\_ _/\_ _/\_

SPN First Last and Always: @boondoctorwho @dawnie1988 @deanwanddamons @defenderrosetyler @divadinag @emoryhemsworth @fookinghelljensensthighs @idreamofplaid @kalesrebellion @kickingitwithkirk @maddiepants @magssteenkamp @onethirstyunicorn   @there-must-be-a-lock @tloveswriting

Sam Girl For Life: @awesomesusiebstuff @lilsylvia @winchesterxfamilybusiness

Dean Curious:@adoptdontshoppets @awesomesusiebstuff @deangirl7695 @deans-baby-momma  @mrsjenniferwinchester @stoneyggirl @wayward-gypsy @winchesterxfamilybusiness

[kiarcheo]

Hug-a, hug-a, hug-a, hug me    

If you had told Catalina that she would come back centuries in the future and live with Henry’s five other wives and that she’d be closest with the fifth one…she would have…well, she  would have had you declared insane after the first part, to be honest. And even in the earliest days in the new world, she would have never believed you regarding who would be her favourite companion.

Also posted on Ao3

Catalina knew how she was seen. The first queen. The legitimate one. Regal. Composed. Always in control, keeping a cool head.  Steadfast. Proud. The paragon of royalty.

She is also human. And a Spaniard. And while she usually isn’t one to give into stereotypes (heavens knows she hates being boxed in any way when she is so much more complex than any oversimplified and general belief can convey), there was something she had noticed in her first life too. Arthur had been polite and courteous, but certainly not affectionate.  But considering that they were fifteen-year-old, unable to communicate properly because of language barriers and after few months they both got sick and then he died…circumstances and timings didn’t help. Once she married Henry, she thought it would be different. But since the beginning, while he was eager to be intimate with her, outside of the bedchambers he would shy away. If she tried to sit next to him or take his hand for no specific reason, he would look at her weirdly (and downright annoyed, later on). Even her English ladies-in-waiting, while no strangers to sharing a bed, would look oddly at her interactions with her darling Maria, or even with little Mary, attributing them to her ‘Mediterranean temperament’.

But now she is back, along with the other five wives of her (second) husband. And while it seems that affections are more widespread and accepted in this modern world, even in public, things didn’t change for her.

Don’t get her wrong. After a difficult period of adjustment, the queens had settled down nicely. Catalina has no doubt that they all care for each other, but people have different ways of showing they care. So yes. Does she think the queens love her? Yes (and she loves them back).  But is she going to knock on their doors and beg for some affection? Absolutely not. She went through one lifetime without humiliating herself like that, she will go through this one too.

That’s how she finds herself in front of the tv, the credits rolling after a documentary about the Alhambra, sobbing not so quietly into the empty house. Or what she thought was empty.

Because Kat is in the doorway, frozen, looking like a deer in the headlight. Catalina can almost see her mentally calculating whether she can just silently turn around and slip away, before realising that she had been noticed. Kat takes a step forward into the room. ‘Would you like a hug?’

Catalina honestly can’t remember the last time she hugged someone. And she had said she was not going to beg, but if it was offered…she gives a shaking nod.

Kat sits down on the couch next to her and after a moment of hesitation draws her into her arms. Catalina doesn’t know how long they stay like that. She just knows it’s so…nice doesn’t even begin to cover it. It’s almost a transcending experience.

‘You give really good hugs.’

‘Thanks?’ Kat sounds unsure at how to reply to that. ‘Why do you sound surprised? Did you expect me to be bad?’

She settles for a teasing tone and Catalina can see Anne’s influence, using humour to deflect and lighten up situations. To be honest she thought it was going to be a quick, perfunctory hug. Out of pity. She didn’t expect Kat to commit to it, to fully embrace her. Kat is warm and relaxed, and in her arms she feels surprisingly safe.

‘I expected a pat on the back.’ She admits. ‘I know you’re not really comfortable with me.’

‘Why do you say that?’

She reluctantly moves away. It feels stupid to answer that it’s because Kat had basically avoided any physical contact with her while lying in her arms.

‘You and Anne often sleep in the same bed and she shares her blanket with you during movies.’ Catalina expands on her reply as she sees Kat looking genuinely confused. ‘You let Jane play hairdresser with your hair. Anna puts her arm on your shoulders when we’re out…I mean, I get it. Anne and Jane are your cousins. You knew Anna from before and she is your best friend. Cathy holds your hand…’

‘Is it a problem?’ Kat asks as Catalina trails off. She had never said anything to them before, but it wouldn’t be the first time that walking hand in hand with Cathy had sparkled some less than pleasant reaction.

Catalina is just having a realisation. Cathy always offers her hand and wait for Kat to take it. It’s always Anne who spreads the blanket over their laps and cuddles up. It’s Jane who asks if she can try something new with her hair (she had recently branched out to Anne, if she can catch her on a good day when she feels like sitting still – that’s how the space buns came to be. Catalina has a feeling that soon Jane will expand her experiments to the three not-related queens too).

‘I thought you just didn’t want to hug me.’ Not that she has ever seen her hugging the others, now that she thinks about it. Not spontaneously. Or unprompted.

If Kat thinks Catalina sounds a bit childish, she doesn’t let it show, to her relief. ‘I didn’t know you wanted me to.’ They have all heard Anne loudly demanding cuddles and Kat happily providing them.

‘But you never take the first step.’ Catalina continues, voicing her realisation. ‘You never initiate the contact, you don’t touch them first.’ And the rare times she does, it’s always after expressly asking. Catalina had never really noticed it before.

‘I just don’t want to make anyone uncomfortable.’

Okay, so it’s actually on purpose. Wait a second- ‘Do we make you uncomfortable?’ She is ready to have a chat with her fellow queens.

‘No, of course not.’ Kat hurries to reassure her, sounding almost surprised that she could suggest such a thing.

‘Then why would you make us uncomfortable?’

Kat shrugs. ‘I don’t know. That’s kind of the point. What if you don’t want to be touched? In that moment at least?’

Oh. That went deeper that she thought. Quite usual with the girl, so she shouldn’t really be surprised anymore.  But selfishly she is too exhausted to tackle the issue in that moment. ‘Well, hugs are always welcome with me. I pretty much always want one to be honest.’

There is no overnight change. It’s not like Kat starts to come up to her and hug her spontaneously. But more and more often she approaches her. Asking if she wants company. Making a point of saying that she will be in her room but that her door is open. When it evolves in wordless exchanges, Kat pointing to the spot next to Catalina or patting the one next to herself in invitation and waiting for Catalina’s move, the older queen is relieved that she doesn’t have to vocalise what sometimes still feels like a weakness. And she starts to feel comfortable looking out for affection from Kat in the first place, even going as far as knocking on her closed door if it’s a particularly bad day. Which leads to talking about said bad days.

If you had told Catalina that she would come back centuries in the future and live with Henry’s five other wives and that she’d be closest with the fifth one…she would have…well, she would have had you declared insane after the first part, to be honest. And even in the earliest days in the new world, she would have never believed you regarding who would be her favourite companion. She would have first guessed Cathy, maybe growing closer through their personal connections and discussing their shared passion for supporting female education in the past (and its progress in the present). Or Anna, bonding over being shipped to another country without speaking the language to marry a random dude – well, a king – and then being humiliated on a national and international stage. Even Jane. She had liked her in their first life and it had been somehow satisfying to learn that she had stolen Henry from Anne like Anne did to her. And she didn’t blame her for having a son: you can’t choose those things, she and Anne would know. Certainly she wouldn’t have picked that slip of a girl, who also happened to be her…well, Anne Boleyn’s cousin – Anne, who was the only other one even more unlikely to be her closest friend.

And yet…here she was.

Catalina de Trastámara y Trastámara, finding respite in the company of Katherine Howard, who never refuses a cuddle and never judges. She had quickly stopped being surprised at how intelligent and mature the girl is. In not even 20 years Kat had gone through more stuff than most people would in their whole lifetime…and that was before she was brought back to life centuries after her traumatic death. So while sometimes Catalina feels almost maternal towards her (how shocked and disgusted she had been to discover that Henry had married someone younger than his own daughter, her dear Mary), it’s rather a relationship between equals…even if sometimes she is a bit protective. Perhaps that’s how older sisters feel? She has no idea as she had been the youngest. Is Kat her best friend? Can someone be your best friend if she already has another best friend? She never pondered on such matters in the past.    

A past that Kat knows the most about. Anne and Jane might have known her personally and been witnesses to certain events, but Kat has insight into her feelings and thoughts.

All queens have bad days connected to their past. In some cases everyone is aware of the dates and the reasons, the days of their deaths being the most obvious ones. Others are kept private. Like the day Catalina saw Mary for the last time. How is she supposed to share her pain with the others, when she is the only one who got to see her child growing up? And that’s not delving into what Mary did after she died, which is a whole other matter.

November hit Catalina particularly hard. The memories of her wedding day to Arthur by a long shot welcomed compared to the anniversaries of the deaths of her last three children.  She hadn’t slept a lot, and even when she did, she had been plagued by nightmares, either of her babies dying, their life on earth lasting mere hours, or of Mary committing atrocities in the name of the religion she had devoted her life to.

She feels like death warmed up and she must look like it, if the reactions she gets entering the kitchen that morning are any indication.

Anne stops talking which leads to Anna turning around to find out why. Jane follows and frowns at what she sees.

‘Are you okay?’ Jane’s question has Cathy looking up too.

By the time Kat finishes pouring her coffee (she’d be hard pressed to say who consumes more, her or Cathy) and turns around, everyone is staring at Catalina with worried expressions. Kat puts down her mug and opens her arms. Not overtly obvious. She can easily pass it as a gesture meant to say ‘what’s going on?’ but even if her arms aren’t raised, the look she gives Catalina conveys a clear message: ‘Do you need a hug?’

Catalina doesn’t hesitate. She rarely does when Kat offers a hug, but in that moment she doesn’t even care that there are other people around. She takes few quick steps and she is in her arms. Kat pivots them around so that Catalina wouldn’t meet the others’ stares if she happened to look up. It’s not necessary because Catalina curled into herself enough that she has her face tucked in Kat’s neck despite being taller…and she has no intention to leave her spot. She feels Kat’s hand into her hair. She remembers Kat asking if that was something she would enjoy and the teasing that ensued because she enjoyed it indeed. Kat had likened the contented noises that she had let out to purrs and joked that she should have been the one with the Cat nickname. Catalina had liked it so much that she had offered a trade-off to Kat, wanting to share the delight. She had learned that while Kat doesn’t mind Jane styling them, she generally doesn’t like people touching them, especially in intimate settings (and as they were half reclined on the couch when Kat admitted such a thing, Catalina tucked into her side…she could see how it could be seen as intimate).

Catalina doesn’t know when she had started crying, she just realises that she is. Just like she isn’t sure how long she has been in Kat’s arms, swaying lightly on the spot. She just knows that she is there. Buried into Kat, who has one hand scratching her head while her other arm is around her waist, holding her securely against her body.

‘Want to move to the couch?’

She doesn’t answer but Kat must have felt the movement of her head because she leads them there.

When Catalina comes around, she can feel Kat under her and a blanket covering them. They must have fallen asleep.

She opens one eye. Anne is sitting on the armchair. She raises her eyebrow once she notices Catalina is awake and looking at her. In the early days of their return she would have read it as an accusatory gesture but by now she knows that it’s mostly curiosity. She can see how the first queen sleeping on the youngest one would make a curious sight. And Anne is not only close to her cousin but also very perceptive, so even if Kat had not told her, she must have realised how shy the girl is with physical touch. And all the times Catalina had seen them sleeping together Kat was always the big spoon, so she reckons Anne is probably aware that Kat doesn’t like to feel trapped. So for her to sleep peacefully despite having Catalina half-lying on her…

She ignores Anne’s questioning gaze and looks around, making sure not to move her head too much lest she wakes Kat up. Anna is sitting at the table, holding her camera up to show the screen to Cathy, who is standing behind her chair.

The German queen had discovered a passion for photography, but since she doesn’t make a habit to bring her trusty camera to breakfast, Catalina assumes that she went to retrieve it to take a picture of them. The fond expression on Cathy’s face, the one that she usually has when she looks at Kat, lends credibility to her theory. She makes a mental note to ask for a copy of the picture.

She can hear puttering around in the kitchen. Maybe it’s near lunch time or maybe Jane just wanted to be nearby. She knows that they are likely worried…and curious. And she supposes that she can give an explanation. Not necessarily about her and Kat, that’s not just up to her. But about her breaking down. Anne, at the very least, has surely her fair share of sad anniversaries.

But if she moves she is going to wake Kat and heaven knows if the girl needs all the sleep that she can get when she can get, with the amount of nightmares keeping her up at night, whether her own or Anne’s (and Cathy’s too. More than once Catalina had been ready to go and check on her goddaughter after hearing unmistakable noises from her room only to see that Kat was already on the task). And she is so comfy and warm. She closes her eyes. Just…for…five…more…minutes…

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A/N: I love reading about the queens taking care of Kat because she deserves all the love, but sometime I want to see the opposite, with Kat taking care of the queens. And lately I have been on a Katherine-Catherine kick (besides the always present Parrward one) so...here it is. Hope you liked it.

[nerianasims]

Billboard #1s 1979

Under the cut.

I discuss Michael Jackson’s life and actions a little bit underneath here. So be warned if that’s something that will upset you.

The Bee Gees -- "Too Much Heaven" -- January 6, 1979

Uugh. When The Bee Gees weren't releasing bad, bloodless, falsetto disco, they were releasing bad, bloodless, falsetto lite "rock." Also the lyrics are about how love is soooo hard to get, so they're special since they have love, and yuck. Nonsense and glop.

Rod Stewart -- "Do Ya Think I'm Sexy" -- February 10, 1979

I laughed out loud when I saw this next on the list. People can't have taken it seriously in 1979, right? It was seen like "I'm Too Sexy", yes? Even though Rod Stewart was a "serious" singer -- come on, this is a ridiculous song. It isn't about the narrator; it's about two people meeting on a dance floor and then going to have what's probably a one-night stand. But when Rod Stewart sings the chorus, it sounds like it's about him. It's a highly unsexy and very silly song.

Gloria Gaynor -- "I Will Survive" -- March 10, 1979

The joy I feel listening to this song. It's the best disco song. The bright piano flourish opens to Gaynor's amazing voice and phenomenal singing ability. She sells her anger at the guy who's "back to bother" her, along with the assertion that she's now totally confident and is gonna do great without him, will all her life to live and all her love to give. The lyrics are great, which is incredibly rare for any dance song. The music is great. And Gaynor is perfect. You can belt it in the car and it drives people to the dance floor. Just an amazing, incredible song.

The Bee Gees -- "Tragedy" -- March 24, 1979

The real tragedy is that The Bee Gees shat up disco. What could it have been if not for their influence? There were disco singers and groups who escaped it, but Barry Gibb and Friends' clogging of the charts kept out so many worthy acts. Lots of synth on this song, and synth can be really cool (I'm a diehard fan of The Alan Parsons Project), but the Bee Gees made it boring and turgid. Then that damned falsetto. I don't care about the lyrics, I just want to not hear the Bee Gees again ever.

The Doobie Brothers -- "What A Fool Believes" -- April 14, 1979

The guy the song is about thinks he's going to get an ex back because she was nice when he met her again. He's a fool, and "no wise man has the power to reason away." The music's good, too, a sort of mild rock. "Yacht rock" I suppose. The sentiment is kinda country music though. Good song, anyway.

Amii Stewart -- "Knock on Wood" -- April 21, 1979

What is that in the background? A synth sound, obviously, but it sounds like -- a washboard? I have no idea, but it's annoying. This is a cover of an older soul song by Eddie Floyd that's pretty good, but they wreck it here. The amount of gunk clogging it up is painful. Also Amii Stewart doesn't modulate at all, her voice is a constant blare. Headache-inducing.

Blondie -- "Heart of Glass" -- April 28, 1979

The 80s are coming. Blondie does interesting things with synth here, the beat's irresistible, Debbie Harry's voice is unique, and the lyrics are about an ended relationship that was "a pain in the ass." Not some huge broken-hearted thing, despite the "heart of glass" lyric. Just... done, that didn't work, moving on. Not that the lyrics particularly matter here. It's all about the interesting, different-sounding music.

Peaches & Herb -- "Reunited" -- May 5, 1979

If synth can sound more synthetic than usual, that's how this song begins. It's about a couple getting back together, but it doesn't sound like they were ever in a lot of pain or that they're really excited now. There's some neat guitar stuff. It could be worse. But mostly it's bland.

Donna Summer -- "Hot Stuff" -- June 2, 1979

It's a disco song, but with a lot more rock in it than disco usually has. Maybe that's why it's survived so much better than most disco. The narrator wants one of her lovers (of whom she obviously has many) to answer the phone so that she can get laid. It's the ballad of Romance Sims. It's fun.

Bee Gees -- "Love You Inside Out" -- June 9, 1979

Well, ew. This guy's whining that the woman he loves has too many lovers but he's the one who will "love you inside out," whatever the hell that means. It sounds like a serial killer. She needs to dump him, and also probably move and change her name. And, of course, there's Barry Gibb's horrible orchestration and falsetto.

Anita Ward -- "Ring My Bell" -- June 30, 1979

Disco, of course. He's been gone for a while and she's singing to him "you can ring my bell." So, they're gonna celebrate his homecoming with lots of sex. The lines "You can ring my bell, ring my bell/ (Ring my bell/ ding-dong-ding)" repeat a couple hundred times. The background synth sounds are painfully repetitive. Like something on The Prisoner used to brainwash people. And Anita Ward sings in a Betty Boop-ish sort of childish voice that I also find annoying. It's not Bee Gees bad, but it's bad.

Donna Summer -- "Bad Girls" -- July 14, 1979

"Bad girls" are not the same as "sad girls." Sorry, this song might be fine or even good, but that one line has always bugged me way too much. So does the police whistle.

Chic -- "Good Times" -- August 18, 1979

Disco about how "happy days are here again" for now. The lyrics are obviously pretty shallow, but at least there is a line about how it won't last forever. That's not my problem anyway. My problem is that the chorus bores me, musically. Like, it hurts. There are two notes I think? And the beat is the same throughout. I always sort of ignored this song before, but on actively trying to listen to it, I have started to hate it. It doesn't interact well with my brain chemistry.

The Knack -- "My Sharona" -- August 25, 1979

This became a hit again when Reality Bites came out. So I danced in a convenience store to it my freshman year of college. We were "of the younger kind" then, considering I was 17. That made me like the song better -- it was about me! Rock isn't supposed to be clean, and you're really not supposed to take it as advice. The riff is amazing, and I love this song.

Robert John -- "Sad Eyes" -- October 6, 1979

I've never heard this song before. The music box sounding intro lasts a while and lulls you into complacency before the horrible falsetto kicks in. Not only extremely 70s white man falsetto, but an entitled brat of a man breaking up with a woman and being put out that she's looking at him with "sad eyes." Incredibly bad in an incredibly 70s way. I can see why I've never heard this song before. It's absolutely terrible.

Michael Jackson -- "Don't Stop 'Til You Get Enough" -- October 13, 1979

Sigh. All right, now that he's an adult, gotta tackle Michael Jackson. He was a rampant and, as far as we know, unrepentant child molester. He destroyed people in the most personal way possible short of actual murder. (Phil Spector is still worse.) He was murdered through at least extreme malpractice by his doctor. He was forced into stardom as a child himself. And he was a huge, massive, incredibly gigantic star, even after he became a punchline. I was never a big fan, but like most children of the 80s, I loved some of his songs and spent a lot of time doing the moonwalk, or as close as I could get. I feel an immense amount of pity for him, along with utterly despising him, along with admiring his talent, along with being sickened by the fact that Hollywood and the music industry knew and no one did anything about what he was doing. All in all, I end up at this place: Child stardom must end.

Okay, now for the music. This song takes forever to actually start. Also I have actually never heard it before today. Probably because it's falsetto. Jackson's falsetto is obviously far superior to Barry Gibb's, but it's still falsetto the whole song. The riff is great once it starts, and everything about the music should be good -- but, falsetto. The whole time, as far as I can tell. I can't listen to all of it. Whose idea was it that falsetto should ever be anything other than an occasional few bars? Was it Frankie Valli? I'm gonna blame Frankie Valli.

Herb Alpert -- "Rise" -- October 20, 1979

It's a jazz-funk instrumental and it's pretty good. Piano, guitar, trumpet, some kind of glittering thing -- xylophone? Bells? The people laughing like it's a laid-back party are annoying, but not enough to wreck the song. If this doesn't play on every cruise ship ever, they're missing a trick.

M -- "Pop Music" -- November 3, 1979

I saw the title, and thought I didn't know the song. Then I heard the first bars of the song and went, "OH this one." It's New Wave. I love a lot of New Wave, but this one's on the purposefully shallow end, rather than the Eurythmics end. The lyrics are nonsense, but the beat is pretty irresistable. Which makes it a dance song, whatever its intent. One of the lines is, "Dance in the supermarket," so it probably was intended to be danced to. In any case, I find it pretty forgettable, but fine.

The Eagles -- "Heartache Tonight" -- November 10, 1979

I've heard this song before, but not often. I'm not sure if it's about sex before a breakup or about cheating. Don Henley does not have Elvis' voice, though he seems to be trying to reach that level. Real power is required for the chorus, and Henley lacks it. If this were sung by Freddie Mercury, we'd have something. Queen also would have brought more musical interest generally. But as-is, it doesn't work for me.

The Commodores' -- "Still" -- November 17, 1979

Lionel Richie was still the frontman/ writer for The Commodores here. Should I explore why I can't stand Lionel Richie's music? I'd have to listen to it more to fully understand. It always sounds totally insincere to me. The songs themselves are too slow. This one doesn't have a bassline. It's so polished and gloopy. And in this song, that pause between "I love you" and "still" is both highly predictable and entirely phony. I managed to listen to the entire song, and I rolled my eyes throughout, but especially at that last whispered "still." Oh he's just so sad puh-leaze. Crying his way to the bank.

Barbra Streisand and Donna Summer -- "No More Tears" -- November 24, 1979

I hate Barbra Streisand's singing and like Donna Summer's. I wish this were just Donna Summer. If it were, I'd probably like the song. It's slow for almost 2 minutes, then becomes disco. Streisand isn't able to do as much self-loving in a fast dance song, but it's still there. I tried to find a version with just Donna Summer and failed. So, I dunno, the fact that I can actually listen to the whole thing makes me think it's the most tolerable song with Barbra Streisand in existence. But it would have been so much better without her.

Styx -- "Babe" -- December 8, 1979

Styx was prog rock, but watered-down, simplified prog-rock. Lite prog rock, as weird as that is. But they still had that massive theatricality of prog rock, which I like, and they were great for places like Pine Knob. Outside of those massive arenas, they don't work for me. Dennis DeYoung, the writer and singer of this song, belts the whole way through. Yeah, he hits the notes, but he doesn't seem to realize you're supposed to sometimes modulate, even on a power ballad. Meh.

Rupert Holmes -- "Escape (The Pina Colada Song)" -- December 22, 1979

If you take this song seriously, you're likely to hate it. It ain't that deep. It's a goofy song about a goofy thing -- both he and his wife are bored and want to cheat, so they write personal ads, and lo, they answer each other's personals! Though how that happens when they're the blandest Reaganite yuppies ever, I'm not sure. Maybe it's because they're both full of themselves ("if you have half a brain.") I enjoy this song because it is catchy, silly, and totally non-serious. I do not like pina coladas, btw.

BEST OF 1979: "I Will Survive" by Gloria Gaynor. WORST OF 1979: "Love You Inside Out" by the Bee Gees