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criticallyacclaimedstranger · 3 years ago

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Fic: What We Don't Know Can't Hurt Us

Fandom: Triple Frontier

Pairing: Frankie Morales x Librarian!Reader (cishet female) meet-cute

Warnings: No warnings really, some language and mention of masturbation and sex. Reader doesn't like kids. Yearning. Frankie is a TOTAL DILF SWEETHEART. Sad ending.

Summary: Reader is a librarian who has to temp at the kids' section desk from time to time which is a pain because she doesn't like kids. And who is a regular if not a very hot, scruffy-looking dad with the very polite and mild-mannered daughter? Sparks fly but some things maybe aren't meant to be.

Words: 5,155

a/n: Just to be clear, this one doesn't end well. I just wanted to write something sad, I guess.

Oh, shit, there he is again. The Hot Dad.

You straighten a little in your chair and once again curse the fact that you’re working in the children’s section at the library: the only desk that isn’t adjustable. You prefer to do your service desk duties standing up, not only for ergonomic reasons but because you hate how patrons look down on you – literally – when you’re seated by the desk. Also, you tend to slouch and it’s not an attractive look. And at the kids’ section, you’re all supposed to work on the same level as the little tykes. And you’re not particularly keen on those.

You are, however, keen on hot dads. God knows you only get them once in a blue moon and if they show up, it’s usually in tow of a whole clan of children and a wife. But this dad has been in once before when you’ve had desk duty and you saw him stop at the shelf for picture books about divorce and pick out a few. You also heard him tell his little girl that she shouldn’t bring the books she chose to her mom’s. Divorcee, so fantasizing was even more allowed – although he probably had a girlfriend. Guys like that always do.

“You don’t want to lose them, sweetie,” he had explained patiently to his daughter. “You can keep them in your room at my place but if you take them to your mom’s there’s a risk you lose them and that means I have to pay for them. You see, we’re only borrowing these books, that’s what you do in a library.”

You had smiled an inwards smile when listening to him. There was nothing you loved more than parents who actually seemed to understand that all the material in the library was free at one simple condition: return it in time, in the same condition as you borrowed it. A lot of people did not seem to grasp this and made a huge deal when they failed to meet these conditions and were faced with late fees or even had to compensate for lost books. But when parents who knew how to use a library include their offspring, explain how it all works for them, well, that’s how you foster a new generation of good library patrons.

This dad did just that. And he was very careful with the books, prompting his daughter to be the same. Every book she pulled out of the stacks, he helped her put back in the right place. That’s practically marriage material right there and it was enough to make you weak at the knees, to be honest. After almost ten years working in a public library, you were disillusioned about people in general and their intelligence in particular. Sure, you liked your job enough to not cry in the mornings when you had to leave bed, and you did enjoy the work itself (mostly), but… having to deal with people was exhausting. Having to deal with little people even more so, and the worst was having to deal with adult people who had little people with them. Parents.

Hence your absolute obsession with Hot Dad who was soft-spoken, really good with his kid, understood to appreciate the library and its services, nodded his hello to you when passing by the desk, didn’t make a mess, clearly read to his kid regularly and encouraged her to read for herself. You just didn’t get to see people like that so often, and it triggered your interest. You allowed yourself to daydream about him.

Francisco Morales. You remember his name from his last visit, when he and the kid came up to the desk with their haul. You always encouraged patrons to use the self-service check-out (the less you had to do deal with them, the better), but for this guy you were more than willing to go the extra service mile, even with the kid staring at your every move from across the desk as you registered all the loans. You silently gave her plus points for not trying to “help” like some kids did, and for the quiet but clear Thank you she gave you without prompting from her father.

You’re busying yourself with the returns, loading them onto a cart, when you hear a soft, deep voice go Excuse me behind your back. You twirl around and see Morales, pulling his baseball cap off his head to reveal curls that would make any hair model cry of envy.

“Sorry to bother you,” he offers. Take me now, you think to yourself but instead, you give him your brightest customer service smile, the one you rarely give patrons.

“No worries, how can I help?”

“We’re looking for picture books about farm animals. You don’t happen to have those separated? I noticed you have some subject areas separated.” He gestures back towards the picture book stacks where his daughter is quietly perusing.

“We don’t, but I think we have some Julia Donaldsons available, let me come and have a look.”

You don’t always offer. With most patrons, you’d tell them to look under D for Donaldson and then smile sweetly and ask them if they’re okay to do it themselves. You can’t do everything for everyone, that way they’ll never learn. But for Francisco Morales and his well-behaved little girl, you’re absolutely willing to make an exception.

There are some Donaldsons that the girl, whose name you learn is Sofia, eagerly accepts when you present her with them.

“I love fawm animals,” she sighs happily as she browses the first one. “Do you?”

“Who doesn’t love animals?” You make the effort to small talk although communicating with kids usually makes you awkward.

“What’s youw favowite? Mine is bunny. And howses. And lambs.”

“Goats! I love goats, they’re so cute and sweet and playful.” You almost add something about goats being the devil’s favorite animal as well but manage to stop yourself in time.

“Is there something else you want to ask the librarian?” Morales asks his daughter. “If not, I’m sure she has a lot of work to do, and we shouldn’t keep her any longer.”

“I’m here to help,” you shrug and give him a little smile: not a polite, impersonal one that you’d give a patron, but a more intimate one. A flirty smile. “You just need to ask.”

The smile he gives you back is warm and grateful, and you realize that he doesn’t have different facial expressions for different people. He doesn’t work in customer service because if he did, he’d know the difference. Not that you ever thought he worked in retail or anything like that, well, maybe a hardware store, but no. He just doesn’t seem like the type. The way he moves his body suggests something a lot more physical.

Oh, you’d like to get physical with him, alright��

All the sucky library-themed pick-up lines flash through your head. Can I check you out as an overnight loan? Can I insert my private collection into your empty stacks? My reference desk or yours? Am I being too loud, well, you’ll just have to shush me with your lips. You’re like an overdue library book because you have fine written all over you.

Worst part is, if Hot Dad Morales tried any of these on you, you’d probably forgive him and go for it. Maybe. You’re really not that simple, but a girl can dream, right?

The kid thanks you and you return to the relative safety of the desk and the mundane task of alphabetizing returns. You need to calm the fuck down and act professional. Daydreaming is fine but you’re barely toeing the line.

God, you need to get laid. As if that’s something that one can remedy just by walking into a store and ordering a medium dick with a side of hands and tongue.

📚📚📚

The next time you see Francisco and Sofia Morales, you’re taking your lunch break in the small park outside the library. It’s a sunny day and you didn’t fancy sitting in the breakroom with your salad, listening to colleagues talking about who cares what. So you took your lunch box, fork, and water bottle, and went to sit on the park bench the furthest away from the swing set and sandbox. The weather is nice and you enjoy yourself and your break from the library’s chat service. You never know what you’re gonna get when you work the chat: a stupid question about opening hours which anyone could google the answer to, or something more complicated like requests for books with partial or no titles, rarities, or subject areas that you don’t know much about. That’s when you get to use your whole competence and really dig deep, think outside the box, solve problems. You love it but it’s challenging at times, and takes a lot of energy. Your outdoor break is welcome.

“Hi!”

You hadn’t noticed the girl walking up to you and the greeting startles you.

“Oh, hi.”

“We’we wetuwning the animal books,” Sofia informs you seriously. You have to smile.

“Good job. You want more of those or something else this time?”

“Mowe. Will you help me find some?”

“I’m not working the desk at the children’s section today but my colleague there will absolutely help you. Just ask her.”

Now you see Morales walking towards you from the swing set, carrying the large, flowery canvas tote that says “book bag” he always brings to the library.

“Hello,” he nods with that warm smile that he definitely gives everyone. “Sofia, don’t disturb the lady on her break. I’m sure she wants some peace and quiet before she has to go back to work.”

Jesus fucking Christ. How does this man just know shit like this?

“I’m sowwy,” Sofia immediately offers. “I wanted to say hello.”

“Don’t worry, it’s okay,” you allow, although technically, he’s not wrong. “I’m almost done. It was nice to see you. I hope you have a good visit to the library.”

“Thank you!” She skips along and Morales chuckles as he takes off his baseball cap and scratches his head, swipes his long locks out of his forehead, then puts the hat back on.

“You’re her favorite, you know,” he tells you. When you raise your eyebrow, not comprehending, he hurries to elaborate. “Of the librarians. She says you’re the best.”

“Thank you, but whatever for?” You know you do a good enough job at your usual position and that your regulars appreciate you, but you are also very aware of not being at your finest in the kids’ section.

“You have to ask her,” Morales grins as he looks out for his kid, who has returned to the swing set and is pumping her legs on the swing, brows knitted in concentration. “But she’s very taken with you. I think it’s because you’re very calm and focused with her.”

Calm and focused??? You almost laugh out loud. That’s everything you’re not when you’re at the kids’ desk.

“Thanks,” you manage, because you have to say something.

“She’s also really interested in your tattoos and I definitely think she wants to get her nose pierced now,” Morales goes on. “I told her that we don’t comment on people’s appearance, but just a heads up, she might ask you about those.”

Ah, the unpredictability of children.

“I appreciate it.” You really do. You don’t mind talking about your tattoos or the septum ring you have but if a kid suddenly asks about it, you’d rather be prepared.

“Anyway, sorry to intrude on your lunch.”

“No worries,” you reassure him. “You can… sit down for a while if you want to? I have ten minutes left.”

Your heart beats faster at your proposal. It’s not exactly appropriate but you just want to enjoy his company for a moment. And discreetly sniff him because he smells so fucking good, woodsy and smokey but with a hint of… vanilla? You’re terrible at recognizing smells but it reminds you of some aroma reeds you had a couple of years ago that smelled like a wood cabin with vanilla sugar spilled on the floor. You loved it but like everything you love, it was discontinued.

Morales looks over at his daughter before nodding, the book bag slipping down from his shoulder as he places it next to the bench.

“If you’re sure?”

“Wouldn’t offer if I wasn’t.”

He likes your straightforward answer, you can tell from how his eyes crinkle a little and how relaxed his body language is when he sits down.

“I’m Frankie, by the way,” he says, like he just remembered that introductions are a normal part of human interaction. He extends his right hand to you and as you accept it and tell him your name, you can’t help but marvel at how huge his hand is. Big, warm, slightly damp but not in a weird way.

“Nice to meet you, Frankie.” Frankie. Francisco Morales is Frankie. It suits him better than Francisco, to be honest.

“And that’s Sofia.” He points to the girl who seems content swinging by herself. You realize you’re expected to say something nice about her to the proud dad.

“She seems sweet.”

“Yeah, she’s awesome. And she loves coming to the library, it’s all she talks about when I have her.” He clears his throat and adds: “Her mother and I got divorced quite recently. I only get her five days every other week.”

“Sorry to hear that.” Shit, it’s divorce and custody talk from the start. You have no idea how to respond to that.

“That’s life,” he shrugs, “but I figured that going to the library every time I get her could be a good routine to ground her. And then we have books that we can read together for her entire stay.”

It’s definitely a good routine as far as you can tell.

“When I was between nine and thirteen years old, my dad would take me to the local library every Monday evening,” you tell him, smiling at the memory. “My dad never opened a book in his life but he patiently read the auto and tech magazines while I collected half the kids’ section with me. When I went to tell him that I was done, he always pretended to object to the amounts, but then he’d help me carry it all to the car.”

As you tell him this, you’re looking at him, no, staring at the patchy, grey-splashed beard he’s sporting. It’s the most fascinating thing you’ve ever seen. What’s the story there, why doesn’t it grow evenly? Is this a thing? You don’t have enough experience in the field of facial hair. Is it genetic? Is it always like this?

He keeps looking at his daughter as he listens to you with a small smile on his face, clearly enjoying your little anecdote.

“That’s lovely,” he says, turning his attention back to you when you’re finished. “Dads and daughters, huh?”

“Yeah, I guess.”

You pick up your phone to check the time. Shit. You have to return to the chat.

“I gotta go. Lunch break’s over.”

You collect your things and stand up, brushing off your skirt. Frankie stands up as well and picks up the book bag.

“I’ll see you in there?”

“I’m not a the desk today.”

“Oh.” He seems disappointed, his eyes flickering from you to the ground. “That’s too bad.”

“And the kids' section isn't my primary department.”

“The bad news just keep on coming, don't they,” he jokes as the two of you start to walk towards the entrance. Sofia jumps from the swing and comes running.

“She's not at the desk today, daddy,” she tells Frankie precociously.

“I know, mija. We'll have to ask someone else about the animal books, okay?”

Sofia doesn't seem too happy with this solution but nods. You take your leave before she has the opportunity to ask about your body modifications, and disappear through a door marked “Staff Only”.

📚📚📚

The following weeks you seem to see Frankie everywhere. You run into him at the supermarket and get drafted into advicing him on what cereal to buy for his kid. “Something healthy, but good so she'll actually eat it.” How the hell should I know? you want to scoff, but you're simping for him enough to help him choose something you'd never in a thousand years touch yourself. You see him in town one afternoon when you're running errands and he suggests you grab a coffee - holy hell, in your book that's a fucking date - but you decline as kindly as you can, citing a busy schedule when in fact you're mostly just scared out of your mind. The daydream is becoming a little too real and you're absolutely not ready for that, especially not because of the kid. If it wasn't for Sofia, you could have dared the leap, but dating a guy relatively fresh out of a marriage, and with a kid to boot? No, that's asking for trouble and you don't want trouble.

One afternoon at the kids' desk, you once again get to help Sofia find books, this time on sharks.

“She went from farm animals to sharks in one week,” Frankie confides in you when the girl is sitting quietly in a reading nook, carefully studying every page and occasionally widening her eyes at what you suspect is pictures of shark teeth. “It's sharks this and sharks that. She asks if there are sharks in every body of water she sees, from the pond in the park to the ditch outside my parents' house.”

“Have her watch Jaws and she will never want to think about sharks ever again,” you suggest, earning a laugh although the idea was probably a little bit on the morbid side.

“Maybe, but that would probably scar her for life. I actually want her to learn how to swim.”

“Then best not.”

You pick up a couple of books someone else left behind on a table and make a gesture that says I have to re-shelve these, come with and Frankie follows you to the right shelf.

“You know, she talks about you as her friend at the library.”

Now, some people would find that adorable but you don't. You're not friends with this kid, you're in a position where you could possibly influence her keenness to literature and literacy but you will always risk critique from her guardians. Being a children's librarian is like a hybrid between being in customer service, and being a teacher. You get to form young malleable minds but you are always subjected to criticism, even when you've done nothing wrong. Kids are patrons, like adults, and to have them see you as friends is only going to complicate things.

“That's nice,” you reply carefully, not really sure what else to say. It's so hard to talk to parents sometimes, one wrong words and you're basically Satan, you can't know because you don't have kids yourself, how dare you not worship the ground my offspring just vomited all over?

“You're definitely her favorite librarian.”

That you can take. You have a couple of adult patrons who come in regularly and prefer to get their reading recommendations from you. They always have time to discuss literature and they bring you a box of chocolates for Christmas.

“Well, she's easy to help. She always knows what she wants and she's polite. And quite easy to please,” you smile, meaning every word. You don't mention that the only time you like kids is when they're like Sofia is right now: reading quietly in a corner, handling the books with care.

“You're my favorite librarian as well,” Frankie adds, and now that sweet smile he's always wearing when you see him is shy. There's definitely a red tinge on his cheekbones as well and it makes you want to lean forward and kiss him on his goddamn mouth with that goddamn full lower lip that he sometimes sucks into his mouth or fucking licks...

“How many librarians do you know?” you ask and manage to sound easy-going, or at least you think so. The laugh Frankie produces is low and rolling and it makes your stomach coil in on itself. Fuck him and that deep voice he rode in on!

“Got me there. It's basically you and Mrs Wilkerson, the school librarian who scared the shit out of me when I was in elementary school. She made sure I didn't step foot in a library until, well, now.”

“Oh, I so wanted to be a librarian like that when I was a kid!” You grin at Frankie's horrified expression. “No, no, hear me out! I always had this idea that those librarians led these super rich, fulfilling lives as night-time vigilantes or that they were actually millionaires who spent their free time floating around in pools with fancy drinks in hand.”

“Were you... a normal child, besides these illusions?” Frankie teases you and before you can stop yourself, you're slapping his arm playfully. Like a girlfriend would. Or someone more intimate than a Favorite Librarian, at any rate.

“I'll have you know that the voices in my head are saying that we had a very normal and healthy childhood,” you reply with as much dignity as you can muster, while desperately wishing for the phone to ring or another patron to ask for your help. But no, the ones present seem to be managing on their own - except for one mom who seemed to have overheard your joke because she is now staring at you with hesitation in her eyes.

It's Sofia who comes to your rescue with her request of being taken to the bathroom. By the time she and Frankie are done there, your colleague has come to relieve you of your duties at the children's section.

📚📚📚

You knew of course that it was coming. You may not be that experienced in the terms of dating and relationships but you weren't stupid and you had some experience: Frankie was going to ask you out. It had to happen. Technically, it had already happened that afternoon in town when he asked you out for coffee. He maybe didn't see it as a date, but you certainly did.

It happened when you had just started your shift in the children's section and it was a fucking mess. A class of kindergarteners had just left and the teachers hadn't bothered to keep them in check, so there were not only books on every available surface, they were also put in the wrong way and in the wrong places. Your colleague who you were relieving stayed behind to help you, feeling too bad to leave it all to you.

That's when Daddy and Daughter Morales showed up. You weren't really happy about the existence of kids in the first place but made an effort for Sofia, who brought you a drawing she had made in preschool that day. It featured some figures in green, slightly reminiscent of animals and one human but you wouldn't be able to tell. Luckily, Frankie explained it to you.

“She's waited all day to give you this drawing of you with goats.”

“Wow,” you manage. “Thank you, Sofia, this was so kind of you.”

The girl is beaming with pride. “Will you put it on the wall?”

“Super probably!”

“I can see you're busy,” Frankie notes and ushers Sofia along. “We won't distract you. Come on, honey, let her do her job now and maybe you'll get to talk to her later.”

You nod your thanks and focus on cleaning up the entire department before you colleague leaves and Frankie and Sofia come to the desk to borrow this week' picks. Sofia seems uncharacteristically giddy.

“Do you want to come with us to the awbowetum?” she asks with a wide, expectant smile. Fuck shit ass hell.

“We're going on Saturday,” Frankie fills in, “and we were both hoping you'd want to join?”

Saturday. Thank goodness.

“Sorry, I work on Saturday,” you say, trying to sound rueful. It's true and you're relieved about not having to lie. “But thanks, it's sweet of you to ask.”

Sofia is clearly disappointed and so is Frankie, but he masks it better.

“Some other time, yeah?”

If it were only him, you'd tell him it wasn't a good idea. But you can't say that with the kid right in front of you. You may not like kids but that doesn't mean you want to scar them for life.

“Yeah, maybe.”

You loan them the books and as they leave, Sofia waves happily at you and Frankie shoots you one last smile that makes you press your thighs together in your seat.

Come Saturday, you're by your usual desk in the section for adult fiction and you almost fall off your chair when you see Frankie come up the stairs and straight up to the desk.

“Hi.” He's had a haircut and a shave and looks different. Still good, but very different. The dark locks of his hair are more tamed. The mustache is still there but you miss the patchy beard.

“Um, hi? Where's Sofia?”

“In the car, with a friend. We're going to the arboretum.”

“Right. I hope you have a good time, the arboretum's lovely.” You still don't understand what he's doing here and he seems to have some difficulty in telling you. Moving his weight from one foot to the other, he scratches his neck and looks down - why does he have to be so freaking cute? - before looking up at you.

“About that... I wanted to apologize. I wasn't sure it was a good idea to ask you to come with, but Sofia was so persistent. She likes you so much. I didn't mean to put you on the spot like that. I'm sorry.”

“That's alright,” you brush it off because there's not really anything else you can say. “Don't think about it, just go have a good day.”

“I also wanted to ask if you wanted to go grab a drink with me. Just me. Maybe next week when Sofia's at her mother's.”

Fuck, there it is. His hopeful face makes you hate yourself for the answer you have to give.

“I'm not sure that's such a good idea, Frankie,” you begin carefully. “I'm really flattered, but you're... recently divorced with a kid. That's a lot of baggage and things could get complicated. I don't want to get caught up in that.”

You've practiced this speech at home but it still breaks your fucking heart because Frankie is so good-looking, kind, funny, and sweet. You would've asked him out yourself already if it wasn't for the baggage. Fuck, you masturbate to the thought of him, for crying out loud! You imagine what it would be like to be with him, to make dinner together and watch movies and go to bed and wake up in each other's arms. You think about sex with him a lot. You make an effort with your appearance those days you know he'll show up at the library, you don't even mind the kids' section that much anymore because you get to talk to him.

You are fucking in love with him, or at least the idea of him because you don't know much about him, only that he used to be a pilot in the special forces but now he trains new pilots, he has best friends who are like uncles to Sofia (and who have been asking about this mystery librarian she always keeps talking about), he likes cooking and loves baking with his daughter, he hates working out but knows he should take better care of himself, hell, you even know what brand of milk he buys.

He's clearly disappointed but keeps a brave face, one that you can see right through because he wears his heart on his sleeve.

“I understand that,” he says quietly, mildly. “I'm sorry, I hope I didn't embarrass you.”

Jesus fucking Christ can this man not???

“No, don't worry. I'm sorry I couldn't give you the answer you wanted. It's just... not a good time.”

Shit. You shouldn't have said that. Now he might think it could be a better time later.

Frankie nods and smiles sadly. “Yeah, you're probably right.”

“I'm sorry.”

“Yeah, me too.”

He clears his throat and nods. “I better be going. You have a good weekend now.”

“You too.”

He shoots you one final smile before he turns around and leaves. As you watch him go down the stairs to the exit level, you just want to call his name, do your run through the airport and hurry after him, throw yourself into his arms, kiss him, Jesus, imagine that somewhere there's someone who'll get to kiss him some day, tell him that you made a huge mistake and you want to go out with him, you want to have drinks with him and dinner and breakfast and lunch for the rest of your lives because nothing would make you happier than making him happy. You want to be the reason his eyes crinkle and his cheek displays that little dimple that makes you lose your train of thought every time you see it.

But it's not for you. People with kids need to prioritize their kids and you know that you can't be anyone's number two. You don't want to get caught up in custody disputes, you don't want to be "your father's new slut", you don't want to be anyone's stepmom. You don't want to have to spend five days a week in the same house as a five-year-old. Being in a relationship is difficult enough as it is and if you can make choices that avoid some of the problems, you're going to make them, no matter how much it hurts.

And it hurts. A lot. But so much in life hurts and you've made it through before.

He must already be out the door, probably in the car. Does he say something about this to his daughter and friend? Is it a female friend? No, it must be one of his army buddies, probably one of the brothers.

You pull up Frankie's profile in the library database and see his phone number. You could call him anytime. Or send a text. Keep talking to him, flirting.

Shit. It's a bad idea.

A patron approaches the desk and you force yourself to look mild and service-minded.

“Hi, do you have Hate To Want You by someone called... Ray, I think?”

“Please hold a moment, I'll check.” You stifle the sigh that threatens to escape you and hope that the day will be busy so you won't have time to think about Francisco Morales again.

#my fic #triple frontier #francisco catfish morales #francisco frankie morales #frankie morales #frankie morales x you #frankie morales x reader

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antiquitiesandlabyrinths · 3 years ago

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The Impact of Religion and the Mother Goddess on Human Culture

Notes: This essay is compiled from a number of sources ranging from books, university publications, youtube videos, and museum articles. This essay is also not just about Egypt, like the rest of this blog is––it concerns early civilizations ranging from Britains to Harappans.

As we all know, religion inhabits much of our daily life in modern times, and even more so in ancient times. The origins of our existence have been explained many times over with many different ideas––how these ideas are presented to the world and the common man influences the actions of the people and government who follow that religion.

The oldest religions in the world tend to worship a Mother Goddess––a feminine figure that represents the ability to create life which, for a while, was confined entirely to the efforts of women and the miracle of childbirth. We know very little about these people beyond what the archaeological record can tell, as there is no written language for pre-history hominids who created the first works of art; women, with full hips and breasts, carved into wood and stone. What we do know about them is that they had forms of empathy––healed femur bones from old, preserved skeletons reveal that people healed from grievous injuries that, in many other species, would mark death. Jaws, hunched in like the pursed lips of old men, were also found without their teeth, but still living to an impressive age of around 80. Someone had to physically chew this person's food, and they did, for what could've been decades. This shows that same pattern; a tribe that fed, clothed, and took care of someone who otherwise would not have survived on their own.

All of this points not only to intelligence in early hominids, but also a form of empathy that some people even today lack in our society––a society that doesn't worship a Mother Goddess, whose origins in humanity are entirely different from the beliefs of the first humans.

The Sumerian civilization is among the oldest, including the four civilizations birthed in cradles of humanity––the Harappan civilization along the Indus Valley river, Mesopotamian culture along the Euphrates––or the fertile crescent––, as well as Egypt along the Nile and the rivers in China. This topic of Sumerian religion, the changes it went through, and the effect that had on its' people, are discussed in great detail in the book 'The Alphabet Versus the Goddess' by Leonard Shlain, but I will attempt to summarize the religious history of Sumeria and Mesopotamia.

When the first towns and cities began to prop up around the Euphrates and Tigris rivers, the people who lived there worshipped a wide pantheon of Gods like many of the other first civilizations. Their creation myth involves the work of a primeval mother Goddess named Namma, who created humanity. These people who lived under this creation myth, this belief that they were created out of nothing and out of love, allowed for times of relative peace, as well as a rapid growth in art, structure, and other such refinements of city life. Later on, however, this idea was obstructed by a rising Babylonian culture coming into the fertile crescent. These people believed in a much more gruesome birth of humanity, and is a strikingly, and horrifying, difference from the myths of early Sumerians.

The Babylonian creation myth was written or told as a way of confirming Marduk as the main God of the world. This story is called Enuma Elish, and acted as a way to legitimize Marduk replacing Enlil, the previous God King. The telling of it occurred during the Kassite inhabitation of Babylon.

Tiamat, the Goddess of the Sea (salty water) mated with her husband Apsu, a God who represented fresh water. From this several Gods emerged in couplets. Most were boisterous and loud, as young children are, producing so much noise that Apsu was incensed to destroy them. He was stopped soon by his wife, Tiamat, who urged him to exhibit more patience; a request he did not heed. Their sons soon heard of this danger and, in fear of death, called upon the god Ea to help them. Ea was an incredibly resourceful God, and put the angered Apsu to sleep with a spell. They killed the sleeping God and stole his vizier, Mummu. After this, Ea birthed his own child with his consort, Damkina. This is the origin of Marduk.

Marduk was the tallest and the mightiest of all the Gods, who held power to control the four winds, a power given by the God Anu. Anu told him to let the winds whirl; it created a storm that picked up dust from the earth, the winds roaring loud enough to antagonize the usually patient Tiamat. Other Gods faced this same irritation and urged Tiamat to take action––to slay down the God, Marduk.

Another telling of this story has a slightly different timeline, that tells a significantly different story––instead of Ea and lesser Gods killing Apsu, Apsu is killed by Marduk, which directs Tiamat's anger more reasonably to Marduk.

When she comes to face Marduk on the battlefield, she has with her eleven monsters created by the Mother Goddess for this quest. While Ea tries to find a way to end this confrontation with magic spells, he is eventually told that it isn't exactly possible, and thus Marduk puts forth an offer that the other Gods take. He will face the Goddess Tiamat, and if he should win, he would be the King of all Gods. This battle is long and difficult, but eventually Marduk does win in a horrifying way. He blows massive gusts of wind down Tiamat's mouth, swelling her stomach and abdomen so massively she appears to be a woman in the final stages of pregnancy. While she is thoroughly and painfully stretched with Marduk's wind, he slays her with an arrow down her gullet, killing a woman who had the image of the feminine creation of life, an ending violently estranged from the myth of a mother Goddess creating things by her own magic, and not the death of others.

Once Tiamat is slain, her corpse is large, and Marduk puts it to use. He stretches her skin out to become the sky. Her pierced eyes, heavy with tears, are the origins of the Euphrates and the Tigris, flooded with her crying. Her tail is made into the Milky Way. Her split head, torn by the heavy club of Marduk, is used to make the mountains, and her body created the earth. He pricked her breasts in many places for the tributaries of the rivers. From her blood Marduk creates humans in a disturbingly dark way, a stark difference––humans made by magic, versus humans made by the murder of a Goddess mirroring the image of a pregnant woman.

As God-King, Marduk received complaints from lesser Gods that they had to toil on the earth themselves to create their own tributes, taken care of by worshippers. To remedy this, Marduk decides to create humans. He singled out Tiamat's favorite son, Kingu, who ruled with her after her husband's death, and accused him of instigating Tiamat's rage. He placed all blame on this one God, freeing everyone else of the blame but Kingu. Marduk then ordered his father, Ea, to knead the flesh and blood of Kingu's executed form, this sacrifice, molding it like clay in his hands. After the images of many humans were created, Marduk sentenced them to toil on Tiamat's corpse for all their lives in order to create offerings and worship for the Gods.

This violent origin creates a culture indebted to its' gods, forever attempting to repent from the sins of their past, the gruesomeness of their creation, to make up for Kingu's sacrifice. Compared to the simple origins of the mother Goddess Nammu, the people who worshipped her in Sumer didn't have this responsibility––they were created of love. But Babylonians lived forever attempting to make up for their own creations, a theme that is reflected clearly in Christianity. A savior, and worshippers forever trying to repent for their own existence.

This story also reflects the growth of monetary gain in a society. For example, the Indus Valley civilization on the Indus river had no such array of Gods that required tributes so often like that. It is hard to say what exactly the people of Harappa and Mohenjo-Daro truly believed in, as we have yet to decipher their written language, but archaeological evidence shows no presence of temples for Gods in any of the cities. Instead, the cities are laid out in a straight, clearly preplanned manner that allowed wind to channel through the streets like air conditioning. There were no ways for these city-states to hold immense power over the people, as there was no reason that would excuse the abuse put upon lower-class citizens; there were no violent 'Gods' to which such offerings were necessary, meaning the class system most likely worked in a very different way to that of Babylonia, who had massive temples. The creation and building of these temples fuelled the Mesopotamian economy greatly, as money that was collected in taxes was actually put to use, not stored up and saved like what can happen in a capitalistic society. It's the difference between a city built for its' people or a city built for its' gods, and, in extension, the god-Kings that ruled on earth. Something interesting to note as well, is that the Indus Valley civilization didn't have any weapons or mass wars––as far as we know––in its' history from 5,000 BC to 1500 BC. There could be other reasons for this, but I believe it may have something to do with the feminine cult religion and the absence of temples.

There is a similar theme in Egyptian culture, surprisingly. Egypt is known as an ancient civilization that had forward-thinking rights for women and men, including divorce proceedings and the ability to hold a job and property. Like Sumer, its original creation myth dealt mainly with the creative, coming-together of powerful forces; this time two women, something that very rarely happens in religion. There are no male Gods that inspire or order the two Goddesses––they act alone, and of their own volition. This tale is one of the oldest creation myths we've found yet in Egypt, dating all the way back to the Early Dynastic Period of the Old Kingdom.

Nekhbet was the Goddess of Upper Egypt, a vulture Goddess (whose imagery and meaning we will discuss later). Wadjet was the serpent Goddess of Lower Egypt. These two Goddesses were primordial deities, existing before the creation of earth. They emerged from the waters of chaos, which was thought to be all that the world was back then, bringing with them land and air, and eventually the loving creations of humans. Like cobras that twist around each other into a double helix, the Egyptians were intrinsically entwined with the Nile, an image that is reflected even in modern times, with the symbol of two entwined snakes being the symbol for healing, often displayed in hospitals, and the formation of DNA in its ladder-like structure.

It may seem a little strange that the two Goddesses who created the earth––in this Divine Feminine mythology––are represented by a cobra and a vulture, but in Egyptian society, that was simply what they were.

In hieroglyphics, vultures denote a woman. They are in the spelling of mother, of daughter, of wife, and of Goddesses. In fact, the word mother is written the exact same way as vulture. These birds appeared to have foresight to the Egyptians as well––they circled their prey before a meal was assured, remarking a sort of prophecy. They also denoted a divine manifestation of death, an important trait to share with the goddess Nekhbet, who carried exceptional power.

The snake was also a feminine symbol, though strangely explained by the Egyptians, whose ideas on life differ greatly from the modern, more monotheistic view (Christianity, Islam, and Judaism). The sinuous like movements of its' 'step' mimicked the swaying of a woman's hips in a dance, evocative and nubile, and her movements in the throes of passion mimicked a similar serpentine state. Snakes resembled the meandering shapes of rivers, the roots of trees and plants, and the umbilical cord of mammalians. They live deep within the earth, making their home within the Great Mother, and they appeared to live forever, shedding their skin whenever renewal was required. This specifically was a trait revered by Egyptians, who had a great love and zest for life, and wished to live forever. Renewal connected snakes to the Nile's inundation and the sun's revival every morning after its' death the night before. Hieroglyphs come into play with snakes, as well––the hieroglyphs for serpent are the same as the hieroglyphs for Goddess.

It can be difficult to say how exactly this myth was thought of during the Old Kingdom. This is an incredibly old myth, and by the time writing started to really take hold of the country, the myth was replaced with a new, more masculine one. While it wasn't as violent as the Babylonian creation myth, it contained an incredible amount of masculine energy. Female goddesses faded from the light as a particular two Gods shot up in popularity––Amun and Ra, or Amun-Re (there are many different spellings, including Atum, Re, Aten, etc.).

There is an incredibly theory put forth in the previously mentioned book "The Alphabet Versus the Goddess" that inspired me to truly think about the connection between religion and society, as well as the impact of writing on the ideas of feminine and masculine energies within that society. Leonard Shlain, the author of the book, posits that "... any written method of communication skews society toward masculine vales."

The new, masculine myth that took the place of the Goddesses Nekhbet and Wadjet was a little more simple––Atum stood on a mound of earth, surrounded by the primordial sea. Atum masturbated, and from his seed sprouted the Ennead––nine deities making up a family of powerful Gods and Goddesses. This story was found to have its origins nearly 1500 years after the myth of Nekhbet and Wadjet.

So how did this change in mythology reflect in society?

Again, it is hard to say. In the Old Kingdom, Pharaohs tended to their people, and their was a feudal-type system ruled by an all-powerful King. Art flourished in the time, and even today many people claim that the art of Egypt peaked in the Old/Middle Kingdom and fizzled out during the New Kingdom. Another notable change is after the invasion of the Hyksos––and an occupation that lasted only a little over a century, one that was despised heavily––Egypt began to take on a new sort of mindset. Pharaohs now went out beyond the borders of Egypt, even up into Canaan and completing quests of great magnitude, erecting monuments in honor of their victory. Such behavior is found more in violent, masculine-powered societies than anywhere else.

Viking and Medieval UK faced this same problem––women were hardly considered people during this age, unable to own their own land or divorce. This was a masculine honoring society, praising the violence of colonizing and shunning empathy. There was a need within the people to 'spread their greatness' to others, but in reality, the greatness was nothing more than violence; a theme also seen in the Avatar: The Last Airbender, as the Fire nation brainwashed its' child citizens to believe the Fire Nation had a right to the rest of the world. I'm afraid I have little else to say on the topic of Europe because that is not my area of study, but the similarities are easy to draw.

Our society today is, despite our best efforts, a masculine-drawn society. Our God is chiefly referred to as 'He' and representation in our media for women is scant beyond superficial characters, as men, who rule most of the business in the world, can have trouble seeing women as something more than a pretty, talking toy. This, of course, isn't universal, but it is incredibly common and would be more so if women weren't trying to make a stand. Like Babylonians, Christians are born with innate guilt, attempting to make up and repent for the sacrifice of their savior, another masculine form of a deity. Like Atum-worshipping Egyptians, our world was created alone at the hands of an all powerful male God.

But, unlike Sumerians, we never had a Mother Goddess. Unlike the earliest myths of Egypt, the world was not birthed at the hands of a fertile woman. And, unlike early Egypt, we are not happy. Our 'life after death' is somewhere unlike Earth, somewhere that is perfect, unlike earth. But for Egyptians? Life after death was earth, just another form of it, and life in that afterlife was just the same as life during life. Whether or not that has anything to do with our method of governing, our economy, or our massive differences in religion––there is no evidence. It is a simple outlook on life that is only translated in holy texts and the remains of dead people, and dead people very rarely talk.

Like most things, religion isn't contained to a Sunday every week or to Muslim prayer mats every day––such things spread into our food, our way of life, our infrastructure, how we respect and treat each other, and how we treat the Earth. I believe it is important to remember that the oldest Gods are things seen every day––the water, the earth, the sky, the sun, and the stars. These are what influenced the first humans, the first beings to care for one another in old age, to heal what was thought to be forever broken, and to take up the mantle of kindness for each other without the threat of a violent God condemning them. Many modern people base their ethics on the threat of punishment from God(s), in which case we can all learn from atheists, who continue to do good without threat, simply because they believe it is right to help others, just as our ancestors did.

#ancient religion #ancient history #egyptian mythology #ancient sumeria #sumerian mythology #babylonian mythology #indus valley civilization #divine feminine #divine masculine

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butmakeitgayblog · 4 years ago

Text

City of Angels: Just a Little Doped Up

Also available on AO3

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Lexa ached seeing her wife in pain.

Ached.

The weeks leading up to the big day had left Lexa feeling emotionally drained; a jittery ball of nerves bouncing from one room of their apartment to the next, testing out any and every remedy she could come up with to alleviate her wife's discomfort. Weeding through half-hearted protests of, "I'm fine," and diligently argued pleas of, "I'll do it later," Lexa clawed, begged, borrowed, and stole her way to this particular finish line.

After a month of grumbled fights and empty threats of a contentious divorce if Clarke didn't stop rescheduling, Lexa could only manage a haphazard sigh at being on the receiving end of her wife's icy glare when they'd finally led her away.

Because Clarke had eventually agreed to the procedure, albeit with an air of begrudging resignation, having spent the days leading up to the appointment grumpily preparing Lexa for what to expect.

And she thought she did know what to expect. Lexa had fully anticipated the swollen cheeks and glazed eyes that greeted her when the nurse had called her back. She'd expected the blood tinted dribble of drool that leaked from the lax hang of her wife's mouth. Even the wobbly chin and glistening sheen of tears upon seeing her again didn't lead Lexa to think a single thing was amiss.

But this?

She certainly hadn't anticipated this.

"Who the hell is that?"

"Pardon?" Lexa mumbled in return as she continued to read through the clipboard in her hands, a sigh escaping her at the fifth question in a row.

"I thaaaid," Clarke pushed out with a glassy roll of her eyes, "who the hell is that?"

Slowly dragging her eyes up for a moment Lexa flashed a pleading, yet overly-saccharine, look of love at her wife.

"Clarke?" she said as sweetly as she could manage.

"Hu?"

"Shhh. Just for a little bit, okay?"

Lexa watched an affronted frown pull at her wife's lips, cheeks stuffed with enough gauze to render any threat from the look quite moot. Shooting the disgruntled love of her life another smile, Lexa turned back to the discharge sheet she'd been attempting to fill out.

"Is she always this… lively?"

A cough of laughter jumped from Lexa's chest as she dotted the final 'i' in her last name. Handing the clipboard back to the waiting nurse, Lexa grinned over at the woman now fighting through a series of torturous looking blinks.

"You have no idea," she whispered. "But this is rare form, for sure. You'd think a doctor would-"

"Oh no," the nurse, Monroe, interrupted, shaking her head ruefully as she moved to slip the clipboard in its holder. "Doctors make the worst patients. If they're not pulling the MD card on you, they--"

"Heeey you. C'mere."

"-- Act like a fool?" Lexa finished for her, tossing an exasperated look toward the caregiver in charge.

Turning to the sound of her wife's call, Lexa had to swallow the urge to laugh. Despite Clarke's best attempt at what Lexa knew to be her sultry voice of seduction, the growing puddle of spittle escaping the loose sling of her mouth was enough to kill any hope of that particular mood.

"Yes, my love?" she soothed anyway, rolling the wheeled stool she sat on over to catch her wife's searching hand. "You feeling okay?"

"Yeah," Clarke hummed, her words sticky, and slow, and slurred. "There's thit in my mouf."

"It's gauze, sweetheart," Lexa said, leaning down to press the whisper of a kiss to the swollen curve of Clarke's jaw. "You had your wisdom teeth taken out."

"They took my teef?!"

Seeing the flash of indignant anger in Clarke's eyes, Lexa immediately moved to intercept Clarke's free hand that had sluggishly tried, and failed, to fly up to her mouth.

"You asked them to, remember? They were hurting you."

Clarke shook her head, her eyes turning watery along with her words. "I wouldn't do that."

"I promise ya, hun," the nurse chuckled as she moved to Clarke's other side. "You did."

"But I hate doctorth."

"Amen, sister," Monroe hummed as she took Clarke's wrist and did a final check of her vitals.

Lexa watched as Clarke's eyes seemed to spin in their sockets for a moment before landing on her again, a smile blooming on Lexa's lips at her wife's adorable befuddlement.

"I lub you," Clarke slurred with doe-eyed conviction, picking her head up just to have it fall back a second later. Letting her wandering gaze loop around to her opposite side, baby-blues turned to the nurse instead. "I lub her, ya know."

"I should hope so," the nurse grinned as she placed Clarke's hand back down. "Otherwise the whole marriage thing would be kinda awkward."

"Yeah," Clarke said in a lazy sigh. "That'd be weird… Like we were straight--."

"Okay, Clarke," Lexa tried, shooting Monroe an apologetic smile. "Why don't we just-"

"But I'm in lub with her," she rolled on, pausing for a moment to noisily smack her obviously numb lips. "She's an angel, ya know?"

"She seems like it."

"No. No," Clarke shook her head defiantly. "You don't get it."

Releasing a nervous laugh, Lexa squeezed the hand in her grip in warning. "Clarke--"

"She's an angel. Like with the flappy wingth one. A halo and… 'N a harp, I think. Birkenstockth."

"Well those are certainly all words," Monroe smiled down at the babbling patient.

"She fell down a cliff to lub me," Clarke crooned in high-pitched broken words, her lip starting to tremble again with emotion.

Running a soothing hand through blonde hair, Lexa shook her head at the nurse holding back laughter as she stood to lean over her doped-up wife. "Clarke, sweetheart, shhhh, okay? We're gonna be going home in a minute, so just rest. If you talk too much, the swelling will be worse."

"Thee, look," Clarke said, ignoring Lexa entirely as she flopped a hand in the general direction of Lexa's face. "She's still got a lil thcar on her eye... I kith it when she's thleeping."

Head rolling back towards the nurse, Clarke looked up with a deadpan warning.

"Don't tell her that though."

"It'll be our little secret," Monroe winked before moving toward the door. "Okay, Mrs. Griffin, I'm gonna go get you the rest of your aftercare info and a wheelchair, and then you can get this one home."

Lexa breathed a sigh of relief and smiled. "Thanks, Monroe."

"No problem, just sit tight."

The door clicked shut as the woman left, Lexa taking her seat again to fire off a text to Raven to let her know they'd be done soon. A hush fell over the room as she slid her phone back into her pocket before lifting her head… and seeing her wife glaring daggers at the closed door.

"What?"

Blue eyes rolled to her with what Lexa supposed could be defined as righteous indignation.

"I think that bith was flirtin' with me."

"Clarke," Lexa gasped and her mouth dropped open. "Do not call her that."

"She got all winky with me," Clarke argued, mimicking the move by seductively winking with both eyes. "I know what that meansth."

"Sweetheart, she was not flirting with you."

"She's trying to busth up a happy home. Make me get a divorce."

"She wasn't. She just thought you were being goofy."

"I'm not goofy… You're goofy."

Lexa simply sighed. "I am goofy, you're right."

"I know," Clarke nodded as Lexa tucked back a wayward curl behind Clarke's ear. "... 'N fuckin' 'winky' out there-"

"Clarke, stop."

"You tell her to sthop," Clarke frowned. "I'm married and she nid- no- needs to knock it off."

"I'll tell her that, okay?"

Clarke merely sighed, head falling to the side as stared over at Lexa through several slow blinks. "I can't feel my lipth."

"They're still there. Pretty as ever."

"I think they took my tongue away."

"I hope not. Definitely need that for later."

Clarke perked up at that.

"Are we gonna have thex later?"

"No," Lexa chuckled. "You're high as a kite, love. And you're going to be in a lot of pain in just a little bit, so I think it's gonna be a while before-"

Her words cut off as Clarke's bottom lips scrunched together, eyes filling with tears yet again.

"Oh, don't cry," Lexa hushed through a laugh as she scooted closer, carefully cradling her wife's face in her palms. She swept the pad of her thumb along the delicate row of lashes, collecting the dewy droplets before they could fall.

"You don't wanna have thex with me anymore," Clarke sniffled.

"I always want to have sex with you, Clarke," Lexa assured with a smile, rolling her eyes at the entire trainwreck of a conversation. "But you just had surgery, so for now you have to heal first."

"... Heal first?"

"Yes," Lexa nodded definitively. "Heal first, then sex. I promise."

Clarke seemed to debate the matter for a moment, her eyes shifting in and out of focus as Lexa ran fingers through the tendrils of her hair.

"Okay," Clarke finally conceded, giving a lazy shrug of her shoulder as all traces of sadness suddenly vanished from her face.

Lexa snorted as she pulled back, glad to have seemingly navigated that particular minefield successfully. A quiet knock on the door pulled her attention away as the door eased open and Monroe walked backward into the room.

"Alright, Clarke," she announced, pivoting around to pull a wheelchair up to the side of the recovery chair. "Your chariot awaits, m'lady."

"Oh look, winky'th back. Mleeeh."

Monroe's face pulled to the side in confusion, her gaze darting to Lexa who could only close her eyes and shake her head in answer. Biting her lips to seemingly hold back an amused response, the nurse gave a tiny nod of understanding as she moved to help the patient currently losing a battle with a blanket.

"Alrighty. Anyway. Ready to head home, Mrs. Griffin?"

"Griffin-Woodth," Clarke immediately groaned as she lumbered to her feet, one arm hooked through Lexa's while the other elbowed the nurse away. "We're a team."

Monroe lifted her hands up in surrender when Lexa grunted against Clarke's struggling and gave up on their coaxing method of transport, instead moving to wrap an arm around Clarke's waist to bodily shuffle her into the wheelchair. Easing her wife down in the seat, Lexa dodged a sloppy kiss aimed at her cheek.

"Hang on, sweetheart, you're bleeding again," she rushed out before Clarke could become emotionally unglued at her rebuff, mechanically moving to ransack the sterile tray still off to the side to grab a few fresh bundles of gauze.

Squatting down, Lexa tipped Clarke's head forward by her chin, thanking everything holy when her wife let her mouth fall open at her urging. Swapping out the soaked gauze for fresh ones and escaping unscathed from the teasing nip of teeth at her fingers, Lexa tenderly wiped Clarke's chin clean before tossing the rolls in the biohazard bin and moving to wash her hands.

"Well at least we know she's all set for home aftercare," Monroe said with a grin as Lexa shook her hands off and wiped them dry on a few paper towels.

Ears pinking at the statement, Lexa ditched the towels in the bin as well and made her way back over. "Yeah, sorry. Force of habit. Working inside of a hospital and being married to a doctor for four years, you just kinda get used to it."

"A lot of spouses can be a little put-off by the blood and drool."

"She drools when she sleeps anyway," Lexa shrugged, gathering up the paperwork they needed and stuffing them inside Clarke's purse. Placing the bag over her shoulder, Lexa leaned down and pressed a gentle kiss to her wife's forehead. "You ready to go home, love?"

"Mhmmmm," Clarke hummed with a dopey bob of her head.

Lexa held the door open as the nurse started wheeling Clarke out, her eyes doing a scan of the room to make sure they had everything. A quick jog let her catch up to the pair as they neared the patient checkout, Clarke babbling Monroe's ear off the entire way.

"Hey, sexy," a voice shouted as the doors of the clinic slid open. "Get your fine ass over here."

Lexa smiled at the call as she looked up from the soggy flow of words her wife was directing at seemingly no one in particular.

"Wabeeeen," Clarke called back in a throaty haze of excitement, her head and hand not holding an ice-pack wobbling back and forth in a bizarre kind of drugged-up celebration dance. "Baby, Waben's here."

"I know," Lexa said as Monroe wheeled them toward the SUV parked by the curb. "She drove us here. And now she's gonna give us a ride home, remember?"

"That'th nice of her... She's tho nice," Clarke sniffled as they pulled to a stop. Lexa could barely hold back a sputter of laughter at that, giving Clarke a conciliatory nod.

"Sure she is. We'll go with that."

"Jesus, Griff, what'd they do to you?"

Lexa's head snapped up to level their friend with a warning glare after blue eyes turned to her and started welling up all over again.

"Because ya look great!" Raven very expertly added, pulling her lips back in apology before spinning around toward her car and opening the door. "Okay, let's get you up and in, princess. Chop chop."

Scoffing at that pathetic display, Lexa pulled the purse off of her shoulder and shoved it in Raven's general direction as she rounded to the front of the wheelchair.

"You ready to get in, love?" she asked as she squatted down in front of her wife. "Me and Monroe are gonna help, okay?"

"No."

"Clarke--"

"I can walk mythelf."

"Let us help."

"You really shouldn't walk by yourself, Mrs. Griffin."

Clarke scowled at the nurse, a mumbled "Griffin-Woodth" floating between them as Lexa straightened back up.

"Don't make me do it, Clarke."

Blue eyes swung back around to her, a defiant glint coloring them… once they'd stopped rolling in Clarke's head.

"You're gonna be mad at yourself later," Lexa reminded. She waited a long moment as her wife stubbornly stared back. Shoulders slumping in defeat, Lexa stepped aside with a sigh and nodded toward the car.

Raven smiled and shook her head as she raised a knuckle and rapped twice on the darkened window.

"You owe me five bucks, Woods," Raven said as the door popped open.

"Yeah, yeah," Lexa frowned and shuffled aside to make room. "Excuse me for siding with my wife."

"Well in all fairness, it was a really dumb bet."

"Thank you," Lexa drawled as her friend stepped out.

Anya only shrugged as she closed the door behind her. Stepping to the wheelchair, she pulled up the sleeves of her long black coat and smirked down. "So we meet again, Clarke."

"Anya!" Clarke cheered, throwing her hand up to awkwardly pat the woman on the arm. Twisting around to look at the nurse behind her, Clarke hushed her voice and added, "She's an angel too, ya know?"

"Is that right?"

"Mhm. Our guard- our garden- our gardenia angel. But she kinda thucks at it. Don't tell her I thaid that though."

Anya's spine snapped to attention at the words, her glare darting between Lexa and the nurse eyeing the strangeness of her thick, dark outfit in the middle of L.A. heat with curiosity. Letting out a nervous chuckle, Lexa minutely shook her head and grabbed Clarke's hand to get her attention.

"Yes, sweetheart, everyone here's an angel. Let's get you in the car now, 'kay?"

"Yes," Monroe said as she seemed to blink herself out of whatever thoughts she'd been having, instead walking to the side of the wheelchair and flipping on the breaks. "Time to go, Mrs. Griffin… Woods. Griffin-Woods," she tacked on at the narrowing of Clarke's eyes before glancing up at the woman across from her. "You wanna grab that side?"

"Don't worry about it, just step back," Raven said as she helped Lexa guide the nurse up and away. "It'll be easier this way 'cause grouchy ass likes to fight anyone helping her."

With that, Anya crouched down and slid one arm beneath the bend of Clarke's knees, the other snaking between her arm and waist to wrap around her back.

"Up we go," Anya murmured and lifted Clarke out of the seat, ignoring the lazy protests from her passenger as she kicked aside the wheelchair with ease. Monroe grappled to grab and right the seat as Lexa refused to look at her, instead letting her head fall into her hand at the entire display.

Raven opened the backseat door as wide as it would go when Anya stepped forward.

"Clarke, tuck your head into me like you do Lexa," Anya said as she bent to scoot the woman through the door of the car, only to yank back a moment later with a garbled yell of disgust. "Not like that!"

"Anya--"

"She licked me!"

"You thaid like Lexa."

"Why did I agree to not film this?" Raven groaned and flopped back against the side of the car.

"Can we please get this shit show on the road," Lexa sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose as she took control of the chaos and began rattling off instructions. "Clarke, no licking. Anya, just get her in the car. Raven, you agreed because your friend, my wife, is a very well-respected doctor and teacher, and having a video of her licking a random woman's neck wouldn't be great for her career. Now, go start the car. Monroe… I don't even know. Thank you? And I'm sorry about all of this."

The nurse simply smiled as she reached down to unlock the wheels again and looped around back toward the clinic. "Don't worry about it. Happens more often than you'd think. She'll be out of it for a bit, but just roll with it. Keep everything clean, read the aftercare instructions, and call if you have any questions."

Exchanging a final nod of goodbye, the nurse left the group and went back inside.

"Okay, put her in, Ahn. I'll meet you on the other side."

With a disgruntled huff, Anya gave the woman in her arms another wary glance and moved to settle her into the backseat. Lexa rushed around the back of the SUV and flung the door open, slipping in and across the bench seat in the back as Anya leaned in and set Clarke down.

"Hey, Clarke? I'm gonna buckle you in now," Lexa said as she accepted the seat belt clasp Anya stretched out for her.

Clarke glared between the two of them, her hands swatting at her sides. "I'm not a child. I can do it mythelf."

"You just licked Anya's neck in the middle of a parking lot," Raven pointed out as she started the engine. "And that was after you told a random stranger that she's a whole ass angel."

"Yeah, she told her I was one inside as well," Lexa said as she clicked the buckle in place.

"Hence why we're not exactly trusting you or your motor functions right now, babe."

"But she is an angel. You are an angel," Clarke hummed, sending a hazy look of adoration to her wife while Lexa draped a blanket over her lap. "You're my angel."

"Say angel again," Raven snorted and slipped on a pair of sunglasses.

"... Sure doesn't fuck like an angel though."

"Ew, no!" Anya thundered and flung herself backward out of the door frame, dramatically heaving twice before slamming the door shut hard enough to rock the entire car.

"Clarke," Lexa hissed as her wife continued to leer.

"Huh?"

Anya grunted as she whipped the front door open and climbed in. "Why did I agree to come to this?"

Clarke's lips pooched as she sent a very wet sounding smooch in Lexa's direction. "Don't be mad, baby. I like that you're nasty in bed."

"Oh my G-- Lexa, will you please muzzle her. No one wants to hear this."

"Speak for yourself," Raven gleefully cut in as she started to pull away. "Get it, Griff! Tell us the really freaky shit."

"She lets me--"

"Clarke!" Lexa yelled while leaning forward to get her attention. Glazed eyes blinked at her in slow passes as a pout spread across Clarke's face. Sighing when she was sure she had her wife's attention, Lexa reached up and tugged a curl of blonde behind her ear. "... I promise you, whatever it was you wanted to say just now, you would wholeheartedly regret saying it later. Especially to Raven."

"That's fair actually," Raven called back as she moved them through midmorning traffic.

Clarke shifted to reach for Lexa's hand, assuring her in what Lexa supposed could be a valiant attempt at a whisper. "Don't worry, baby. I wasn't gonna tell 'em about the butt stuff."

Eyes sliding closed as a chorus of retching mingled with cackling laughter from the front seat, Lexa sat back in her seat and ran a hand through her hair.

"Not a word."

"I'm not saying anything," Raven choked out through the dying rolls of her laughter.

The car fell quiet as they drove, Lexa looking out the window and letting her mind drift. She watched the cars and hills of the outskirts of L.A. fly past as they wound their way home. Despite… well, everything, she was glad this was finally over; the final expense officially checked off of their list of 'to-do's'. She idly tapped her fingers on the leather of her seat and admired the green hillsides, smiling to herself as she thought of what came next.

They hadn't told anyone when they'd made the decision to start looking through private listings, Lexa having sworn Anya to secrecy until they'd figured out an actual plan. She wondered if she'd miss the familiar drive to their apartment, the only home she'd truly known on Earth. She was excited, if not a little nervous, but ready to take the next step with the… absolute mess of a woman beside her.

Letting her head lull back over to check on her patient, Lexa startled a bit to find watery, blue eyes already staring back.

"What's the matter?" she hushed in a soft and concerned voice, scooting closer as she reached up to brush away a rogue tear.

"You're really hot... And tho pretty."

Rolling her eyes at the dreamy words, Lexa grinned back. "Not as pretty as you."

"My wife'th gonna be tho mad at me," Clarke whined and shook her head.

"... Why is your wife going to be mad at you?" she asked with a quirk of her brow.

"'Cause I think you're really hot," Clarke confessed through a fresh wave of tears.

"Seriously can you like, knock her out or something?"

"Shut up, Anya," Lexa said as she scooted the remaining distance between them. "Clarke, darling, I promise, your wife won't be mad at you for thinking I'm hot."

"How do you know?"

"Because she's your wife, genius," Anya drawled. "I still can't believe they trust that woman with human lives."

"You're just a little doped up right now," Lexa soothed even as reached out to flick her friend on the ear. "Don't worry though, I'll take care of everything. You just relax."

Clarke blinked owlishly at her for a minute, Lexa clearly able to see the cogs grinding to life through the fog of the drugs. She smiled and nodded as Clarke's face suddenly lit up, eyebrows shooting upward as her mouth dropped open.

"Oh yeah," Clarke beamed, her head wobbling back and forth as she flopped around a little in her seat. "That is you, innit. I forgot, ha. That'th crazy."

"It is."

"Man, I am high."

"You are."

"You should kith me."

"I should not."

Lexa nearly groaned as soon as the words left her mouth.

Clarke's face fell into a devastated frown, her lip trembling as her head fell to her shoulder. "You don't wanna kith me."

"Clarke, no, that's not it--"

"I knew it. I'm tho ugly now you won't kith me anymore."

"Oh my God, stop. Just, hang on," Lexa huffed. "Raven, do you have napkins or Kleenex in here? Anything?"

She waited as Anya rifled through the glovebox, accepting the fistful of napkins along with a deep look of disdain when she passed them back. Gently cradling her wife's chin, Lexa tilted her face back up.

"I'm gonna make you a deal," she murmured as she dabbed away as much blood and spit from Clarke's lips as she could. "I will kiss you. But. You have to let me kiss you. You just sit there, okay?"

Clarke bobbed her head in a tiny nod, Lexa's heart squeezing tight at the sad but hopeful face still cradled in her palm. Once she deemed those lips as clean as she could ever hope for given the situation, Lexa tossed the soiled napkins into the seat beside her.

Bringing her other hand up, Lexa held her wife's face between her palms, a smile spreading over her lips as she took in the sight of her. The sight of laugh lines that had begun reaching out from the corners of baby blues, their recent appearance reminding Lexa how happy their life together had proven to be. She admired the few twists of grey that weaved in and out of silken blonde, the effect of them making the woman look all the more distinguished.

Running her thumbs over the apples of delicate cheekbones, Lexa leaned in and gently pressed a kiss to her wife's lips. She hummed at the familiar feeling, soft and sweet as ever, her movements steady and light so as to not cause any pain. Pulling away, she left a last peck on Clarke's upper lip, forever a slave to sealing the little beauty mark with a kiss.

"Better?" she whispered as she watched Clarke's eyes flutter back open.

Clarke was quiet as she stared back, a long moment passing before she heaved a defeated sigh.

"I couldn't feel it."

Lexa did her best to bite back a snort of laughter, head dropping forward as her chest shook with the effort. "Don't worry, sweetie. I'll kiss you plenty to make up for it when you feel better, I promise."

"We're here, lovebirds," Raven announced as she pulled to a stop outside of their apartment building. Lexa squeezed her shoulder over the top of the seat in thanks as she reached for the handle. "I'm gonna stay here so my lazy ass doesn't have to find a place to park, but I'm gonna call you guys later, okay?"

Grunting in acceptance as she opened her door, Lexa hopped out and ran around the back of the car to meet Anya on the other side. A few petulant protests and a very one sided bartering war later, Lexa pressed the button to shut the doors of the elevator in their building.

Sighing as she all but collapsed back against the rail of the elevator, Lexa reached out a hand to nudge her friend's shoulder.

"Thanks again, Ahn."

"Yeah, whatever," Anya grumbled, adjusting her grip on the woman sagged at her side.

If Lexa had had the energy she would've laughed at the pair of them, knowing full well Anya was supporting every inch of the woman's weight despite Clarke's staunch insistence that she could walk.

She reminded herself that her wife's stubbornness was part of why she loved her.

"Okay, here we go," Lexa rallied as the doors slid open on their floor. "Last stretch, love, and then you can rest."

"I wanna make nachos."

"Yeah, we'll have to see about that," Lexa shook her head as she jogged ahead to unlock the door, holding it open as Anya all but dragged Clarke through the entrance of their apartment.

"Where should I put her?"

"Bedroom."

"No," Clarke said with enough ferocity it startled the pair, taking Anya particularly by surprise when she elbowed her way out of the hold and launched herself toward the couch.

Lexa felt her heart jump up into her throat as Clarke nosedived toward the cushions, landing face first into the set of pillows.

"Clarke!" she yelped, darting around the couch and crouching over her. Biting back a twitch of annoyance, Lexa pulled the woman upward and helped her flip over. "Jesus, you have got to be more careful. You could've really hurt yourself."

"I'm fine, baby," Clarke slurred, glassy eyes shining behind the low droop of her lids. "I don't feel anything. You could punch me right in the mouf and I'd be fine."

"I'm not going to punch you."

"I might."

"Goodbye, Anya. Thank you for helping," Lexa blindly called over her shoulder, "but you can go now. Raven's waiting."

"Right, right, right," Anya said, rapping a knuckle on the wall as she turned to go. "I'll leave you to take care of the little missus. Call if you need anything. Feel better, doc."

"Byeeeeeeeeee," Clarke sing-songed out to her before the door closed, shimmying in place as Lexa helped her adjust on to her back. "She's gonna go makeout with Waben."

"What else is new," Lexa grinned and pulled the blanket off of the back of the couch.

Lexa moved to take off Clarke's shoes and socks, leaning down to peck a quick kiss to the wiggly toes before tucking them under the blanket as well. After placing the shoes in their home along the front hall of their apartment, she moved to ditch the balled up socks in the laundry despite the disgruntled yowl from the plump feline stationed on top of their washer.

The jingle of Penny's collar followed her as she went about collecting the supplies listed on the aftercare sheet, piling a tiny tray up with gauze squares, water, pain medicine, and snacks.

"That'd not nachoth," Clarke said with a sleepy grump of a frown as Lexa laid the tray on the coffee table beside her.

"Not nachos. No crunchy stuff, unfortunately. Doctor's orders. But may I offer you a bowl of our finest applesauce?"

"This is bullthit."

"I know."

"You did this to me, and I'll neber forgib you."

"I know."

"Will you cuddle wif me?"

Smiling down at her wife, Lexa simply nodded and quickly tied her back into a ponytail.

"Scooch," she hummed, toeing off her shoes before gingerly climbing over to the opposite side. Lowering herself as gently as possible, Lexa fit herself into the snug space between her wife and the back of their couch. She wriggled down enough to make sure she was safe from knocking into the already swollen jaw.

"Better?" Lexa whispered as she rested her head on Clarke's chest and draped an arm around her waist.

"Mhm," Clarke said, the drowsy weight of her hum sounding peaceful and warm.

"You can't sleep with those things in your mouth."

"Not thleepin'."

Giving up that fight before it could start and deciding she'd just slip them out once the woman dozed off, Lexa snuggled in deeper, breathing in calming lungfuls of her wife's scent.

The day had been insane, which after four years of marriage she was generally used to, but overall Lexa couldn't help but pat herself on the back. She knew when the medicine started to wear off they'd both be in a world of pain, but for now, she let herself relax into the peace of the moment.

Which was promptly broken by the faint buzz of Clarke's phone.

Sighing in annoyance, Lexa dug her hand under the blanket and into Clarke's pocket to pull it out. She thumbed in the passcode, muscle memory having her click 1203 for their anniversary without a thought, and tapped to open the notification.

Asshole (11:42 a.m.): so... you're gonna tell me about that butt stuff thing later right?

"For fuck's sake, Raven." With a disgusted sigh, Lexa closed out the message and slapped the phone on the table.

Snuggling back into the snoozing body beneath her, Lexa decided she'd just have to deal with that later.

#sorry for the ugly ass moodboard just go with it #clexa #clexaweek 21 #clexaweek 21 day 6 #day 6 magic #CoA

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hp-scarryfest · 4 years ago

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Scarry Fest 2021 Revealed Master List

Here is the masterlist of our revealed authors!!

Views

Author: crimsonheadache Summary: Harry and Scorpius share a daddy kink. They have a lot of fun with it. Until somebody finds out.

Get Busy Living

Author: @iero0 Summary: At Ginny’s wedding reception, Harry Potter's mood is low. Neither Auror partner Draco’s caustic remarks, nor the free-flowing liquor are really helping his bitter thoughts. Or perhaps he simply needs more whisky. Meanwhile, Scorpius feels hopeful about Albus’ attempts to set him up with Harry. But if there’s one thing more important than indulging in his years-long infatuation with Harry, it’s Harry’s well-being.

More Than Fun

Author: @samunderthelights Summary: It's the Potters' first trip since Harry and Ginny have gotten divorced, and they have invited Scorpius to come along. Scorpius has always had a crush on Harry, but of course he had never acted on it. However, this time things are different, and he's not sure how much longer he can keep these feelings to himself.

What I Feel, It’s Not Important

Author: @phenomenalasterisk Summary: Scorpius has been harboring a crush on Harry Potter for years now. He knows he's young, and stupid, and it's never going to happen. But it's tough to move on when Harry makes it so… hard.

Let Him Love You

Author: @maraudersaffair Summary: Scorpius can’t stop getting hard around Harry. Harry’s convinced he’s too old for Scorpius. Al wants to stop being the third wheel.

Coworkers

Author: camichats ( @siriuslystarbucks ) Summary: From the first moment Harry meets his new co-worker Scorpius, he's attracted to him. As they grow closer, he falls in love. When he learns that Scorpius likes older men, he can't stop staring, even when he should look away.

Ain’t It Like Thunder Under Earth?

Author: @eatsdeath Summary: What Harry isn’t able to handle is his growing…jealousy over Scorpius. Scorpius — his son’s best friend, his son’s boyfriend. A young man 25 bloody years younger than him and Harry’s what? Got a crush? As a 46-year-old retired Auror? Pathetic, Potter, at best. Creepy, at worst.

Worth It

Author: @freddie-fox-baxter Summary: Harry helps his star player wind down after a game.

Five Times Harry Made a Fool of Himself and One Time Scorpius Loved It

Author: MarchnoGirl ( @drarryruinedme7 ) Summary: Where Harry can't flirt to save his life but tries anyway because Scorpius Malfoy is just that hot and sweet. Healer Scorpius is having a blast.

Harry Potter and the Remedial Potions Tutor

Author: Farbautidottir Summary: When Head Auror, Harry Potter, blows up the evidence in a murder case because he forgot that Bulbadox powder and porcupine quills cause an explosion, the Minister for Magic requires him to get a remedial potions tutor. Scorpius Malfoy happens to run the apothecary in Diagon Alley now that his father has passed away. Not Cursed Child compliant.

Written In the Stars

Author: @xonceinadream Summary: Harry Potter had never noticed Scorpius Malfoy as more than a relatively good student in Defense Against the Dark Arts and friend of his son. After graduation, Scorpius left for America and Harry didn't think of him. Until Scorpius came back, grown up, gorgeous, and engaged.

#scarry #scarryfest #hpscarryfest2021 #harry potter #scorpius malfoy #hp #fanfiction #fest #fests #hp fests #hp events #masterlist #revealed masterlist #reveals #authors

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passivenovember · 4 years ago

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@coffeeandchemicals (aka the sweetest angel bb) asked: For the drabbles, 55 or 60 or 72 with harringrove! Please and thank you!! 💙

55. “Our first date is a picnic. On a beach..under the stars? Have you swallowed a romance novel? Do I need to call a doctor?

Paper Angels.

The things is. Steve’s always had a sixth sense when it comes to falling in love. Can smell that shit from a mile away, the reeking infatuation that turns his already liquified brain into something like sludge. Mashed potatoes with too much milk, or something.

And it used to be that Robin would point it out in that usual way of hers, before Steve became a pro at monitoring his own downfall. Pick your tongue up off the floor, dingus.

And it used to be that Steve would take it like. A basketball to the back of the head, the realization that he was bleeding out in an open field for fucking whoever. Nancy Wheeler or Mark Lewinski or Brittani Clark. Robin could always sense it when Steve’s feelings started leaking out of his ears, but.

Billy Hargrove was something else entirely.

Neither of them saw it coming. The pushes and snarky comments that morphed into butterflies and concealed smiles under the light of the full moon, it was like.

Crossing a deserted road only to be fuckin’. T-boned by a cyclist who doesn’t have their lights on, or something.

One day they were enemies. Avoiding each other like the plague--Billy actually gagged when Steve passed by him at parties. Called him Steve “Sloppy Seconds” Harrington, and. Yeah. The feeling was fuckin’ mutual, alright?

Because Hargrove always wore too much cologne and Steve had the sneaking suspicion, after that night at the Byers’ when contact sports took on a whole new meaning with the sound of ceramic against his skull, that Billy perfumed his dick.

Sometimes guys did that, he’d heard. And if Steve had to bet, like, cold hard cash on it, Billy Hargrove was definitely one of those guys. And not that Steve really. Thought about it much or anything but kissing Billy was probably like licking the inside of an ash tray.

Just the thought of made him gag.

So, yeah. The feeling was mutual. The queasiness in Steve’s tummy was, like, disgust or something. Every time he saw that curly top above a sea of drunk high schoolers, he would start sweating a shit.

Bullets. Like he was going to face the electric chair, and. Steve had never thought for even a second that that feeling was mutual.

That Billy would be anxious to see him. Would escape the moment he heard Steve rounding the corner into whatever lame party was on the ducat this week, so. When they eventually became friends. Best Friends, close as a couple of girls, it felt like Steve had solved the most difficult puzzle in the universe.

They were shitfaced. Drunk enough to forget ceramic plates and nervous feelings, and Billy had tried to high-five him. Steve, on his way out for a smoke. Passed by with a little, well if it isn’t the leftover turkey, and. It would’ve been cool, but. They missed.

By a lot. Two guys who never sat on the bench during a game, they. Fuckin’ couldn’t land a high five from less than a foot away and that was it. Billy’s walls crumbled around them like so much graham cracker dust, and.

His eyes were pretty. Had they always been that pretty? Steve couldn’t remember but then Billy was leaning in, cheeks pink from laughter and whispering, You ain’t half bad, Harrington, into the shell of Steve’s ear.

Like it was a secret only the two of them could remedy, and. Billy pulled away. Winked, waggled his stupid, ridiculous tongue, and. When he passed by he smelled like summer rain. Black pepper and grapefruit.

Steve closed his eyes and felt the love leaking from his ears.

Shit.

After that it was like surviving a forest fire. Billy would show up at Steve’s just before midnight with a six pack of Budweiser and a half smoked joint. On bad day’s he acted like coming to Steve’s house was a chore, like. Steve was holding him at gunpoint, preaching about commitments like Steve had even asked for his company in the first place, and.

On those nights it almost wasn’t worth it. The feeling of being close to Billy, it was. Hard to talk to him.

And it wasn’t like falling slowly. Through syrup or stacks of blankets, like his usual style, it was like.

Getting in the car and driving way, into the night, with no map and no funds and no clue of what the end would look like. Steve fell hard and fast and slammed into the ground until he was one with the molten earth, on the good nights, too. When Billy grinned and cracked jokes and fuckin’. Winked.

So. The good outweighed the bad. For months, for millennia, it seemed. Until Steve couldn’t remember a time when midnight didn’t signal the arrival of love. And he would take it, anything, everything, for just a peak at the person he knew was hidden under all that hairspray and chiseled skin, so.

When Billy showed up one night with his car packed full of shit, Steve grabbed his coat without a word.

What are you doin’, Harrington.

I’m coming with you.

No you aren’t, that’s not. Look. I just came to say goodbye, so.

Not that easy to get rid of.

Billy tried to fight him, tried to. Hold him off, or something. Like any force in the fucking universe would be strong enough to keep them apart.

Steve made a face.

And Billy knew what that face meant so he cleaned out the passenger side of the Camaro. Stupid shit like lamps and folded quilts, shuffling it all to the back seat where there was clearly enough space.

It was almost like. He had known what Steve would do.

It was like he’d been preparing to say no, baby. I don’t have enough room, see? I’m saddled with more than I can take already, and I just--

Almost like he was hoping Steve would insist, anyway, and.

“Go pack a bag, pretty boy.”

Steve would follow him anywhere.

Billy came alive in California. The bad nights stopped existing out in the open air, they hid instead. Under the blanket of nightfall, under the sling of Steve’s arm. They paid extra for a two bedroom apartment on the beach, because.

I’m not expecting you to. Sleep in my bed, Steve.

Right. They were still pretending.

The second bedroom sat collecting dust. Steve emptied his trash bag of essentials into the dresser in Billy’s room, because. The love was constantly ruining his shirts, these days.

Steve bled blue and gold. Blatantly. Because he never felt it before, this. Feeling. Like the sand is being washed from his skin. Like he’s curling up in bed after a long day of hard work.

Billy makes him feel that way, so.

Steve can’t hide it. And he doesn’t try to. Not when they watch cartoons together on the couch, not when Billy sucks a hole into his neck under their blanket in their bed and asks, we goin’ steady? Like it’s even a fucking question, or something, but.

Steve realizes they went backwards. Won the game before actually learning the rules.

Do you wanna go on a date with me? He asks one morning. It’s raining, so Billy isn’t surfing and Steve isn’t sketching out on the porch, and.

It seems as good a time as any.

Billy has milk running down his chin when he looks up, eyes so blue and wide like he never expected it to fucking happen. Isn’t this a date?

What?

Right now, Billy says through a mouthful of Lucky Charms. We’re eating. Alone. Making eyes at each other over our meal--

Steve snorts. This isn’t a date.

And Billy’s face, fucking. Falls. He rinses his plate in the sink and kinda, doesn’t turn back around. Steve doesn’t know how he fucked it up already.

Bills?

What’s a date look like then? And that. Makes Steve laugh.

You’ve been on, like. So many dates, baby.

Not with you. Billy says flatly. When he turns around again his cheeks are pink. Not from laughter, but. From something else. I never went on any dates with you, so. How would I identify one in a crowd.

And Steve knows. Instantly, knows he’s not going to get out of this one.

Perfect first date shit, alright, I can. I can do that. He leans back in the hideous avocado green chair Billy picked out and. Sucks on his bottom lip. We have the day free. Because, um. It’s the off season. Right after labor day and, uh. The shop’s getting ready to shift into winter.

Billy grins. So in your perfect scenario we’re broke?

Listen, asshole wouldja just--

Alright, baby. Billy sits in the chair across from him and looks, fucking. So pretty in Avocado Green. I’m listening.

So Steve tells him. Their perfect date begins and ends with ease, it’s as simple as breathing. The way it’s always been for them. Natural. Steve packs a basket with a goddamn. Charcuterie board and like, fresh fruit and shit. The sun sets and Steve gets down on one knee and--

Our first date is a picnic. On a beach..under the stars? Billy doesn’t look even a little bit like laughing, not. Not when his nose goes all bunchy. Have you swallowed a romance novel? Do I need to call a doctor?

Steve isn’t really in the mood for jokes.

He covers his face with his hands, because. They went backwards. Never even put labels on it, or second guessed anything because Steve won the lottery. That night when the high fives went up in smoke, he.

Got everything he ever wanted.

Billy tugs at his wrists. Yanks and soothes and rearranges Steve’s skin until they’re chest to chest against avocado green. His eyes are teary. Fuck.

I didn’t mean to make you cry, baby. Steve says. ‘S a bad idea anyhow, too much pressure. You mean a lot and I fuckin’. Made you cry. Tears were never a part of the deal.

Billy lets Steve wipe his cheeks and then he’s smiling.

Not grinning or smirking or teasing, but. Happy. We could make this a date.

Steve shrugs. Yeah, I guess we could.

Pack some sandwiches, sit on the patio. Billy winks. Just like all those nights when neither boy could give their emotions a name. Take away some of the pressure.

I kinda dig the pressure, though.

Were you really gonna get down on one knee? Billy whispers. At the end of our first date? You know the statistics on divorce are--

Against his will, Steve’s chucking.

And on the first date? Billy tuts, cheeks pink again. You know I don’t put out for any ol’ pair of brown eyes, Harrington. I wait until at least the fourth date.

It’s been five years.

So marry me. Billy says. On Tuesday or something, we can. Go to the beach or whatever. Elope.

And.

Just like that night. With the Camaro stuffed to the brim, and Billy gripping his fingers like a lifeline in a storm, Steve has no choice. He never did, because. Yeah.

He kisses Billy, each cheek, both eyelids, before carrying him to their bedroom and wonders. If they’ll ever start at the beginning.

#harringrove #steve harrington #billy hargrove #again #this ran away with me #I hope it reads alright #domestic fluff #california #running away together #first dates

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be11atrixthestrange · 3 years ago

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Waking Up In Vegas Chapter 11

After a night of debauchery, Ron and Hermione wake up in Vegas... married.

Muggle!AU. Romcom!Romione. Slow burning, smutty, angst-fest.

Rated M for reasons.

Ao3 | FFN

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More Chapters

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SMUT WARNING

[Ron]

Ron paces in his room, staring at his phone and waiting for it to buzz. No one has responded to any of his frantic texts to keep an eye on Hermione. He doubts they're even checking their messages. As far as he could tell, everyone was too preoccupied back at the bar to pay much attention.

Then his phone vibrates with a message from Harry.

No, I don't think she's here. Why?

Ron clutches his phone even tighter and resists the urge to throw it across the room. He looks over to his door and considers doing something drastic, like marching right up to her hotel room and knocking on the door. But if she's not there, that will only make him feel worse.

He should have just hung around outside the bar and positioned himself to intercept them should Cormac have tried to drag Hermione upstairs, either to her room or his. Fuck, that's probably where he took her — his room. Ron has no idea where that is.

All of this begs the question — how would Hermione have responded if Ron had managed to locate them earlier? She doesn't strike Ron as someone who would fancy the idea of a man swooping in and 'rescuing' her from another. She might have gotten angry. After all, she did dump a glass of ice water on his head for no particular reason whatsoever. He still wants an explanation for that.

It also makes Ron wonder about last night. He remembers nothing, and neither does Hermione. It's possible that last night Ron was just another Cormac, and his boiling anger toward the other man is simply misplaced.

Ron pulls a barstool from the counter and collapses into it. His phone drops to the quartz with a clack, and he catches his throbbing head with his hands. His eyes sting with both tears and guilt, and he can no longer tune out his incessant internal monologue telling him he's kidding himself that Hermione could have ever wanted anything more from him than a divorce.

A knock on his door interrupts his self-taunting, and he groans. Who could possibly want to talk to him right now? Other than Lavender, of course.

It's probably Lavender, and in that case, he'll just ignore it.

The knock sounds again, a little bit louder this time. Ron pretends not to hear it, instead venturing toward the overpriced alcohol cabinet to fish out something tasty and distracting.

There's a silence at the door as he pours himself a glass of rosé — the best wine, which only tastes better every time the boys make fun of him for drinking something pink.

Then, the knock happens again, and this time it's quiet, nervous. It draws Ron's eyes back to the door because it's not a Lavender knock. Lavender would have announced herself by knock number three, and the absence of any 'Won-Wons' prickles at his ears.

A second later, he's on his feet making a beeline for the door, pausing with his hand on the doorknob to gain his composure. He takes a deep breath and opens the door, only to find an empty hallway staring back at him.

"Hello?" he calls. He darts his head out into the hallway, and there she is — Hermione Granger is scuttling away, her back to him and head down.

"Hermione?"

She carries on as if she can't hear him.

"Hermione Granger," he repeats more firmly.

She slows her pace but doesn't turn around.

"Wifey."

At that, she stops and whips back around to face him. He knew wifey would do it.

"Hi," she says. She looks a mess — her hair is frizzing, and her makeup is smeared, and he can't help but smile at the fact that she thought to stop in her frazzled state, that she felt comfortable coming by without fixing herself up.

"Why are you running away?"

She looks away, and Ron can tell by her flushed cheeks and bloodshot eyes that she's been crying. "You didn't answer your door, and I started overthinking everything and decided just to head to my room."

"Where's Cormac?"

Hermione grimaces at his question, and he immediately regrets asking.

"I managed to shake him off," she says once she regains her composure. "I'll leave you be—"

"No, come in!" he interrupts a little too eagerly. "Only if you want, I mean."

They stand and stare at one another for what feels like an eternity before she nods and follows him into his room.

"I'm sorry about the ice water," she says. "That couldn't have felt good."

"Yeah. What was that about?" Ron glances around the room — he doesn't want to sit on that bloody barstool again, so he moves toward the loveseat, hoping it doesn't look too presumptuous. To his delight, Hermione follows.

"You're going to think it's insane," she says, sitting next to him on the sofa. Ron is hyper-aware of the respectable distance between them.

"Try me."

Hermione takes a deep breath, and Ron can tell she's nervous. "I went to find you after talking to Ginny, and Lavender was leaving your room. I made an assumption."

Oh shit. "You thought—"

"Which is totally unfair of me, of course! It's not like I had any valid reason to feel jealous… but I did."

"Hermione—"

"I still shouldn't have poured water on you. And you were right to punch Cormac, by the way."

"You thought I slept with her?"

"Yeah. I did. But you're free to do that—"

Ron cuts her off with a laugh. "Hermione, I'm a married man!"

She cracks a small smile, which suggests she thinks he's joking.

"Really, Hermione, I'd never cheat on my wife."

"Ron, I'm not really your wife," she says, and his heart sinks, but only for a moment before she adds shyly, "right?"

"I guess that's up to us," he says, smiling sheepishly and gauging her reaction.

To his relief, her cheeks fill with color, and she smiles back. "In that case, I'm sorry I ran off with Cormac."

"You were jealous?" He feels much better now that he knows her motivation for latching onto Cormac. Hermione Granger was jealous at the thought of him sleeping with someone else, and if that means what he thinks it means...

"I was very jealous," she confirms. "I thought you liked me."

"I do! At least so far," he says. "To be honest, I don't know you very well."

"I guess that's true," she says, staring at the space between them as if she's trying to assess the appropriate distance.

Does she want less? More? There's one way to find out, so he shifts closer to her, and thankfully, her shoulders relax, and she softens toward him.

"Is this okay?" he asks, tentatively looping a shaky arm around her shoulders. He feels like his teenage self pretending to watch a movie while staring at his date's hand, trying to gather the courage to hold it.

She responds with a subtle nod, and Ron slides his arm fully around her, guiding her into his side. She's warm and comforting against his body. "I want to keep getting to know you."

Hermione's frizzy hair muffles Ron's question. "Do you want to try our first date again?"

"I'd love that."

She turns to face him, and her eyes drop to his lips, a drawn-out moment of anticipation as he builds up the courage to close in. Their foreheads meet first, and then of its own accord, Ron's free hand tangles into her hair as she presses her lips to his.

It's warm, sweet, and soft — at first. Then instinct takes over when Hermione remedies their unideal side-by-side position by boldly throwing one leg across his legs and shifting into his lap.

"Is this okay?" she mutters against his lips, throwing his check-in right back at her, and he affirms by slipping his arms around her waist to hold her in place and deepening the kiss, tugging her bottom lip between his teeth, encouraged by her hum of appreciation.

Even though they've done this before, the excitement of a first kiss still overwhelms him, but this time it's laced with familiarity; their lips fit together like puzzle pieces, and their bodies seem to speak the same language. His hands move from her waist, down her hips, then to her thighs, and when he runs his fingertips under the hem of her skirt, she melts into him, acknowledging his growing attraction to her with a smile that momentarily breaks this kiss.

Ron slips a hand from under her skirt to brush a stray hair from her face, tucking it behind her ear, and running a thumb across her cheekbone. Her skin reddens under his touch.

"About that date," he whispers, leaning his back against the sofa. His position change draws her attention to his stiffening arousal, and when she subtly shifts forward, he loses his train of thought. "Fuck, Hermione."

Their lips connect again, this time with a newfound fervor. His hands find their way back to her thighs, and his fingers slip under the fabric without hesitation. He takes his time meandering up her legs, exploring the way the muscles in her legs shapeshift with each breath, each pulse of her hips, each flex as she attaches herself to the eager bulge of his pants.

Time stops, and they get lost in each other. Hermione's tongue slips between his lips, Ron's fingers pull at her hair, shorts' buttons and dress zippers come undone. They move methodically, as if memorizing how one another deconstructs to assure they can put each other back together again.

"What about that date?" asks Hermione when they surface.

Her hair is deliciously disheveled, and her lips plump and red with passion. He wants nothing more than to pull her into him and continue his explorations, but he could also stay here forever and grow accustomed to the anticipation, as long as it assures more time with her.

"I'd love to take you out," he says, then, ignoring his body's protests, "before this goes any further."

She leans back, contemplating him. "When?"

"As soon as possible," he confirms, guiding her head back toward his so he can capture her lips in a promising kiss.

Ron wakes up to a throbbing in his neck, thanks to its position against the arm of the sofa. The light from the window is shining onto his bed, illuminating Hermione's sleeping form. In a fit of gallantry the night prior, Ron insisted Hermione take his bed while he settled for the couch. Every bone in his body protested, but she was exhausted and still tipsy, and he didn't want her to feel uncomfortable.

The ray of sunlight lulls Hermione out of sleep as well, and she rubs her eyes and turns to face him.

"Morning," he says groggily.

Rubbing her eyes, she props herself up on her elbows, then slips out of bed to her feet. "Morning."

His stomach growls. "How do you feel about breakfast?"

"I feel amazing about breakfast, but I'll need to go to my room for a shower," she glances down at her clothing — she's still wearing her dress from the night before, now wrinkled from sleep, "and a change of clothes."

Ron decides against suggesting they shower together, as it might be too soon for that. For her, at least. "Fair enough. Meet me back here when you're done?"

With a nod, she sneaks out the door. Before the door closes, he can hear a knock on his neighbor's, while a hotel staff member calls for room service.

It gives him an idea.

There's a room service menu on the kitchen counter, as well as a phone number and directions for ordering. He makes his way to the kitchen to scan the pamphlet, and realizes he has no idea what Hermione would like.

Luckily, in bold lettering, is the perfect solution to not knowing:

Not sure what to order?

Request a surprise, and let our Breakfast Elves decide for you!

Perfect.

Ron dials the number and requests a breakfast surprise for two.

The breakfast elf arrives some twenty minutes later, thankfully before Hermione makes it back to his hotel room, and after he's completed a shower. He opens the door to see a fully grown man dressed head to toe in an elf costume — or at least this hotel's interpretation of an elf — his short toga-like dress and floppy ears make him look more like Yoda than a Christmas elf. Ron shrugs, and makes sure to tip him well.

By the time Hermione returns, a breakfast spread is laid out on the counter, complete with coffee, Bloody Marys, croissants, fruit, pancakes, and eggs. It took all of Ron's self-control not to devour it on the spot, but the look of delight on Hermione's face makes it well worth the wait.

"What's this?" she asks upon seeing the spread. She's dressed in a pair of casual shorts and a t-shirt, which sticks to her still-damp hair.

"Our date."

Hermione walks over to him and flings her arms around his neck. He pulls her close.

"It's a 'breakfast surprise', a little bit of everything, so I hope you don't mind."

"No, I don't mind at all. This is really nice, Ron."

She follows his lead to the counter, where they plop down in front of their meal.

"Cheers," he says, raising his Bloody Mary to hers.

"Cheers," she replies, and they each take a silent sip of their drinks.

For a moment, Ron panics. What if they have nothing to talk about and it's awkward? Is it appropriate to ask first-date questions, like 'what do you do for work' and 'how many siblings do you have' when you're already married? There's no rulebook for this, and he's reminded of their conversation with Dave the previous day. 'We barely even know each other.'

Maybe he needs to break the ice.

"Hello, I'm Ron Weasley, and I'm your husband."

To Ron's relief, Hermione nearly chokes on her Bloody Mary in laughter. "I'm Hermione Granger, and I'm your wife."

From then on, the conversation flows effortlessly. Over the course of their breakfast, Ron learns she's studying to be an environmental lawyer, which explains her hatred for straws. Her type-a personality makes sense when he learns that she's an only child and her parents are high-achieving dentists. Her soft spot for animals shines through when she talks about her orange tabby cat as if he's human.

He tells her all about the kids' football team he coaches, and she smiles when he speaks about how far the team has come this year. She listens intently as he describes all five of his brothers, even though she has probably heard about them all from Ginny. He nervously admits that he's not sure if he'll remain in law enforcement, or if he'll step in and help his older brothers with their booming magic shop. She surprises him by telling him that his eyes light up when he talks about the shop, and suggesting he should do what makes him happy.

Each nugget of information expands what he knows of her, while also convincing him he's known her forever. He catalogues each and every thing he learns, and he can tell from her clarifying questions, her references to obscure bits and pieces he's subconsciously shared, that she's doing the same. Before he knows it, their breakfasts are gone, and he's not even sure what he ate in the first place — he didn't pay attention. It's rare that he finds something to interest him more than food.

He stands up to clear their trays, and she follows. "Ron?" she asks when they reach the counter.

"Yes?"

"This was the best first date I've had in a while. I'd love to do it again sometime."

Ron smiles and turns to face her. "Luckily, we have at least six months," he says, hoping that the emphasis shows that he wants much more time than that.

"At least," she says, and he knows they're on the page.

They pause for a moment, faces flushed, before closing in on one another. Ron's lips find hers, and he kisses her deeply. Hermione wraps her arms around his neck just as his hands slide to her thighs to lift her up. As if she can read his mind, she aids him with a hop, wrapping her legs around his hips. Once again, he's bewildered by how perfectly they fit together. He could stand there holding her forever, but in the corner of his eye he can see his bed, still ruffled and unmade from this morning. He breaks the kiss and glances toward it, and she answers his nonverbal question with a nod before their lips crash together again.

Barely aware of the ground beneath his feet, Ron stumbles toward the bed, and they crash down into the blankets as a messy tangle of limbs. The ungraceful moment passes without embarrassment or concern, with Hermione flipping to her back while Ron crawls on top of her to nestle his hips between her legs. Just like yesterday, everything about her is familiar but fresh and exciting — two things he always assumed to be mutually exclusive.

Hermione's legs tighten around his hips, pulling him closer, and when he shamelessly rubs against her — an effort to show her exactly what she does to him, she responds with an inviting smile. At that point, she's all but done him in. Piece by piece, their clothing piles up on the floor; first it's shirts, shorts, then knickers. There's a part of Ron that wants to slow down, not because he's uncomfortable, but to savor every last second before they have no more firsts to share — a thought he tosses out the window when she kisses him again, and he realizes he will never get used to snogging Hermione Granger.

All it takes is a nudge from Hermione's legs for Ron to know what she wants, and he flips to his back so she can climb on top of him. He's overwhelmed by how freaking beautiful she is with her wild hair, her breasts that fit perfectly into his trembling hands, and the way her body stretches over his and keeps him warm. He wants to tell her how divine she looks, but there aren't strong enough words in the English language, so he pulls her in for a soft kiss and hopes it communicates something close.

"Contraception?" she whispers into his ear when she breaks the kiss. "I'm on the pill, but just to be extra safe?"

Fuck, this is happening.

"Of course," he says, motioning toward the table next to his bed, where he optimistically shoved a few condoms upon his arrival.

Hermione crawls from her position to retrieve one, and he immediately misses the warmth of her body on top of his, but damn, does he love the view. His eyes trail her bare bum, and a smirk breaks across his face. She really is perfect.

"You're beautiful, by the way." The words slip through his filters, and at first, he stiffens with regret — they don't quite capture the reality — but he relaxes when she laughs.

"You're staring at my bum," she says.

"Yeah, I am, and it's amazing." His smile leaks into his tone and grows wider when she crawls back and straddles him once more.

"Good," she blushes, her focus on unwrapping the condom, "because you're not so bad yourself."

His cock throbs with anticipation as she slips the contraceptive over him then leans forward to press another kiss to his waiting lips.

"One more time — are you sure?" he asks, wanting to be one-hundred percent certain that she wants this as much as he does.

"Yes."

Ron smiles. "Then come here," He steadies her hips with his hands as she slides down onto him, engulfing him in her warmth. This time, it's no surprise how perfectly she fits.

In the moment he takes to compose himself, he's pretty sure his eyes roll to the back of his head, and he lets off a string of moans that could hardly be considered attractive, but when she starts writhing on top of him, the blush on her cheeks, and the way she bites her bottom lip suggest that she doesn't mind at all.

Ron tracks his fingers to her center, and she responds by leaning back so he can access her most sensitive spot with his thumb. Her hands cover his, and at first, she moves them for him, showing him exactly how to touch her. Although his mind is fuzzy with pleasure, he focuses intently on her hand motions, her breath sounds, the telling moans and directives, ever so thankful she's willing to help him crack her code.

His heart swells when she frees his hand so he can continue without her aid; it feels like she's handing over her trust, her confidence that he will listen to her signals. And that he does, savoring every sign of her pleasure. Her quickening breath, flushing cheeks, the way she runs a hand through her hair and bites her lip; it's the best feedback Ron has ever received — he could happily spend his whole life learning more.

He watches as she unravels before him, and her pleasure-filled groans are music to his ears. When she finds her release, her eyes roll back like his did before, and he hopes he managed to make it look that hot.

She regains composure before leaning off to the side and onto her back, guiding him on top of her. Her legs open in invitation, and he knows it's his turn to show her what he likes.

Hungry for more, he presses into her, and her legs embrace his hips as he begins to thrust. She matches his rhythm, each movement bringing him closer. When her legs tighten their hold, he slides his hands up her arms, interlacing their fingers into the mattress to pin her down, it's over for him. Her name escapes his lips as a satisfied moan, turning to a hum when her mouth muffles his. She slips one hand from his fingers to run it through his hair, then to the back of his head, holding his lips against hers in a deep and loving kiss.

That's when he unravels again, this time not from sexual pleasure, but something much more. This kiss is different than before; it's not marked by hunger or lust, but love.

It seems too soon to say it in words, it has only been thirty-six hours since this all began, but his body is beyond ready to show her, and decides to communicate it in its own way.

Hopefully, she feels it too.

#ROMIONE #romione fanfic #romione fanfiction #be11a_vegas #Ron Weasley #ronweasley #Ron and Hermione #ron x hermione #Hermione Granger #hermionegranger #hpromione #muggle AU

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someonefantastic · 4 years ago

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If You Thought the Head Trauma was Bad…

More migraine Shawn and roommate stuff! Basically I headcanon that Shawn, Gus, and Juliet all lived in the loft together between s8 and the first movie. Also if you want more fics on Shawn and migraines, then feel free to check out my day 3 or @bijulesspookyohara's day 5. Shoutout to the folks of the psych discord, primarily @victoriantrashjohn for coming up with the concept and jackal switch for a lot of these migraine remedies. Oh and also @tonystarksspoopyhouseofkids because she drew this adorable pic of Shawn that inspired a scene in this. And shoutout to @chaosintheavenue for beta reading this! Summary: Shawn has a migraine. It's a good thing his best friend and his girlfriend are there to help. Warnings: migraines, nausea, ambulances ___ Shawn groaned as he snuggled deeper into the couch, barely even able to open his eyes. It had been an incredibly long day- he had spent most of it trying to infiltrate an illegal jewelry ring with little success, just another failure on his quest for Juliet’s engagement ring- and he was in the middle of a full blown migraine. He had seen it coming, recognized that the sharp pains in his brain and the small ripples of nausea could easily lead to later pain, but he had ignored it, instead letting the image of his girlfriend (fiancėe’s) elated face spur him to work harder.

And now he was suffering the consequences. No ring, no joyous girlfriend (fiancėe), just a massive, brain pounding, vision blurring migraine.

He sighed, pulling the fluffy blanket tighter around him. He was sitting on the couch, legs crossed, blanket over his head, its soft fabric enveloping him. A pair of child-sized kitty earmuffs were placed squarely on his temples while the sounds of 80s heavy metal filled the air. The shades had been drawn keeping the sun from invading- not that there was much on a rainy San Francisco evening- and the room was cast in a red glow, the source being a small red LED candle that Jules had bought him. It was cozy and nice and he could almost forget the incessant pain in his head.

There was a jiggling at the door and Juliet and Gus walked in, their loud joyous laughter causing him to wince. They paused, and he caught Juliet frowning as Gus walked over and collapsed into the armchair besides him.

Juliet’s hair was falling out of her half-ponytail, Gus’ tie was slipping from its knot, they smelled like coffee.

“Headache?” He asked, voice much quieter.

Shawn barely nodded, squeezing his eyes tight as sharp pains radiated through his skull.

“I’m sorry, babe,” Juliet’s soft voice spoke from his side. Warm fingers gently brushed his hair and he relaxed into her touch. “Did you take anything?”

His voice was strained, “Ibuprofen, a few hours ago.”

Gus spoke up, “He could take acetaminophen. It works differently than ibuprofen so it won’t cause any problems.”

“Perfect,” Her lips pressed against his forehead, “I’m going to go get changed and get you some meds.”

“Thank you,” He muttered, sad when she pulled away.

“Can you get me some too?” Gus asked, beginning to undo his tie, “My side is killing me.”

“Sure thing.”

After her small footsteps faded away, Shawn cracked an eye open. “What’s up with you?”

Gus frowned. “I pulled a muscle lifting boxes for that cute girl in marketing.”

His memory flashed back. A woman in blue, long black hair, Gus doing the thing with his nose. “Michelle?”

“Yeah… it was all for nothing, I overheard her talking about some dude named ‘Levi’.”

“Tough luck bud. That’s a solid name.”

“You know that’s right.”

Shawn’s eyebrows furrowed as he noticed Gus rubbing his side. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” He nodded, “Hey, where is the heating pad?”

Shawn jerked his head back, groaning as the motion caused the throbbing to double. That wasn’t his brightest idea. “Under Jules’ side of the bed. Just make sure to put it back when you’re done, she needs it for cramps.”

“Ah,” Gus nodded, standing up, “Sure thing.”

A stain on Gus’ pant leg, the carpet was rumpled, an empty can under the chair.

He shut his eyes tight again, trying to stop himself from noticing, an in vain attempt to ward off his abilities. Instead he flashed backwards, various images and memories jerking to the forefront of his mind, waves of nausea close behind.

His blue bouncy ball in fourth grade, divorce papers being signed, a bright smile on a beautiful blonde.

His jaw clenched, swallowing roughly as he tried to keep the contents of his stomach down. He leaned forward, trying to focus on the music around him. The beats moved in and out, giving him something to concentrate on.

“Babe?”

His eyes cracked open, the corner of his mouth turning up at the sight of his girlfriend (fiancėe). Her hair was now all the way down and she had pulled on his Thunderbirds sweatshirt. Even though she was only wearing the hoodie because it smelled like him, he couldn’t help but feel a little bit of pride- after all, she usually refused to wear any football team’s merch aside from the Dolphins’.

“Here.” She handed him some pills and water which he promptly took, noting how Gus did the same.

The cool water felt nice but did little to soothe the ache in his head. “Thanks.” He frowned, noticing how her knuckles were bruised, “Did you get into a fight?”

“What?” She glanced at her hand, giving a good natured shake of her head at his abilities. “No- well, kind of. I was sparring with Sam and accidentally punched him square in the jaw.”

He chuckled, “That’s my girlfriend.” Not noticing how she frowned at the term.

Now that his eyes were open, his brain leaped back at the chance to pick up on things.

Small smudge of mascara under her right eye (probably missed it when washing her face), a few crumbs above Gus’ lips, dog hair on the hoodie sleeve.

He groaned as a sharp pain erupted in his head, vision blurring and stomach churning dangerously.

“Shawn?” Juliet’s voice was worried and he soon found her sitting next to him, guiding his head to her lap. She shushed him, beginning to run her fingers through his hair. “I need you to stop thinking, okay? Just focus on my hands.”

His eyes fluttered shut and he relaxed, allowing himself to fixate on her and only her. He felt warm and safe in her arms, her presence always serving to be a beacon in his crazy mind. Honestly he couldn’t imagine life without her, ever since he walked into that dinner nine years ago she had become a permanent staple in his life. He loved her so much it made his heart hurt. Even though the idea of marriage still terrified him, he knew deep down that he didn’t want to marry anyone else but her.

“I love you,” He muttered, reaching up to squeeze her hand.

“I love you too Shawn,” He could hear the soft smile in her voice, “Get some rest.”

He snuggled deeper, a small smile on his lips. Her hands would occasionally drift over to his temples, rubbing where the earmuffs weren’t situated. It was very calming and soon he felt sleep begin to overtake him.

Somewhere between Judas Priest and Holy Driver he heard a groan- and not from the music. It dragged him out of his sleep. Vision blurry and head foggy, he cracked open his eyes. The groan sounded again. He barely registered Juliet’s hand pausing it’s soothing motion and her concerned voice, instead his eyes were on his best friend. Gus was clutching his side, the color draining out of this face.

Jerking upright, he ignored how his head throbbed. “Gus? You okay?”

There was no answer as Gus’ eyes rolled back and he pitched forward, landing on the ground with a heavy thud.

“Gus!” Shawn and Juliet yelled in unison.

In a flash they were both at his side, Juliet’s fingers on his neck and his hand being held tightly by Shawn. “He’s still alive, I’ll call an ambulance.”

Memories flashed through Shawn while his mind burned.

A large crowd, pain in his side, sweating, collapsing, a white room.

He should have noticed sooner, should have seen the signs. If it wasn’t for his headache-

“I think his appendix burst.” He all but shouted, words tumbling out of his mouth. This was all his fault, he should have noticed, he was trained for this for pete’s sake. The one thing he was good at was picking up on information, little things that most people didn’t notice.

He had failed Gus.

Looking back, he remembered the time between Gus collapsing and the ambulance coming so clearly but in the middle of it all, it frankly felt like a blur of regret and blame and worry.

As he watched Gus’ unconscious body being loaded into the ambulance, his hands shook, tears threatening to fall. Juliet grabbed his hand, beginning to lead him to her car. The paramedics only had room for one person but selfishly he needed Juliet to be his rock. He wasn’t sure if he could hold on without her.

She squeezed his hand, wide, worried eyes gazing up at him. “He’ll be okay.”

Nodding mutely, he followed her to the car. All he could hope was that she would be right.

#whumptober2020 #no. 26 #if you thought the head trauma was bad #migraine #psych #shawn spencer #juliet o'hara #burton guster #migraine tw #nausea tw #ambulance tw #angst #shawn whump #fanfic #psych fanfic #skipps writes

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xxisxxisxxis · 4 years ago

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Gateway Drug | Part Seventy-Three

Thank you guys for your patience, if I haven't been replying its because I haven't been getting on tumblr for a hot minute but I am back now!!

This is part 1 of 2 of Seventy-Three, part 2 will be up in tomorrow night.

I love y'all, thank you so much!!

Words: 4.8k

Warning(s): explicit language, mentions of drug abuse, violence, inappropriate sexual behavior

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“I am going to kill you!” I shout, chasing Stevie and Slash over the hotel beds with Duff eventually tackling me when they lock themselves into the bathroom.

“You’re the one who ate the brownies, Viv! It’s common sense not to do that!” Steven tells me from the other side of the door.

“Your ass is grass and I’m going to mow it!” I yell back.

“No one’s mowing ass!” Duff tells me. “We’re just gonna wait for it to pass." He says in reference to my inevitable high.

“I’m gonna puke.” I insist, pushing him off of me.

“D-Do you feel sick?” He asks me, worried, and I open the door of the bathroom, Steven and Slash peeking their heads out of the shower from behind the curtain.

“No, I’m gonna make myself throw up so I don’t trip balls.” I explain.

“Ew.” Slash mumbles.

“Viv, no, it won’t be that bad.” Steven assures me as I kneel over the toilet, and Duff pulls me up.

“It’s not like it’s gonna kill you, Viv, alright, just stay in the room and let it run its course. Don’t do that to yourself.” He tells me, motioning to the toilet and I raise my brows.

“Just go lay down and relax.” Slash adds.

“Fine.” I state, stepping out of the bathroom.

"So, you've got this handled." Stevie starts to Duff.

"Yeah?"

"We're going back down to the bar." Steven declares, pulling Slash to the door with him.

"Dude, what? They were your brownies." Duff tells him.

"That she ate without asking." Steven points out.

"I was hungry!"

"Then you go to McDonalds! You don't eat brownies you find in our room!" Steven replies.

"Alright, okay, you two go. I got this." Duff sighs.

"Thank you. Bye." He replies and they leave us, Duff shutting the door behind them as I lay down, getting under the covers and turning the TV on, Looney Tunes playing as Duff steps to the bed.

"You can go back downstairs, I'm sure I'll be fine. I don't even feel anything." I mumble and he looks at me, pointedly.

"No, I'm staying." He states, taking his jacket and boots off, getting in to bed with me, sitting up against the headboard as I lay my head in his lap.

A few minutes later, I'm getting out from under the covers because it's rubbing against my skin too hard.

"You okay?" Duff asks me when I go to pull my shirt over my head.

"My freaking skin hurts." I reply and he raises his brows.

"It's the brownies."

"It's not the brownies." I reply, suddenly freezing when I make eye contact with Daffy Duck, catching him staring at me through the TV, and feel feathers against my fingers.

"What're you doing?" Duff asks me and I realize I'm rubbing my finger tips together on both hands, and when I look at him, another realization comes to mind.

"If you combine 'Daffy' and 'Duck' you get 'Duffy'." I tell him and he raises a brow.

"Y-Yeah?"

"Or 'Dack'. I feel like this is a perfect time for you to tell me my favorite joke." I tell him and he raises his brows. "'Paint my house'." I mock his voice, giggles consuming me once I'm done and he laughs with me.

"Viv--"

"--I'm kinda hungry."

"You ate five brownies, babe." He reminds me.

"Pot brownies don't count as food." I state, reaching for the phone. "I'm getting room service."

"No, no," he stops me, chuckling, grabbing the phone from me. "You do not want to get food while you're high and hungry. You'll order stuff you've never even heard of and we'll be murdered for running up the bill."

"We can just get Doc to pay for it." I shrug, going for the phone in his hand.

"Which is why it's not a good idea." He explains.

"If he gets his panties in a wad over room service he can just eat a brownie and he'll feel fine." I snatch the phone from him and dart for the bathroom.

"Vivian, baby!" He calls, opening the bathroom door before I can close it but it's too late, I'm dialing the number for room service, swatting Duff's hand away, though the movement seems as if it's delayed--at least my vision is delayed, or my mind, I don't know.

"Hello?" The man on the other line picks up and I furrow my brows, the fear that he knows I'm high infiltrating my mind. "Hello?" He repeats and I hang up and drop the phone.

"What if he tells my parents?" I ask myself, trying to stay calm as anxiety rises.

"W-What?" Duff asks me, confused.

"Dad will kill me. Mom--oh, God, mom will never let me live it down." I push past him to pace in the room and he furrows his brows.

"Viv--"

"--How do I even begin to explain to my parents I'm on drugs. Does pot even count as a drug? It's natural--so is fucking arsenic but do you see anybody putting that shit in brownies?" I ask myself. "I'm going to hell." I conclude, tears coming to my eyes. "I'm going to hell." I repeat, my voice cracking.

"Viv, you ate them on accident, you're not going to hell for accidentally getting high."

"I want Nikki." I say next, my heart beat beginning to hammer.

"If he finds out you're like this, we could get in trouble, Viv." Duff tells me.

"I want Nikki." I repeat, my breathing getting more frantic.

I stare at Fred, Doc, and Rich Fischer...and Bob Timmons, rolling my jaw as they look at me pointedly, waiting for me to say something in response. Anything.

“Are you gonna say anything?” Doc finally asks me and I lick my lips.

“What the hell am I supposed to say, Doc?” I ask him, furrowing my brows a little. “I-I’ve tried to talk to him about it a million times the past three years and he refuses to acknowledge he has an issue.” I state.

“Because he feels like he’s got nothing to lose.” Doc informs me. “I know you two aren’t on good terms, anyway, but, Vivian, we can’t have one of our guys nearly falling out on stage on smack. That’s not good press.”

“Since when the hell do we care about good or bad press?” I laugh humorlessly.

“Since I don’t want Nikki to fucking die on this tour.” Doc snaps.

“Can’t make money off tickets if the bassist dies and there’s no band to tour, anymore, right?” I ask him, poking my lip out sarcastically for a moment and he glares at me.

“I’m not in it for money.” Fred cuts in, seriously, a genuine look of worry on his face. “He’s like a brother to me. I’m not fucking in it for the money. I just don’t wanna see him dead.”

“We’re already getting a divorce so what the hell is it gonna do to threaten divorce if he doesn’t stop shooting up?” I ask them, raising my brows.

“I promise, it’ll get his attention.” Fred assures me.

“Do you know something that I don’t?” I cut my eyes at him. “Because all I’ve heard is how ready he is to get away from me and be free.”

“Just talk to him.” Fred ignores my question, which confirms that whatever shit Nikki feeds me about wanting to leave me as soon as possible is all bark with no bite behind it.

“What’s in it for me?” I ask them.

“The gratification of knowing you’re doing what Jesus would do.” Doc sarcastically replies.

“Jesus would exorcise him.” I bite back.

“I promise we haven’t ruled that option out yet.” He sighs out.

That was the first of many “what’re we going to do about Nikki?” meetings on that tour. Nikki had gone on high as hell--thinking no one noticed--and nearly passed out after flipping down the stage and taking way too long to get back up, and when he did get up, he nearly fell off the stage and could barely keep his eyes open. They had to remedy his stupor with a few bumps of coke during Tommy’s drum solo.

He got up in arms if anyone tried to confront him about it, brushing it off like he was just really tired that night, so they called me up to bat.

I guess they forgot I couldn’t talk to him about anything without it turning into a fight--especially not about his heroin addiction.

"So, even though we're separated and he's your client, you're leaving it up to me to convince him to get sober?" I clarify.

"He's not doing himself any favors, Vivian, you know that. This isn't just affecting your marriage." Doc tells me.

"Um, yeah, I've been trying to tell you that for years now but the second it turns into him risking the loss of money going in to your pockets you're all about getting him some fucking help." I snap, standing up. "Thank you for confirming you're the piece of shit I was afraid you were."

"Vivian, wai--"

"--Go fuck yourself, Doc. You're lucky I don't fucking fire you."

I leave the meeting with Fred at my heels.

"Viv, wait." He grasps at my wrist and turns me to face him, making me flare my nostrils with frustration.

"I'm not talking to him, Fred."

"Vivian, he's more likely to listen to you than any of us."

"Are you kidding me?! He'll laugh in my face!" I give up and raise my voice, hoping it'll get my point across since they seem to not understand english when it's spoken calmly and quietly.

"Viv, just try it. Just once. Please." He begs.

"Fine."

I already felt like it was my job to fix him, and having that responsibility of being the only one capable of getting Nikki to slow down only added to that burden that I knew right away I'd be unable to bear but tried to do so anyway.

"Yes, I'm sorry, I was locked out of mine and my husband's room. I accidentally left the key in there before I left and he doesn't have his with him, either." I tell the receptionist at the front desk of the hotel.

"Do you have any ID?" She asks me and I pull out my license, smiling.

"Here you go." I show her. "Vivian and Nikki Sixx, but the room name is probably under Doc McGhee." I add and she flips through bookings for a moment before she nods.

"Got it." She tells me, opening a drawer and pulling a spare out.

"Thank you." I tell her politely, taking the key and heading to the elevator.

"Enjoy your night." She replies.

"Thanks, you too." I grin to myself mischievously, ready to piss on Nikki's parade.

I get up to his room and unlock the door, smelling sweaty clothes, vomit, possibly urine, definite shit, semen, smoke, heroin, and coke.

"Ew." I mumble, seeing that he is nowhere to be found.

I immediately start shuffling through his things, every pant pocket, every compartment in his suitcase, under the bed, in the drawers, under the mattress, in the pillow cases, in the bathroom, the closet, under the dresser, under the TV stand, the night stand, behind the bed, behind wall paintings, everywhere, and find absolutely nothing.

"You've got to be kidding me." I say to myself, looking at the disheveled room. "If I were Nikki Sixx where would I hide my stash?" I say next…an idea popping into my mind. "The last thing I'd think anyone would suspect I would even touch." I answer myself, going back to the nightstand drawer, opening it back up to see a bible.

I open it and find the jackpot.

I don't know where he found the time to hollow it out and put a baggie of china white and a small bindle of coke inside but I don't have time to think about it.

"Really should have taken the expensive stuff with you, baby." I state, taking the china white out and pouring the powder into the toilet before throwing the baggie away, doing the same with the coke.

I go to fix everything the way I found it but I'm stopped by the sound of the door knob being unlocked.

I dodge into the closet, shutting the door as best as I can, hearing the room door swing open, and the sound of Nikki stumbling in, laughing while another woman giggles, making my heart hammer in my chest.

"What's wrong?" I hear her giggling come to an abrupt stop.

"I don't feel good, take a rain check." He brushes her off, and I hear him walk around the room, probably noticing it looks like a tornado hit it, worse than how he left it.

"I thought we were gonna have some fun, though." I hear the pout in her voice.

"I'm sure Vinnie would take you up on that. He's across the hall." He sounds even more disinterested by the second, aggravation in his tone, but I don't believe it's because her.

"Fucking rockstars." She complains, stomping out and slamming the door.

"I can smell your perfume from here, Viv." He says, and I hear him kick some stuff out of his way before the sound of him sitting on the bed.

I roll my eyes and step out of the closet, smiling at him innocently.

"What the fuck are you doing in here? How'd you even fucking get it?"

"I got a key." I inform him.

"What are you doing here?" He asks again and I go to speak but can't, not knowing what lie to come up with.

I hesitate for too long, giving him too much time to think about it.

"Oh, you didn't." He sneers, before quickly walking to the nightstand, opening the drawer and grabbing the bible before he opens it to see it's empty. "God damnit, Vivian!"

By this time I'm already almost at the door, within arms reach, but he's rushing to me and grabbing my hair, pulling me back, causing me to cry out before he's shoving me to the bed.

"Where did you put it?!" He demands and I take deep breaths, staring at him.

"I flushed it." I admit honestly and his face turns red, his fist balling up at his sides.

"You did what?" He shakily asks again and I sit up.

"I. Flushed. It." I repeat.

"Do you realize how much money that shit costs?!" He outbursts and I move to get off the bed, but he grabs my arm roughly so I can't get away.

"Let go of me." I warn him, trying to get out of his grasp.

"Answer me!" He barks at me.

I don't say another thing, my foot jutting out to kick him off of me, hard.

"Trust me, I know how much money that shit costs because you've been prioritizing it over our other finances for the past five years!" I argue back.

"You fucking bitch!" He screams as I go for the door again.

"You strung out junkie!" I yell back.

The lamp shatters against the door when he throws it, the only light in the room is now coming from the bathroom and I turn to face him, anger growing in me at the fact he threw a lamp at me over something so stupid.

I'm taking my heel off and throwing it at him next before turning back around to leave, but when the blade of his switchblade lands a foot away from me, in the carpet, I get fed up.

I lunge at him, the two of us hitting the hotel floor with a heavy thud, my nails clawing at his bare chest before he shoves me off of him and grabs my wrists, the two of us in a stare off, catching our breath.

"I'm only here because I'm worried about you, asshole!" I outburst at him."Your health is going to shit and--"

"--Oh, for fucks sake, Viv, when I die everything's going to you so don't act like you're not foaming at the mouth for me to finally croak." He snaps at me, pulling himself onto the bed, laying on his back.

"If I were eagerly awaiting your death I wouldn't be flushing anything to keep you away from it."

"As if I won't call up a dealer the second you get the fuck out. Speaking of which: get the fuck out." He motions to the door and I stand over him.

"I'm not done talking."

"I am."

"Good, then you won't argue when I say that you need to slow down because Doc's getting uneasy due to that stunt you pulled last night."

"I was tired."

"You were high."

"They don't know that."

"They sure do know that, they just haven't confronted you themselves because they don't need you going at them like a rabid dog."

"Bullshit."

"There was a meeting. They even brought in Bob Timmons, Nikki." I reply and he closes his eyes and lets out a sharp breath before he sits up. "They were hoping maybe us talking about it might encourage you to put your health as a priority." I add, leaving out "get sober or get divorced," deciding that's the last thing he needs to hear, and he nods. "I know it probably won't do much, but, Nikki, we're really worried--I'm really worried."

"We've had this conversation how many fucking times, Vivian?" He scoffs out, looking up at me.

"I'm not an idiot, Nikki, you're not okay. You don't look good, you don't smell good, you didn't sound good--"

"--Are you done?" His voice gravels out, unamused, and in denial.

"Nikki."

"I don't look good because I'm tired, I don't smell good because I haven't showered yet, and you don't know shit about music so who the fuck are you to tell me if I sounded good or not?"

"You realize I'm not that naive little pipsqueak that just wanted to keep the peace and went along with whatever you said years ago, right?"

"At least you knew how to keep your fucking mouth shut unless I wanted it open for reasons that had nothing to do with talking." He grumbles.

I glare at him a moment longer and exhale.

"Tell your dealer I said 'hello'." I yield, grabbing my other shoe, leaving in defeat, holding back the tears leaking to my eyes.

"The fuck's going on?" Izzy asks us as Steven, Slash and Duff look like deer caught in headlights, interrupted as they try to coax me back into the room.

"I'm too high." I state, panicking, and Izzy furrows his brows.

"You're what?" He asks me, looking at the guys. "She's what?"

"Too high." I repeat.

"Who is?" Axl asks, approaching us with a beer in hand, obviously not prepared for what he's about to find out.

"I am." I say at the same time, Steven says, "nobody."

Everybody's at a stand still for a moment, all of us staring at each other before Axl starts in.

"She's what?!" He demands while Slash and Steven scramble to explain.

"Well, she, like...ate something and now--"

"--Don't tell me she ate those fucking brownies you two have been smuggling." He tells them and Slash slowly puts his sunglasses on to avoid direct eye contact as Stevie stutters out:

"Uh-Um, w-well...she had like five and it was a complete accident."

"Five?!" He shouts next and I slowly back away as they become further occupied, darting down the hall and turning the corner, hearing Duff say, "wait, Viv!", making my feet go faster.

The next morning is spent on the phone with Sharise while she goes over last minute wedding details for the date set for the one day the band has off next week.

"She told me she wants bright pink bridesmaids dresses." I tell Vince, raising a brow.

"Yeah, I helped her pick them out." He smugly replies, knowing I was dreading the idea of looking like a cupcake.

"I hate you."

"I love you." He sarcastically states, leaning back in his chair at the breakfast table in the hotel's cafeteria.

"Where the hell is everybody else, we're outta here in 20 minutes." Fred tells us and I raise my brows.

"Being that Tansy and Sparkie and Nikki were all up doing God knows what last night, I'm assuming they aren't even aware what year it is, currently." I reply to him, drinking a sip of orange juice.

"And what about Guns?" He asks next.

"Heck if I know." I tell him and he groans, rubbing his forehead. "Okay, fine, I'll go get everybody rounded up. K?" I offer, standing.

"Thank you." He says to me as I walk to the elevator.

Once I get to our floor, I start at Tommy's room, banging on the door until I hear, "What?!" from the other side.

"Get up, we leave in 20 minutes!" I say back, going to Tansy and Sparkie's room, knocking at the door.

It opens within seconds, Sparkie, completely naked, standing at the door with his brows raised.

I gag at the sight of him wearing nothing.

"We're leaving in 20 minutes." I tell him neutrally.

"I'll wake Tans up." He replies, smirking at me and I go to turn away but he's grabbing my arm. "You thought about what I said?" He asks me and I roll my jaw.

"Mmm, still thinking on it." I don't even hide my sarcasm and he licks his lips.

"Think a little harder, baby, because I almost let it out when we were hanging out last night." He informs me and my blood runs cold. "The longer you wait the easier it's gonna start wanting to just slip out without a second thought." He adds, shutting the door in my face and I let out a defeated breath, squeezing my eyes closed for a second and rubbing my forehead.

When I turn to walk down to Steven's room, he and Slash are coming out, leaning on each other, both of them wearing sunglasses to shield their hangovers, dragging their luggage along behind them.

"Is Axl, Izzy and Duff up?" I ask them as I pass by.

"I don't even think Axl slept. Izzy's trying to shoo away some girl and Duff's trying to finish packing." Steven replies flatly, obviously tired, and I go to Duff's room, knocking a few times before he opens the door.

He opens it and his eyes light up.

"There you are." He says, stepping back to his suitcase that's on the bed as he starts tossing his belongings in.

"Yeah, I got up earlier for breakfast." I reply, grabbing his toothbrush and toothpaste out of the bathroom.

"I figured." He states, running a hand through his hair before rubbing his eye. "Um, Izzy and Axl just left, I think, and I'll be down in a second, so." He informs me and I nod.

"Okay, I'm gonna go grab my stuff from my room."

"K." He replies as I leave, going across the hall to unlock my door and gather my stuff.

The door, that I left crack, is soon opening again and I think it's Fred or Doc or one of the guys, but when I look up from my suitcase to see Sparkie, I feel sick.

"You do realize sexual coercion is rape, right?" I blatantly ask, wanting him to know good and well what he's doing.

"Not if it's consensual." He shrugs and I roll my jaw and zip up my bag.

"It's not consensual if you're having to blackmail me into doing it." I bite back, shoving past me to get out of the room, and I run smack dab into Fred, and pray he didn't hear our exchange.

He opens his mouth to speak, quickly halting when Sparkie comes out behind me, smirking.

"Morning." He says to Fred. "Vivian." He more so sneers, heading to the elevator.

"The fuck is that about?" Fred asks, referring to Sparkie being in the room with me.

"Um, he was helping me pack." I lie, knowing if I tell him the truth he'll be arrested for murder.

"Right." He looks at me with unsure eyes before brushing it off. "We're loading up."

Fred was a damn good actor.

The only thing keeping him from beating the shit out of Sparkie, was knowing when he told Nikki later on that night, Nikki would do a worse number on the bastard than he would.

"Wow, I can actually run a brush through it." I comment to Duff, combing out his hair before he picks up a can of hair spray to tease it a little.

"Extra conditioner. Who'da thought." He adds, grinning at me like a little kid.

"Viv, can you do this?" Stevie asks next, a slight whine to his voice.

"What is it?" I ask, stepping to him in the dressing room.

When I see what he means, I look at him, unamused.

"Steven Adler. You know how to lace your pants up."

"No, these are hard to do because the string is almost too big for the little holes they go through." He pleads his case, raising his brows. "You have tinier fingers, plus you're not fighting off an everlasting hangover and coke jitters."

I look down at his pants, seeing very well he's not wearing underwear, and take a deep breath.

"I'll keep my hands to myself, alright? I promise." He assures me, tucking his hands behind his back.

"It's not your hands I'm worried about." I mumble, rolling my eyes.

I end up having to crouch to get eye level with the laces, and when the door opens up to reveal Axl, and I'm on my knees with my hands on the strings keeping Steven's penis separated from my face, it looks assbackwards--well, blowjobbackwards.

"Can you stop blowing my band?!" Axl's meltdown tone on full effect and I look at him, wide eyed.

"I'm not blowing anybody!" I snap.

"Except Duff." Slash mumbles with a little chuckle and Izzy finds humor in it as well.

"Axl, dude, she's just helping me with my pants." Stevie defends me, raising his brows. "Besides if she was blowing me that'd be our fucking business."

"What did you just say to me?" Axl hones in on Steven, his eyes sharply narrowing, his jaw tightening.

"I said, if she was sucking my fucking cock it would be mine and her's business--ya know, since we're both fucking grown-ass adults and you can't tell us what the fuck to do?"

"You're in my fucking band, Steven, so yeah, actually, I believe I can tell you--"

"--Guys, don't fight." I say, standing up and crossing my arms.

"--You can't tell me shit!" Steven outbursts. "Just like you can't tell Duff shit! He's a big boy and Viv's a big girl--what goes on between them doesn't concern any of us, especially not you." Steven pushes me out ot the way so he can stand nearly chest with chest with Axl.

"Axl, Stevie, c'mon, now." Duff says, gently pulling me behind him as he steps to the guys, slowly urging them apart.

"It does concern me because it's affecting Guns N' Roses." Axl hisses.

"You act like she's fucking everything up, Axl! Just because he was late for one fucking rehearsal--"

"--A studio session, soundcheck, and, one fucking rehearsal." The red head snaps and I look at Duff, confused.

I didn't know he missed a studio session and soundcheck for me at one point...the look on Duff's face says that Axl was supposed to keep quiet about the studio session mishap and soundcheck.

He looks pissed.

"And I said it wouldn't happen again." Duff cuts in.

"Why can't you just back off?" I ask next without another thought.

"Because you spreading your legs is fucking up my band, Yoko!" Axl doesn't hesitate, and Steven's shoving at his shoulders, sending him shuffling back, catching himself on the closed door.

Just as Axl goes to get back at Steven, Duff intervenes, holding at Axl while I get in front of Steven and face him, keeping him from taking advantage of Axl being held still.

There's a loud knock at the door and Doc peeks his head in.

"You're on." He tells the guys, shutting the door back.

Axl shoves Duff off of him and storms out while Steven ties his pants since I fixed the laces, and huffs out a breath.

"Izzy, either straighten your fucking buddy out or I will. I've about had his shit." Stevie threatens.

Axl and Steven butted heads more than anybody in the band did at that time. Steven couldn't stand Axl's uptight arrogance, and Axl couldn't understand Steven's nonchalance.

I think that's why it was so easy for Axl to give up on Steven when his drug abuse got so bad--he was tired of trying to understand Steven when he was decently sober, trying to understand him putting drugs before the band would have exhausted him to the point of no return.

They just couldn't ever get in tune with one another.

#nikki sixx #mötley crüe #nikki sixx x oc #nikki sixx fanfiction #gateway drug

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bestdivorcelawyerbangalore · 3 years ago

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Preparing for a divorce? Here are vital components ladies want to realise

Thirty-something Sheetal (call modified), see this a neighborhood of Tamil Nadu, was in an abusive marriage. She emerge as to start with concerned of the idea of divorce, fearing her mother and father and society’s mindset toward completing a marriage. When she ultimately decided to go study this ahead, she was faced with a huge tick list of factors she had to make sure. She employed a financial representative, sold her vehicle — a part of the quantity went in her financial institution loan and the relaxation of it she kept aside for her toddler’s faculty price. Sheetal, luckily, had a regular earnings and her employers, in addition to her own family, stood with the aid of her. After a hard trial in which her husband even tried to fabricate proof against her, she managed to comfy a divorce and the custody of her kids in an awful lot much less than a 12 months.

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Before taking that desire

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67-chevy-baby · 5 years ago

Text

Remedy

Pairing - Jared x Reader

Tags - Slight angst, FLUFFFFFF, language, and I think that’s it.

Word Count - 2,664

Beta - @winecatsandpizza

Fic Aesthetic - Yours truly

The Song I Chose - Off My Mind by Radio Company

Written for - @saxxxology’s Vol 1 Writing Challenge

A/N - So, I couldn’t find much about Jared’s sister. I don’t think she’s married, but just so y’all know I made up Trent, Max, and Macee. Also, there may be a part 2 to this. It’s my first Jared fic, and I’m not sure I write him well. At any rate, I hope y’all enjoy it, and I especially hope you like this Saxxy. I really tried to make this good. :)

To say you’d become a failure to your parents was an understatement.

From the moment you dropped out of college to pursue your real dream, they’d cut all ties with you. Honestly, it didn’t come as a surprise considering all they seemed to care about was what they wanted you to succeed in. If it didn’t benefit them, then they weren’t interested.

Finally realizing their true intentions was the straw that broke the camel’s back. You packed what little belongings you had and left for Texas, leaving your home-town in Ohio behind in the rearview mirror. The beat-to-hell car you inherited lasted you until the outskirts of Dallas, so you decided to hole up in a hotel with the last bit of savings you had.

After checking in and grabbing some snacks from the vending machine in the lobby, you headed to your room and splayed out on the bed. You scrolled through local jobs as you munched on a Snickers bar. Nothing really jumped out at you, but this wasn’t a time in your life where it was rational to be picky. If you were going to pursue becoming a singer, then you needed some cash to get you started.

Nothing really piqued your interest around Dallas, so you decided to span your search further. After an hour of sifting through different job opportunities, you finally came across one that caught your eye.

Full-Time Nanny in Avery Ranch Start Date: Mid-January 2020 Children ages: 5 and 2 months Hours/Rate: M-F 7:30am-5pm - $18/hr Serious Inquiries Only: (512)586-2463

Other than singing, babysitting your sister’s kids was something else you thoroughly enjoyed. Her husband had cheated on her, and they divorced soon after so you became a constant in their lives. Not that you weren’t before, but since you were a full-time student at the time you often watched them during your off time.

Before you could talk yourself out of it, you called the number and waited. By the third ring, you were starting to get discouraged but then a woman’s cheerful voice answered.

“Hello?”

Talking on the phone was never a strong suit of yours. Especially not knowing who was on the other end, it always gave you anxiety. Taking a deep breath, you stammered out a response.

“Um, h-hi. My name’s Y/N and I saw your add about the Nanny position. I’d like to apply if it’s still available.”

You heard the woman clear her throat and some rustling before she came back on the line.

“Hi, Y/N! My name's Megan. Yes, the position is still available! Can you come over tomorrow at noon? My husband and I would like to meet over coffee to get to know you a bit better before we introduce you to the children.”

Well, you weren’t expecting that, but the desperate situation you were in won over the butterflies fluttering against your abdomen.

“Y-Yeah! I can do that!”

The warmth in the woman’s response was evident and it eased any doubts you had bouncing around in your head.

“Great! We’ll see you tomorrow, Y/N. I’ll text you the address and feel free to wear something comfortable. Lord knows with two kids I won't be wearing my best dress."

You bid her goodbye and sighed into your pillow. Despite uprooting your life merely a day ago, things were starting to come together, and for once, you couldn't be happier.

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

Jared sighed as he walked through the airport. Another season of Supernatural wrapped and he was finally on his home turf again. The familiarity of the Texas air nipped his bare skin as he headed for the awaiting taxi. Tonight, he'd rest up and then tomorrow he'd go and see his siblings.

The ride to his studio apartment was short, but it allowed him to send a few texts and emails anyway. He tipped the cab driver generously and took the elevator up to his floor.

His apartment wasn't much, but it was enough for him. The entry area was small, bearing a hook on the wall to hang his keys, a closet for his coat and shoes, and a couple of light switches. Just off to the left was the living room. He had a black leather sectional and a nice entertainment center where he could watch the latest Cowboys game comfortably. The kitchen wasn't enormous, but he didn't need it to be. It had everything he needed and all the appliances were new enough. His bedroom was just the way he left it, his king-size bed unmade and his laundry in the basket by the bathroom door.

Jared tossed his suitcase on the bed and padded to the kitchen for a beer. He'd start laundry tomorrow. It wasn't like he had anyone to impress or anything. Ever since Supernatural gained its popularity, he'd shied away from serious relationships because he barely had time for himself let alone a significant other. Settling into the couch, he flipped through the channels before stopping on the movie Die Hard, one of his favorite Christmas movies. Before he knew it, he'd dozed off, his hard work and jet lag finally catching up to him.

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

You groaned and shut off your alarm. How was it already 6 AM? Forcing yourself to emerge from your warm blanket cocoon, you padded to the bathroom praying a hot shower would wake you up. Mornings were far from your favorite thing, and if you were going to meet with your potential employer then you needed to be somewhat presentable.

Once you were dressed and had some sustenance, you wore a simple pair of jeans and a comfortable top. Your hair fell neatly at your shoulders and once you applied a small amount of makeup, you looked less like a zombie than you imagined. Remembering to grab your card key, you slid on your flats and headed to the address that Megan had texted you.

The drive was nearly three hours, but you didn't mind. It allowed you to decompress and listen to your favorite Spotify playlist. Luckily, the rental car you managed to get had Bluetooth, otherwise you'd have to deal with the local stations.

Finally, you pulled into the driveway and allowed yourself to take a few deep breaths. The house was pretty big, two-story with a two-car garage. The yard was well kept and you could see the faint outlines of playground equipment down the street. Overall, it looked to be a nice, quiet neighborhood.

Crisp air fanned your face as you walked to the front door. A couple knocks later you were face to face with a sweet-looking young woman. She smiled warmly at you before inviting you inside.

"Hi! You must be Y/N. It's so good to meet you."

Smiling back at her, you shook her hand and then noticed a taller figure walk up behind her. He nodded at you and wrapped his arm around his wife’s waist.

“I’m her husband, Trent. Please come in and make yourself comfortable.”

You followed them inside and gasped as they led you into what had to be their living room. Your eyes wandered and marveled at how cozy and elegant everything looked. Not that it mattered to you, but you couldn’t help but think this couple had a lot of money.

“You have a beautiful home, Mr. and Mrs. …”

It only just hit you that you didn’t know their last name. Megan brought you a cup of some wonderful smelling coffee and sat down on the love seat across from you.

“Stevenson. Our last name is Stevenson. Thank you for your kind words. We moved here a little over a year ago so I could be closer to my niece.”

You nodded and moaned happily at the taste of the coffee. This was one of the many things you enjoyed in life, a nice hot cup of coffee.

“Oh, does your family live close? That’s always nice, having family that lives close by. I used to watch my older sister’s kids all the time while she worked. They’re in school full-time now, so that’s why I decided to move here to hopefully pursue my dream.”

It amazed you that you felt this comfortable around the Stevenson’s so quickly. Normally, your anxiety would get the better of you and it’d be like pulling teeth to get you to share personal things about your life. Megan nodded and scooted over to allow room for Trent to sit by her.

“Yes, one of my older brother’s lives about fifteen minutes from here. He’s not home often though due to his job. He’s an actor and really only gets time off during the summer and the holidays. My other older brother lives about forty-five minutes from here. He’s an Orthopedic surgeon.”

“Wow.” You breathed. “That’s really awesome! I have always wanted to be a singer, but my love of kids made me want to wait a little longer to try and become successful at it. I probably would have had kids of my own by now if I was fortunate in the relationship department. I seem to always find the ones who are either already married or live in their Mom’s basement.” The three of you shared a laugh and you watched as Trent scrolled through his phone.

“This is our son, Max. He just turned five about a month ago, and in his lap is our two-month-old daughter Macee.”

You looked at them both in awe. “They’re beautiful! Max sure looks like he loves Macee a lot.” Just as you handed Trent his phone back, a small voice sounded from the foot of the stairs.

“Mommy? I can’t sweep…”

The three of you looked to see little Max standing with his teddy bear and rubbing his eyes. Megan opened her arms and set him on her lap, pressing her lips to his forehead.

“Hey, baby. You can sit with Mommy while we talk to miss Y/N.”

Your ears perked up at her words. Was she giving you the job? Both her and Trent shared a look and you could tell they were having a wordless conversation. Finally, Megan turned and gave you an excited smile.

“Y/N, if you’re up for it, Trent and I would love to have you as our Nanny. You seem very attentive and dependable. We have a spare room that you can stay in for the time being, and you’ll have your own bathroom.”

“Thank you both so much! I can’t wait to work with you and get to know your adorable children. When would you like me to start?”

Megan gave you a folder with a few papers in it to go over.

“These are just a few more things about us and the kids that I want you to know. You can bring your things over tomorrow night and then on Monday you can start.”

You bid Trent and Megan goodbye and headed back to your hotel. It was as if a weight had been lifted off your shoulders. You’d only been here a short time and you had a place to stay and a job. Now all you needed to get was a car and you’d better off than you were before you started your journey.

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

The sound of his phone’s text tone woke Jared from his slumber. He typed a quick response to his sister and stretched his tired muscles. After taking a quick shower and getting dressed he grabbed his wallet and keys before heading out the door.

His sister said to be at her house in a couple of hours, but he didn’t see the harm in getting there early. It would give him time to play with Max and Macee for a little while. The drive there wasn’t very long, and soon he was walking up the sidewalk to their front door.

He let himself in and could saw his sister in the back yard playing with the kids. Before he could head through the house out the back door, something caught his attention. A sweet melodic voice flowed through the upstairs hallway that made his heartbeat quicken. He moved so he could see better and caught sight of the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen. She had long brown hair that waved a bit at the ends, was probably about five foot one, and her voice was mesmerizing.

He watched as she cleaned the kids’ playroom, her hips shimmying to the music she was listening to. It was then that he recognized the song she was singing. It was one of the songs from Jensen’s new album! Standing in the foyer, he let himself listen to you a bit longer.

Oh, and how do I get you off my mind

With you back in my bed

How do I get you off my mind

Can’t have you living in my head

You can only stay awake so long

While deciding what is true

I lean in for a kiss upon your shoulder

Realize it wouldn’t do, not with you

So, how do I get you off my mind

With you back in my bed

How do I get you off my mind

Can’t have you living in my head

Unbeknownst to him, his sister was watching him watch her, the biggest smirk on her face knowing that you had caught her brother’s eye.

“Her name’s Y/N, and she’s Trent and I’s nanny.”

Jared whirled around to meet his sister’s knowing gaze. He knew he’d been caught staring and was sure he was blushing furiously.

“That’s ah… I’m uh… glad you found someone suitable for the kids, Meg. I bet she’s great.”

“Uh-huh… I haven’t seen you look at someone like that since… well, since ever really. You like her.”

“What?! That’s… I mean… I don’t even know her. I just… her singing was um… really good!”

By now, you had finished cleaning the playroom and was prepared to relieve Megan so she could go out with her family. You heard her talking to someone and you assumed it was Trent.

“Hey, Megan! I finished cleaning the pla-”

Your words were caught in your throat as you looked down into the foyer. There, standing mere feet from you was your celebrity crush since you saw him on Gilmore Girls. Jared Padalecki. It took only a moment for things to click in your brain and you deduced that he and Megan were siblings.

“Y/N, this is one of my older brother’s Jared, Jared this is Y/N.”

“H-Hi…” You squeaked. He gave you a boyish grin and you forgot how to breathe. “I’m uh… just going to get a few things from my room…”

Once you were behind the closed door, you let out a shaky breath. How in the fuck did you manage to get a job at Jared Padalecki’s sister’s house?! Taking a deep breath you grabbed the Tonka set you bought Max and headed downstairs to the great room to play with him and Macee. Jared was in the kitchen with Megan, and you were lucky enough to be immensely distracted by Max to hear what they were saying.

“I’m telling you Jare, you should ask her out! I give her weekends off, and I don’t think she knows anyone here but us. I think it would be nice to show her around.”

Jared rubbed the back of his neck nervously. “I don’t know Megan… I just met he-”

“Oh cut the crap, Jared. You can make all the excuses you want, but you and I both know you like her. C’mon! Take a chance! She’s cute and you’re single. If you keep waiting around for the right person, then who knows how long you’ll be waiting?”

Jared contemplated his sister’s words as he eyed you through the kitchen. Who was he kidding? Megan was right. He sighed and swallowed thickly as he headed into the Great room.

“Here goes nothing…”

#saxxxology vol 1 writing challenge #jared padalecki x reader #jared x reader #'pala writes

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dashenemy0 · 4 years ago

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Independent Pension Trustee Search

Scheme Trustees

Content

Can You Declare State Pension Abroad After Brexit?

Council Tax Obligation & Government Grants.

Our Company Has Been Built On Our Online Reputation.

A pension annuity is an annual repayment at a set or 'assured' earnings for a set period, say for one decade, or for the rest of your life. When you retire, you can make use of some or every one of your pension financial savings to get an annuity, as well as an economic advisor can assist you obtain the very best bargain on the competitive market. Some older pensions have an advantage attached called a 'Surefire Annuity Price'. This generally provides you a much greater income than you could get currently on the competitive market and so these warranties can be extremely important.

As the State Pension just usually supplies a standard degree of income, the federal government intends to motivate individuals to pay right into an exclusive pension also. To motivate this sort of conserving for the future there are tax benefits to paying into these pensions. When you get separated and make a decision to iron out your financial resources, you should give your ex with all the details of your funds. You can't hide things of value that are just in your name, like a pension. Additionally, any last arrangement or order could be terminated if one person doesn't give full details regarding their finances. The penalty for contempt of court can be a penalty or a prison sentence or both. Any kind of arrangement you get to on your finances with your ex-spouse, consisting of about pension plans, will need to be approved by the court for it to be lawfully binding on you both.

Can You Claim State Pension Abroad After Brexit?

If set aside pension rights are transferred, the former spouse or civil partner of the participant have to be told and also given get in touch with information for the brand-new scheme. Pre-retirement rights, or revenue drawdown funds, under registered pension systems will generally be valued based upon their cash money comparable transfer value. The law lays out just how pension civil liberties ought to be valued for the purposes of divorce or dissolution of a civil partnership.

How much pension will wife get after husband death?

Family pension is also admissible to a posthumous child and also to children from the void or the voidable marriage as per the relevant provisions in the rules. Normal family pension is now at a uniform rate of 30% of pay last drawn, subject to a minimum of Rs. 9000 (w.e.f. 1.1. 2016).

Public industry work environment pensions come under the category of Defined Advantage pensions. There are different public market pension systems with different guidelines. As an example, pension plans from operate in the Army, the Civil Service, the NHS, Training, the Police and Firemens as well as Local Government are all Defined Advantage pension systems yet the benefits from each type can differ.

Council Tax Obligation & Federal Government Grants.

In regards to worth the marital house is generally the biggest family possession, however, where there is a long marriage or one or both of the events is a high income earner the value of retirement advantages can be significant. In most cases of separation, nullity or judicial splitting up of marriage the court will have to please the requirements of the celebrations from limited resources. If you're not wed or in a civil partnership, your pension plans aren't shared if you different. In a separation or dissolution, a court can choose that your Added State Pension ought to be shared as part of the economic negotiation. For bigger pension pots subject to the lifetime allowance, it could be in your rate of interest to share pension properties over various other revenue as this might lower your tax obligation responsibility. " With pension sharing the pot becomes your own therefore you get away from all these problems of no control over when you are attracting income and no control over how the properties are invested," states Waring. If you remain in the procedure of getting divorced, it's crucial you know you recognize your legal rights when it pertains to dividing your possessions in order to minimise the financial impact dividing will have on your retired life.

There are a wonderful selection of specified payment schemes supplied by employers or developed by individuals as exclusive pensions. One of the most common company schemes are team personal pension plans, team stakeholder pensions, job-related money purchase schemes and also additional volunteer payment schemes. Defined advantage plans have actually been developed from a variety of different sources. To attract and maintain the best workers most 'blue chip' business have in the past provided last income pension plans. These principles can also be applied during supplementary alleviation procedures relating to pension legal rights in between the celebrations as displayed in the detailed guide. Although the courts might begin with a 50/50 division of the retired life benefits, various other aspects set out in area 25 of the Matrimonial Causes Act might influence the court to select a different division.

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As an example, your ex lover may keep every one of their pension fund, and also as a compromise you obtain more of a share, or all of the household home. trusted-pensions.co.uk offers a pension trustee Bristol has the power to share out all your earnings, building, pension plans as well as financial savings (the legislation calls these things of value 'properties') in a manner that satisfies the needs of your youngsters first, and afterwards you as well as your ex lover.

Who can be a trustee of a pension scheme?

A trustee must be 18 or over and can be: An employee of the employer. The employer. A scheme member.

Numerous pairs exercise a contract that includes something called 'countering'. This implies you trade a right to receive a pension advantage currently or in the future for a possession you can have now.

This is particularly where one event has a pension within a specified benefits scheme, as well as where the parties are more detailed to retirement. In some pension systems, the transferred benefits need to remain within the plan to ensure that the person who is to get the advantages will end up being a member of that plan, referred to as a "pension credit history participant". When couples separate for separation or the dissolution of their civil partnership, there can be a great deal of misconception bordering the topic of pension plans. However, if the member had other pension plans on separation as well as no orders were made versus them, after that it is possible an order could be made versus them at a later day. It would certainly therefore be in the system participants rate of interest to stop payments to these setups as well as add to the one that undergoes the pension sharing order. Where an allocating order exists the plan participant might additionally determine to stop repayments to the earmarked plan and contribute to a brand-new pension arrangement. As soon as you have actually acquired an annuity it can not be transformed, so learn more concerning annuities, contrast annuity rates and also prior to deciding at retirement, safeguard a personal pension annuities providing guaranteed prices.

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Pension plans can be a very important part of what legal representatives typically call the 'matrimonial pot'. The marital pot is made up of all the things of value that you own with each other or independently when you are wed or in a civil collaboration. When you separation if you don't consider pension plans properly you are unlikely to obtain a fair result. Depending upon where you remain in your separation, it may be practical to read this overview via from the beginning toHow the court handles pension plans when you separation. As pension plans are subject to income tax obligation when they end up being payable, the money worth placed on the pension will typically be reduced to gauge the tax. As an example, if the member is a higher price tax obligation payer, the cash money worth of the pension rights based on the transfer value may be reduced by state 30% (that is, 40% of the 75% pension left after the free of tax cash money). Each celebration maintains their own pension advantages, with other marital assets being compromised versus them to balance the divorce or dissolution settlement.

Pension rights in the PPF can be shared, allocated or offset as part of a divorce settlement. Like any kind of various other DB system, the PPF will certainly offer a cash money comparable transfer value to base any negotiation on. In England & Wales, all pension rights belonging to either celebration will usually be treated as marital possessions. Yet in Scotland, only those pension civil liberties built up during the duration of the marriage or civil collaboration will usually be regarded as marriage possessions. Under balancing out, each celebration maintains their very own pension benefits, with various other marital possessions being compromised against their cash money value to balance the separation settlement. For monetary consultants - put together by our group of experts, qualified in pension plans, taxation, trust funds and wide range transfer. By comparison, there are scenarios where a basic split based upon funding might well not achieve a fair remedy, as an example where the pension plans are average or big, yet requires problems arise.

Show me proof that pensioners are reckless Money - The Times

Show me proof that pensioners are reckless Money.

Posted: Sat, 16 Jan 2021 00:01:00 GMT [source]

It is occasionally the only option offered, if, for example, the primary carer of the children of the family wishes to maintain residing in the family members home and there are few other assets, besides the pension pot. But the technique isn't as simple as it might seem and also can lead to really unreasonable end results. Offsetting can be done without a court order, or it can be component of an arrangement that is approved by the court. It is not a great suggestion to do it without a court order though, because without a last order either among you could still apply to court for a different boss funds in the future. It is also not a good idea to do it without expert guidance - extra on this later on in the section called Phase 3 - working out if you need expert assistance.

The age at which you can retire and start receiving a public industry pension varies depending on the type of pension you have as well as when you signed up with the pension scheme. It is a great idea to explore this if you or your ex have among these pensions.

Lighthouse is the RCN's recommended companion for monetary guidance but various other solutions are readily available.

Current legal situations (McCloud/Sargeant-- Firemans and Judiciary) ruled that the way in which civil service pension system members were transferred to the new 2015 Pensions Schemes was discriminatory on grounds old.

If you are functioning elsewhere, for instance in the independent market, you might have the option to pay into a pension plan arranged by your company that both you and your employer make contributions right into.

Office Pension - Employers have to establish an office pension system, and also most of the times instantly enrol their staff members as well as pay into it on their behalf.

These are little pension schemes frequently set up for elderly or crucial personnel at tiny firms. The benefit of these systems is that they are very flexible and you can do a whole lot more with them contrasted to more common pension plans. Pensions Bournemouth can suggest they obtain instead made complex to take care of during a separation. For additional information on these a good area to start is the Pensions Advisory Service section on SSAS. Given that 2015 individuals with Defined Contribution pension plans currently have extra adaptability around exactly how they can access their pension money and what they do with it once they get to the 'minimum pension age' which is presently age 55. If you have a Defined Benefit pension you can, in some circumstances, move your pension pot to a Defined Payment pension plan so you can access the pension with better versatility.

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rulemark7 · 4 years ago

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Workplace And Also Work.

Neighborhood Mediation Solution

Content

City Lawful Solutions.

Welcome To Mediation Mk.

As opposed to giving direct advice, mediators offer legal and monetary info to help customers reach their own decisions. In situations where there are a number of family possessions, it substantially quickens the mediation procedure if you can get assessments of assets in time for the first meeting. Transfer worths of pensions are typically tough to obtain and can stand up the mediation process. You will certainly require a solicitor to provide you your own independent lawful suggestions. Despite the fact that almost all our moderators are legal representatives, they can not encourage each of you separately, yet can only offer legal info to both of you with each other. Taylor & Emmet are well-established and also highly regarded providers of legal recommendations in the area of household regulation as well as our family mediatior has several years' experience in practicing family members law.

Our certified family moderators can help to sort out plans for the kids, what occurs to the household home as well as the best way of separating up financial debts, pensions and also financial resources, either before or after a separation or relationship split.

We have the ability to supply a range of different options for efficiently fixing household lawful matters.

Household mediation is a quicker, less pricey and also much fairer method for apart pairs to review and also get to amicable agreements outside of the court procedure.

Our family mediation solutions are utilized in circumstances such as separation, separation, parent/ kid conflict, malfunction of civil collaborations or break down of any kind of connections within a family.

Mediation is a process which allows events to resolve disagreements with discussion as well as arrangement, facilitated by an impartial, certified 3rd party-- the conciliator. In instances of separation as well as splitting up we can mediate on the department of residential or commercial property and also various other monetary properties, debts, youngster contact, parenting responsibilities and child/spousal maintenance. https://workplacemediations.co.uk/conflict-resolution/bolton/ aim to help everybody included reach agreement as well as resolution quickly and also with as little anxiety and dismayed as possible. Our arbitrators are specially trained and also experienced in fixing a large range of disputes.

City Lawful Solutions.

There are a a great deal of conciliators around, both independent as well as mediation bodies. The mediator is a court staff member that is learnt mediation skills.

He may not recognize a large amount about the conflict and also will not give any lawful guidance or offer any indication regarding the strength of each situation. His role is to serve as a middle guy to see if terms of the settlement can be gotten to. business mediation services norwich claims mediation solution is a complimentary solution offered by the civil courts for individuals involved in a tiny claims disagreement. Continue reading to discover what it is, when you need to use it as well as what you can do to get ready for it. No, people typically participate in mediation without a lawyer but may well have actually listened from one prior to doing so.

Welcome To Mediation Mk.

Advice is additionally offered from some organisations run systems for a particular market as well as some deal pro-bono or fixed-rate charges, particularly on the lower-value conflicts. Being told about mediation is mandatory for any kind of applicant wanting to go to court for a household issue. Both customers need to intend to moderate but either can stop the process at any time. We are a young, cutting-edge company dealing with all aspects of Family members Mediation Services. Whilst whether you in fact utilize mediation as a process to aid you to deal with any differences remains voluntary, being told about mediation is not volunteer for any type of possible candidate right into the Family members Court. The Federal government is highly encouraging people to find out about mediation to put moms and dads back in charge of choice making as well as to lower stress on the family members court system. Customers eligible to declare legal help will receive complimentary family mediation, with the other party additionally gaining from a free MIAM as well as a cost-free very first mediation conference as soon as qualification is validated.

They are independent, will certainly not pass judgment and will certainly not take sides. Our free and private mediation solution aids neighbours that are having disputes to figure out their differences in a friendly fashion. Readily available to every person in South Ayrshire, our service can be really reliable when used early on in the dispute therefore we encourage participants of the public to come ahead and also talk to us.

The Conciliator.

We can also arrange mediations in other methods if you are not comfy with either video clip or telephone seminar meeting. To figure out even more about how divorce mediation solutions can aid you with this difficult time click here to contact us. The conciliator is a professional in helping people to connect more effectively with each various other. During the mediation, the conciliator's duty is to aid parties obtain quality about their circumstance, promote a conversation, and also help reach a resolution that is equally appropriate. Mediation is a confidential process that aids celebrations to speak via problems with an unbiased arbitrator to discover a means ahead. Mediation works because it assists individuals locate sensible remedies that really feel reasonable to everyone.Click hereto read our one-of-a-kind workplace mediation instance studyfrom each party's viewpoint.

What are 5 conflict resolution strategies?

Kenneth Thomas and Ralph Kilmann developed five conflict resolution strategies that people use to handle conflict, including avoiding, defeating, compromising, accommodating, and collaborating. This is based on the assumption that people choose how cooperative and how assertive to be in a conflict.

Housing Legal rights is piloting North Ireland's initial housing mediation solution for the private rented out industry. The solution is funded by the Department for Communities and will certainly supply an alternative means to fix disagreements in the sector. The Legislation Culture of Northern Ireland is pleased to introduce its authorized mediation solution with experienced conciliators. Usually individuals get to an arrangement, which is placed in composing with the aid of the moderator. The Arrangement needs to serve to all events as well as a copy provided to everybody. Adhering to mediation, we provide a certificate within 3 working days.

Worldwide Mediation provides cost-effective, effective and private mediation as well as disagreement resolution solutions for a wide range of individual or expert conflicts. This does not imply that our service is 'on the cheap', rather our conciliators are fully educated, experienced, and have actually the compassion called for to talk with all of the aspects of your divorce. workplace mediation milton keynes will certainly find that with mediation there is a great deal more cash which is left over for the basics of life. This means that your separation, or separation, will be a great deal less onerous in terms of financial repercussions for your youngsters. There is mediation available for claims outside the little insurance claims track such as fast-track and also multi-track track cases. The National Mediation Helpline can help with such matters or the celebrations can instruct an exclusive moderator.

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The court must however, placed the proceedings on hold or hold back establishing a test day up until the mediation has actually occurred. Under the court policies, Juries are needed to proactively take care of exactly how cases progress including urging the celebrations to use a different disagreement resolution procedure, such as mediation The courts can not compel the parties to a tiny claim to use the service yet they motivate the events to benefit from it. Usually, you must try mediation if you are associated with a little case as there is no cost to you. It is better for mediation to happen earlier instead of later on. If a claim can be cleared up after a defence has actually been filed, it can stay clear of the requirement to prepare witness declarations, records as well as the test itself.

This suggests that if you choose you wish to go to Tribunal, you have 30 days to make your charm. A Bill to make further provision concerning arbitration as well as mediation services and the application of equal rights regulation to such services; and for connected purposes. Our Resolution-trained moderators are all experienced household legal representatives with specialist knowledge of the Family members Court's assumptions. Mediation is usually the most cost-effective technique to settling disputes arising from divorce or splitting up.

DR. JERRY FIDDLER, 81 - wccsradio.com

DR. JERRY FIDDLER, 81.

Posted: Wed, 13 Jan 2021 13:12:19 GMT [source]

Charges are typically split in between you as well as the other event or a funding resource is identified during mediation to cover the process. Usually, sessions last between one and also 2 hrs and the number called for will depend on exactly how rapidly agreement can be gotten to. The Rutland as well as Stamford Household Mediation Solution is readily available Monday to Friday, 9am-- 5pm, as well as is a totally volunteer process.

If your connection has actually involved an end after that you will certainly require to attend MIAMS to start the mediation procedure. These meetings are created to aid you to figure out any type of impressive issues around economic matters, or child care treatments. In 2011 there was an adjustment in the legislation to make participating in MIAMS conference much less governmental, and also indicating that it is virtually essential to attend these conferences. We have offices all over the UK with experienced as well as professional family members mediators to help settles issues. Mediation has an exceptional success rate meaning that any kind of celebration picking to moderate has an excellent opportunity of the conflict being settled there and after that.

Is mediation a good thing?

Mediation is a great way to solve traditional legal disputes and can be a much cheaper, quicker and more pleasant process than litigation. Not too many people are very familiar with mediation, however, and most people have questions about whether the process is right for them.

Typically the events split the price of the conciliator and also this joint investment in looking for a resolution contributes to each celebration's dedication to the procedure. The court provided mediation solution is free and you do not need to carry out a great deal of prep work prior to the mediation occurs. If the insurance claim resolves, you can stay clear of the tension as well as time of the test and preparing for it. Please keep in mind that even if you tick package on the instructions questionnaire stating that you wish to moderate, it does not indicate that mediation will actually occur. There is additionally the risk that the court service will be unable to arrange a mediation before the test day.

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