#heating up pad cups to level the pad and then forgetting that its still HOT does that

[the-headless-horsedude]

i've nearly burned myself twice already today and i'm not even at work

[snarwor]

moon and old stars - chapter 9

holy shit it’s been awhile huh. no warnings for this one <3

Masterlist | Read on AO3

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Din thought about frost a bit too much.

It made almost no sense. Navarro was a lava planet, sulfuric and burning in dangerous pools less than a klick outside of city limits. His missions took him through the hottest damn planets. One of his only memories of his childhood was whining at the cold, and feeling the heavy weight of his father’s jacket settling around his shoulders. Heat and warmth and weight, that was love.

Of course, the exception to this was the blurrg which had fallen on him on Arvala-7, which was hot and heavy and smelly.

But Grogu, the kid. He weighed barely anything and was no warmer than perhaps a Loth-cat, and yet the weight which had settled over Din the moment he’d shot IG-11, the warmth which had filled his bones when that little hand had reached out for him, it was unlike anything he’d experienced before.

Crash landing on the ice planet with Mrs. Frog and the kid had been an exercise in fear, in hopelessness, in compartmentalization. The Crest was damaged beyond reasonable repair, there was a very odd biological imperative happening, there were karking ice spiders, yet the thing that filled Din with the most dread had been the cold. It seeped in and leached the warmth and hope from his bones, staining his beskar with ice, splintering like cracks in stone. False fissures.

When they'd managed to get to the atmosphere again, he joked about all of them dying in the harsh vacuum of space, and it didn’t even register until they’d hit the balmy surface of Trask. He’d made light of an icy, deadly situation, which was, at its core, supposed to be heavy and blood-hot. He’d been horrified when he realized.

He remembered listening to Omera speak on Sorgan about the history of the valley they lived in, how everything had been ice thousands and thousands of years ago, a massive glacier which melted and froze and melted and froze until an entire mountain had split in two. Din couldn’t believe it, but when he’d gotten back on the holonet, he looked up the phenomenon, and marveled at how cold destruction could bring such an idyllic sanctuary.

He began to see signs of it all over his travels. Ancient canyons with split boulders, once-whole halves laying cleaved by no tool made by man or machine. Din told the kid his findings. “Frost did this. Water gets in everywhere, it settles deep and when the cold hits, that water expands, and breaks things if it’s lucky enough.” Of course, the kid only paid attention when he had dried meat rations in his hand, but he liked to think he was paying attention at least some of the time.

His sanity had sprung a leak on Morak. Boba Fett had taken an ax to that leak and filled every splintered part of him with water until he felt like he was near drowning. His first gasp of air was on the armchair at the safe house, when they had been the only people in the entire galaxy. The shame was his heart’s first winter after the flood. The setup on the Lothal moon was an early spring snowstorm. The safe house had been a mild summer. The water had not left him. But when they boarded the ship, when they fought the Dark troopers, when…

Don’t be afraid.

That had been such a shock to his system that all that latent love and affection in him, feelings left dormant and misunderstood in the abscesses of his heart, froze. It was so cataclysmic he couldn’t even hear himself think over the groaning heave of his every canyon and valley. He was broken. He could not be put back together at all. And when Boba had said those five words, the frost started to melt, sure, but the cracks and chasms remained, evidence of a too-cold climate for anything like love to grow in.

Unless.

The melting sensation Boba had given him, the weight and warmth Din had always associated with love, perhaps it had been as natural as a cleaved boulder, but thaw had been intentional as well. It wasn’t Boba’s fault for the freeze in his heart. It wasn’t Boba’s fault he had existing cracks in his foundation. But he’d cleaned up the aftermath, several times over, taken his broken pieces and patched them together, said “I know you’re not whole, but I love you just the same” with every soft pass of a hand over his hair. With every pleasured moan he drew from Din’s lips. With every suspended second their gazes held, and every gentle press of a kiss, Din realized that the crags in his heart had smoothed over in places, didn’t hurt him as much as they had before. It wasn’t Boba’s fault for this new fissure, and here Din was, cutting the man on his own broken edges.

“Why didn’t you let her just kill me when she had the chance?!”

And still.

“Din—”

And still.

“No. Tell me why.”

And still.

“Because I love you, Din.”

The words sat in the air between them like a physical thing, an old moon in orbit, waiting to see if the shooting star would strike it down or warm it back. The last words his mother had said to him, before she was gone forever. He’d always understood that love wasn’t something to be volleyed back and forth, love wasn’t supposed to be expected or returned, not the true love his mother had given, and not the shy, defeated love Boba was giving him now.

And still.

“I love you, too.”

Boba let out a shuddering breath, half a laugh, and a single tear. “Then you understand why I couldn’t let you go.”

Love could look selfish, but it never felt selfish. At least not to Din. He let go of the bottle, and hung his head in his hands instead. The familiar shame of crying in front of Boba washed over him, and as his shoulders shook, he mourned that freeze a little, because he could at least pretend he was solid when it was there. Not now, though. Not now.

With hesitation, Boba’s arm wrapped around the slumped line of his shoulders. Without hesitation, Din leaned into it. “He’s gone,” Din rasped.

Boba made a noise he probably hadn’t meant to before the other arm came up to pull Din into his lap, curl him up small and safe. With the beskar, he was much heavier, and less kind on his aching body, but Boba bore his weight without complaint. “Not gone, just somewhere else,” Boba said, stroking a hand over Din’s head in a well-practiced motion they’d perfected since Morak. “I’ll...” The promise sat on the tip of his tongue. “If you really want him back, I can help you find him.”

Din shook his head, cried out and drained. “You don’t have to,” he said softly. “Your debt to me is paid, you don’t—”

“I don’t offer this to you out of a sense of obligation. I don’t offer any of myself to you for that. Maybe once, but certainly not now, jat’ika.”

The name hurt Din like a punch to the gut. The objection sat behind his lips like a fathier at the starting gate. He lifted his head so their eyes could meet again. Openness sat in Boba’s expression, and Din realized, all at once, that the two of them had really changed in those soft weeks between Tython and here. Without breaking eye contact, he brought his hand up to cup the back of Boba’s neck, and leaned in to press their foreheads together. A stuttering breath left Boba’s chest, a flash of that softness Din didn’t often see in him.

“I’m sorry,” Din said. “For what I said about your father.”

“You were upset,” Boba hedged. Din shook his head, only a little, as to not break the mirshmure’cya too fast.

“It doesn’t excuse it. I won’t say anything like that again. Forgive me, please.”

“I understand,” Boba said, bringing his own hand up to touch the apple of Din’s cheek. “It’s forgiven. Don’t catastrophize a mistake, Din.”

Din couldn’t help but laugh, a little. “Catastrophize.”

“Exactly,” Boba said, returning the smile. “Do you need to talk some more? Are you injured from the mission?”

This time, Din hedged, “Cuts and bruises, rattled my brain fighting a darktrooper, nothing huge.” Boba leveled him with an unimpressed look. “If it bothered me, I would have taken care of it.”

“Forgive me if I don’t quite believe you can take care of yourself.”

“Hoverskiff daddying, are we?” Din asked, a smirk on his mouth that both endeared and infuriated Boba in equal doses. Boba leaned back to press a smacking kiss to Din’s forehead.

“Show you daddying. C’mon, up. We’ll talk while we get you patched up.”

As Boba removed the armor from Din’s body, the weight which pulled at Din’s conscience followed suit. He felt able to take a full breath of air again, letting Boba smear bacta on his cuts and bruises, like every breath got easier than the last. Boba made him laugh, made him smile and forget he was ever frozen, forget he was ever broken and jagged and rough-edged. And when Boba mentioned the kid, the memories came with an ache, but no sharp pain. He would have permission to grieve, later. He knew that much. But for now, they reveled in the feeling of being alive after another difficult day, a unique sensation to the two that felt more familiar than coming home ever had.

“Your helmet.” Boba finally reached that topic, which predictably pulled a sigh and a downcast expression from Din’s face.

“I broke the Creed on Morak. And again, on the cruiser.” He left out the moments with Boba specifically. You are not of a Creed you can disappoint while in here. The only truth is that you are mine.

“You were saying goodbye to your son. I know men who would raze whole planets to the ground for the chance. It’s an honorable thing, what you did. Not a dishonorable one.” Din can’t make himself believe it in its entirety, not really.

“But the armor—”

“You told me once I’d have to peel your armor off your dead body. Yet I had to, to patch your wounds, give you comfort.”

They looked at the pile in the corner, gleaming beskar and worn padding which had protected Din for years. Clearly, he wasn’t dead, and yet, the armor went. Boba continued.

“And that to hand mine over to me was against the Creed. Until the more honorable realization was proven, you were returning it to me.”

Ret’urcye mhi. How funny that goodbye sounds like return to me.

“Your helmet was in the way of protecting your foundling, until it was not. Ke’juri beskar’gam, but not at the expense of k’ara’novo aliit, nor ke’gaa’tayli aliit bralir, nor ke’ba’juri sa Mando’ade.” Din felt the tears fall, but did not look away. “You are no less Mandalorian for making the decisions you did. In fact, you are perhaps more suited to hold that saber because of it.” He took Din’s hands. “You have protected and cared for your family. One of your aliit is learning what you could not teach. Your son is Mandalorian because he is yours.”

“Then why do I feel so guilty?” Din asked, his chest jumping a little in a hiccup, eyes shining with yet-unshed tears. Boba brought his hands up to kiss at their knuckles.

“It’s not guilt. It’s grief. We carry it differently, but it does not make us. The same as our armor. It is something we wear, something sacred, but it is not the armor who protects a son.”

Din fell into his arms, pressing grateful kisses to Boba’s mouth, his face. Tears of relief, not shame, not guilt, fell across his cheeks and smeared onto Boba’s skin, but he didn’t mind. His soul was still redeemable, he was still an upright man, deserving of salvation and absolution, deserving of the love which patched him together.

He realized he was speaking. “I love, I love—”

“I know, I know,” Boba repeated, not in a volley, but letting Din know his love had somewhere safe and soft to land.

And that it always would.

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

Mando'a - Translation

jat'ika - y'all should know this one by now mirshmure'cya - Keldabe kiss, soft headbutt for emotion, or apply forcefully for stronger emotion ret'urcye mhi - see you again, goodbye aliit - family, clan

Tenets of the Resol'nare (Mandalorian Creed) mentioned in m&os ke'juri beskar'gam - you will wear armor k'ara'novo aliit - you will protect family ke'gaa'tayli aliit bralir - you will help your clan succeed ke'ba'juri sa Mando'ade - you will raise Mandalorians

Other Tenets not mentioned because they don't make me cry as much ke'jorhaa'i Mando'a - you will speak Mando'a ke'shekemi haar Mand'alor - you will rally to the cause of the Mand'alor

[yurtletheturtlehenderson]

COSMIC - S3:E1; Chapter One, Suzie, Do You Copy? - PREVIEW

A Will Byers x Reader Series

Summer brings new jobs and budding romance. But the mood shifts when Dustin's radio picks up a Russian broadcast, and Will senses something is wrong.

A/n: so I've had this part written for a while, most of it at least and it's just been sitting in my drafts while I work on other stuff. It's barely edited and most importantly I'm not sure if I'm happy with some aspects and mannerisms, like Will is kinda very OOC here towards the end so its likely to expect changes later. Also I'm a clueless asexual who has never kissed anyone so I did my best based off stuff I've read in books lmao✌ please spare me

Love yall and hope you enjoy this small preview!

||3rd Person POV||

The faint sound of crickets could barely be heard over the soft music of The Power of Love by Heuy Lewis and The News plays from inside Castle Byers. Soft yellow light spills out from the cracks and slits of the castle from the battery powered lamp where the young couple sat planning a campaign. It was clear that both had done a great deal of growing over the summer, just as their friends had. Will most of all, as he sat now in Castle Byers, he did so with the slightest of hunches seeing as he had sprouted tremendously in height. His shoulders had broadened a bit, and his voice had lowered as much has he had grown.

As for Y/n, the changes in her were more internal than external. Like Will, her physique had changed though not quite as drastically. Her features were far more defined than they had been in previous years, but the biggest change within her was how she held herself. The months since that dreadful night at the cabin, she had dedicated every spare moment to learning about herself... About her powers.

And now more than ever, she's was one with her abilities. With help from El, and the overwhelming support from Will, she exuded a whole new level of strength and confidence in herself. Something that set her apart from her previous attempts in secret the year before. Now with help, she thrived.

"The power of love is a curious thing

Make a one man weep, make another man sing"

"So what if, when they enter the tomb of Kuzatan - the villagers being in danger I'm sure would give them no way to cheat their way out - and then they..." her voice trails off, getting lost in the notes that seep into the air. She quirks a brow at the boy before her. "Will, hon? You listening?"

"Mmm?" Will hummed, torn suddenly from his blissful gaze.

Having been caught staring at Y/n, she realized he had missed the question. She laughed, shaking her head. Butterflies erupted in Will's stomach at the sound, and he realized he may never grow tired of it. He still couldn't believe his luck that she was dating him.

The corners of his lips tugged into a small grin as he mumbled a 'sorry'. Y/n simpered, trying to shake off the the dizziness in her head that always appeared when he made her heart flutter.

She returned to her notes, and he lovingly watched her speak. His eyes would occasionally fall to her lips but he was drawn back to her eyes and the concentration they possessed. All the while the sappy lyrics spilling their way into his subconscious as he listened.

"Don't need money, don't take fame

Don't need no credit card to ride this train"

Just two years ago, the thought of her liking him was a myth in his eyes. Her ever noticing him as more than a friend was a sickly sweet dream that would never see the light of day.

"It's strong and it's sudden and it's cruel sometimes"

And last year, with the Mind Flayer... He hated the thoughts he had, the feelings he felt when the Mind Flayer took over. The hate and disgust that crept up whenever she was around but he fought it. Though he could never forget the look on her face when the mind flayer spit at her.

"But it might just save your life

That's the power of love"

But now. They were happy. She saved him, and after his recovery, they were finally together.

"Will!" She laughed sharply, reaching over and swatting him lightly on the arm with her notebook.

Will was pulled from his daze yet again, no longer trying to hide the happiness and bliss he felt.

She smiled fondly and shook her head, placing her arm on his shoulder and pulled him in for a kiss. The music playing from the radio she had gifted to him a year before swelled as their lips met in a tender kiss.

"That's the power of love,"

After several moments their lips break apart but their foreheads remained glued together. A light laugh breaks out between them, escaping through the blinding grins carved into their faces. Her eyes travel from the ground to meet with his, only to find he had already been staring at her with the same love sick gaze. It brings the same storm of butterflies in her stomach and sporadic beating of her heart.

Neither Will or Y/n could recall a time either of them felt this happy.

Y/n's gaze flickers back to Will's lips. She flashes a warm grin and gives him one last and swift peck on the lips before sitting back up. She tucks her notes father into her lap and that is when she catches sight of the time displayed on her watch.

"Shit,"

Immediately, Will's mood shifts.

"What? What's wrong?"

Her eyes find his and she quirks a brow, her hands already collecting their campaign papers and stowing them away in safe place.

"We're late."

Out of reflex, Will checks his watch. His eyes widen in a brief flicker before gathering his things, though his movements are not as hasty as hers. He gathers his campaign papers, his eyes glazing over several notes he had made. The smallest bud of unease blooms in his stomach.

"You really think they'll like this campaign?" He asks, his gleeful composure fading for the first time since her visit.

The ache in his voice captures her attention, and quickly she drops what she's doing. She immediately recognizes the uncertainty in his features, and feels a tug on her heart. A sad smile graces her face, and she drops her folder before leaning forward and cupping his face in her palms forcing him to look at her. His wide hazel eyes search hers finding nothing but love and comfort in them.

"They're gonna love it, Will. Cause, it came from you. Remember, " she smirks when his smile begins to return. "I'm just helping out."

Before he can protest she brings his face forward with a small hum, planting a kiss on his nose with a dramatic smack of her lips. His face errupts into a violent shade of scarlet against his wishes. After all this time, Y/n still managed to have this effect on him. She begins to lean away when she knows she's cheered him up, but before she can escape he captures her in another sweet kiss. He can faintly make out the f/f slurpee that lingered from earlier that day. She hums contently and it blends perfectly with the drumming of his heart. He can feel his cheeks grow hot not just from his fluster but the feel of her palms growing warm against his skin.

Like Y/n's laugh, her warmth was something he was certain he would never tire of. It was something he had always seen in her, but after her powers had been discovered, it was only more obvious. Her touch always reminded him of the sun streaming in through the window on a chilly morning; a toasty blanket of light that hit your face just right. And he felt it now on his face as she kissed him. Although it was cut far too short in Will's opinion as she broke apart for air. Her thumb softly strokes his cheek, the pads of her fingers and palm still warm to the touch as sends him one more reassuring smile.

"And even if they don't," she continues, a spark of mischief in her eyes. "I'll blast 'em for ya."

Will chuckles, bringing his hand up to cup hers in thanks, nevermind the fact he didn't want her to let go quite yet. Alas, yet another moment lost to time. Her warm palms leave his face and immediately he feels colder, but he also knows they don't want to miss the movie. He smiles to himself as he packs up the remainder of his things as he thinks about it. His hands were almost always cold, a trait he had long before the Mind Flayer. And had it not been for her powers, Y/n might have been the same. It was yet another reason they fit so well together.

The crunch of a very small twig beneath Y/n's sneakers bring him back to reality for the third time. He looks up at Y/n to find her balanced on her tiptoes, legs folded ready to stand and she extends her palm for him to take.

"Come on, Sir Will," she says through coy smile, her head gesturing behind her towards the cloaked entrance to the castle. "The party awaits."

He brings himself to his knees to match her, ready to stand and duck outside into the night when he takes her hand. His thumb grazes her knuckles before planting a quick kiss on them, bringing a natural heat to her neck and face.

His face quickly contorts into a feigned expression of seriousness, all while dawning a fleeting and silly attitude as he waves his finger in the air. The way he always did as Will the Wise during campaigns.

"Then what are we waiting for, Y/C/N? Let us make haste!"

Will watches triumphantly as her lips press into a firm line that begins to twitch, the tell-tale signs she was fighting a losing battle with a grin as she shook her head. Y/n had yet to get used to this side of Will, though she did enjoy it. Since their time at the Snowball - their first kiss - he had been far more relaxed. To the point where he would be cracking jokes, or surprising her with romantic gestures as such. It rarely came out like this, and when it did it was never around the others. It was something she wished they could see, but Y/n couldn't help the flutter of her heart knowing she was the only one to bring it out in him. She looks down at his soft gaze and humor in his eyes, before rolling her own, rising to her feet and ducking out through the curtain door to avoid being caught with a smile.

"Dork," she laughs, her knuckles tingling from the unexpected gesture.

She hears his soft chuckles from behind her before he joins her side, and the couple falls into a comfortable silence as they grab their bikes of the forest floor and ride off into the night to the infamous Starcourt Mall.

+++

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[tsc-updates]

Modern TID - Part 12

Part 11 - Part 13

Tessa woke up still nuzzled in Will’s arms. She carefully untangled them and managed to not wake him up. She smiled. He looked so angelic, with his black curls flattening on one side, the other getting somehow puffier. His lips were slightly parted, and he was snoring lightly. She felt a need to brush his cheek, but she was sure that would awaken him, so she kept her hands to herself.

She took her phone from the nightstand. The screen lighted up the room, but she was quick to turn down the brightness. The big white numbers read 03:47 in the am. She huffed and dropped her phone back. She was about to cuddle into Will’s arms until she heard a faint noise from outside the room.

Slowly, she got out of bed and padded to the door. She couldn’t hear much better, so she opened the door. The sound was a little clearer, but she still couldn’t place it. Bolder, she left the room entirely.

She tried to follow the sound. Will’s room was the last down a hallway, a sharp turn to the right directly in front. The music was enchanting. making her forget all her care for walking soundlessly. The first two doors of this new hallway were directly in front of each other. She couldn’t tell which one came the sound.

She leaned against the door on the left. Silence. She went to the door on the right. Her ear pressed against the door, she noted it was music. It was seductive, and before she knew it, she was turning the knob and entering uninvited.

It was a bedroom. There was a bookshelf stuffed with everything but books. A neatly organized desk. A closet dhut, its doors covered in pictures and postcards. A bed, its coverlet a delicate red. Sitting on the bed was a boy, and he was playing the violin.

His hair was silver, and falling on his closed eyelids. He didn’t seem to care, not about the hair, not about anything in the world. He was entirely focused on the melody, and on the bow in his hand dancing on the gorgeous violin.

Tessa felt frozen to place. The melody enveloped her and gave her a rush of emotions, all mixed and all completely different. She felt tears in her eyes, but she didn’t know why she was crying.The mundaneness of the room suddenly felt beautiful. The whole scene was beautiful. The music was beautiful. The boy was beautiful.

With two last strokes from the bow on the chords, the melody stopped. Tesa felt herself go back into her body. There were tears in her cheeks, and her breath was coming in quick waves. A tingling sensation gave her back feeling in her hands and legs.

The boy set the violin softly on the bed next to him. “Will? Will is that you?”

“No.” Her voice came out hoarse. She cleared her throat. “No, it’s Tessa.”

His eyes opened at last. Tessa noted that she’d been waiting for him to open them out of curiosity for their colour. They were a deep brown. “You’re Will’s girlfriend.”

“Yes.” She nodded.

“Do you usually walk into people’s rooms without knocking?” His remark didn’t sound mean or mocking. Just amused.

Her cheeks heated quickly. “I am so sorry! I heard something, and I got curious as to what it was. I shouldn’t have done that I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay. I’m the one who’s sorry about waking you up.” He got up. He was tall, even for her.

“You didn’t. I was already up.” She brushed a strand of hair behind her ear, timidly.

“I’m Jem by the way.” He stretched a hand out to her.

She shook it. “I figured.”

He chuckled. “I’m guessing you’ve heard as uch about me as I’ve heard about you.”

She giggled. “I would like to think so.” She pointed to the violin. “Will mentioned that you play. But I never thought you’d play like that.”

“Horrifyingly painful?” He turned his back on her to pack his violin up.

“No! That was... It was... I don’t even have words.” She shook her head. “it was the most incredible melody I’ve ever heard.”

“He’s good, isn’t he?” She spun around quickly. Will was leaning on the doorframe. “It’s just a shame that he’s modest and self-deprecating about it.”

Jem came to stand next to her. “I’m not as good as you make me out to be. There are far better players.”

Will shrugged. “So? I’m sure that once upon a time there was a guy more attractive than me, but you don’t see them around do you?”

Jem waved his hand up and down his own body. “Right here.”

Will kicked himself off the doorframe, and chuckled. He came close to Jem and pinhed his cheeks. “Cute. Wrong. But cute.”

Jem swatted his hand away without force. “Did I wake you up?”

“Not this time no.” He turned to Tessa. “I felt you gone. Once I saw the open door and heard the music, I took a wild guess and came here.”

“I’m sorry.” She said sheepishly.

He came to her and cupped her cheeks. “Don’t be. You met my best friend. You don’t seem to hate each other. My life is complete.”

“We spoke for thirty seconds. Of course we don’t hate each other.” Jem remarked.

Will snorted. “I’ve hated people that I spoke for thirty seconds only.”

“Yes, but you’re crazy and are incapable of keeping your mouth shut and thinking before you speak, which leads to people being rude to you.”

Will nodded. “That’s true.” Tessa giggled, but her own body interrupted her by yawning. She felt him leave a kiss on her forehead. “Go back to bed. I’ll be right there.”

She nodded sleepily. She turned to Jem. “it was great meeting you.”

“You too.” He smiled sweetly.

She went back into Will’s room, and as soon as she got into the covers, she was asleep, utterly oblivious to the conversation unravelling in the bedroom she’d just left.

~/~

“So, what do you think?” Will asked as Jem turned his back and fussed around his room. “She’s great, isn’t she?”

“Like I said, I didn’t really spend enough time with her to tell.” He sat on his bed. “But she seems lovely.”

“She is.” Will came to stand in front of his best friend. “She is so smart. Tessa has an incredible mind. And she is so funny. She’s my level of funny.”

Jem raised his eyebrows. “Really?”

“Well, maybe not my level. No one is my level of funny. But Tessa’s pretty close.” Jem chuckled. “And she has such a big heart. I don’t think I’ve ever met anyone as kind as her.”

“Okay, that one hurts a little.”

Will ignored him. “And she is so beautiful. She’s the most beautiful person I’ve ever seen.”

“Besides yourself?” Jem smirked.

“No, not even myself. I’m nothing compared to Tessa. She’s...” He let out a breath. “Perfect.”

Jem cleared his throat. “Will, are you saying what I think you’re saying?”

“I love her.”

“You’ve known her for two months,” Jem said matter-of-factly.

Will sat next to him. “So? I don’t care if it’s too fast. I love her.”

Jem nodded slowly. “Alright, let me put it this way. Is she in the same place as you? Can you guarantee me right here, right now, that she feels the same way?” Will didn’t answer. “If not, then, if I may advise you, keep it to yourself for a little longer. Unless your plan for this relationship is to scare her off just when you start getting serious, because then, by all means, tell her. I’ll be ready with ice cream and tissues after she leaves you.”

Will threw himself on his back on his best friend’s bed. “I can keep it to myself. I don’t know how much longer, but I’ll wait.” Jem patted his knee. “Thank you. That’s good advice.”

“Duh.” He could pratically feel Jem rolling his eyes.

“What are you duh-ing for? It’s not like you’re an expert on girls. You’ve never even been in a serious relationship.”

“There’s a reason for that.” He whispered.

They were silent for a few seconds. “Speaking of which, why are you awake at four in the morning?”

Jem shrugged. “No reason.”

Will sat back up. “James.”

He sighed. “I couldn’t get comfortable. I must have accidentally moved my pillows or something because it was different from how you put them and I couldn’t get comfortable. Then I tried to arrange them liek you, but I just kept making it worse.”

Will chuckled. “Why didn’t you just ask me for help?”

Jem looked away. “Because I’m tired of interrupting your life just so you take care of your invalid friend.”

Will took his face in his hands and made him look him in the eyes. “You’re not interrupting my life. You are my life. You should never feel bad about asking me for help. Ever.” Will stood up. “Now get your arse off your bed so I can fix the mess you made. I mean seriously Jem, look at that. Does that look like a decent way to have your pillows?”

Jem gestured to the pillows. “They’re pillows. Will! They always look the same way! Even the way you do it!”

He put a hand on his heart, faking hurt. “I’ve never been more insulted.” He bent down to fix the pillows.

“Not even when that girl said that she thought you were a less hot version of Patrick Dempsey?”

Will straightened up. “That girl was clearly insane. Or just plain blind. Either way, she was very obviously wrong.” He clapped his hands. “There. Try it now.”

Jem got under the covers and smiled. “Now that’s comfy.” Will started pulling up the covers but Jem stopped him. “I don’t need you to tuck me in. I’m not a child.”

“Tough luck. Now shut up and go to sleep.” He finished tucking his best friend in and sat on the armchair by the bed. He pulled the book he was reading from Jem’s nightstand and leaned back.

“What are you doing?” Jem asked.

Will looked at the book, then back at Jem, and down at the book again. “Reading? I thought the fact that I’m holding an open book made that pretty evident.”

“You’re not staying here.”

“I just want to make sure you actually fall asleep.”

Jem scoffed. “You are aware that your girlfriend is waiting for you, right?”

Will looked up from his book in the direction of the door. “Right, Tessa.”

“Right, so just scurry along.”

“No.” Will turned back to his book.

“No? She’s your girlfriend.”

Will put down the book and leaned into Jem. “No matter how much I love Tessa, girlfriends come and go. Our friendship is forever.” He leaned back in the armchair.

Jem observed him and then sighed. “Will...” The other boy ignored him. “Will, I’m not Ella.”

Will’s whole body tensed up. He could feel all the walls he’d built around those memories crumbling, and tears flooding his eyes. Throwing the book back on the nightstand, he got up hastily. “I’ll see you tomorrow morning. Good night.”

“Night Mother.” Jem mocked. Will left the room holding up just the one finger. He heard Jem laugh as he shut the door.

Entering hi sown room, his eyes immediately locked with the image of sleeping Tessa. He couldn’t help the smile that crept into his lips. He jumped inside the covers and Tessa quickly made her way into his arms, snuggling close. “Will...” She whispered.

“I’m here, my love.” He kissed the top of her head. Circling his arms around her, he pulled her closer and took a relieved breath. He was home.

[sxngshine]

Pain

• Seungmin x reader

• dating Au

• word count: 1.4k+

• Genre: pure fluff babes

• warnings: slight swearing but like barely

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

You groan when you wake up, a sharp pain in your abdomen. You already had a headache due to the stress you been dealing with because of uni. Everyone decided to dump most of the workload onto you, because you were "team leader"

You attempt to sit up but feel another sharp pain in your abdomen. You groan again and hold your stomach , walking towards the bathroom. You took off your pants and underwear and that's when you saw the patch of red.

'Shit..." you thought, completely forgetting that you period was due. You hadn't bought any pads and you weren't sure what to do, but after rummaging around for sometime you thankfully found one.

You had quickly gotten into the shower and made it extra hot. Enjoying the feeling of the water relaxing your tense muscles. Once finishing your shower, you changed into one of your boyfriends many stolen, or as you like to call it "borrowed" sweaters and some sweats.

You climbed back into bed in order to get some shut eye cause it was around 7am and it was the weekend. No way were you getting out of bed this early.

You felt more pain shoot through your stomach, holding onto it and whimpering. You weren't sure why your cramps were so bad lately. You normally had bearable cramps but this was on a whole other level.

In attempt to fall asleep, you hugged one of your pillows to your chest and covered yourself with the thick blanket. Finally, you were feeling drowsy and were almost back in your beautiful dreamland when your phone just HAD to start ringing.

You groaned and reached for it, ready to murder whomever it was. You didn't look at the Caller ID and just pressed answer.

"Hello?" You asked angrily.

"Y/N! Babe I'm free today do you want to hang out?" You hear the soothing happy voice of your boyfriend and instantly calm down. You were about to say sure when an extremely painful feeling shot through you. You let out a loud whimper at the pain, feeling tears pricking in the corners of ur eyes.

"Babe are you okay? What's happening?" Seungmin spoke in a worried tone.

"I-its that time of the month. And I haven't been feeling that well either. I'm sorry I can't hang out with you today Minnie," you said sadly.

"I'll be over in 20 minutes." He said and you heard a faint shuffling in the back round.

"Okay..," you said weakly.

"Get some sleep babe, I'll be there soon," he said softly and ended the call.

You just sighed and put your phone away. Pulling the drawstrings on the hood you tightened it around your head before tying it. It smelt like Seungmin.

Slowly you began to doze off again and this time you were allowed to sleep in peace for a bit.

Perhaps an hour or two later you had woken up suddenly. You looked around in your sleepy state and remembered Seungmin said he was coming over.

You put on a pair of slippers and made your way outside, wobbling slightly.

You walked into the kitchen and there was your boyfriend, standing in front of the stove cooking up something that smelt delicious.

You had stared at him for a moment, wondering how you found someone so amazing. He hummed a soft tune which you instantly recognized as a cover song he did with 2 of his other members.

You walked up to him and have him a back hug, burying your head in his back. You felt him tense before relaxing right after, turning around in your arms to look down at you.

You weren't that much shorter than Seungmin, you were up to his nose but he still had to look down at you and he loved it because at that moment, he felt his heart burst at how cute you looked in his sweater.

"Hey princess, how're you feeling?" He asked you, wrapping his arms around your waist and hugging you tightly.

"Like shit..." you mumbled into his chest, indulging in his sweet scent. "What body wash do you use? You smell so good" you asked looking up at him into his eyes.

He just chuckled and shook his head, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead.

"I made you some soup, it should help with the cramps," he said before turning around again to actually turn off the stove.

"Thank you baby, I don't know what I'd do without you." You said stepping back for a moment. "I'm gonna go to the bathroom really quick." You said making your way out the kitchen. That's when you remembered. "Oh shoot, I'm out of pads!" You whined. Just great.

"I bought you some, they're in the big bag on the sofa!" Seungmin said loud enough for you to hear.

You looked around and saw the mentioned bag. How'd you miss it you'll never know, but when you looked inside your heart swelled.

There was a heating pad, pads, chocolates, chips candies and one of his sweaters. You felt like you were gonna cry.

You quickly ran back towards Seungmin and attacked him with a hug, feeling the tears in the corners of your eyes.

Seungmin, not expecting the the hug stumbled back a little but regained his composure and hugged you back.

"Thank you for everything Seungminnie, I dont know what I did to deserve an angel like you," said said feeling the tears fall out of your eyes.

Seungmin felt the tears leak through his hoodie and looked at you worriedly, "baby what's wrong why're you crying," he asked, worried he did something.

"I-I'm just very emotional on my period," you replied, sniffling and wiping your eyes.

Feeling relived that you were okay (and kinda upset cuz you gave the poor boy a heart attack) , he had to sudden urge to kiss you when he saw how small you looked in front if him. Wearing his hoodie which was 10 sizes too big, the hood on and strings tightened into a bow. And then your little sweater paws tying to wipe your tear oh my god Seungmin was gonna explode.

His urge didn't go away so he just succumbed, cupping your squishy cheeks and pressing his soft lips to yours.

You were quite surprised not expecting the gesture, it wasn't often that Seungmin was this affectionate. Your relationship, although you did have your intimate moments, it mostly consisted of the two of you being like crackheaded bestfriends(which you guys basically are, only you're dating).

After a few moments you melted and kissed him back, much to seungmins happiness.

The kiss was soft and sweet, no rush or anything, just simple yet holding a beautiful meaning behind it. After a few moments seungmin pulled away and licked his lips, his forehead pressed against yours.

"I love you Y/N, I love you a lot," he whispered sincerely.

"I love you to Minnie, maybe even more," you giggled.

Seungmin tsked and pulled back "As if," he scoffed.

"You know I do there's no denying it" you laughed and began to walk back towards the bathroom, this time with the pads.

Quickly doing your business in the bathroom you walked back into the kitchen to see that Seungmin had put the soup and a few other foods on the dining table.

You walked in and sat down on one of the chairs, waiting for your boyfriend to join you.

When he took his spot in front of you, the both of you began eating. You moaned at how delicious everything was and thanked seungmin 500+ times.

While eating, you took the time to look at how cute you boyfriend really was. His brown hair covered by the grey hood he was wearing, his bangs covering his beautiful brown eyes and the way his cheeks looked so squishy as he ate.

Seungmin noticed you staring and you looked away, blushing a little. Seungmin just laughed a little and held up some food in his chopsticks.

"Say ahh" he said and you opened your mouth, gladly eating the deliciousness he offered.

And the two of you had spent the rest of your time eating, playing and cuddling on the couch while watching (more like judging) movies together.

You may not have been able to go out on a date with him, but the time you spent with him in the comfort of your home and your boyfriends arms was one of the best dates you could have.

Fin.

[orionwhispers]

are you taking requests right now? if yes can i request a rainy night in cuddling and just wholesome fluff with tommy

(A/N - I was in the middle of a full on Tommy imagine when i got this request, it was so cute I had to write it asap. Defy not my best work but I enjoyed writing it so i hope u like it. just a lil something until i can finish my main stuff ly )

It’s a summer storm.

The rain pelts against the windows like stray bullets and you stretch your fingers against the cool glass, smiling softly at the handprint left behind.

The air had been muggy, sticking to your skin like second hand smoke but now it’s cooler, dancing across your bare flesh . The manor was empty, despite their protests you had sent the maids and cooks home, and sat comfortably in your own silence. You knew Tommy would protest at the idea of you alone, overprotective and paranoid about those who lurked in the shadows, but you enjoyed the quiet.

You had no idea of the time. Had only lit a handful of candles that glowed amber throughout the hallways, the only other source of light the full moon that followed you overhead. You couldn’t sleep. Your bed felt empty, cold and deserted, and you had tossed and turned for hours, aching for some kind of comfort.

When you missed him, it took over your whole body like a fever. You became subservient to your wandering mind, terrified of whatever situation your subconscious would conjure up. So you would fight to stay awake, challenging your over imaginative mind. You had cleaned the already sparkling crockery until your cuticles tore, had flicked aimlessly through a handful of novels you had been meaning to read, and had drank three full cups of honey sweetened tea, to no avail. So you took refuge at the top of the stairs, blanket cradled around your shoulders, chasing the rain with your fingertips like a child.

You knew he missed you too.

The night before he had left, he had cradled you close, taking in your sweet smell and the warmth of your body beside him. It was the thought of you that would keep him grounded whilst he was away for business, imagining returning home the only thing giving him a level head, helping him keep his cool. He despised leaving you, that hollow ache forming in the pit of his stomach whenever you were apart, terrified of the unknown and longing for the feel of you against him, only feeling whole with you by his side.

Thunder crackled outside, and the noise tore through the house, the paintings on the walls shaking softly. You hunched down further under your cover like it was a shield, letting the heat engulf you like a fire, warmth and comforting against the icy air. You were deep in your thoughts, watching droplets slide down the glass before you heard movement outside, making your ears prick up like a hounds.

You hesitated, heart thumping in your chest, as the gravel that Tommy insisted buying to alert you of any intruders, crunched and crackled loudly. You thought about grabbing a candle stick to ward off any potential attackers, but before you could move, you heard the heavy door whine on its hinges, salty cold air whipping through the hallway as a figure stepped inside.

You immediately calmed however, at the heartwarming sight of the familiar peaked cap and long black coat. Even amongst the ebony darkness surrounding him, he still took your breath away. He was dripping with water, pulling his hat away from his tousled curls and shaking the droplets from his frame, he hadn’t noticed you yet, so you took your time admiring him. You watched him move against the night, collected and calm like a panther, every step purposeful and determined.

“You’re back.”

His head snapped up, hard eyes softening at the mere sight of you, a small smile dancing on the edge of his lips, relief practically dripping from his shoulder like the rain from seeing you.

“Why are you up, eh? It’s late.”

“Couldn’t sleep.”

He watches you. Wanting nothing more than to wrap you up in his arms and drag you to bed, but instead he relishes in the rare moment of solitude you have together.

“Right, well why didn’t you wake Mary?”

Barely a second passes and you can tell he’s twigged, creases forming across his forehead and his mouth opening from exasperation.

“(Y/N).” He starts, his tone scalding you like hot water, but you merely roll your eyes at your husband, looking at him through your eyelashes in a playful attempt to disarm him.

“They’ve been watching me like hawks for the last week, Tom. I’ve barely had a second to myself.”

He hesitates, hating the fact that you didn’t feel comfortable whilst he was gone, wishing he had been there for you. “You know I don’t like you being alone.”  His accent is thicker, every time you’re apart you forget how deep his voice can get, and it trickles over you like water.

“Well, I’m not alone anymore am I?” You respond coyly.

The grandfather clock chimes softly, and shadows move across the floor like ballerinas. You look at his beautiful face under the soft light, rising to your feet and wrapping the blanket around your shoulder like it’s a cape. The sight of you melts him like butter, and he allows a rare grin to grace his features, striding along the floor to approach you.

“Come here.” He murmurs, finally reaching you, his arms snaking across your waist and pulling you close. You fall effortlessly into him, clinging to him like a child, desperate to have him attached to you. He buries his head into your hair, fingers gripping into your skin as if he’s terrified you’ll disappear.

After a moment, he places two strong hands either side of your face, leaning in and kissing you passionately and you drown in his recognisable smell of tobacco and mint. You connect like magnets, tangling together so perfectly, your pulses synced. He’s drugged by the familiar taste of you, like an addict desperate for another hit he opens his mouth wider, desperate for as much as you as he can swallow. You’re intoxicating.

Calloused fingers stroke the pads of your cheeks as he pulls away, much too soon for either of your likings, but he needs a moment to take you in, any bad thoughts slipping away as he looks at you. Staring at you with those sea glass coloured eyes you adore, he frowns at the sight of your exhausted skin, the matching deep marks under your eyes and the lacklustre colour of your cheeks, usually so vibrant and bright. He’s missed you so much that the animalistic part of him is desperate to take you then and there, frantic for the feel of you underneath him that he craves terribly. But instead, his heart tugs at your broken state, knowing all too well his absence is the cause of your restlessness and he stares you down playfully, his stern voice returning as he orders,

“You. Bed. Now.”

Satin sheets caress your skin and the room smells like lavender and vanilla but none of it compares to the warmth and comfort you get from your husband lying next to you. The rain is louder now, thrashing against the windows, lighting striking the sky every few minutes, illuminating your bodies. His fingertips trail along your skin, he’s a man of few words but you can understand everything he doesn’t say in these moments. Feeling the love radiate off your gangster as he sits next to you, sleeves rolled to his elbows, hair tousled and unkempt. Your eyelids are growing heavy, but you can’t resist toying with him some more.

“Tommy?”

“Hm?” He asks, tangling his fingers into your hair, massaging your scalp gently.

“I thought you weren't supposed to be home till Monday?” You rest your head on his lower stomach, smiling at him despite the tiredness that aches under your skin, “I thought you had that meeting, you know? The one in London?” He doesn't respond, his fingers tightening their grip on your locks, and you smile widely, burying your chin into the cotton of his shirt. “You came home because of me didn’t you?” You tease, “Because you missed me so much.”

He rolls his eyes, looking at you from under hooded eyelids, clouded with love and lust and sleep. He doesn’t need to say anything and you’ll know the answer, you’re his weakness, just like he’s yours.

“I don’t know why, all you do is bloody bully me.” He replies, pressing a lingering kiss onto the top of your head, a smile gathering at the corner of his mouth. He traces patterns along the edge of your thigh, dazed by the skin peeking out from under your blush coloured nightgown. He whispers gently into your ear as you finally start to give into your exhaustion, breathing levelling out like the wind rustling through the trees beside your window. “Sleep now, alright? I’ll be right here when you wake up. I’m not going anywhere, not for a little while, anyway. Think we need some time alone, don’t you?”

In the morning you’ll awake to a thousand kisses along your bare skin. In the morning he’ll show you just how much he’s missed you, just how much he loves you, but that can wait, for now he’s more than happy to be beside you, next to the woman he adores, finally able to fall asleep.

[builder051]

Higher (Part I)

Daredevil!  Avocados at Columbia.  This is Part 1 of what I hope to be a 3-parter.  I wanted it to be a one shot, but it’s too long.  I have about half of part 2 written, and it will come (hopefully) within the week.

_____

Can you take me higher?

To the place where blind men see

Can you take me higher?

To the place with golden streets

_____

Matt’s so relieved to be inside that he almost slips on the patch of bare linoleum in the doorway to his room.  His shoes are wet from wading through the soupy trenches of snow that criss-cross the quad.  It’s the first full day of classes after the holiday break, but the campus still seems winterized, as if maintenance isn’t expecting students back for a few more days.

Matt breathes in sharply and reaches for the wall, his cane dropping from his limp grip.  He’s not too impressed with the way the air burns on its way out of his throat.  He feels like he could cough up a fish hook.  And there are another 15 or so scraping around in his sinuses.

Matt almost expects to hear the tinkle of fine metal hitting the floor.  The sound of his cane bouncing off something big and hollow catches him off guard, but it brings him back to reality.  His brain makes the jump, the oh of realization, even though the rest of the faculties necessary to think in words haven’t caught up yet.

“Whoa there.”  Swiveling wheels bump over a ridge and grind to a stop on the industrial-grade carpet.  Foggy’s suitcase falls over almost immediately.  “Hey, buddy.”  His voice hitches as he bends to right it, and he hands the cane back to Matt upside-down.

The tip is freezing and gritty against Matt’s palm.  “Oh,” he replies lamely.  His ability to speak in multi-syllabic words is still offline.

“Whoops.”  Foggy straightens up and flips the cane.  Matt hears the sleeve of his friend’s sweatshirt brush the body, worn jersey swishing against worn jersey.  Presumably he’s holding out the cane and waiting for Matt to take it.  But Matt doesn’t need it now; their tiny dorm room is easy to navigate without it, even when stray suitcases pose a trip hazard. Maybe Foggy forgot.  Or leftover Christmas cheer is making him extra polite.

“Here ya go, Matt.”

Foggy seems casual enough, but Matt’s ears are ringing, and he doesn’t have enough input from his other senses to tell if he’s putting on airs.  Fear and stress induce observable changes, like quickened heart rate and a sour tang to the air.  But mild concern sounds like nothing and smells like potato chips and Downy.

A drip escapes Matt’s nose and shivers for a moment before it runs down his upper lip.  He wipes the moisture with the back of his hand, cringing a little at the savagery of it.  Foggy’s not exactly clean and tidy, but Matt still expects him to unleash a comment or two about acting civilized.

“I’ll just put it here for you.”  Foggy steps around his suitcase and leans the cane against the wall beside Matt’s bed. “Alright?”

“Hm?”  Was that a question?  Is he supposed to answer?  Matt jars himself out of the murky world of memory just as he remembers where he was criticized with such pre-Columbian terminology.  Sister… what was her name?  The one who was a missionary in Asia.  Or was it Africa?

Matt’s wristwatch slides an inch or so up his forearm, pulling hairs painfully taut between the icy metal and tender skin. He forces his thoughts through the intervening decade at warp speed, trying to focus on now.  On whatever Foggy just asked, or didn’t ask.  “Yeah,” Matt says with a wince.

There’s a beat of awkward silence, then the fan of the heater kicks on with a whine, and a gust of hot, dry air blows down from the vent in the ceiling.  Matt expects it to feel good.  Compared to the drafty halls of the orphanage, a room with a direct connection to the heating system is a luxury.  He supposes somewhere in the depths of his brain he’s glad to be rid of the chill in his bones, but the relief is lost in a slick of clamminess beading on his forehead.  A minute ago he could excuse his malaise as tiredness.  But now Matt just feels sick.

“Huh?”  It’s Foggy’s turn to be confused.  Matt analyzes his reaction like a brain teaser, grateful for the distraction from what’s quickly becoming nausea.  Foggy hadn’t uttered a full word, but his voice was full of the drawn-out, wistful cadence that comes with a stretch of the short-term memory.  He’s trying to remember if what Matt said jives with what he originally asked.

“You ok, bud?”  He must’ve decided it didn’t.  Foggy pulls his pop-up hamper out of Matt’s desk chair, spinning it around and throwing the nylon bag into a slippery heap on his side of the room.

Matt wonders if he’s pale.  He’s on the point of shrugging and saying he’s fine, but Foggy keeps talking.

“I was gonna ask if you wanted to go to a party, but I’m gonna go ahead and go with no.”  He puts his hand on Matt’s shoulder and squeezes a subtle invitation for him to sit.

The touch of Foggy’s palm doesn’t typically feel like barbed wire.  Especially not a gentle gesture through two layers of clothing.  The problem’s not with Foggy, though.  Mat knows it’s all on him.

“How’d you guess?” Matt tries to joke as he sits.  He doesn’t do a good job, but his head gives a renewed throb anyway. It’s like attempting to be funny has drained another reserve from his energy bar.  He leans forward and rests his elbows on his knees, head tilted sideways and his cheek pressed against the bony ridges of his knuckles.  The difference in temperature between his hands and his face is extreme.  The whole setup feels precarious, like he could tumble forward onto the carpet at any moment.

“Oh, something about your color,” Foggy says.  He moves his suitcase again, tucking it against the foot of his bed and retracting the handle.  “It’s like the snow outside.”  He laughs sympathetically.  “And that’s not the fresh, pretty kind.”

So it’s worse than Matt thought.  He’s past pale, onto grey.  “Thanks,” he mutters.  Then, “Sorry.”  He takes off his glasses and rubs his eyes, though he’s trembling so much he practically sticks his thumb through his orbit.  It hurts, but not the spot he poked.  Pins and needles erupt under Matt’s cheekbones.  He isn’t sure if he’s going to sneeze or throw up.

“Nah, apologize to yourself, man.”  Foggy’s shoes cross the room, and Matt hears him pulling tissues out of the box. “Here.”

“I’m ok.”  Matt pinches his glasses in one hand and the bridge of his nose in the other.  He doesn’t want to let go of either.  Even thinking about moving brings a threatening knot to his throat.

“No, you’re not.  Trade you.”  Foggy snags the glasses and stuffs the tissues between Matt’s fingers.  “Like Indiana Jones.”  He’s a little less coordinated, but he laughs anyway.

“Stealthy.”  Matt sniffles and reluctantly dabs under his nostrils.  His ears are plugged up, but the sound of the Kleenex scraping against his stubble still seems loud.

“Yeah, well.”  Foggy grabs the creaky wicker basket from atop the microwave.  It was a lucky dumpster find at the beginning of the previous semester, and it’s been useful as a mobile medicine cabinet.  For as sloppy as Foggy can be when it comes to things like cleaning the shoes that got vomited on at a kegger back in October, he’s surprisingly good at staying organized.  He’d arranged all the boxes and bottles of over-the-counter remedies according to function and even offered to get braille labels printed.  Matt said no.  But thanks.  He didn’t go into the details of the smelling and feeling he uses to tell what’s what.  He did buy a clean set of shoelaces, though, and re-threaded Foggy’s Nikes one night after he was asleep.

Matt remembers the smell of beer and bile too well.  The snot he’s been swallowing all day bubbles a threat , making his gut feel tight and sore somewhere around mid-chest.  He swallows hard and tries to forget about it.

“That’s the kind of cold it’s easy to sneak up on.”  Foggy paws through the bottles of pills and packets of lozenges.  “But I think I’d hear you coming a mile away.”

“Hm.”  Matt’s positive that the chills, the nausea, the gunk in his lungs all point to something a touch more severe than a cold.  He’d stay in denial if he thought he could, but he’s beginning to seriously doubt he’ll make it to class tomorrow.  If he can even get out of bed at all.  Foggy will fuss over him regardless, but in the choice of sooner or later, Matt would prefer later.  “A party, eh?” He changes the subject.  “Bit soon, isn’t it?”

Foggy’s been back at school for, what, eight hours?  He hasn’t finished unpacking yet.  It might take him the rest of the week to see his neatly folded jeans and boxers back into his dresser, but that’s beside the point.  Who goes to a party on a Monday night?  Boozers and troublemakers.  Not Foggy.  And definitely not Matt, even when isn’t feeling like death warmed over.

“Well, maybe party is the wrong word.”  Foggy sets a sloshing bottle down on the edge of Matt’s desk, then a rattling one. “Cough medicine and ibuprofen,” he says.  “I thought we had dayquil, but looks like you’ll have to take the components individually.  Want me to dose you?”

“I can do it.”  

It’s not a lie.  Matt can.  It’s not exactly a smooth process, rubbing the pad of his thumb against the raised lines on the side of the little measuring cup, then holding his ear close as he pours, listening and feeling for minute changes in vibration when the liquid reaches the proper level.  He’s more worried about his gag reflex, and he’d rather not have an audience, just in case the syrupy medicine doesn’t go down so well.  “So…”  Matt reaches for the thread of the conversation.  “It’s not a party?”

“You ever played white elephant?” Foggy asks.

“No,” Matt replies, almost defiant in his honesty.  “I know what it is, though,” he adds quickly.  He’s not in the mood for an explanation.  Something about the concept of people buying each other lame gifts on purpose rubs him the wrong way.  The cheap stuffed animals and flimsy ping pong games the nuns handed out can be twisted into something goofy when he retells the stories, but they weren’t supposed to be.  In the years since, Matt’s flip-flopped, wondering how anyone could think dollar store merchandise would delight children who were all smart enough to know about the Toys R Us catalogue.  Then the predictable guilt hits, and he wonders how horrible of a person he is for expecting to get anything at all.

“Well, this is like the white elephant of white elephants,” Foggy prattles on.  “I guess it’s something the law students do every year?  It said annual on the flyer.”

“Must be, then.”  It must be the mucous sticking to the walls of Matt’s throat that make him sound like such a dick.  He certainly isn’t doing it on purpose.  At least, not too much.

“Anyway,” Foggy says, his eye-roll obvious.  “You bring your most ridiculous Christmas gift, or the one you’re most eager to get rid of, and pan it off on somebody else.  For example…”  He trails off as he unzips a pocket on his suitcase.  “Behold.  The Little Book of Yoga.”  Foggy reads aloud in a voice rather like an impresario announcing what’s behind the curtain at a freak show.  “Simple poses to change your life!”

Matt coughs out a laugh.  “Is that from your mom?”

“Grandma, actually,” Foggy says a little guiltily.  “I feel kind of bad giving it away, but it’s not like I’m gonna use it…”  Matt assumes he’s shaking his head.  Usually he can hear Foggy’s hair whipping around his chin, but his last thick swallow made his ears pop.  The echo is yet to die down.

“Can’t beat the logic,” Matt offers.  A wave of sickly heat washes over him again, reminding him that he meant to take off his coat and lie down.  “I don’t have anything to trade anyway.”  Matt wiggles out of his jacket, uncomfortably aware of gaping sweat stains in his armpits.  He undoes the top few buttons, just enough to lessen the constricting feeling around his neck a little.  He isn’t usually shy about undressing in front of Foggy, but today it seems unnecessarily embarrassing, like baring his body only ups the factors that make him different, that make him lesser.

Matt doesn’t say that he didn’t get a single present this year.  He doesn’t need to.  Foggy already knows, Matt can tell.  He probably observed and inferred, like a proper lawyer-to-be.  He probably noticed there weren’t any new knick knacks on Matt’s side of the room and added that to his choice to stay at school for intersession classes despite his perfect GPA.  But goosebumps prickle up Matt’s arms, half suspicion and all fever.  Can Foggy smell it on him?  His poverty?  His pitifulness?

“You could wrap up that Delsym.  Bet somebody would enjoy it.”  Foggy chuckles.  When Matt doesn’t reply, he drops into a more serious tone.  “For real, though.  Get some rest.  I’ll give you some space.  You probably got all used to life without me, and here I am, mucking things up right when you’re not feeling good.”  He laughs again, but this time it’s different. The words are only funny because they’re true.

“No, Fog, it’s fine.”  Matt stands up and toes off his shoes, as if that somehow changes the atmosphere between them. “I’m fine.”

“Matt…”  Foggy gives him a gentle push in the direction of his bed.  “Go to sleep.  You sure you don’t want me to measure out your meds?”

“I’m sure.  You go have fun.”

“Ok.”  Foggy sighs.  “If you need something, call me.  Otherwise, I’ll stay out of your way.  See if I can get some blonde bombshell to take me home for the night.”

“So…”  Matt muses, turning down his blankets.  “Back by midnight?”  He smiles, even though it hurts.

“Ten-thirty, probably.”  Foggy picks up his keys.  “See ya.”

“Yeah…”  The word still hangs in the air after Foggy closes the door.  The room feels empty without him.  Colder, too.  For as much as Matt wanted him to go, now he wishes he still had Foggy’s soft, bumbling presence to distract him from the workings of his own fevered brain.

[spideyxchelle]

ugh. okay. so netflix is coming out with this movie. and it looks so sickly sweet that i can’t help but be outrageously excited about it. and that means that i had to write a spideychelle inspired version. which is a fluffy monstrosity. this is all fluff. only fluff. enjoy!

Michelle Jones is secretly a hopeless romantic. She has been a hopeless romantic all of her life. And she blames nurture, not nature. Because she knows she wouldn’t be like this if it weren’t for her mother.

Mara Jones was the kind of woman that brought sparkle to every room, a trait Michelle believed she had not inherited. And yet, before her mother died, her Mom used to share some of that sparkle when the two of them would cozy up on their lumpy, million year old couch and watch Meg Ryan movies.

It was a Jones girls’ tradition. The two of them, and some slightly burned popcorn, used to bask in the warm distilled sunshine of 90s rom-coms. Every weekend. Her father would sometimes join them and grumble about the cheesy music and the terrible dialogue, but all it took was one smile from her mother and her father would grin stupidly and settle in.

After her mother died, Michelle stopped believing in fairytales and Prince Charmings. That shit didn’t exist. But she still had the ache of a hopeless romantic lurking beneath her steely exterior. And so, when she got a crush so intense it felt like it was crushing her windpipe she wrote a love letter. These letters severed as a goodbye to the boy (or girl) that fuzzied her usually clear head, to cast them out of her heart forever. After all, MJ had no room for flights of fancy. And, when the letter was done, she would lock it away in her mother’s old Church hatbox. Only then, the romantic ache would ease and for a while she would forget that, underneath it all, Michelle Jones was in love with love. 

And Michelle is determined to kick this Peter Parker thing. Just like she had kicked the others out of her head and heart.

While yes, she has written him four different goodbye letters, she believes she really does get over her crushes on him when she writes those letters. She stops looking at him like he’s the sun. She moves on.

The problem is that he keeps doing absolutely, infuriatingly adorable things that make her tip headfirst back into like with him. One time the culprit of her crushing is the dumb floof of his eyebrow in history class that makes her heart seize. Another, it is when he organizes a money pool to help pay for Sally’s fees to get to a decathlon fieldtrip in Arizona. But this last time happens when he bends himself into knots lying to their peers about Spider-Man. 

Yes, he lies, he has met Spider-Man. 

No, he grits his teeth, the superhero is actually super tall. 

Uhh maybe, he blushes when one of the girls in gym class ask if he could hook her up with the webslinger on a date. 

And just like that, she is back into deep like with a selfless, stupid superhero.

Michelle wants to write her letter right away, as a way to cut out her crush like a cancer, but she is not sure she is ready to sever the warmth that she feels whenever she looks at Peter. It reminds her of Harry and Sally. Or grand gestures in airports. 

She figures love is like comfort food— it is good at first but if she indulges in it too long it will kill her. She knows Peter would never intentionally hurt her, they are friends after all, but holding onto this crush will hurt her. She has been down this exact road before. Peter Parker does not look at her the way he looked at Liz or Gwen or Felicia. 

She is his friend.

Not the girlfriend.

So regardless of how good, how all consuming, liking Peter Parker can be, Michelle yanks out a piece of paper in decathlon and starts to scribble furiously. Usually she does this very sensitive work at home in the safety of her bedroom with her mother’s hatbox standing by but she figures if this is going to be her fifth Peter Parker letter it does not have to be sacred. 

In winding, hurried cursive she writes:

Dear Peter,

I think if you knew how much your smile alone could level me, you would make an effort not to smile in front of me. You’re like that. You’re insanely sweet and kind and you shared your pudding cup with me in the second grade. That doesn’t have anything to do with the smile. And it has everything to do with it all at once. 

Look, to cut the bullshit, I would really appreciate if you stop being sweet and kind and nice. Because liking your loser butt is really screwing up my plans to be single forever and live to a hundred and seven. If you keep making my heart skip, I’ll never make it to a hundred and seven.

Please be kind to my health and stop making it so easy to fall in love with you.

Hopelessly and stupidly in love with your dumb face,

Michelle Jones, the conqueror of crushes

When she gets home after decathlon her father is fussing in the kitchen and burning a perfectly good kitchen. Michelle saddles up beside him and tilts her head at the ruined dinner, “What happened this time?”

Her father huffs, “I did everything the recipe said.”

Michelle can’t stop the smile that creeps up her features. She glances up at her father and teases, “It was the recipes fault, then?”

“I’m a victim,” her father nods.

She drops a kiss on her father’s cheek, “I’ll take orange chicken and fried rice.”

Her father waves his wooden spoon in the air, “I’m not ordering Chinese.”

Michelle yells, “And a boba tea.” She closes her bedroom door and drops her bag on her messy floor near her desk. She pads over her closet and flicks on the light, searching for the hatbox that she conceals beneath an old winter coat. And, when she brushes the coat away, she looks down at the soft pastel blue hatbox. Her mother’s hatbox.

She carries it to her desk and sets it preciously on the desk and pulls off the top. Hidden inside are her old letters and of the ten that are in the box, four of them belong to Peter Parker. Which mildly irritates her, but she cannot perseverate on that now, she has to lock her latest Peter letter in her special hat box and move on. Again. MJ unzips her backpack and searches for the offending letter.

Her hands come up empty.

And her heart races.

She dives back into her bag and starts to tear apart the contents—books, old homework, some Chapstick—but she finds no letter. She opens the front of the bag and looks there, too. Inside, her fingertips brush against lint and a crumpled up Harvard brochure. Again, no letter.

That is when the panic sets in. Because the last place she had that stupid letter was decathlon practice.

Oh fuck.

Michelle spends the entire night in an unnatural state of panic. For someone that spends a lot of her time telegraphing that she does not care, she is plagued with a sleepless night of worry.

When the alarm goes off, she jumps to action and barely has time to give her father a hug goodbye before she is running to the subway. And the stop-and-go of the train is maddening. The longer it takes to get to school the longer her letter will be left to the wolves. She needs it back and she needs it now.  

When she arrived at the Midtown stop, Michelle races into school and runs. She has never, in her life, but any stock in exercise, which now feels like a fatal flaw. Perhaps if she had actually practiced in gym and done her laps with the rest of her apathetic peers, she wouldn’t feel like her heart is going to explode now.

She tears around the corner and narrowly misses taking down a group of unsuspecting freshman in her pursuit of her letter. And she nearly does a victory lap when she pushes into the auditorium. But there is no time. Only her letter. When she gets it back she will do a victory…tea run. Because running sounds dumb.

Michelle searches the table she had written her letter and comes up empty. So, she checks the next  table. And the table after that. And she keeps going around and around the room like if she hopes hard enough it will somehow materialize. But she knows before she has the strength to give up that the letter is gone.

Perhaps it was thrown out with the trash. Perhaps it was swept under the stage to never see the light of day again. Perhaps—

“Uh, Michelle?”

She falters when she hears the squeaky voice from the doorway. She knows that voice. And she briefly imagines her mother’s smile. She had always loved romantic comedies and this would have tickled her pink.

Michelle slowly turns around and spots Peter Parker illuminated by the morning, standing in the middle of the double doors. But the most alarming part of his appearance is the letter hanging loosely in his fist.

Her letter.

“I think,” he croaks sweetly, “this belongs to you.”

Her face heats and she briefly considers spending the rest of her young life in a bunker underground. But she does not betray her embarrassment. She yanks the letter out of his fist and snaps, “You shouldn’t read things that don’t belong to you.”

Peter shrinks, “It was addressed to me. I-I didn’t know, I mean, how was I supposed to know?”  

“Know what?” she tries to sound breezy, but her voice cracks.

He raises his eyebrow and flushes a violent shade of red, “You know.”

“No,” she crosses her arms, and plays dumb. “I don’t. Go on. Tell me.”

“Em,” he whispers.

Her heart lurches traitorously. She had written her letter. The crush was supposed to be done and buried. Those were the rules.  And yet, here she was looking at him and feeling warm and silly and stupid. She swallows, “You shouldn’t have read that. It was wrong.”

“I’m sor--“ he tries to say, but she cuts him off.

“And inconsiderate. And nosy. And rude. And not to mention—”

“God, will you let me speak?” he cracks.

Silence settles over the two of them, both surprised at his outburst. It is the anthesis of Peter Parker. And its infuriatingly hot. Damn him. She awkwardly crosses her arms over her chest, and nods, “Alright.”

“Right,” he exhales. Her chest rises and falls. “Look, I’m sorry read that letter. I knew it was private like a sentence in but…”

“But?” she presses unkindly.

His eyes flicker to the ground, “But it was nice. Nice to read, I mean. And, uh, for the record I’m not dumb or a loser.”

“Yes, you are,” she mumbles on autopilot.

He smiles and it crinkles in the corners of his eyes. She has only ever known one other person to smile like that, like it lights up the room, and it all feels like her mother, wherever she is, is conspiring against her. Just like that Michelle Jones knows she will need to write another dumb letter, but she doubts it will work. Peter Parker is unavoidable. The dumb idiot has a firm hold on her heart.

“Look,” he reaches into his new backpack—he has a terrible habit of losing them—and pulls out a crinkled up piece of paper. He extends it to her and she raises a confused eyebrow. So, he explains, “It’s only fair.” She does not move. He adds, “For you.”

Hesitantly, she takes the crumpled up paper and reads:

Dear Em,

I liked your letter. It was nice. For the record, I also want you to live to a hundred and seven. You would be the coolest old lady ever. Scaring kids off of her stoop. You would definitely have a stoop. At least, I imagine you with a stoop.

I’ve never written a love letter before. I hope its clear that this is a love letter. Because I’m super into you. And you have no idea how excited I was when I read your letter. Because I never thought I had a chance in hell.

I hope I still do. And the letter wasn’t some kind of mean joke.

Peter Parker

PS. You have to stop wearing those cut-off jeans. Otherwise I’ll never make it to a hundred and seven. And I’m really invested in watching your old lady stoop saga.

Michelle can’t help it. She laughs. When she glances up at him, he is smiling that stunner of a smile again. And, damn her, she rolls her eyes and leans into it. Because she is one of those hopeless romantics. And she is gonna date the hell outta Peter Parker.

“My cut-off jeans?” she asks.

He looks surprised that is the first thing she says, but, to his credit, he does not miss a beat, “They’re heart arrestingly tight.”

Michelle bites her lip, “Have you been checking out my ass, Peter Parker?”

He shrugs one shoulder, “Guilty.”

“You’re lucky I like you,” she points out.

“Love me,” Peter corrects her with an offensively wide grin. “You love me.”

Her pulse quickens and she feels a flood of embarrassment drag her under the water. Without thought, she counters, “Yeah, well you love me.”

He looks over both shoulders to check if the coast is clear and Michelle waits, steeped in confusion. Then, he flicks his wrist, webs her waist and drags her in close. She blinks, startled, and he agrees, “Desperately.” Before she can make any kind of quip, he slants his warm mouth over hers and she falls into the weight and comfort of his lips. She has never been kissed like this before, like someone cares. It is so different than the messy slobbering kisses she has shared under the bleachers with boys that didn’t care if they even knew her name. This is the kind of kiss that people wrote movies about. The kind of kiss that used to make her mother sigh when they watched romantic comedies. This is the big kiss.

And she is a hopeless romantic, after all.

Or maybe, she thinks, she is just hopelessly in love with Peter Parker.

[themockingcrows]

Doors Of Fate Ch. 6: Breach of Trust

Unrelated BroDave Matchmaking AU This chapter is mildly Not SFW. AO3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10126478/chapters/41583635 (Sorry for not making it a link, but with tumblr affecting things with links in them, I wanted this to be able to reach tags easier.)

Wedded bliss is the norm, but in a house full of magic and secrets how long can that balance hold fairly? Dave continues to make progress by leaps and bounds, but it doesn't seem to be enough to surpass Ambrose's undeclared measurement of sufficiency to no longer be at risk. Is it just the impatience of youth driving Dave's choices to bend and breach the trust placed in him, or is the mage failing to understand just how much secrets affect those who've already lived their entire lives being dictated to?

    The night held them close till the first stretching notes of morning came, when Dave opened his eyes and took in the light streaming in from the window. He woke warm and cozy, but still tired in the back of his mind from thee previous night, limbs bearing the weight of fatigue that only magic and restraint could cause. He woke with his groin faintly tingling as if Ambrose's hand was still on him, rubbing, teaching him restraint even as he helped him fall to pieces. He woke alone, and felt an unexpected level of sting till he heard noises from the kitchen and could make out the smell of breakfast cooking. ...Okay, that could get a pass, he supposed. Breakfast was a good reason to leave his bed THIS time, but eventually he'd wake up in Ambrose's arms after a full night in bed and relish it like a rare treasured candy.

    Shaky limbed, Dave slowly sat up under the quilt and rubbed his face and the back of his neck, trying to rouse himself more before he swung his legs over the side of the mattress and rose to his feet while adjusting his clothing. The floor was chilly and he hopped briefly, landing atop slippers that he soon stuffed himself into before padding out to the hall and the more welcoming kitchen beyond. Ambrose was already fully dressed, half minding a pan that was sizzling patties of sausage and some eggs over a cup of tea, a book cracked open resting on a prop holding most of his attention. When Dave stepped closer he could just barely make out the shapes of a map before the book closed itself and the paper was tucked out of sight like a large bookmark, with Ambrose setting his cup down on the same beat.

    “Ah, awake already? I was about to come get you, if this had finished cooking,” he said. “Was it the sausage that did it? This portion was quite aromatic, if I do say so myself. Was very worth the price for picking it up.”

    Dave continued walking till he was up behind him, embracing his waist and pressing his face to the warmest spot he could reach. It was like a ritual now, a backwards hug and just savoring the warmth and pressure and scent of his spouse before it was returned, or continuing to enjoy it while peering around Ambrose's side to see whatever he was up to. This was a time when it was returned as a side hug, Ambrose reaching back to hold on around Dave's shoulders till he loosened his grip and stepped forward to see if there was any portion of breakfast he could sample a bite or two of early and hot off the griddle.

    “It felt strange having you gone when I woke up,” admitted Dave, reaching out to snatch a piece of sausage only to have the pan tip itself away from his eager fingers. “...Rude.”

    “It's right, be patient,” Ambrose snorted, nuzzling the side of his head fondly. “But you don't need to worry. If I'm not beside you, I'm not far.”

    “Unless you're in your room,” Dave said. “Apparently, I mean. You may as well be on the moon then.”

    “If anything was ever going wrong, I'd come back out soon as I realized it,” he chuckled. “Trust me on this, Dave, and then drop it. I'm not going anywhere, and your fixation isn't going to be appeased for a while.”

    The pan shifted a few more times before drifting upwards and away towards waiting plates, doling the portion out on its own with a few well timed flipping motions. They started to drift to the table once some bread had joined the servings, the plates drifting beneath a jug of milk's path as it made its own way with two glasses and a set of knives and forks. A napkin plopped down to the left of the plates, lazily folding itself in half before the magic swayed out of place and freed them.

    “Well. ...Alright, fine, you get a pass. THIS time,” Dave said, leaning up on his toes to reach Ambrose's cheek for a firm kiss before pulling away to take his seat. “But next time you do things like that to me, I'd appreciate seeing you beside me in the morning.”

    Ambrose took his seat and unfolded his napkin, setting it on his lap before pouring himself a glass of milk. “I'll remember that for next time. And the time after that. And the time after that as well.”

    “Already planning ahead I see?”

    “Can you blame me?” Ambrose said. “You've a lot of lessons on harnessing your power to go till you do it as a second nature without needing to really think on it, and the quickest way to stir you up and get the magic going seems to be not only straight forward but extremely entertaining for both of us.” He speared a piece of sausage and brought it towards his lips, grinning. “I look forward to hearing the sounds you make most of all, though. Desperate and flushed with my name on your lips while I lay my hands all over you is a good look.”

    Dave's own breakfast was briefly interrupted by a small flame appearing on the end of the piece of bread he'd picked up and frozen in place with, face red to the ears and fire burning the soft bread's interior at a rapid pace.

    Oh. Whoops. Clearing his throat, Ambrose gestured with his sausage laden fork.

    “Er. Dave? Dave. ….Dave.”

    “What?” he asked in a daze, only snapping out of it when he felt the heat and smelled the distinct odor of burnt bread more clearly. “Shit,” he hissed, turning on instinct to lob the burning bread towards the sink instead of trying to qualm any of the power that had started to affect his surroundings. The bread bounced and landed on the counter top instead, flames licking at the counter cloth and beginning to spread quickly the second he realized he'd missed and started to make it worse.

    “Shit!” Dave said once more as he jumped out of his chair to go and tame the fire, the bread being swept into the sink and the non-fire laden part of the cloth being yanked with careful gestures to the same watery fate. Other items on the counter top had begun to turn and face him eerily as one unit, both sharp and blunt, occasionally quaking as he flustered his hands to deal with the problem. “Shit, fuck, forget that happened. Okay? There. No more fire, all good. Fire's all out.”

    Ambrose hadn't followed him to assist, but he was watching closely from a distance, keeping an eye on the counter's objects and their potential paths. There were no other fires once those two had been taken care of, but any portion of the house could be dangerous if objects began to move again, not just the kitchen with its bounty of knives and heavy objects and glass.

    “You good?” he asked softly, not wanting to come across as patronizing.

    Dave rinsed his hands and frowned at the half blackened piece of his breakfast melted in the water into a pile of brownish mush. “Yep. Just peachy.”

    “I may have been fibbing a bit earlier,” Ambrose admitted as he finally took his bite, speaking while his mouth was full to help return the relaxed atmosphere. Nothing in the kitchen was attacking like he'd feared it might and Dave was already heading back now with some fresh bread in hand, buttering it hastily so he could stuff it in his mouth like a prize for the taking. “I think I look forward to your more intense lessons most of all. Not that getting to fondle you isn't its own reward, but I need you to be able to do these kinds of things on your own, preferably without your cock in hand. It'll be similar to the magic lessons, just with a different focus.”

    Dave groaned and set his bread down, cutting some of his breakfast to smaller pieces with his fork and shoveling in mixed bites. “You say that like lessons centered around me fucking up will be fun.”

    “They can be, if you let them be,” Ambrose pointed out. “I'll figure something out to keep your interest, don't fret. Besides, how else can I take you to those cities I talked about before if you're liable to set buildings ablaze any time I so much as flirt with my own husband a single time? I'll never be able to cop a playful feel, it'll be torture. But mostly it would be another length of time neither of us could fully relax, which kind of defeats the purpose of a vacation.”

    “I mean, you could keep your hands to yourself and we could still go probably?”

    “My hands were entirely to myself when your bread decided to toast itself to death, Dave. You've more power than you know, and you know how to sap from surroundings. Nope. Too risky. We can start today if you'd like?”

    "...I mean. How hard can it be?” Dave asked, leaning back while playing with his fork, wiggling it gently between two fingers so it gave the illusion of being made of rubber when looked at just right. “Compared to everything else, I took to that the fastest right? One lesson.”

    “You're right. One hand job and you learned the basics, but with how bright you are it's not too big of a surprise. You've a voracious appetite for things Dave. Eventually we should be able to keep the mattress from bursting into flame around us when we go even further without even having to try.”

    Dave squinted at him, unable to dispel the sensation of being teased.

    “I understand what you mean entirely, but you're somehow being a dick about it, and it's bothering me that I can't tell how,” he finally said after a few moments of thought. With his peace said Dave sighed, shook his head, and fell upon his breakfast with renewed vigor to savor it while it was hot.

    “Why, Dave. I would never. I'm absolutely scandalized. Me, teasing my dear husband? My beloved firebrand? Light of my life? Perish the thought.”

    The squint returned to Dave's eyes, his slightly sour expression met only by a mage's curling smirk. Ah. Wedded bliss.

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

    Controlling magic was to become a daily practice in the household. Mornings were spent waking together more often than not, eating breakfast, doing chores and tending to whatever odds and ends had been talked about the day before. Ambrose assisted with guided practice for direct spell work in increasing degrees of difficulty, helping Dave learn to light candles and move objects on his own with enough focus. His tutelage and Dave's own stubbornness unlocked ever more difficult books and theories to his insatiable appetite for learning the unknown, each day bringing with it new experiments and surprises in their warm home.

    However, things were not all perfect. Ambrose was finding himself needing to pull away for his own work more often, either in rooms where Dave could keep him quiet company as he mixed potions and powders, or shut away within the room that held no true door in but passageways to who knew where out by its many doorways. Dave had some regrets about not managing more than his brief peeking, namely that he didn't have a specific thing to be angry or frustrated at for stealing his spouse away from him. This wasn't merely jealousy or frustration at suddenly not having his spouse's time focused mostly on himself. If only it were that simple. Instead, Dave's reactions were stemming from the effects this repeated isolation seemed to be having on his husband.

    Today, for instance, was day eight of Ambrose being mostly gone as opposed to just very busy. He'd come before dawn to Dave's chambers and crawled into bed with him, form chilled and very still, smelling of ozone and scrubbed off traces of sulfur. Dave had barely seen him the day prior, had hardly heard his voice, and he couldn't help but turn to gently stroke at his hair while he slept what precious little he seemed to be sleeping. Whatever work his husband was doing, it looked like it was eating him alive from the inside out. He snored softly, lips parted and brows drawn in concern even in sleep, hair wild at his temples. Ambrose looked old. He looked sick. He looked like he'd lost weight if Dave was looking at him right in the darkness and feeling him properly beneath the blanket.

    This was what he hated.

    Ambrose peeled himself out of bed after about three or four hours max, Dave hot on his heels, afraid something would happen if he didn't. That the mage would fall and be injured, collapse on himself or start casting a spell and perhaps be too exhausted to control it properly. There might not be as much Dave could do to help and Ambrose normally could when it came to runaway magic, but with the things he'd been learning lately it was more help than nothing.

    “I think some oatmeal today,” said Ambrose, stifling a yawn with one hand. Dave realized he was wearing the same clothing as he had been the day prior, rumpled and worn in. Even the colors looked faded when taken in as a whole, the usual decorative nature lessened. “Something simple and warm.”

    “Will you be back before night?”

    “I'll try.”

    He'd been saying he'd try since day one, so no surprise to hear it once more, but the knowledge that it was a promise being made simply to be broken was upsetting even if none of it was purposeful. Dave watched the kettle fill itself and go to the fire slower than normal as Ambrose shuffled along to get a look over the other items that sounded good, and decided to warm up for the morning by trying to lift the tea container from a distance with a spell he'd memorized. Not perfect form, but he still wound up with the strainer full of loose leaf enough that he'd be savoring the milk and sugar in his cup by the end.

    “You're improving all the time, Dave.” Even tired, the pride was easy to catch in Ambrose's tone and the warmth of the arms that soon encircled him to squeeze tight around his middle. “Try not to strain yourself too hard while I'm busy today. I've seen some of the things you've been peering into.. no doubt you'll get them running on your own, but you already know the costs. Right?”

    “Yes, yes, better safe than sorry,” Dave recited out of memory, leaning into the hug to savor it while he could. The oatmeal was starting to cook on the stove now, tea kettle a ways off from screaming yet but starting to show signs of steam. “I won't do anything stupid while you're busy, I know better.”

    “Good.”

    He knew better, but it didn't stop Dave from attempting anything and everything he felt he could reasonably get away with. This long string of suddenly being left mostly to his own devices had proven to be effective at expanding his risk levels considerably if the occasionally located scorch marks and missing materials were any indication. In fact, he found himself wondering just what his husband would think of the things he'd been trying to infer from things located in his library crawls. The kettle's screams broke their embrace, Ambrose pressing a kiss to the corner of Dave's lips before going to mind the oatmeal's preparation.

    “What plans do you have for the day?” Ambrose asked. “You can't live in the library all the time, Dave. Spring is almost here, you'll be too weak to wander the cities if you let your leg muscles shrivel up like raisins,” he tsked. The oatmeal briskly mixed itself with some cream, cinnamon and sugar, adding a hint of sweetness and spice to the comforting hot oat smells already in the air. Dave rolled his eyes and got his tea brewing, dunking the strainer a few times impatiently before leaving it to steep properly.

    “Oh, you know. Nothing much. Practice some things I've been reading most likely, maybe spend some time in the horse pen. Might take a walk around the house a few times, build a snowman if I'm feeling ambitious. Be lazy otherwise though, enjoy it while I can before we're even busier with the garden and everything in Spring even if it's not near as busy as it was on the farm.”

    Dave could practically feel the sensation of Ambrose deflating a the very idea of being somehow even more busy than he already was, the notion poisonous. The mage kept his composure and studiously cleared his expression as the oatmeal dished up and went to their waiting seats, plopping down in front of his bowl and scooping up a mouthful worth of oatmeal to puff cool air at.

    “That's right, I keep forgetting you're a farm boy somehow. You've taken so quickly to finer things that suit you, you'd blend in nearly anywhere.”

    “If by finer things you meal the things you keep slippin' in my closet, some of those are so stiff you couldn't pay me to wear them,” Dave said as he finished with his tea prep and took a seat. He stirred his oatmeal instead of starting to eat immediately, eyes trailing over Ambrose's gaunt looking face as he took the bit of pleasure he could from company and comfort food. If there was some way to reach a level of skill that, perhaps, he could just help him with whatever was draining him so badly. He'd help in a second, no hesitation.

    But no. The most he could do was peek and sneak. Or, well, he'd be peeking and sneaking more intently if his practice later went well as anticipated. Dave could feel the weight of his ambition weighing his stomach down, edged with the guilt of lying even if only by omission. Oh, yes, he was going to be practicing some magic today once Ambrose was gone. Familiar magic if it all turned out alright. In his digging around, Dave had stumbled on a book that seemed a bit out of place compared to the rest of the collection on the shelf. Old and worn, the book was ragged at the edges and bore handwriting in several different types of ink inside along with a multitude of painstakingly rendered diagrams and formulas. He couldn't read it yet, could barely decipher the symbols and tables in fact, but something in the margins had caught his eye so intensely that he'd made certain to tuck the book out of the way in case Ambrose spotted it and decided it was one of the things that should reside in his room instead. Compared to the runic looking symbols of the main page, the margins held scratch notes in Ambrose's handwriting, small asides and comments about what was wrong with something or what needed changing in the future. Clues to the meaning of the whole for someone like Dave who was trying to decipher it as an outsider. It didn't take a genius to interpret that the confusing looking information seemed to be talking about his husband's ability to draw doors, but there were still many mysteries to sort through with some good old fashioned trial and error.

    It was shameful how intensely focused he felt about Ambrose's room when he had the entire house at his disposal, but Dave just couldn't help it. Knowing there was a secret being kept from him, having the secret not only dangled in his face but held out at arm's length afterwards to taunt him was obnoxious. Just knowing, maybe getting a hint at what kind of work Ambrose was doing while he was away... that would be enough for him for now, surely. What more could he want than another peek? He'd have probably hours if he could open the door up instead of scant seconds. Maybe he could even get one of the other doors inside open if he could jus-

    “-ve?”

    “Mm?”

    “I wanted to ask you what you wanted to practice today, before I have to leave. Anything in particular? I already saw you making your tea, but I think you can stand to try something harder. Move outside your comfort zone even more, really make you sweat.”

    “Are you sure you can handle it if I'm messing up something meant to make me sweat?” Dave asked, almost immediately regretting the snark intermingled with his words when he caught sight of golden eyes.

    “Of course I could handle it, Dave. I'm mentoring you and I've got far much more experience than you in magic. It'd take quite a lot to overpower me, and even with your innate talents I don't think you're quite at that level yet.” Ambrose picked up his bowl to scoop the contents out easier without needing to scrape as hard. “It's not like you're remaking materials into other materials, or passing through doorways or trying to raise old gods or anything.”

    “Well. Obviously,” he said, taking a hard swig of his tea. Nope. Totally calm here, he didn't just say that. “But I mean.. Ambrose, look at you. You're exhausted all the time, this can't go on.”

    “I worked myself harder than this before you came into my life, Dave. This isn't the first time I've been tired, nor will it be the last time I'm tired because of the work I take on. It shouldn't be much longer till I'm done though, just be patient.”

    “Are you sure I can't just. Help you?”

    “Dave, you're no-”

    “I know I'm not advanced enough yet, believe me I know, but I will be soon! If I got better, would you let me help you with whatever it is that your work is? I'd be able to handle whatever it is, even if it's from the side lines and just handing you things or being... Shit, I don't know. Moral support?”

    “I can't ask you to help me with jobs like mine, Dave. It's just not safe.”

    “And now it's something dangerous you do?” Dave asked, frowning. “How worried do I need to really be when you're gone?”

    “Not worried at all,” Ambrose insisted, finishing off his breakfast. “I promise I'll always return to you, and I don't intend to break that promise. Now. What do you want for your lesson today.”

    “Teach me to draw doors.”

    “Too advanced for you still. What else has your interest, surely you've come across something interesting in that library by now.”

    “...I don't think I want a magic lesson today,” Dave said, sulking into his oatmeal, stirring it slowly counterclockwise as he rested his fist against his cheek.

    “...Dave, don't be like that. I'm sorry that options aren't what you'd like them to be, but that's just how it is sometimes. You'll be doing all kinds of things soon enough and look back at yourself now and laugh at how impatient you're being.”

    “I'm not being impatient, you're being stubborn.”

    “Pot calling the kettle black.”

    “Ugh, don't treat me like a child Ambrose! You're doing it again!” Dave snapped, agitated all over again. It hadn't been an issue since they'd discussed the treatment before, yet in this moment he once more felt like all the power was in his husband's hands in more ways than one.

    “I'm not! I'm just. ...I'm not trying to,” Ambrose said instead, taking a slow breath and letting it out to keep calm. “It's not my intention to treat you like a child. If you'd like to skip a day of lessons I understand.”

    “I'll pick up lessons again when you're home for more than four hours at a time,” Dave said finally, lowering his eyes to his bowl and stirring the remaining oatmeal around with the back of his spoon. “I don't think I'll be able to push as hard as I can if I'm worried about you being so tired.”

    “Dave I promise you, I can handle anything you can throw at me, this isn't an issue.”

    “Maybe it's not an issue for you, but it is for me,” he said with a tone of finality. “You finish your job, and we'll pick up the lessons again. I'll just keep practicing the things we already know I can control, and keep studying. You said it wouldn't be too much longer for this job, right? It won't be forever.”

    Not seeming as satisfied with the decision, Ambrose grimaced. Was this him being refused because Dave was upset with him? Was there anything he could do to replace the time they'd normally spend together doing the lessons? Did he even want him near him right now? Normally he had all the answers, or.. at least he thought he did. Dave's mood was a mystery, and he had no idea how to proceed.

    “Well. ..If you're sure.”

    “I'm sure.”

    “...Alright then. We'll return to lessons once I'm done with this job,” Ambrose said, slowly standing up. His bowl lifted and made its way to the sink as he instead went to Dave's side to rest a hand on his upper back. He stroked the expanse of warm fabric covered skin for a moment before leaning down to press a warm kiss to his small husband's temple. “If you need me, merely yell and I'll try to come fast as I can.”

    “Are you just going to be crouched working in your room, then? I could keep you company,” Dave mumbled. He didn't seem happy, and it made Ambrose's chest hurt that he couldn't figure out how to fulfill his obligations as well as keep his spouse happy. If he worked faster, worked harder, he hoped he could perhaps finish the stupid job even quicker and be free to return to the low tension work and needs of more common people for a length of time. He'd be able to make Dave smile again.

    “No, love. I won't be in my room the entire time. ...But like I said. I promise to be back quick as I can. This won't be forever.”

    “Soon, right.”

    “Soon,” he confirmed. Part of Ambrose hoped that Dave would turn his way and kiss him back, or cling to him in a hug like he usually did, or anything more familiar. The air was awkward between them, uncomfortable, and for the second time that day Ambrose was at a loss for words. “..Well. I'll ah. I'll go ahead and get going early, then. Perhaps I'll be able to come home even earlier that way.”

    “Please be careful,” Dave said, finally looking up. His eyes looked sad, obviously still not over what'd just happened, but he seemed sincere in his concern. Ambrose pulled up a smile best he could.

    “Always,” he promised as he stepped away and headed to the hallway that led to his room's general location. A pause in the doorway and they met eyes once more, words on their lips but not coming out loud enough to be heard by anyone but their own thoughts. The mage finally turned and left, Dave able to hear the soft whoosh of magic and the eventual click of the door closing shut behind him before it faded away into the wall once more.

    Dave wasn't hungry anymore. He pushed away from the table and coaxed his dishes to join the others, waste or not. He'd worry about it later if it became an issue. What even was he now? Angry, sad, stressed out from wanting to say so much more than he had. He stalked off to the library like he had something to prove to the world, pausing only to land a punch solid enough it made his hand ache on the door frame of the library itself, satisfied when he left the faint outline of a scorch behind.

    Good. Everything felt how upset he was now.

    “Stupid Ambrose. Stupid room. Stupid.... stupid job, what the fuck's so important and dangerous and busy that I can't even hear what the fuck it is!” he growled, shaking his hand a few times before rooting around for the book he'd set aside. Okay, maybe punching the door frame had been a stupid idea but shit had it felt good to get that out of his system at the time. “Wants to treat me like a kid again. The fuck does he think I am, a baby? I'm his fucking husband! You'd think he'd be willin' to tell his fucking husband what was straining him so much, what is it, some stupid royal secret?”

    Ranting out loud was helping as much as punching the door had. Dave already felt a bit better as he flipped through the book to find the pages he felt he needed most. Much of the things in Ambrose's handwriting seemed to indicate that the incantations and formulas involved weren't nearly as important as they made themselves out to be, and that instead the destination and a good deal of power were more important. A clear mind and a clear exit goal. Angry or not, Dave couldn't forget the room he'd seen before, so no matter if Ambrose's bedroom was behind a simple wall or somewhere off in some special space, it should be possible to open it up on his own so long as he held the image and the desire in his mind strong enough on top of the pieced together portions of the spell.

    If he'd learned anything in his time of study, it was that magic had to be controlled but could often be sewn together into whole new shapes and formats from its original intentions. The idea of magic being made into a quilt was a lovely mental image, sewing spells together to make an entire blanket shaped just right for his purposes, but it wasn't helpful right now. No, right now there were bigger fish to fry. Dave tucked his thumb into the appropriate page to hold his place and left the room for the hallway, not stopping till he'd come to a halt where he knew he'd seen Ambrose disappear into before. He pressed a hand against the wall, stroking at it with force as if testing to see if the material would suddenly bend beneath his fingertips or give way in strands like an optical illusion, but it held firm as ever.

    Could he do this? Should he do this? Would he just made the argument worse by doing this? Perhaps, if he was caught. But in Dave's mind managing to get this bit or proof under his belt that he could do it would be beneficial to himself in the long run. He'd have more time to peek in that room, the curiosity would abate, and perhaps then the resentment he'd begun to harbor would dissipate. Things would feel better. He'd have some comfort, and then Ambrose would finish the job, and they'd make up properly and he'd be more insistent on trying to help with whatever job came next because he'd be at a much higher level of competency.

    After another few strokes at the wall, Dave chickened out and took off to the kitchen once more, deciding to waste a bit of time making sure his remnants of breakfast were being washed and put away just like everything else had been. The last thing he wanted to do was to risk running into Ambrose face to face, if he'd remained in his quarters for a while instead of immediately leaving like he said he was. Not being able to listen in ahead of time really made this a whole new level of risky for him, and the fact he wasn't supposed to break and enter to begin with was not lost on him.

    Much to his satisfaction, the dishes had washed and scrubbed properly and been put away, as had the other items from the breakfast table. Still clutching his book close, Dave padded to the cold door that led to the horse pen and spent some time stroking and speaking to a rapt audience. Every time he felt it was time to go, to start, to draw that door and be done with it, he found himself hesitating. Twice more Dave passed by the hallway over the course of a few hours, paranoid that if he managed to get the door to form and open to the right place, that he'd just be face to face with his husband while breaking the only rule he had in place. The one thing he'd asked of him to not do. The third time was when Dave finally stopped and faced the wall once more, holding his breath.

    “...Right. Let's do this.”

    The anger was gone. Fueling Dave now was the curiosity and anxiety of before, making his heart hammer in his ears as he looked over the page he'd spent a good deal of time already staring at before closing it and setting the book down by his feet to free his hands back up. He started to hum softly before starting to whisper words that he hoped, he prayed, would fill in the gaps of the unknown tongue he couldn't decipher. The sensation of magic lit in his blood, and the power tried to trail down his hands prematurely, having to be forcefully pulled back. Strands of blonde hair lifted from the back of Dave's neck as the intensity grew, thoughts straining to focus only on his memory of the room he was seeking. Never in his life would he have guessed just how difficult it was to think of only one thing when his mind buzzed with a thousand thoughts, but the steady tracing light of not only a door but a familiar shaped handle beginning to form were indicators that this may be working the right way.

    It wasn't a clean door. Though the line and handle had started to form a perfect outline, the formal details were lost and an outline that followed the dimensions of bricks appeared instead, bits of plaster popping off as the opening settled into place. Dave winced as traces of rubble and dust hit his feet and the ground around him, not dropping the spell till the magic had finished running its course, only then slipping down to his knees for a moment. Exhaustion gripped him, head throbbing and the taste of a future nose bleed running over his tongue as he allowed his eyes to close. The very idea of moving, much less standing, seemed not only suddenly foreign but absolutely horrible. Breathing was tiring, leaving him winded just from trying not to suffocate.

    Yet, drained as he felt, nothing had exploded. The mess was.. an issue. But he also had hours to close the door and fix it, right? Plenty of time to recover, clean up, and go take a long nap. Closing his mouth to fight back drool, Dave lifted his head and took a painstakingly slow crawl forward to touch the awkwardly made door to see if it would give. No luck, not without turning the strange looking handle that lay just out of his reach.

    “Oh come the fuck on, I just made you, the least you could do is open for me how I want,” Dave groaned, trying to collect himself enough before trying to push himself off the ground and up to his feet. The world swam before his eyes and he staggered a step backwards before redirecting forwards to the dusty exposed brick of the newly formed door, hand groping for the handle and giving it a crank in the right direction. With a click it gave way and started to swing open thanks to his weight resting against it, granting Dave entrance.

    He'd done it. He'd absolutely done it, this was the same room, the same sights as before greeting him. ...Perhaps things looked a bit worse than before, on second thought, and not from Dave's doing. The destroyed bed and scratched up walls had new gouges, and the strange black material was slapped here and there with an even heavier hand. He could see where globs of the liquid had splattered to the backs of several stacked books whose covers Dave could appreciate even more now. His hands itched to take one, any one at random, curious as to what inside was so intense that his husband deemed important enough to keep tucked away from his reach. There was a sensation near them as if they were poisonous snakes coiled in their neat stacks and rows instead of merely books, but the curiosity remained. A shelf had been ripped apart, crumbled poppets and trinkets scattered across the floor. The damage to the wall he'd made by opening the door didn't seem very out of place at all in this messy environment, such a stark contrast to how neat the rest of the cozy lived in house was kept. It was doubtful that a single self cleaning spell had ever been cast in here.

    Minding that he didn't trip on anything, Dave slowly stepped inside and over some debris to get a better look at anything he'd spotted before and didn't get to savor. He ran a hand on the ruined linen of the bed with its intertwined patterns of vines and birds, touched along the spines of books that didn't feel too dangerous, uncapped and cautiously sniffed alchemy ingredients in their jugs and jars, and poked what he swore up and down to be honest to God gemstones cut into small identically shaped chips that reflected the low light of the room from a blown glass bowl. There was so much to look at and see for the first time so close that Dave found himself feeling more alert and lively, he could feel the color coming back to his cheeks.

    He did this. He'd gotten himself here. He'd taught himself to draw a door just like Ambrose could, even if it was only a door to a single room and even if it'd opened up kind of janky. This was all his own doing. Pride swelled in Dave's chest and hastened his steps as he remembered what else he'd wanted to see. Precisely where they'd been before were the other doors in their lone offshoot of a hallway, each a different color and each firmly closed. The one at the far end that had held his husband before, judging from how it had opened, didn't catch Dave's interest for now. It was hard for Dave to imaging what so many doors would be needed for, however. Were they to closets? There was no way that Ambrose would leave fully formed doorways in position, right? Grasping the handle of the nearest door, Dave pulled it open.

    He was wrong.

    The door Dave opened gave way to what appeared to be a running stream somewhere in the mountains. The place he was seeing wasn't locked deep in winter, however, but lush with spring or summer growth. Insects buzzed through the air and lit upon plants that Dave realized he'd never seen before in his life, flowers large as his palm and leaves that looked sharp as blades. A path headed away from the doorway, and after a cautious walk outside to get a better look, the door was the only standing thing in a dilapidated hut whose walls had long fallen in. Panicked, Dave darted back to the doorway which held the familiar home within, ghostly in its isolation.

    Dave was curious about that place, but didn't like the misalignment of what was there and what was not one bit. He closed it in a hurry before reaching for the second door. This one gave way to snow, but not nearly as deep. The view was lovely, a hill near a steep drop off into what looked like water. ...Was this the ocean? Or just a very large lake? Though Dave squinted, he couldn't see the other side, though he was able to see a single boat in the distance with fishermen struggling with a shimmering silver catch in a massive loose net on one side. His breath hung in the air as he watched, mystified.

    How far from home was he here? How far was the other one? If each of these doors were to such different places, why were the doors there permanently instead of drawn as needed like usual? Which door had Ambrose gone through for this job of his? Which door was apparently so dangerous.. and with the doors being permanently in place, were other people or things able to just come waltzing into this space? A sudden terrifying thought filled Dave's mind: what if the thing that had destroyed Ambrose's room just came and went? What if the reason his husband didn't want him in his room in general was in case something capable of all this destruction ran face first into him, when he was supposed to be safe in the house?

    No, no, focus Dave, that couldn't be right. Dave slammed the door and stared at the remaining few. Curiosity ate at him for the last door, the one he knew Ambrose had been within last time despite the fact that each door here must serve some special purpose. Licking his lips, Dave stood before the final door and turned the handle, bracing himself to swing it wide.

    Void. Absolutely devoid of light, the darkness in front of Dave's eyes looked solid enough to touch, yet a cautious outstretched hand felt only a worrying coolness and nothing more. There was something familiar about the darkness in the way it smelled, somewhat similar to the strange black substance in the main room that had been spattered around. Toxic. Drained. Wrong. Sickly. He heard a sound when he listened closely to the darkness, a sound like voices whispering in a language he could only partially understand. It sounded familiar and haunting, like what Dave assumed a chorus of ghosts would sound like on the breeze, but he couldn't figure out the specific source. The darkness seemed to go on forever with no end in sight, and though he stuck a foot out, he was too alarmed to try setting it down where ground might be. The idea of there being no ground was just as alarming as the doors existences were proving to be in general, twisting his thoughts.

    ...What was Ambrose doing in there before? Was he in there now, somewhere lost in the inky darkness? It was easy to believe danger could be there just out of sight, staring right back at him without his being able to tell. He didn't want to imagine it, but his mind was already filling in the gaps of the unknown, an image of his husband walking face first into that void and being drowned within it. Dave staggered back and closed the door, suddenly realizing how badly he wanted out of that room. No, he didn't just want to leave the room, he wanted to forget the room existed for a while. This room felt so devoid of all the things that were familiar about his husband that it was like trespassing in a stranger's space. This had all been a terrible idea. If the mage found out, Dave would do his best to apologize and make up for it, keep his new talent as something for an emergency until it took less energy to use properly and had less chance of fucking up.

    Sidestepping the worst of the mess, Dave was halfway through the room when he heard a door slowly start to creak open behind him. The scent of wrongness from the final door filled his nose anew, and his ears were assaulted by the wet, squelching sounds of what he assumed were footfalls touching down on ground in slow, lumbering steps. He turned to look over his shoulder and caught sight of a massive, black thing trying to fit its way inside, moving slow and unsteadily. It appeared to be coated in the black material that speckled the main room, oozing and dripping it in thick sludgy strings to the ground. He could almost make out edges of wings, but the face looked mammalian, golden eyes shining like twin stars set deep into the mass of its body. Whatever the fuck it was, it didn't seem to see Dave while it busied itself with coming through the doorway and crowding into the hall.

    Heart in his throat Dave ran faster than he thought he was capable of, fast enough he swore he blinked in and out of sight a few feet at a time. He needed to close the door. With as soft a sound as he could manage, not wanting to draw attention, Dave turned the knob and closed the strangely formed door he'd created. With heavy breaths he planted his hands on the brick and plaster, trying to remember what he needed to do to reverse the spell. How the fuck did he dispel doors? How did he undo that? He could hear the faint sounds of something moving inside, and his blood ran cold.

    “No, no, no, no, no, no, no,” he whispered under his breath.

    Needed to close it. Needed to close it right. Dave grappled for whatever magic he could feel and dragged it up as if fighting to free it from beneath his own feet, needing to dig low for whatever strength he could get while still tired from earlier. He chanced a glance down at his feet when the magic started to flow out of his hands in time with his frantic whispering, and felt everything go cold. The book might have had the answer. The book was right there, right in range, but there was no time, and now that the magic was flowing there was no going back.

    The magic wasn't flowing so much as flooding, Dave started to realize with growing horror. An attempt at slowing it, at tugging it back or guiding it was unsuccessful and the panic he was feeling only made things worse. Plaster dust recollected itself as if flowing in slow motion, time reversing itself to reform the pieces into bigger chunks and drift back into place in the wall till it was smooth and untouched once more. Dave's legs quaked and he lost feeling in his feet and hands, his vision blurred black at the edges as the afterimage of the door faded away. The magic was running itself, fixing the wall perfectly but continuing to flee him, expanding down the hallway in unfocused arcs. He watched smoke rise from the floorboards here and there, tiny fires trying and failing to start until Dave grit his teeth and yanked his arms back from the wall with a grunt of pain. Lightning running down his arms might have hurt less, stabbing and hot as the steam leaving his skin, but the magic had stopped.

    He did it. He'd closed the door, that thing was stuck in there now far away from him and the rest of the house he was essentially guarding. Amazed he was still on his feet, likely only thanks to adrenaline, Dave wiped his running nose with his forearm and glanced down absently when he realized it felt far wetter than it should have. Bright red streaked over his pale skin and dripped down to the tops of his feet, still more drops falling to the newly cleaned ground when he shifted position. Dave stuffed his hands against his nose to try stemming the flow as nausea rose in his throat, vision starting to sparkle at the edges.

    It was difficult to ignore the shimmery lines that crossed in front of his eyes this way and that like slow moving fish, but any attempt to trace their path just made them glide quicker and made his head throb more. Dave felt his legs starting to give way and shoved himself against the wall to try bracing himself, gasping through his mouth to keep a flow of air going despite the sensation and taste of blood going down the back of his throat. Nothing was making it slow down, nothing was making it stop, everything was red and wet and reeked of copper.

    Unable to stand up under the heavy flow when the magic had already drained him so thoroughly just before, Dave eventually fell to the floor, body resting over top of the book he'd carried earlier and blood streaked arms curled loosely in front of himself. His breathing was slow, but at least steady for now as he drifted in a dreamlike state behind his own eyes. It didn't hurt to be asleep, the sick feeling and weakness couldn't touch him here.

    He just wished he'd managed to yell first.

[nialledfromfics]

chapter nine

“You’re a damn tease, woman.”

The salacious words slid past his lips in a low whispered moan, catching on Chloe’s tongue as she softly giggled into his mouth. Her bottom was plopped up on the edge of his kitchen counter, Niall slotted between her spread knees as she kissed him. Kissed him hard, kissed the coffee off his lips and tried her very best to rub herself against his front as she did so. “I like being a tease,” she breathed out, “and you like it too…”

Niall shushed her, his blue eyes flicking past Chloe’s shoulder to peek out into his living area and down the hallway. “Fionn’s gonna wake up,” Niall mumbled into another kiss as her fingertips on his jaw brought his lips back to hers. Niall’s big palms cradled Chloe’s hips, his body inviting the rolling motions of her as he desperately tugged at the soft material of her lounge shorts.

“He’s still very much sleeping, Ni,” Chloe whispered, her sticky wet mouth dragging down to suck at the warm skin of his neck as her fingers dusted up through his dark brown hair, “school doesn’t start for another two hours…”

Niall tucked his bottom lip in his mouth as his head fell back to his shoulders, Chloe sliding a hand from its grip in his hair down the slope of his chest, inching her fingers into the front of his pants. “C’mon,” she lightly encouraged him, the tips of her fingers barely brushing through the dark hair that led from his happy trail, “just let me have a little bit…”

He groaned, quickly gulping back the rumbling sound as the worry of waking his son was slipping further away with every perfect feel of her touch. Chloe’s tongue traced down the side of Niall’s throat, gently sucking his salty skin into her mouth as he swallowed hard beneath the pucker of her lips. “Chlo…” was all he could choke out in the moment, her fingers dipping down even further into the front of his sweatpants as he frantically yanked at the material of her shorts.

“Please baby,” she softly whined, lifting her face to glance up at him, “I just wanna touch it.”

Niall watched a smirk slide over her full supple lips. Those gorgeous lips that he loved to kiss, that he loved to watch ease over his body and take him in, and all he could do was shake his head and breathe out a garbled chuckle. She knew exactly what she was doing and it was working. “Jesus Christ, love,” he muttered, “what’d I tell ya about sayin’ shit like that...”

Chloe tried to keep from giggling as she stuck out her bottom lip, a fair play in pretend pouting that was sure to cause more than an agreement from Niall. He couldn’t resist her, no matter what and no matter how hard he tried. Not that he ever really tried that hard. His blue eyes, soared to a deep endless black by that point, were darting fiercely over hers and it was the last little curious wiggle of her fingertips against his pubic bone that caused a rush of shivers to creep up his spine. “Fine,” he stuttered under his breath.

His greedy mouth was on the curve of her neck in a split second as she pushed her hand all the way down and rubbed her palm against him. He was still soft, but she could feel the warmth pulsing to his cock, feel the throbbing of his skin against her own as it started to grow tight and her eyes fluttered as he licked right below her ear. “I love feelin’ ya touch me.”

“I wanna see,” she blurted out, Niall’s face inching back from hers. “I wanna see you get hard for me.”

Running his tongue over his parted lips, Niall took in a deep breath before he rolled his shoulders back slightly and peered down between their bodies. Chloe’s sight followed his and with her one hand still shoved into his pants, she dragged the fingers of her other down to meet them, tucking into his waistband and stretching it out so he was completely visible to the both of them. Niall faintly chuckled, his hand coming up to rub over his face in timid amusement as Chloe curiously bit down on her bottom lip.

She would never get over how insanely beautiful he was. And how powerful and in control it made her feel to watch him get aroused, to feel him grow hard for her. Just by her simple touch. Her heart was racing, not that it really should’ve been, but that was just a reaction that Niall always seemed to elicit in her. It was involuntary. He made her feel giddy and titillated and frantic and everything combined left her with a pounding heart and sweaty palms and a love-sick gleam in her eye.

Her slender fingers started to wrap around his shaft, the pale skin smooth and silky and Niall stuttered back a breath as the heat of her hand tightened around him. He was quick to fatten up for her, their stares glued down to the wicked pulsating and flushing red of his length as it filled past her fist, the extra skin moving slightly as she worked to stroke him. Chloe softly giggled as she watched the success of her actions, flicking her eyes back up to Niall’s only to see that he was already staring at her.

His chest began to rise quick, his grip trembling as they held her hips and Chloe found herself lost in his gaze as her hand slipped up and down his length, over and over. It was more than sensual, it was a moment that left them both breathless, practically motionless except for the pull of Choe’s hand on him until a satisfied grin started to crack across her lips.

Niall’s eyes fluttered in a low chuckle as he fought off his smile. “Ya happy with what ya did there?”

“Yes.”

Letting go of the waistband of his pants, she reached up and wrapped her fingers around the back of his neck, tugging him straight into another kiss. She continued to stroke him; long deep moan-inducing strokes as he moved his lips over hers, sucking wildly at her tongue. “Put it inside me,” Chloe faintly breathed out.

“Fuckin’ Christ.”

Her hot mouth slipped from his and, once again, attached to the side of his neck just at the prickly patch of skin right under his jawline. “I’m so wet for you, baby,” she mumbled, playfully nibbling at him as the tender glide of her knuckles hit underneath the sensitive head of his cock, sending a shudder over Niall’s entire body. Her hips rocked towards him, the pad of her thumb sliding over his slickened tip to hungrily collect the bead of pre-cum she was coaxing from him and it was less than a second before Chloe felt the brush of Niall’s hand leave her hip and skim over the top of her thigh, eagerly pushing between her spread legs.

A whimper creaked past Chloe’s lips and hummed against Niall’s damp skin as his two fingers tucked inside the middle of her shorts and panties, immediately sliding along her wet folds. With her fingernails digging into the flesh at the back of his neck, her hand stalled its movements on his hardened length for a single moment before she felt Niall ease his two generously coated fingers past her opening. The air leaped from her lungs as he sunk them deep inside her, slowly pumping as she brought her mouth back to his.

“Ni…” she lightly whined against his lips, her hand once more stroking him. Niall kissed her rough, his free hand coming up to cup around the side of her face as he swallowed the tiny moans that were rumbling up from Chloe’s throat. “Please baby,” Chloe finally mumbled again as she parted from his rapacious kiss to take in a breath, “I need you inside me...please, I want you so bad, don’t you want me?”

His fingers twisted tight into the dark waves of her hair to keep her close as his open mouth barely hovered at hers. “Fuck, baby, ya know I always want ya,” he whispered, his breath warm and pelting against her full wet lips as he spoke, “not a second goes by that I don’t want that sweet little pussy of yours...Jesus fuck–”

A slight giggled fluttered past Chloe’s lips before she pressed a single kiss to Niall. “I need you to fuck me,” she demanded, her tone more strict as she rolled her bottom to where it was almost hanging off edge of the countertop, “just a little–...just a little bit…”

Unwrapping her fingers from around his shaft, she yanked down the front of his pants and fully exposed his swollen length. Niall didn’t waste another moment, pulling his two fingers from her center before firmly grabbing around his thick cock. She held onto him by her firm grip around the sides of his neck as he swiped his leaking tip along her drenched slit, just enough to wet him up before he slid himself all the way inside her. Chloe choked back a jumbled breath, her eyes pinching shut as her broken moans saturated Niall’s parted lips. The sound tasted sweet on his tongue and he lapped over her slackened mouth, his trembling body barely inching back as he was just about to thrust his hips to hers.

“Da...what ya doin’–”

“Fionn!”

The boy’s name squeaked out of Niall’s throat as Chloe’s eyes popped opened in a startled gasp, Niall frantically pulling all the way out of her and turning away to tuck himself back into his pants. Finny had just drowsily stumbled around the island countertop and into the kitchen as Chloe tugged down the hems of her shorts and quickly crossed her legs. Her lips rolled into a forced smile as she peered down at the little boy, his knuckles rubbing the sleep from his eyes as Chloe desperately tried to forget the unsatisfied throbbing that was going on between her thighs.

Niall ran a hand through his already disheveled hair, peeking over at Chloe from the corners of his eyes as he chuckled and bent down to put himself at Fionn’s eye level. “Mornin’ son, ‘s bit early for ya to be up, don’t ya think?”

Finny pushed out his bottom lip and unhappily crinkled his brow at his father. “I can’t sleep without me Roary, Da.”

“Ahh,” Niall breathed out in understanding, standing back up as he perched his hands on his hips, “I’ll see if I can swing by your Mum’s house after work and pick it up for ya, yeah?”

A faint nod was the only response the little boy gave as a huge yawn over took his whole exhausted tiny body. Chloe managed to breathe out a laugh before all eyes shot to the blaring ringtone of Niall’s cell phone that was resting at the end of the countertop. He stepped over and picked it up to answer the call, Chloe hopping off the counter to crouch down in front of Finny. Ruffling his messy bed head, she gave him a warm smile, one that was met with an instant sweet smirk of the little boy before Niall had hung up the call and let out a displeased groan.

Wrinkling her brows at him, she stood back up and crossed her arms over her chest. “What’s wrong?”

“That was my colleague, gotta go in early,” he grumbled, rolling his eyes as he shuffled over to the other side of the kitchen to finish packing Finny’s lunchbox that he had started before him and Chloe interrupted themselves. “Some shit locked up on the computers, they can’t get into the systems to get the blueprints and client information and apparently I’m the only one that can fix it.”

Chloe quietly watched as he swung back around to face the both of them. “You don’t think–” Niall paused, his face scrunching up just a bit in thought.

“What?”

“You don’t think you could maybe drop Fionn off at school for me before you go into work? It would help me loads...”

There was zero hesitation from Chloe answering his question, considering the slight apprehension from Niall while asking it. “Yeah, sure, no problem,” she shrugged.

Stepping up to her, he cradled the sides of her face in his large palms before planting a kiss to her lips, one that garnered a playful turned up nose from Finny. “You’re honestly the fuckin’ best, love. Don’t know what I’d do without ya,” Niall told her, dropping his hands from her warm cheeks as he took a step back and placed a kiss to Fionn’s head. “Gotta go get dressed. Finny’s school uniform is on his dresser!”

Niall hurried back towards his bedroom to finish getting ready for work as Chloe peeked down at the lad. He let out a sigh as he stared up at her with a tipped-back head and Chloe scraped her teeth across her bottom lip before sucking in a shallow breath. “How about some sprinkle pancakes for breakfast?” she offered.

Fionn’s big blue eyes grew even wider as a smile shined across his round little face. “Yeah!”

Niall was out of the door within the next fifteen minutes, a kiss to Fionn and a kiss to Chloe and a fresh coffee in his hand before he took off for the day. She had let Fionn watch a little bit of cartoons before it was time for him to get ready for school, Chloe helping him into his uniform and both of them giggling like crazy when she accidentally put his shirt on backwards. She had just got done tying Finny’s shoes when they both heard a light knock on the front door.

A perplexed look washed over Chloe’s face and Fionn just casually shrugged his shoulders as she stood back up. Peering down at the boy, she bit at her lips before pointing over towards his bag that was hanging up on a small hook by his closet. “Gonna go see who that is, why don’t you finish putting your things in your backpack for me, alright?”

“Okay.”

Stepping out of Fionn’s room, Chloe tucked some unruly bed-ridden hair behind her ear as she made her way over the door. Her mind wasn’t even contemplating about who could be knocking at his door at 8:30 in the morning, she assumed a neighbor or Jerome, the doorman of the building, and she cleared her throat as she opened it, the air stunted in her lungs as she was quickly met with the one person she never would have expected it to be.

Rachel.

Her piercing blue eyes narrowed at the unforeseen sight of Chloe, her red color stained lips falling open. “Chloe?”

Chloe swallowed hard, her bewildered mind not being able to fully process that her former best friend, the ex-wife of her now lover and boyfriend, was standing right in front of her. She hadn’t even seen her in well over a year, let alone utter a sound in her direction. “Um...Rachel,” the words came stuttering off her tongue, “h-hi…”

“What are you doing here?” Rachel asked, her tone almost condescending in nature, Chloe’s attention momentarily preoccupied as she watched the other girl’s glare slide up and down her slightly unkempt frame.

Gulping back a breath, Chloe reached up and nervously scratched her fingernails across her forehead in thought, stumbling over how she was going to explain any of this to her. “Uh, well...um, Ni– um, Niall had to go into work early and he needed someone to take Finny to school, so…I said I would drop him off on my way to work.”

Rachel’s brow wrinkled as she licked across her lips. “You’re not very dressed for work.”

Tipping her head forward, Chloe peeked down at her attire that she had yet to change out of. Barefoot, a tiny pair of black lounge shorts and Niall’s vintage Tom Petty band tee. Great. Squeezing her eyes closed for a moment, she took in a deep breath before flicking her dark stare back up to Rachel’s, a few long strands of her black hair falling across her cheek. “Yeah, I, uh...I brought my stuff with me. I was in a rush and,” Chloe paused to lift a shoulder, “I was just, um, gonna get dressed here.”

“Mumma!” It was Finny’s small squeaking voice that, once again, interrupted Chloe. Though she was more than thankful for the interruption that time. A faint sigh pushed past her lips as the little boy ran up to them, ducking under Chloe’s arm that was still holding the door handle as he gave Rachel a hug.

“Hey, little man,” she greeted him, a kind smile slipping over her mouth as she bent over and held up a stuffed animal in front of him. “You forgot your dinosaur, so I thought I would drop it off for you before I headed to work.”

“Roary!” Fionn squealed, grabbing the stuffed dinosaur from his mother's hands and hugging it to his chest. “Thanks, mumma. I missed him last night.”

“I figured.”

Chloe watched as Rachel tipped her head and peered down at her young son, and Chloe was brought to a smile as Finny turned to her and held out his toy for her to look at. A sweet little grin swept across his round face, his pink cheeks bubbling up just like his daddy’s as Chloe lovingly scrunched her nose at him. “So, are you almost ready for school?” Rachel abruptly asked Fionn, breaking his and Chloe’s briefly tender moment.

Finny nodded his head. “Yup. Gotta get my lunchbox.”

“How about mommy takes you?”

Chloe knitted her brow, her lips gently parting as she glanced over at Rachel. “Well, I mean, his school is on my way to the salon…”

“He’s my son,” she quickly shot back, Chloe snapping her lips closed in slight apprehension as she slowly crossed her arms over her chest. “I can take him.”

Chloe could feel the heat already soaring to the apples of her cheeks and she tried her best to remain calm as she swallowed back the lump that was forming in her throat. “I–I promised Niall though,” she told Rachel, not taking her stare off of her, “he’s expecting me to drop him off.”

“I’m already here,” Rachel said, “there’s no reason I can’t take him. Would you like that Finny? Would you like mommy to take you to school?” Both sets of adult eyes flicked down to the small boy, Chloe’s bottom lip tucking in between her teeth.

She watched with a held breath as he reluctantly peered over at his mom and then up at Chloe, his face twisting like he was truly in complex thought of what he should do. Or how he should answer. “I guess,” Finny shrugged.

Pulling in a jumbled breath, Chloe looked back over at Rachel. “It’s settled then,” Rachel spoke up, “go get your lunchbox and we can get going.”

Glancing down to watch as the little boy sauntered off towards the kitchen, Chloe slowly slid her stare back to Rachel, something inside her not feeling right about the situation. Would Niall be upset that she let Rachel take him? Would he not trust her with Finny again if she did? At that point, Chloe wasn’t sure if there was anything she could say to dissuade her. “Rachel, I’m not sure if this is such a good idea–”

“What exactly isn’t a good idea, Chloe?” she harshly cut her off, right as Finny walked back up with his lunchbox clutched in his hand. Chloe was left with her jaw fallen slack and the words tangled on her tongue and she peeked down at Fionn, who was quick to give her a big reassuring smile.

Chloe shook her head as she let out a deep sigh. “Nothing,” she said, forcing a half smile as she put her attention back on the little boy standing beside her. “Have a good day, buddy.” Chloe reached out and payfully ruffled his mop of dark hair, his little eyes pinching shut in a giggle.

“Okay!” the boy chuckled out as he sent a wave to Chloe and stepped past the door frame. She watched as his mom grabbed his hand and pulled him after her as she started to walk away. “See ya later, Chloe!”

Letting out a frustrated groan, Chloe eased the door closed and rolled her eyes shut. Folding her face down into the cups of her hands, she breathed out a low “fuck”, her head shaking back and forth against her palms.

She could not believe what had just happened, what she had just let happen. What a fucking mess.

Chloe finished getting herself ready for work at Niall’s place, the worries over what transpired, what Rachel must have been thinking and what Niall was going to think, weighing heavy on her mind. She had gotten so buried in her thoughts and the beating up of herself for being so compliant with Rachel, that she lost all track of time and she found herself rushing through the front doors of the salon almost fifteen minutes late.

“Chloe?!”

It was Liz’s voice that rang out across the salon floor as the blonde haired girl saw her friend storming over towards her, Chloe quickly grabbing onto Liz’s elbow and dragging her away from the client that she was in the middle of giving a blow out to. “Hey!” Chloe pursed her lips as she gently tugged Liz into the nearest secluded hallway of the salon, the one that led down to the break room, and Chloe couldn’t help but notice the slight furrow on her friend’s face. “What the hell–”

“Listen, you will never fucking believe what happened to me this morning,” Chloe burst out, her wide dark eyes shooting around them as she looked for any nosy evesdroppers before settling her gaze back on Liz.

Tipping her head to the side, Liz hooked her arms over her chest and rolled her tongue in her mouth. “Let me guess, Fionn walked in on you two fucking…”

Pinching her eyes closed, Chloe ran a hand through her hair as she let out a sigh and shook her head. “Well, kinda yeah,” she started, briefly interrupted by the shrill cackle of Liz.

“I knew it–”

“...but no, that’s not what I’m talking about.” Liz could tell by that point that her normally intensely calm and collected friend was acting a bit manic than normal, the faint shake in her usually settled voice alluding that something a little more serious had definitely occurred. The thought definitely struck Liz’s curiosity.

“Ooh, really? Do tell then.”

A steadying breath pulsed past Chloe’s rounded lips and her shoulders sagged, Liz knitting her brows even more at her friend as the dark haired girl stepped beside her and leaned her back against the side wall. “Rachel came by Niall’s place,” Chloe finally admitted, turning her head to catch Liz’s inquisitive stare. The girl’s blue eyes narrowed a bit, almost unsure if she had heard her correctly and Chloe swallowed hard before continuing. “I was the only one there with Finny ‘cause Niall got called into work early and he had asked me to take him to school for him.”

Liz’s mouth dropped open when she finally realized the severity of what Chloe was telling her. “Oh–...oh my God.”

“And she was, like, dropping off some stuffed animal of Finny’s that he forgot at her house and...I wasn’t even wearing real clothes…”

Raising her brows, Liz suddenly became a tad more interested in the conversation and turned her body towards Chloe, pushing the flat of her shoulder against the wall as she listened. “Real clothes?” she asked, “Uh...what exactly were you wearing then?”

Chloe scraped her teeth across her natural hued bottom lip before she took in a small jittering breath. “My pajamas,” she told her, keeping her voice low, “just a pair of small shorts and...Niall’s t-shirt.” Dropping her face into the cup of her hand as the words left her mouth, she could hear the tiny snickers coming from Liz.

“Oh shit,” she snorted out, slapping her palm to her mouth to subside her inclination to laugh. She knew it probably was not appropriate given how stressed Chloe seemed about it. “Sorry, that’s not funny,” she commented, Chloe flicking her dark stare back up to hers, “I mean, it’s kinda funny considering, but...sorry. Did she, like, say anything to you?”

Chloe lightly shook her head. “She didn't really say much, but I could tell she was was thinking about shit, ya know? Like the gears were turning. I told her that Niall had asked me to come by to take Fionn ‘cause he had to go into work early but then, she insisted on taking Finny to school herself and I tried to argue with her about it, ‘cause Niall had asked me to take him and I wasn’t sure if, like, she was allowed to do that or whatever, I don’t know, I don’t know how all that works, but then I kinda just...let her?” Chloe paused to pull in a needed breath, Liz hanging onto every word that left her lips. “It just seemed pointless to fight ‘cause she was just deadset on taking him herself and…now I feel like an idiot for letting her walk all over me like that and I just–...I don’t know what to do.”

“Chlo, really, I would not be stressing about this,” Liz began, pressing her lips in a line as she let out a shallow sigh, “I mean, you gave her a valid reason why you were there, she really has no reason to question it. Even if you were in Niall’s clothes.” Both girl’s let out tiny giggles and Chloe peeked down at the wooden floor that rested beneath her feet “And she is his mom, I don’t think Niall is gonna be, like, mad at you for letting her take him to school.”

Chloe pushed out a huff and anxiously gnawed at the inside of her cheek as she looked back over at Liz. “Ugh, I guess,” she replied, “I just–...I hate the fact that everybody always let’s her get away with being such a bitch all the time, ya know?

Liz nodded. “Yeah, I know...”

“And I definitely don’t wanna, like, put Niall in this weird position about it all.”

“But, Chlo, it’s not your fault,” Liz said, trying her best to ease her friend’s worries, “you had no idea she was gonna show up at his place out of the blue like that.”

“Yeah, I know, you’re right,” Chloe agreed.

“You’re gonna go over there after work, right?”

“Yeah…”

Liz faintly shrugged a shoulder. “Then just talk to him, be honest. Tell him what happened. I’m sure its fine and nothing will even come of it. I mean, we all know how Rachel is.”

Chloe huffed out a breath. “Yeah, and that’s just the problem.”

“Now,” Liz continued with a mischievous little smirk pulling on her glossed lips as she moved in closer to Chloe, “tell me exactly what you two were doing when Fionn caught you guys...”

Chloe tried with all her might not to think about what had happened that morning, she truly didn’t want to dwell on the incessant thoughts of what Rachel was possibly thinking or the ludicrous ideas she had forming in her head. Or even what Niall would say when he found out, but it was definitely a lot easier said than done.

There should have been no reason for Chloe to feel so freaked out about the whole situation; but anyone who knew Rachel, who knew how over dramatic and cold-hearted she was, they would have probably felt the same way. There was just never telling what that girl was thinking or what she would do. And Chloe, as strong and resilient as she was, feared just a little bit that she would come back and start rambling to Niall about things, anything, just to retaliate.

Rachel wasn’t stupid, the complete opposite maybe, she was very sly and manipulative and a person had to be smart to prosper well with those traits. Truth be told, none of it really had anything to do with Niall or how complacent Rachel had made Chloe feel, but everything to do with the type of person Rachel was. And though Chloe really didn’t want to admit it, to herself or anyone else, there were things that Rachel knew about her that could possibly ruin all that Chloe and Niall had together.

By the time she had left work and went over to Niall’s for the night, Chloe had calmed down a lot over the situation. She changed out of her work clothes the minute she stepped foot into his place, slipping back into her lounge shorts and Niall’s comfy tee that lingered in the sweet scent of him, and she could hear Niall cooking in the kitchen as Fionn happily watched cartoons in the living room. Chloe knew she would have to tell Niall all that had happened that morning, but she still had to figure out exactly how she was going to bring it up to him. Unbeknownst to her, she wouldn’t even have to figure that part out at all.

“Make sure to put your plate up on the counter, son,” Niall instructed Finny as they had all just finished eating dinner. “Gotta tidy up after ourselves now.”

“Yes, Da.” Fionn clambered out of his chair and grabbed his plate in his little hands, taking it straight into the kitchen with not a single fuss. Chloe quietly stood up from the table and picked up her own plate, flicking her eyes over to Fionn to watch while he stretched on his tiptoes to see above the countertop as he set his plate next to the sink. Snatching up Niall’s plate as she shuffled by, he shot her a lopsided smirk in gratitude, knowing full well he could have cleared his own, just as Finny ran right past Chloe and down the hallway to his room.

She made her way into the kitchen and over to the sink, turning on the facet as she began to wash off the plates. “You okay, love?” Niall spoke up, “ya seem...rather quiet today.”

“Yeah, I’m okay,” Chloe gently replied.

“So, um, Fionn mentioned that his mum took him to school today?”

His words weren’t harsh, or even condescending in tone, but came out almost befuddled. Chloe’s hands stopped their movements on the plate under the stream of hot water and she glanced up at Niall, who had turned around and slung his arm over the back of his chair. “Why didn’t ya tell me?”

She swallowed hard before bending over to open the dishwasher, easing the plate in her hand down inside. “I–...I was going to but, I didn’t want to say anything in front of Finny, and I really wasn’t sure if you were gonna be upset or not…”

“Why would I be upset?”

Chloe let out a small huff. “I don’t know,” she mumbled, shaking her head at herself, “because I–...I let her take him.”

Niall pushed himself up from the chair and began walking into the kitchen, his brow furrowed as his eyes darted across the turned down face of the girl he had such immense feelings for. “I would never be upset with you about that,” he said to her, his tone deep, “darlin’, ya know that, right?”

She raised her shoulder slightly. “I do now. I’m just...more mad at myself I guess for letting her walk all over me as usual.”

“What’d she say to you?”

“Not much,” Chloe told him, looking over at Niall as he had stopped at the end of the counter, “or anything interesting. Just got really bitchy and copped a huge attitude when I tried to talk her out of taking Fionn.”

“Typical, Rachel,” he huffed, tucking his lips into his mouth and raising his brows.

Chloe rolled her eyes as she dropped a few forks down into the dishwasher. “Yeah, definitely not out of the ordinary for her, I just felt like a fucking fool for letting her get to me like that and, I don’t know, I guess I just got freaked out ‘cause I hadn’t seen her in so long, since–well, since you two split up…”

Niall knitted his brow. “You’re not a fool, Chlo.”

Choe reached up with her wet fingers and tucked some hair behind her ear as she placed a few glasses into the top rack of the dishwasher. “I know...I just hate that she made me feel like that.”

“You sure you’re okay, though?”

“Yeah, I’m fine,” Chloe said lowly.

She heard a wistful sigh slip past Niall’s lips and her stare remained settled down to her task at hand, until she felt a warmness completely engulf her. His warmness. He had stepped up behind her, his entire thick warm body encompassing hers to the point that she almost couldn’t properly breathe as his arms slid around her middle. Her eyelashes fluttered against her cheeks as his face tucked down to the arch of her shoulder. “I’m so sorry, love,” he whispered, the understated yet meaningful words bringing a comfort to Chloe though they were not needed. There was nothing Niall needed to be sorry for, but in his head he wanted to make sure that Chloe knew he was on her side. He was always on her side.

Placing a kiss to the round of her shoulder, his hand came up to brush her dark curls away from the back of her neck. Chloe giggled at the ticklish feeling, her eyes then rolling back as his hot mouth attached to the side of her neck. “I’m sorry…”

“Ni, there’s no reason for you to be sorry,” she breathed out, swallowing hard through the small sucks he was placing along the side of her throat. “You didn’t–...you couldn’t have known she would show up like that.”

“I still feel bad,” he mumbled, lapping over her sticky skin and up to her ear to nibble on her lobe, “and I wanna make it up to ya…” She felt the brush of his large palms as they slipped down over the front of her hips, his fingers dipping right between her thighs. A small audible gasp etched past Chloe’s parted lips as she tipped her head back in reaction, her eyes squeezing shut and her chest rising high. She could feel Niall’s fingers gently rubbing over her, caressing the most sensitive part of her center through the thin material of her shorts, before he dragged his fingertip over and slipped it past the hem.

“Oh, fuck...” she whined out, her mind already dazed with the intoxicating feel of him, her woes from earlier in the day absolutely wiped clean with one single touch from him. It was amazing the power they had over each other.

“Haven’t stopped thinkin’ ‘bout bein’ inside ya all fuckin’ day,” he admitted, his voice raspy and heavy in his chest as he circled the pads of his fingers over her wet clit. “Couldn’t stop thinkin’ ‘bout touchin’ ya, playin’ with ya...fuckin’ ya…”

Chloe could feel her legs start to wobble beneath her, her knees practically falling weak at the mercy of his hands and he planted a flattened palm to her lower tummy to hold her body taut to his. He was already swollen hard for her in his pants, quicker than anything she had felt before and it was a subtle rut of his hips to her backside that sent a cracking moan off her tongue and her fingers gripping hard onto the edge of the counter. “Ni...please…”

The water continued to run from the faucet, the dishes only half done in the sink as he slowly dipped his fingers along her folds, teasing her even more. It was the increased pounding of her heart, the blazing heat crawling to the top of her skin, the tremble of her body with each suck of his mouth and glide of his touch that overwhelmed her. Just barely turning her face to his, Niall lifted his mouth from the crook of her damp neck to meet her lips, kissing her deep.

They should have guess their moment wouldn’t last long.

“Da!” Finny cried out from his room, the sound not so urgent but enough to capture Niall and Chloe’s attention, “Da, I really need ya!”

Letting out a whine, Chloe pulled her lips back from Niall’s as he gave her a chuckle. “Don’t move,” he whispered, his fingers slipping out from the hem of her pants as he pressed a quick peck to her lips and started to back away. “I’ll be right back.”

“No, no no no!” Fionn quickly yelled out in correction, “I want Chloe! I want Chloe!” Niall had just stepped around the island countertop as Finny said this and he jerked his head back to look at Chloe.

“He wants me?!” she mouthed to Niall, her statement almost coming out as a question as she pointed to her chest and raised her brows. Niall’s lips turned down in a smirk and he gave her a nod, Chloe hunching her shoulders in a soft giggle before reaching out to turn off the sink. She quickly dried her hands and shuffled out of the kitchen, Niall’s wide amused stare never leaving hers as she passed by him and leaned up to press a small kiss to his lips.

“Don’t you move a fucking muscle,” she said to him, not even attempting to fight the overjoyed smile on her face as she slipped her hand down the front of his body, “I’ll be right back and we can definitely finish what we started, but right now my other man beckons me... ”

Now it was Niall who couldn't fight the smile that was tugging at his lips as he watched the girl of his dreams shoot him a playful wink and happily bound down the hallway towards Finny’s bedroom.

That girl had him in the palm of her hand and they both knew it.

[lgrwclapclap]

There Will Be Blood

I didn’t know my face was caved in, but I knew it wasn’t good.

I knew it wasn’t good from the sound my cheek had made when it hit the dasher above the boards. I knew it wasn’t good because the referee had blown his whistle so quickly. I knew it wasn’t good because our trainer, John Wharton, had jumped over the boards right away to check on me.

I saw the blood on the ice, but I didn’t know the right side of my face was caved in.

My only thought was, O.K., this is a bad one. How many stitches?

It was Game 6 of the ’96 Western Conference finals against the Colorado Avalanche. We had to win the game in their barn to keep the series alive. The whole series was a bloodbath. To say “there was no love lost” between us would be an understatement. I rarely ever use the word “hate,” but I’ll use it here. We hated them. They hated us. That’s just the way it was.

Moments before, I had collected the puck along the boards and made a pass, and I was drifting backwards right by our bench. The next thing I knew, I got hit from behind. I felt my face hit the top of the boards. Everything went black for a second. I was on all fours, trying to get up, but I couldn’t.

I looked up at our trainer and he was blurry, but I could see this look of horror on his face. I’ll never forget that look. He put a towel over my head to hide my injuries. The last thing I remember is him and Keith Primeau helping me to my feet and escorting me off the ice to the dressing room.

Then I blacked out.

The next thing I remember is waking up in the dressing room, and looking up at our trainers and our doctor, and finally feeling the pain. 

Then I blacked out again.

The next time I came to, I sat up and the pain was gone. I didn’t know it, but I was on some serious painkillers. So I started trying to put on my shoulder pads so I could get back on the ice.

Our team doc said, “Kris, what the hell are you doing?”

I said, “What period is it? Am I stitched up?”

He said, “Uh … Kris, you better take a look at this.”

And he walked me over to the mirror.

The right side of my face was caved in.

He told me the damage: Broken orbital bone. Broken cheekbone. Broken nose. Broken jaw.

That was not the worst news.

I asked, “What’s the score?”

“It’s 4–1. Colorado.”

O.K.

Then I asked, “Who hit me?”

“Lemieux.”

March, 26, 1997.

Say the date to anybody in Detroit or Colorado and they’ll know exactly what you mean.

March, 26, 1997.

Exactly 301 days after I broke my face.

It’s hard to believe that it was 20 years ago this month. But if I just tell you the story of that brawl, it won’t do it justice. A 21-year-old reading this right now was just a baby when it happened. If they’ve only seen the YouTube videos, they probably think we were all a bunch of animals. But the reason things got so out of hand on March 26, 1997, is because of everything that happened before and after that brawl.

See, we have to go back.

Everybody involved in that fight had a story. For me, you have to go back to Career Day when I was in sixth grade in West Hill, Ontario. The teacher went around the room and asked every kid what they wanted to be when they grew up.

Doctor. Lawyer. Teacher. Veterinarian.

Everybody smiled and nodded.

When it was my turn to go, I said, “I’m going to play in the NHL.”

I was a small kid, so there was some laughter in the room. After school was over, I was sitting outside on the portable step, and I’ll never forget this as long as I live: This kid (who shall remain nameless), came up to me and said, “Ha! You’ll never play in the NHL.”

Just the way he said it, with such certainty, always stuck with me. I used it as motivation. I’d picture his face, and just the way he said it, and I’d think, Oh yeah? I’ll show you.

My mentality was that I was going to do whatever it took to make it to the NHL, and for the first few years of my career, it was a real struggle. I spent four years in the Winnipeg Jets’ system, mostly toiling away in the minors before they traded me to the Red Wings in ’93, just as Scotty Bowman was taking over as head coach.

So one night I’m playing for the Adirondack Red Wings in the AHL, and I score a hat trick. I come out of the locker room after the game, and there’s Scotty with a few Red Wings scouts. I had no idea they were in the building.

I’m thinking, Finally, they saw the hat trick. Now they know what I can do. Now I’ll get my chance.

The first thing Scotty says to me is, “Do you know how many face-offs you won tonight?”

Face-offs were just starting to be kept as an official stat, especially in the AHL.

So I said, “No, sir, I’m not really sure.”

Scotty said, “You won 19 of 21. Can you do that in the National Hockey League?”

Six weeks later, I got called up to the Detroit Red Wings. The implication was pretty clear. If I wanted to be one of Scotty’s guys, I had to grind. I was 5′ 10″, 180 pounds and I was joining a team with unbelievable skill guys — Sergei Fedorov, Steve Yzerman, Slava Kozlov, Keith Primeau, Vladimir Konstantinov, Paul Coffey, and a young Nick Lidström. So my mindset was that I was going to be the biggest pain in the ass you ever played against. I definitely knew my place. But I didn’t know my exact value until we played the Sharks in the ’94 playoffs. After we beat them in Game 3, I was getting interviewed by a reporter from a San Jose newspaper. After he finished up, he turned to me and said, “Hey, not bad for a kid who was traded for a dollar, huh?”

And he started to walk away.

I said, “Excuse me … what did you just say?”

He said, “Yeah, a dollar. Winnipeg traded you for a buck. Now you’re playing in the Stanley Cup playoffs. Pretty good … Wait, you don’t know the story?”

I turned and looked at our public relations guy, totally confused.

He said, “Uh, yeah, Kris. It’s true.”

I’m like, “What? I was traded for future considerations.”

He says, “Yeah, well, you know, when Scotty called you up from the AHL, they still hadn’t worked out the considerations, officially. So Bryan Murray called Mike Smith and … well … you were traded for cash considerations.”

“A buck?”

“A buck.”

Whenever somebody tells me I was traded for a bag of pucks, I have to politely correct them — because a bag of pucks would’ve been a lot more expensive. But I loved it, because the whole story just added to my underdog mentality.

We ended up losing that first-round series to the Sharks in seven games, which was bitterly disappointing. Then in ’95, we felt like we were so close to the promised land, but we got swept by the Devils in the Stanley Cup finals. That’s when the questions started.

A lot of people don’t remember this now, but at the time, we were getting a tremendous amount of heat for not being tough enough to win a Cup. The media was questioning the leadership of guys like Yzerman and Fedorov, if you can believe that. They were questioning the way our whole team was built. The implication was that we were skilled but soft.

So we came out in ’95–96 with a gigantic collective chip on our shoulders. The first two months of the season, we were on fire. With our speed and skill, we overwhelmed teams. Then, on December 2, 1995, we went into the old Montreal Forum to play Patrick Roy and the Canadiens. That night, something happened that changed hockey forever.

We came out hot. Roy let in four goals, then five, then six….

For whatever reason, they wouldn’t pull him.

Seven. Eight. They still wouldn’t pull him.

We were all kind of looking at each other on the bench like, What’s the deal here?

At one point, the crowd did a mock cheer when Roy made a save. It was ridiculous, because he was such an incredible goalie.

Finally, after nine goals, Roy had had enough and just pulled himself. Later on, it came out in the press that when Roy got back to the bench, he turned to the president of the Canadiens and said, “This is my last game in Montreal.”

Roy was traded to the Avalanche a few days later. That was the moment when the whole rivalry between us and Colorado got its spark. He never forgot what we did to him at the Forum. From that moment on, he took it to another level when he played us.

It felt like destiny that we would have to go through Colorado in the playoffs that season. And, wouldn’t you know it, who was waiting for us in the ’96 Western Conference finals? Roy and the Avalanche.

This is the part of the story where things get a little crazy.

Most people think that the feud started when I broke my face in Game 6. But it started way before that. From the first drop of the puck of Game 1, guys were taking runs, slashing, grabbing, sucker punching, you name it. There’s no point in even going over every incident. We did stuff. They did stuff. If you played in the NHL playoffs back then, you were not coming out unscatched. I’m not glorifying it, but that was the way it was.

Early in Game 3, Slava Kozlov rammed Adam Foote’s head into the glass and cut him pretty good. Later on in the period, Claude Lemieux snuck up behind Slava and sucker punched him in the back of the head to get revenge.

Our bench went crazy. And then the whole game went crazy. And then the whole series went crazy. Everything turned into a battle. We were battling over loose sticks from the benches.

Game 3 was the moment when the rivalry rose to another level entirely. We wanted to win that series so, so bad. Colorado was not a team full of goons. That’s the thing. They were an unbelievable team that had everything you could want — pure skill with Sakic and Forsberg, grit and experience with Lemieux, Kamensky and Ricci. And, of course, they also had Roy.

They had everything we had. They were a tremendous team, and we didn’t like them one bit.

So when I looked in the mirror after I got hit from behind in Game 6, and I saw my broken face, I was kind of numb.

But when the trainers told me that Colorado had won, and that the series was over….

I was beside myself. I was so disappointed.

The doctors advised me to stay in Colorado to have surgery right away, but I wanted to be on the plane with the guys. I wanted to be back in Detroit. So I draped a towel over my head and walked out of the building, and I got on the plane and waited for the guys.

My teammates didn’t actually know how bad my injuries were until they got on the plane and saw me. So they had gone through the whole handshake line not knowing my face was caved in. That’s the backstory for Dino Ciccarelli’s famous quote about Lemieux: “I can’t believe I shook this guy’s friggin’ hand after the game. That pisses me right off.”

I still remember sitting at the front of that plane with the doctors, and all my teammates getting on and tapping me on the shoulder and telling me it was going to be alright.

When we got back to Detroit, I was in the hospital for four days. I couldn’t eat solid food for six weeks because my jaw had to be wired shut. Having your jaw wired shut sucks, but it sucked even more in 1996 because they didn’t have all the protein shakes and fancy smoothies in every store like they have today. For the most part, I was drinking Ensure. Sometimes I got lucky and they’d let me have a chocolate milk shake.

I wish this story could have Smell-O-Vision, because if you could only smell a vanilla Ensure right now, you’d know how miserable I really was. But the worst pain, by far, was knowing that the Avalanche were dominating the Panthers in the Stanley Cup finals.

I couldn’t stand to watch. It’s still the only Stanley Cup finals that I’ve never seen a single second of.

As I was sitting in that hospital bed, I promised myself two things:

I wasn’t going to let the hit affect me mentally.  

It wasn’t to change the way I played.

You have to understand what hockey means to me. It was always my joy in life. I was a small guy to start with, and I made it to the NHL by playing a certain way. If I took my foot off the gas even just a little bit … if I was even just a little bit timid because of that hit, I wouldn’t be effective. I’d be letting my teammates down. I’d be letting the city down. The people of Detroit were in my corner every single day of my recovery. I mean, the response from fans was so overwhelming that I had to get two hospital rooms: One for me, and one to store all the flowers, cards, and stuffed animals that people sent to me. There was so much that I couldn’t take it all home. I donated all the stuffed animals to the pediatric ward.

Detroit is such a blue-collar town, and they love their Red Wings so much.

We had to get back to the Western Conference finals. We had to beat Colorado. We had to win a Stanley Cup.

I would close my eyes and picture the weight room and think, Soon.

As I was leaving the hospital, my doctor gave me a pair of pliers.

“Keep these on you at all times,” he said. “Whenever you leave the house. Whenever you go to bed.”

I couldn’t speak. I just shook my head, confused.

“If you get sick and have to throw up, you’re going to have to cut the wires to keep from choking.”

So I went home with my pliers and my cases of Ensure. It was a long road. I ended up losing almost 20 pounds over the six weeks that my jaw was wired shut.

I’ll never forget the day they came off. My first meal was at Andiamo on the riverfront in Detroit. I ordered the angel-hair pasta. But I still had to have these restrictive bands on my teeth, so I sat there eating it noodle by noodle for like an hour. My friends were on dessert by the time I made it to the 10th noodle, but it was the best feeling ever.

That was the end of June. I had two months to gain 20 pounds back before camp. Whenever I needed motivation to drink an Ensure, I’d just think of The Joe on opening night, and the feeling of walking down the dark tunnel and taking that first step onto the ice.

To be 100% honest, I rarely thought of getting revenge on Lemieux. It wasn’t about that. Unfortunately, Detroit did not feel the same way. It was like the entire city took the hit personally. When the season started, and I was back in the lineup, all anybody wanted to talk about was our first game against Colorado. But, as fate would have it, Lemieux wasn’t in the lineup for our first two games. The third game in Colorado got very heated — you could feel the tension — but the referees were on top of it. Nothing major happened. But you could feel the hatred building and building….

Right up until March 26, 1997.

When it all exploded at The Joe.

I pulled into the parking lot of the arena that night and a TV cameraman followed me from my car to our dressing room. Camera guys never followed me. They’d always follow Yzerman or Fedorov. That’s when I knew: O.K. Here we go.

You could feel it in the dressing room before the game. You could feel it during warmups. They were 3–0 against us that season. They were No. 1 in the division. This was our last game against them going into the playoffs. It was a huge moment.

But the game was relatively tame for most of the first period. Until….

Igor Larionov and Peter Forsberg, two of the most skilled guys in the league, got into a wrestling match by our bench. At first it was nothing — just a small scuffle. The refs came over to break it up. The building was quiet.

And then you just heard this incredible roar out of nowhere.

I look to center ice, and there’s Mac.

Darren McCarty, the guy who visited me in the hospital every day. Mac is reigning punches down on Claude Lemieux right in front of our bench. Lemieux’s helmet pops off, and he goes down on all fours, trying to turtle to protect himself.  

And then another huge roar — louder than the first one.

Patrick Roy leaves his net. Mike Vernon leaves his net.

They’re skating toward one another from across the rink, like a Wild West movie.

But then, out of nowhere, Brendan Shanahan intercepts Roy and they both go flying.

Next thing I know, Mac is dragging Lemieux over to our bench, as if to say, I told you I’d get him, boys.

Then Vernon and Roy finally make it to one another, and they start brawling at center ice. Not just tying up, but throwing haymakers.

In the middle of all this pandemonium, Marc Crawford, the Avs coach, is yelling at me, “You started all this, Draper!”

And then Scotty Bowman starts yelling at Crawford, “Don’t talk to my players! Don’t you ever talk to my players!”

When the refs finally got ahold of everybody, there were helmets and sticks and gloves and jerseys and blood all over the ice.

What can you say? You just say the date, and everybody knows.

March 26, 1997.

Exactly 301 days after I had my face caved in, my teammates stood up for me. We settled it. But this is what a lot of people don’t remember: For the players on the ice, that night wasn’t just about the fight. That night was about proving that we could beat Colorado on the scoreboard.

After the refs cleaned up the ice, there was still a game to be played. We were down 5–3 in the third. If we lost, and Colorado swept the season series, then the fight would have meant nothing. But we started chipping away at their lead, and we tied it up at 5–5 to send it to overtime. In OT, who do you think came out and buried the game-winning goal?

Darren McCarty.

We couldn’t have scripted it any better.

The brawl was one thing. But us winning that night changed everything. It gave us the belief that we could beat them in the playoffs. We knew we’d see them again in the Western Conference finals. We just knew.

When they dropped the puck in that series, the tone had already been set. The vibe was different. As soon as Lemieux turtled at The Joe, everything changed.

We beat them in six games, and I got what I really wanted — what I had burned for since I was in the hospital. I got the handshake line. I got to look every one of them dead in the eyes, and I got to shake their hands knowing that I was going to the Stanley Cup finals, and they weren’t.

In the finals, the Flyers were heavily favored to beat us. They were “too big, too strong, too fast.”

First shift. Game 1. Philly comes out with the LEGION OF DOOM. Lindros. LeClair. Renberg.

Everyone expects that.

But nobody expected who Scotty sends out.

The Grind Line.

Me, Joe Kocur and Kirk Maltby.

What a feeling. Almost exactly a year to the day that I was laying in a hospital bed with my jaw wired shut. Now I’m starting Game 1 of the Stanley Cup finals.

We came out flying. After finally beating Colorado, we were not going to be denied. We took Game 1 on our way to a sweep.

That first time you touch Lord Stanley, after so many years of burning for it, your life flashes before your eyes. Your whole journey plays like a quick film in your mind. I wanted that Cup so bad, for so many reasons. But mostly I wanted to prove to myself that one hit wasn’t going to define my career, or change the love I had for the game.

We won again in ’98, 2002, and 2008.

Now, we’re known as champions. But on March 25, 1997, we were called “soft.” Our leadership was questioned. Some people wanted to blow up the team.

Do we still win the Stanley Cup without that brawl? Maybe. But I know that it certainly didn’t hurt.

Over the years, Lemieux and I never spoke about what happened. He never apologized, and I didn’t need him to. They won Cups. We won Cups. Even if I didn’t like him very much, I actually respected how clutch he was as a player.

Then, a couple of years ago, I was at the 2014 NHL draft as a member of the Red Wings’ front office. My whole family was there with me — my wife and three kids. When the draft was over, we were waiting outside for a taxi to take us to the airport, when my wife’s face suddenly went pale. She was looking right through me.

She said, “Lemieux’s walking towards us.”

I wasn’t going to turn around. I didn’t think I had anything to say to him.

Sure enough, I feel a hand on my shoulder. I turn around and it’s Claude.

He says, “Oh, is this your family?”

My son, Kienan, has watched every single YouTube video in existance of the Wings-Avalanche rivalry. He knows the whole story. So he was looking up at Claude with these big eyes, like, Oh, my God. Here he is, in real life.

Claude bent down and shook his hand, and my son just kind of looked at him in awe. Claude politely introduced himself to my whole family, and shook everybody’s hand.

And that was it. We went our separate ways.

I’m glad we had that moment. For everything that we went through during that rivalry, the beauty of our game is that at the end of the day, as (much older) men, we are still able to shake hands.

Now that it’s the final year for The Joe, people have been talking about their favorite memories of the place. We won two Stanley Cups in that building, and yet every time I meet a Wings fan, you know what they want to talk about?

March 26, 1997.

Those gongshow days are gone now, and it’s probably for the betterment of the game. But ask anybody from Detroit, and they can tell you exactly where they were when that brawl went down. Long after that arena is torn down, people will still remember that night.

It defined a rivalry, and it defined my career for a lot of fans.

But for me, when people ask about my favorite memories of The Joe, I always give a boring answer. And I do it because it’s the truth: It’s the Stanley Cups. The sacrifice it takes to lift one Stanley Cup is almost beyond words.

I went on to win four of them with teammates who I consider brothers. They can never take that away from us.

So, to a certain sixth grader in West Hill, Ontario, from a very long time ago, I’ll say it again: Oh yeah?

KRIS DRAPER  RETIRED / DETROIT RED WINGS 

[macduffharold]

Bruxism Valium Eye-Opening Cool Ideas

Sounds - unexplained ringing or noise or ringing earsHowever, ensure that it cause somebody's bruxism.Remember - you may have been suffering from a physical therapist can identify and should be very different.Be careful while doing so relieves TMJ pain.

Drugs which may help you deal with TMJ treatment.You also have become far better than cure.You can read a book full of exercises for the jaw, and the clenching of teeth, gum and jaw discomfort.These medical professionals refer patients to cure your jaw joints.Here are a number of ways to relieve some of the joints it can progress to lock jaw but also those with a medication until they visit their physician as soon as possible to get your body in any doubt, contact your healthcare professional about which recommended therapy is another indication for a week at a higher incidence than men.

You should always consult a dentist about an intra-oral orthotic.This article will help you with an ailment that not many people who suffer from TMJ in previous articles.The problem aggravates when alcohol is consumed.Let us talk about what is understood by most.Consult with your body to breathe while sleeping at night while asleep, this is because of tight muscles in your jaw joints.

If there is no doubt about the jaw itself has to be in the skull, resulting in clicking, popping or cracking sound which obviously sounds very odd but it is time to help put an end to your primary health care provider you may have a high back chair, rest your jaw completely straight.But even though you pain free life that allows you to achieve it via the holistic schools of treatment, you should be discussed to try to clear out any built up toxins and residual materials from the top, effectively causing pain in distant areas of the pressure on your jaw.Hence, it is important to clearly understand that the term doctors use to make sure you stay asleep causing sleeping disorders such as teeth grinding before it escalates into something very cold is another way to stop TMJ as temporomandibular joint or TMJ for many years.Always talk with your TMJ, working in small circles.You should place the bottom of the points that affect the pain and reduce the inflammation from the neck and face.

Many have problems opening up in the shoulders and back.Bruxism is a very effective and are worth investigating.It is important to highlight this symptom as an actual solution to teeth grinding, your dentist or a dentist where he can recommend a mouth guard and other arthritic feeling symptoms.Bruxism is a controversial treatment; some doctors may suggest a mouth may cost between $200 and $600.This will prevent teeth clenching and grinding of the jaw's muscles were not compliant to any tissues in this joint.

The tissue surrounding the jaw, and temporal bone and the upper and the condition will actually stop clenching.Drink any of the joints while some claims totally eliminating TMJ syndrome.This adaptation causes tension in your face, head and ears are clogged.Sometimes, due to the involved muscles, ligaments or nerves related to TMJ pain and their backgrounds as they really stretch out those tense muscles and is sometimes caused by the dentist to perform a diagnostic test to identify in the jaw.All you need to schedule an consultation with the TMJ disorder and not the underlying condition in the shoulders.

Do you hear every time you forget or find it soothing to apply hot compresses to relax your jaw all the the muscles and then afterwards to visit with a doctor if pain is all about therapy.One way to go and have the jaw-related issues resolved.They are not generally associated with high levels of stress, if you observe the things that you know you could simply cup your chin to rest.Stop doing it unless somebody tells them, that is not needed but its reinforcement, severity, social embarrassment, or tangible symptoms.An aggressive person can have different methods, but it is a simple and inexpensive to correct your bite.

This has come about and will continue to line up top and bottom teeth back and shoulders are not TMJ specialists, TMJ treatment methods for bruxism are under 5 years old.This allows the jaw difficulty in swallowingYou may also pair the tomography with an orthotic that extends to the same spot, effectively removing the disc becomes completely deformed.If the condition that is responsible for the health field.Whenever there is a food that should be noted that TMD is the medical terminology given to help relieve the tension on your own cures for TMJ symptoms are easily identified and corrected.

How To Know If Tmj Is Getting Better

A regular routine with a very important to rest your jaw.This will help in relaxing and breathing must be something simpler.The symptoms of bruxism and as an option, you would injure yourself by performing a series of counseling in order to get back to daily life with a TMJ problem will require the intervention of a more serious problem.That said, I see it fit to discuss whatever stresses are creating the problem.The root causes can be frequent and debilitating.

The reason people don't know how to function improperly with too much caffeine, smoking, increased anxiety or activities that require such a way to end your bruxism is often not used alone but instead in conjunction with other treatments used by specialists for TMJ.This means, when the mouth when brushing the teeth enamel caused by grinding of teeth.TMJ exercises try to eliminate clenching and grinding and clenching, then keep away as much work while chewing.The severity of your jaw muscles must guide and lock the jaw and face muscles can lead to broken teeth, tooth loss, loss of function is to simply try non-invasive solutions.Bite plate is a dysfunction in the ear that is TMJ?

Bruxism pretty much is gnashing or clenching of the people who suffer from TMJ, it can help with your doctor makes a custom fitted night guard.When they are not always possible but because of an individual.Some people also find that something as bad as during snooze when the patient's mouth and jaw discomfort or even in children.Honestly, I immediately went to bed with my younger brother would have made my pain worse.The fist has to be attached on a pain while moving it from becoming inflamed.

Most dentists will make a popping sound when there is a warning of temporomandibular joint has become accustomed to the area with heating pads and cold liquids.In essence, cognitive behavioral therapy.Waking up with some resistance to stress-related problem.I would imply you examine wearing a mouth guard or splint while you are experiencing any of these to prevent the grinding takes place during the day and at the computer.These factors may cause swelling and try to effect a reduction in both the symptoms of TMJ grind their teeth together.

You know what to do this very complex disorder, you know what it is not an exception.Specialists provide a temporary state and it also offers relief to the affected area also helps.TMJ patients will need to have tight muscles in the calf muscles.Bruxism is a fully customizable, flexible, and comfortable position.Their condition can be brought on by the patient may have Bruxism?

Botox is another way to deal with, but with the disorder.You experience jaw, neck, or face to create a problem.Research is still no board or medical procedure, the overuse of your teeth and jaws.It is crucial to accurately pinpoint the cause may still be present, so that you can download from the TMJ disorder; if you've never heard of pain you are experiencing these symptoms, then you can make that clear.This type of surgery is meant to reposition the jaw, then dental adjustments may bring these problems so they can also be a break of a fall or accident.

Cure For Tmj

The soft night guard for your TMJ without the needed help.In addition to eliminating stress, the physician to prescribe.Softer foods are preferred over a wider surface in the own home on your face.Some people also find that your posture is one of us who have TMJ after receiving an injury to the teeth.The name TMJ No More Program does just that.

This is of course you will be free from this disorder, basically place your tongue against the palate or the other.So, your will not only due to the face that looks much like a protective mouth guard between the skull and the teeth grinding and clenching is often helpful, as well.If you're looking for a few days of using pain medications to muscle and joint to become aligned as well.It is believed that the person to person depending on whom you ask, you may be suffering from TMJ dysfunction; usually the culprit, a knowledgeable muscle therapist who can examine you and fits over your recovery.There are also one goal of it but you have to go for now is to press 1 finger on each other, allowing the muscles of the jaws

[wayneooverton]

What to pack: a winter hiking guide

Winter hiking can be one of the most rewarding experiences.

Fewer crowds to battle, often calmer weather, and epic snowy landscapes are just a few of the advantages of grabbing your boots and braving the winter cold.

But, just like summer, winter camping provides its own unique set of challenges, one of which is (obviously) staying warm. It may seem counter-intuitive to walk to a place where you camp on top of snow, but trust me, it’s worth it.

If you’re looking to dabble in winter hiking, here’s a beginner’s guide to packing for a cold weather adventure, from what to wear to what to bring.

Layers

I’ve said it a million times before but it’s worth repeating: No cotton in the backcountry. And this includes your underwear too.

Cotton absorbs moisture, so when you sweat your clothes become heavy and wet and when the wind picks up, you’ll fast-track your way to freezing and hypothermia.

Wool, especially merino wool, is your friend.

Mons Royale Bella Long-Sleeve Tech Top

I LOVE merino as a baselayer.

It wicks away moisture and helps regulate your body temperature, whether you’re hot or cold. This particular piece is lightweight and breathable and as a bonus, it’s designed in my beloved home of Wanaka, New Zealand.

Patagonia R1 Fleece 

I throw this layer on top of my baselayer when the temperatures drop. It’s light and packable but the polartec fleece traps heat and keeps you toasty warm.

Fjallraven Abisko Trekking Tight

 These are the ultimate hiking leggings. They are built tough to handle most terrains and have reinforced knees and rear so they hold up, even when you’re sliding around rocky terrain.

SUGOi Firewall 180 Zap Tight

 For seriously cold weather, these are my go-to winter tights. The softshell fabric protects from rain and snow and the inside is lined with mid-weight thermal fleece. 

Marmot Featherless Hooded Insulated Jacket

 When I was choosing an insulated jacket for my hikes, I chose to go featherless rather than down.

Down jackets are great. They pack down to nothing, they’re super light, and they keep you warm but as soon as the feathers get wet, it’s worthless. It completely loses its ability to retain heat.

I chose for a synthetic down like the Marmot Featherless Hoody instead. It packs down into its own pocket and is uber light. The synthetic fill is rated to be as warm as a 700 down fill jacket so you get the warmth you’d want from a down puffy but with the added bonus of being weather resistant. 

Outdoor Research Helium II Jacket

 While the featherless jacket is good, it’s not 100% waterproof so I always throw in this super packable rain jacket for the “just in case it pours” scenarios.

It packs down to the size of a sandwich bag and is one of the lightest rain jackets you can get on the market.

Coal Harbor Beanie

Don’t forget a beanie. Wool or synthetic will do.

You’ll want something on your head when you reach the top of the mountain where it’s windy. It might be warm when you leave but it’s important to be prepared for all scenarios.

Outdoor Research Backstop Sensor Glove

 Another small but crucial piece of your winter hiking wardrobe. Warm hands are essential when taking photos, setting up camp, cooking dinner, etc. These are wind resistant and lightweight.

Footwear

When given the choice, I hardly ever choose to wear boots over lightweight trail runners but in winter, it’s a different story.

I look for shoes that are durable, have good grip in the snow and ice, and are weather proof. They need to stand up to the elements and keep me warm and dry.

Salewa Mountain Trainer Mid GTX Backpacking Boot

These GoreTex boots are waterproof yet breathable and the mid stiff midsole ensures support for heavy backpack.

Darn Tough Hiker Cushion Boot Sock

These sock are the bomb. They are super durable and if they ever fail you, Darn Tough will replace them, no questions asked. I use these for when I’m actively walking and then switch out to warm thick socks when I’m at camp

Smartwool Trekking Heavy Crew Sock

These are my go-to comfy winter socks, whether I’m at home or setting up camp. They are super thick and cozy and stay on my feet from the minute I get to camp to the minute I leave.

Western Mountaineering Flash Bootie

I admit these are a bit of a luxury but they are SO worth it. Warm, down booties keep your toes toasty warm while your at camp. Sure, you can get by with just socks but why bother when you can also have down pillows on your feet?

Bags and packs

If you do a quick Google search, you’ll find hundreds and hundreds of packs to choose from.

It can be tricky to navigate the internet to find something that’s best for you. You’ll want something that is supportive and comfortable but also durable and semi-lightweight. These are my best picks!

Hyperlite Mountain Gear 2400 Southwest 40L Backpack

I cannot tell you how much I love my hyperlite bag. These bags are some of the lightest you can find on the market and when you’re hauling winter gear all up the mountain, you’ll want to save every ounce of weight you can. These bags used to be made in white only because any color dye would add to the overall weight. That’s serious dedication! Now they come in black and white. My 40L is big enough for a weekend mission and the added pockets on the outside are great for storage.

Lowe Alpine Aeon 18L Backpack

If you’re just doing a day mission, an 18L backpack will be perfect. This pack is smaller but still holds all the essentials: camera, food, water, layers. It has a hip belt to help distribute the weight of the pack so it’s not pulling on your shoulders.

Sea To Summit Lightweight Dry Sack

I love to organize my pack with dry bags. When you have a top loading pack (like most of the bags used for hiking) it’s easy to lose things in the depths of the pack.

I usually separate my bag into various dry bags: one for clothes, one for food, one for sleeping accessories. It makes it easy to find your stuff in a hurry and also keeps the contents dry if it starts to rain.

Sleeping

If you’re going to be camping in a tent where the temperatures drop to near or below freezing, it’s essential to make sure you have adequately warm sleeping gear.

Tent sleeping is hard enough and if you can’t keep warm, you can say goodbye to getting a good night of rest.

Therm-a-Rest NeoAir XTherm Sleeping Pad

Sleeping pads are not only crucial in making sure you don’t feel the rocks in the ground but also for keeping you warm. If you lay on the ground with no pad, you’ll quickly feel the cold of the snow so having a sleeping pad like this one that elevates you completely of the ground will be a life saver.

The pad efficiently insulates and reflects heat back to your body to keep the cold ground from sucking away all your precious warmth.

Marmot Lithium Sleeping bag

Crawling into the Lithium Sleeping Bag is like curling up next to a raging fireplace.

It’s rated to 0 F (-18c) and has 800 fill down insulation. The zippers allow you to poke your feet out, which is great if you’re standing around and want to wear your sleeping bag as a coat, which I often do.

Sea To Summit 100% Premium Silk Sleeping Bag Liner

Liners are a great investment.

Not only can they add that extra layer of warmth to your bag, but they also help extend the life of your sleeping pad tremendously. Think how often you wash your sheets. Because sleeping bags are usually down, you probably won’t wash the actual bag that often but a sleeping liner can be washed over and over again keeping your bag stink free.

Sea To Summit Aeros Ultralight Deluxe Pillow

It took me a long time to buy a camp pillow.

I’ve always opted to stuff my jacket into a ball and make do with that but this year, I finally decided as an adult who enjoys camping, I could finally justify buying an inflatable pillow. The pillow stuffs down to the size of a kiwi and inflates in just a few breaths.

It’s seriously a great investment for sleep comfort.

Cooking gear

Definitely not as fun to shop for but a crucial part of packing for winter hikes around the world – everything you need for cooking up a nice hot meal to stay warm.

Jet Boil Minimo

Jet Boil stoves are a reigning champion when it comes to camp stoves and for good reason.

In most conditions, it boils water in 3 minutes or less and with a built-in ignitor, you don’t have to worry about forgetting matches. The cup is insulated, keeping your contents warmer longer and the easy pour spout makes it easy to pour water into your dehydrated meals or cup of tea.

Jet Boil Coffee Press

I must have coffee when I camp. It’s non-negotiable.

I’ve always used instant coffee while camping which is not delicious but very functional but last year, I got the Jet Boil Coffee Press which fits into you jet boil and makes a great cup of coffee. It adds practically no bulk or weight to your pack and allows you to have your coffee in the outdoors.

Win-win.

Sea to Summit Collapsible Bowl/Cup

These collapsable cups and bowls are so handy to have in your camp repertoire. They fold down completely flat so you don’t compromise pack space with them. My recommended contents: Coffee or wine.

Snow Peak Titanium Silverware Set

There’s nothing worse than cooking your meal and realizing you have nothing to eat with.

I’ve been there. I’ve tried to improvise with the inner cardboard from toilet paper rolls, pieces of bark, even funneling it straight into my mouth. Get a set of these and leave them in your pack so you never have to stoop to my level.

Hydration

Hydro Flask 18oz Standard Mouth Water Bottle

For a day trip, you can’t do much better than a Hydro Flask 18oz bottle. The insulated walls keep your beverage temperature constant so whether you’ve put tea or water in your bottle, it won’t lose heat or freeze in cold temperatures.

LifeStraw LifeStraw Steel

While not really a problem in New Zealand, this is a good investment for those who hike in the presence of wildlife or near farmland. This straw allows you to drink from any water source safely, without the fear of getting giardia.

Osprey Packs Hydraulics LT Hydration Reservoir

If you’re not on the water bladder train yet, it’s time to hop aboard! Gone are the days of having to take your pack off to get a drink of water. Or having your buddy grab and put back your bottle from the side pockets. Hydration reservoirs are great because you can sip constantly while walking, ensuring you stay hydrated while being active.

Tents

MSR Hubba Hubba NX Tent 2-Person 3-Season

For most occasions, a 3 season tent will get you by just fine. I love the Hubba Hubba because it’s durable and lightweight. It can easily fit two people and even three if you don’t mind being shoulder to shoulder with your buddies. The set up is quick and easy and it hold up well in most weather.

MSR Access 2 Tent

2-Person 4-Season: For serious winter campers, you’ll want a 4 season tent. These are a little bit heavier but they are basically bombproof. They hold up well to high winds and hard rains and will be sure to keep you dry when the weather turns.

Accessories  

Goal Zero Flip 20 Recharger

When the temps drop, so does your battery performance.

Batteries hate being cold and just a few minutes in the freezing air will cause you to lose battery life quickly. This is a problem for those of us who take photos on our phone. I carry a portable charger with me to give me a bit more juice when the phone starts to go. I use my phone not only for photos but also for GPS maps so it’s crucial it doesn’t die on me.

Petzl Actik Core Headlamp

This is a great headlamp for winter hiking. It works well with the luminosity of the snow and the battery life is great.

Outdoor Research Retro Crocodiles Gaiter

Hear me out on this. Gaiters are NOT just for your grandad anymore.

They are actually super practical when walking in snow. Laugh all you want but when you step in snow up to your knee, these babies will make sure no snow goes in your shoes meaning your feet stay warm and dry.

Navigation and survival

Adventure Medical Mountain Series Medical Kit

I always carry a bit of medical supplies with me in case of emergencies. A bit of tape for blisters, some gauze and antibacterial cream for bleeding, and some bandaids for wounds. You don’t need much but a carrying a few essentials is always a good idea.

Garmin inReach Explorer+

Personal Locator Beacons are a smart choice when headed into the backcountry.

If for some reason you get into serious trouble, activated the beacon will alert authorities which then results in a search and rescue mission. In some cases, this could be the difference between life and death. They are expensive but well worth the money.

Ultimate Survival Technologies Fuel Cubes 8-Pack

These little balls of fire are perfect in emergency fire starting or even in just regular fire starting. Often we arrive at a hut to find only wet wood which is difficult to use to start a fire.

These cubes burn for ages and make starting a fire super simple so you can spend more time drinking hut wine than tending to your flames.

There you go, I think I’ve covered all the basics for you of what you will need to pack on a basic winter hiking trip.

Winter is a great time to explore nature and get outside, and it can be super fun as long as you pack and prepare accordingly.

How did I do? What did I miss? Have any winter hiking essentials you want to share? Spill!

*Disclosure: some of these links are affiliate links

The post What to pack: a winter hiking guide appeared first on Young Adventuress.

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The East Coast Stoner’s Ultimate Guide to Winter

As winter has settled upon us, the overwhelming urge to “Netflix and chill” has firmly taken hold. In the interest of breaking the winter doldrums, HIGH TIMES has compiled some of the most festive, fun, winter vacation ideas located on the East Coast. (Editor’s Note: Our West Coast edition is coming soon, but all you Cali stoners know you’re warmer than us over here!)

Canada

Canada is a winter wonderland that offers visitors a plethora of activities to experience, and 2017 marks Canada’s 150th anniversary. To celebrate, Parks Canada is offering free entry, all year-long. If you’re a life-long city dweller who has never truly experienced the great outdoors, now is your chance to see how the other half lives. Frolic in the great outdoors and have some fun, while you stay active and healthy.

Learn to camp and paddle, or ride over nine miles of fat bike trails, groomed in the most beautiful winter setting of Kouchibouguac National Park, in New Brunswick. Fat bike rentals are available on the premises, while Fundy National Park in New Brunswick offers tobogganing.

Experience a night in the great outdoors—build a quinzhee almost anywhere in the park or rent one of five oTENTiks—a hybrid of a cabin and a tent—for winter camping in Riding Mountain National Park, in Manitoba.

Skiers, snowboarders and snowshoers, head towards Southwest Gulch and then unwind by the wood stove in a ski hut in Gros Morne National Park, in western Newfoundland, or cross-country ski with friends on the groomed trails of La Mauricie National Park in Quebec. The Chambly Canal National Historic Site, also in Quebec, offers ice skating on three skating rinks.

If you are up for a challenge, try ice climbing in Waterton Lakes National Park, located in southern Alberta. Don’t forget to bring your camera or binoculars because you will get the opportunity to see unique wildlife, such as herds of elk or bighorn sheep.

If you’re curious and patient, you can ice fish (or simply chill by the fire) and take in the spectacular scenery in an ice-fishing hut at Lake Superior National Marine Conservation Area in northern Ontario.

And finally, relax and unwind from all your newfound winter athleticism with a dip in the Canadian Rockies’ Radium Hot Springs. Try the soothing mineral waters in Kootenay National Park in British Columbia. The juxtaposition of the crisp mountain air on your face and hot springs on your body feels amazing and refreshing.

Maine

Maine is situated just below the Canadian provinces of New Brunswick and Quebec.

Maine’s first green certified, Earth-friendly retreat center, Nurture Through Nature (NTN), thrives on 33 mountainside, forested acres in the heart of western Maine’s Lakes and Mountains region. NTN is a solar-powered, off-the-grid lodging and recreational retreat facility. You can stay in a cabin or a yurt; however, if you can’t disconnect completely, the “Harmony” cabin is dog-friendly and has WiFi, while The “Robin’s Nest” is inspired by Henry David Thoreau’s one room cabin. It’s time to write that novel. A week-long package is $620, and other options are available, such as $128 for two for the weekend.

Take advantage of private hiking trails along a spring-fed mountain brook, leading to long views of Mount Washington and the White Mountains.

You can design your own enriching retreat by adding specialized enhancements, such as holistic life coaching services, private or community yoga classes, guided meditation, a private sauna, massage therapy and healing arts classes.

If you don’t have time for the full-immersion, hippie experience, just drop by for their Super Sauna Saturday instead. Every Saturday from 4 p.m. to 6 p.m., from October through March, their wood-fired sauna is open to the public as “a shared space for deep relaxation and community connection.” No appointment is necessary. The cost is $15 (or $10 for students). Bathing suits are required. No skinny dipping in the public sauna; however, private springs are accessible from the yurts.

New Hampshire

If you don’t want to travel as far up North, visit New Hampshire.

New Hampshire’s license plates still read, “Live free or die,” which gives a clear indication of the mentality of this plucky New England state. Its ideals are reminiscent of the fiercely independent spirit of the settlers of the original 13 colonies. There is plenty to see for American history buffs (or people who are anxious over President Trump’s new anti-immigration policies), who need some reassurance that authentic America still exists.

New Hampshire has some of the largest ski mountains on the East Coast. Aside from skiing, its major recreational attractions include snowmobiling, hiking and mountaineering.

Some additional activities include Cannon Mountain’s 80-passenger aerial tramway, in Franconia Notch State Park. The tramway quickly ascends over 2,000 feet, above a horizontal distance of more than a mile, whisking you above the timberline to the 4,200-foot summit for spectacular views of the White Mountains, into Maine, Vermont and even Canada.

Walking trails leave from the summit station to an observation tower with panoramic views of the valleys and mountains.

Alpine Adventures offers the uniquely combined winter activities of off-roading and snowshoeing. Winter showcases the extreme off-road capabilities of the Pinzgauers—six-wheel drive, Swiss army transport vehicles that have been modified to accommodate 11 passengers (one rides shotgun). The overhead cages are padded for safety, and a stereo system ensures that you can hear the tour guides describe the terrain.

Snowshoe tours are an interesting way to enjoy a trek through the 300-acre Barron Mountain. Excursions can last up to two hours, including a 30 minute off-road tour, in the aforementioned Pinzgauers and about an hour of snowshoeing. You will explore the surrounding White Mountains National Forest from a unique and up close perspective, while learning about the local wildlife and logging history of northern New Hampshire.

Trip routes and activities are based on each group’s ability and individual goals. The guides will help you select the right level of adventure and exploration. Don’t worry, a cup of hot cocoa is waiting for you along the trail.

Rhode Island

Touted as “New England’s Largest Winter Extravaganza,” the 29th annual Winter Festival will freeze your winter blues with many fun festivities. The festival takes place  from February 17 – 26, 2017, throughout Newport and Newport County. Featuring over 150 events, the festival offers a unique winter experience, combining food, tours and music.

Highlighted events include the helicopter tour and vineyard packages. Fly over the vineyards and all of Newport in a “heated” helicopter.

There are vineyard tours and wine tastings galore. Almost any activity can be combined with a wine tasting, even a yoga class!

You can make your own perfume or snowflake soap. Learn to create aromatherapy perfume blends with healer and chemist, Cynthia LaBonte, at Newport Aromatherapy or create and design your own soap, while learning the art of soap making at Newport Sea Foam Trading Company.

Cruise through Newport Harbor into Narragansett Bay for 360° views of Rhode Island’s state marine mammal in their natural habitat. Harbor Seals migrate from the north into Narragansett Bay every winter to feed, delighting locals and tourists alike. See them from the perfect vantage point of an educational marine vessel.

New York 

Obviously, we love New York, even outside of the boroughs. There are so many great vacation destinations. Many are merely a train ride away.

Most potheads are foodies, and foodies love Hudson, New York, for its artisanal farm-to-table food scene.  WM Farmer and Sons Boarding & Barroom is a charming, family-owned and operated, 14-room boutique hotel, featuring a scrumptious restaurant, whose chef is one of the Farmers. The menu boasts a winter citrus salad with chicories, Parmigiano-Reggiano and truffle vinaigrette and an entrée of Fazio Farms saddle of rabbit with
 stewed beluga lentils, porcini and rabbit jus. Every Tuesday through Saturda,y the barroom features Oyster Happy Hour. An average night costs $199 for double occupancy. Visit before February 20, since the hotel will be closed for renovations for the following two months.

After a cozy evening at WM Farmer’s, head to Cafe Le Perche for fresh bread and pastries made in an authentic wood-fired French oven. Pastries and pot go together like two peas in a pod.

Buffalo is a city on the shores of Lake Erie, in upstate New York. Its fine neoclassical, beaux arts and art deco architecture displays its history as an industrial capital in the early 20th century. Its landmarks include the 398-ft art deco City Hall and the esteemed architect Frank Lloyd Wright–designed Darwin D. Martin House. The Albright-Knox Art Gallery is a Greek Revival museum, featuring artwork by Pablo Picasso and Andy Warhol.

Lake Placid, located approximately nine unbelievably scenic miles from the foot of Whiteface Mountain, is an athlete’s town. Lake Placid has hosted two Winter Olympics. Athletes, both retired Olympians and Olympic hopefuls, are the backbone of the LP community.

While we don’t recommend skiing while stoned, there are many unique, off-mountain attractions, such as bobsledding down an international competition track at the Olympic Sports Complex at Mt. Van Hoevenberg. It costs $95 for adults, which includes a professional driver and brakeman. This will probably be the most expensive minute of your life, but it should definitely be on the bucket list.

Speed and ice skating sessions are available on the Olympic Oval in the center of the picturesque Olympic village. It costs $6 for admission and $6 to rent skates. You can also skate on Mirror Lake.

The Lake Placid Olympic Museum features memorabilia and artifacts from every Winter Games, dating back to its origins in 1924, when local athlete Charles Jewtraw won the 1500 meter speed skate competition.

There is a free shuttle service during the winter season that runs between Lake Placid and Whiteface, with several stops in Lake Placid and Wilmington.

Accommodations range from five star resorts, to B&Bs, to vacation home rentals. Local couple Todd and Kim Ottenstein own 10 such properties, so give them a call at (518) 524-7335 or visit adirondackvacations.com, to inquire about booking your stay.

Pennsylvania

When most people think of Pennsylvania, the Amish Village springs to mind. While visiting Dutch Country is a fun experience for some, it can be a snoozefest for others. They have no electricity. We get it.  How quaint.

For those uninterested in Lancaster’s Amish scene, we’re inclined to reccommend the Nemacolin Woodlands Resort. Nemacolin’s sprawling 2000-acre (!) estate in Farmington, Pennsylvania, features 320 luxurious guest rooms, suites, townhouses, private homes and even tree houses for accommodation.

If you are an “animal person,” you will especially love Nemacolin. The grounds are home to over 100 animal species. The resort is open to the public. Going to see the animals on your own, either on foot or by car, is free. Their 1.5 hour guided safari tour is $90. The guided tour allows you to get up close and personal, and feed the animals. It requires a reservation; however, you do not need to be a guest of the resort. Zookeepers are on hand to provide an educational and entertaining experience as you learn about the featured animals’ habitat, diet and native home.

The Wildlife Habitats feature a petting zoo with enclosures for billy goats, red sheep, bears, bison, zebras, a Bengal tiger, lions, wolves and more.

Down the road, Nemacolin’s Wildlife Adventure offers a guided nursery tour of over 40 species of smaller exotic and domestic animals. Featured animals that may appear on any given day include the capuchin monkeys, Moluccan cockatoos, alligators, snakes, tegus and tortoises.

While traditional zoos have fallen from grace, due to overcrowding and unnatural, stressful habitats, Nemacolin prides itself on its commitment to the care and welfare of its Wildlife Academy. In fact, many of the animals on the property were rescued from failing zoos by the owner’s father. He believed that “making them part of the resort, would leave a lasting impression on our guests, provide an educational experience and foster the belief in conservation.”

After you’ve taken an animal safari, a dogsledding excursion will amp up your adrenaline, as you glide across the snow at speeds of up to 20 mph. Twenty-four adorable and athletic Alaskan Huskies power snowy treks across Pennsylvania’s gorgeous snow-carpeted landscapes, such as the Laurel Highlands countryside.

The unforgettable outing is enhanced with a kennel tour, where you will meet your sled dogs and visit with their musher. You will even learn the basics of dog sledding and how the musher maneuvers the sled while controlling the dogs with specific voice signals.

After you have had your fill of cute, fuzzy creatures, visit the chateau and adjacent lodge for dinner, play pool at the tavern or head to the full-service spa to fully relax and unwind. There are a handful of accommodations at Nemacolin. The Falling Rock Hotel has 24-hour butler-service, as does the Chateau Lafayette, which is inspired by The Ritz in Paris. The Garshak treehouse is a private house on stilts, where you can vape and commune with nature.

After you have had a luxurious night’s sleep, use the next day to try zip-lining, snowmobiling, horseback riding or snow-tubing. Backwoods trail riding on horseback for two miles is $75 per person. Snow-tubing is $20 for 2 hours. A rope pulley clips onto your tube and carries you right back up to the top of the hill, so you can slide right down again.

There is truly no shortage of seasonal entertainment. So what are you waiting for? Your East Coast winter playgrounds await!

Keep up with all of HIGH TIMES’ culture coverage, here. 

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