#its like tooth and nail trying to get any point across to my mom

[dodomingo]

Remember, if you ever feel proactive: don't

[wonder-womans-ex]

‘Cause Boy I was Made for You

By wonder-womans-ex for @inloveoknutzy Sweater Weather secret santa exchange 2020

When Remus Lupin was eleven years old, he learned about soulmates. 

“Almost everyone gets a soulmark on their nineteenth birthday,” Mr. Holliday, his fifth-grade teacher, had explained. “A design, like a tattoo, on their left wrist. And out there, somewhere, someone will have a matching one.

“Some people don’t get them until later—no one knows why. Some don’t get them at all. It’s rare, but some people have more than one soulmate, or their soulmate changes. 

“Can anyone tell me why this might be?”

Trust a teacher to turn this into a lesson, Remus thought, and put up his hand. 

“Because people change, and the person who your soul matches could change, too?” 

“Very good, Mr. Lupin.” 

***

When Sirius Black was eleven years old, his parents kept him home from school. Instead, they sat him down at the dining room table—which was only ever used for special occasions; he couldn’t fathom why this might be considered one—and told him three things. 

“One,” Walburga said, bony fingers and long nails that reminded Sirius of talons drumming on the centuries-old wood, “your career comes first. Always. No matter who your soulmate turns out to be or how you feel about it, you are expected to make the choice that benefits yourself and your role in this family.” 

“Two,” Orion put in, “you are the only person who can prove who your soulmate is. If the reality is something that puts your future or your reputation at risk, lying is the best option. Remember, listen to your head, not your wrist.”

“Three—” this was Walburga again, “—your soulmark, when you get it, will remain covered at all times. No one else is permitted to see it. Are we clear?”

Sirius nodded. 

“Speak up!”

“Yes, Mother. Yes, Father.”

***

When Remus Lupin was thirteen years old, he had his first kiss. It was with a girl from his first aid course to whom he’d never really talked before, and it was wet and clumsy and didn’t taste very nice. In six years when he got his soulmark, he probably wouldn’t even remember her name. 

***

When Sirius Black was thirteen years old, he fell asleep in math class twice. He’d spent the entire night practicing—under his father’s instructions, of course—and the words in the textbook began to swim in front of his eyes. 

His mother slapped him across the cheek when she found out. Though he told no one for a very long time, that was when he started drinking coffee. 

***

When Remus Lupin was fifteen years old, he googled what if your soulmate doesn’t love you. 

***

When Sirius Black was fifteen years old, he found out what it was like to be famous. He enjoyed it, at first. There was so much to enjoy: the attention from his parents, the people who recognized him in public and smiled, and the hockey. 

The hockey was everything. 

He wouldn’t have thought so, but it was freeing, really, to be on the ice, doing what he loved, and know that the whole world was watching. It showed him he was enough—better than enough. He was the best. He’d been working towards being best his whole life, and now he finally got to feel good about it. What wasn’t to like about that?

Amycus Carrow, apparently. The first guy on his team to notice he was different. “Queer,” he whispered, as Sirius packed his gear up. 

Sirius wasn’t sure who he was trying to prove something to by sleeping with Janie Clearwater—Amycus or himself. 

***

When Remus Lupin was seventeen years old, he and his mom picked his little brother Julian up from daycare. Jules had a crude drawing of a star on his wrist in green washable marker. 

“My teacher has one! So I wanted one too!” 

Remus smiled, ruffling Julian’s hair. 

That night, he locked his bedroom door and looked up Sirius Black. Video after video of slapshots, passes, interviews, until he finally drifted off to sleep thinking that’s the sort of person I want to be loved by. 

***

When Sirius Black was seventeen years old, he had his first panic attack. He wasn’t sure what triggered it; he wasn’t sure how he pulled himself out, but he ran a thumb over the red marks where his fingernails had dug into his skin and tried not to cry.

***

When Remus Lupin was nineteen years old, everything went wrong. He woke up on his birthday to his wrist itching, and it took all his willpower not to look at it. He wasn’t quite ready yet. 

It was like Schrödinger’s cat, he reasoned—if he didn’t look, he couldn’t confirm what had been nagging at the back of his head for a while now. He couldn’t deny it, either, but it was better than nothing. 

Julian ran to hug him when he got downstairs, grinning to show off his gap-toothed smile. “I got you a present! Wanna know what it is?”

“I think,” Remus told him, “I’m about to find out anyway.”

Two weeks later, Fenrir Greyback approached him in the locker room. 

***

When Sirius Black was nineteen years old, he found himself signed to an NHL team he wasn’t supposed to be on and with a soulmark he could make neither head nor tail of: a silver wolf and black dog, intertwined like yin and yang, two crossed hockey sticks behind them. He remembered, distantly, being told that soulmarks were meant to make sense. 

The black dog was probably meant to represent him—black dog, dog black (he still hadn’t forgiven his parents for that one)—and the hockey sticks almost definitely had something to do with, well, hockey, but the wolf he had no idea about.  

***

It is now that these two stories meet. There is a split second, a fraction of time, and it seems as though the whole world is holding its breath. Will their paths cross, only to continue on their separate ways? Will they travel together for a time, before they are destined to part once more?

“Hello,” says Remus, and when Sirius holds his hand out coldly, their fate is decided. 

***

“Pots, c’mere a second!” 

Sirius is happy, almost. He’s got the team—he’s one of them, now, really and truly, but there’s something still off. He knows what it is, but he doesn’t want to. 

“I’m coming, Captain! Keep your head on!”

James comes to a stop in front of him. “Hi. What do you need?”

“Please poke Dumo.” A few of the guys chuckle, and this makes Sirius smile. He likes making other people laugh. 

“What, and you needed me for that? You couldn't do it yourself?”

Finn walks into the room, then, jersey half on. “Why do it at all? What did poor old Dumo do to you, anyway?”

“Yeah,” Pascal says from where he’s sitting by his locker. “Respect your elders!”

“Elder, you say? Edging on retirement, are you?”

“Tais-toi!” 

Glancing over to Remus, Sirius allows the barest flicker of a smile to pass over his face. He gets one in return. 

“Alright, everyone get moving,” Coach tells them, opening the door and surveying where they’re all arranged, faces like guilty puppies. “You’re paid to play hockey, not sit on your asses and gossip. Practice starts in five minutes, or you run laps around the outside of the rink. In skates.”

Most of them groan, and Kasey downs a Powerade. “Well, boys, that’s my cue.”

James is the next to go, then Finn, then Logan. Leo and Talker continue their argument—something about George Harrison; Sirius isn’t really listening—out onto the ice, and Adam follows them with Olli and Nado close behind. Dumo winks at Sirius before he goes, too, and then it’s just the two of them. 

“What did he do?” Remus asks, after Sirius has laced and relaced his left skate three times. “Dumo, I mean.” 

“Nothing much. Just… well, if you must know, he put shaving cream in the fridge, once. Guess what I had on my waffles that morning.” 

“Waffles aren’t on your diet plan.”

“It was last year.”

“And you waited until now to get James to poke him?”

He knows Remus can see right through him. He always can. “Never question the methods of a hockey player, Loops.”

He meant it as a joke, but Remus stiffens for some reason, jaw clenching and eyes darting away. There’s an awkward pause before Sirius says, “I’m sorry—”

“Don’t be.” 

“Right.” He clears his throat, trying in vain to find something else to say. He would be lying if he said Remus didn’t mean something to him—he knows it. But, after all, knowing something and acknowledging it are two very different things. 

Sirius runs the laps. 

***

That night, after practice, Remus is about to head for the bus station when Sirius steps in front of him. He’s walking backwards, even with his hockey bag slung over his shoulder, and Remus isn’t ashamed to say he’s a little impressed. (From a purely objective point of view, of course. It has nothing to do with Sirius and everything to do with the skill it would take, hypothetically, to do such a thing.) (He’s not fooling anyone, least of all himself.) 

“Want a lift?”

“You don’t even know where I live.”

“Well, we’ll just have to fix that.”

Remus rolls his eyes; he pretends to think about it. “All right,” he says, finally. “On one condition.”

“Which is?”

“I get to choose the music.”

Sirius lets out one loud ‘ha!’  It’s the most beautiful thing Remus has heard in a long time. (That would go well: “Oh, I’ve changed my mind. No need to put on the radio, I’ll be content if you just keep laughing.”) (There’s a reason people like him are off to the side, out of sight, instead of right in the spotlight with a microphone.)  

Remus is glad that Sirius waits until he’s parked outside Remus’s apartment building to bring up their earlier conversation. It says something that they say “So, about this evening—” in unison, but Remus isn’t going to think about that. 

“You go first,” Sirius tells him, the corner of his mouth lifting ever so slightly. “Please.”

“I suppose,” Remus says, slowly, “That I haven’t quite been honest with you. Any of you. I wasn’t always a PT.”

“Of course not. You’re my age. You can’t have always worked for the Lions—before that you were a teenager. A student.”

Remus shakes his head. “No. Before that I was a player.” 

“You played? Why’d you stop?”

“Bad hit,” he says, shrugging. “I’m over it. But I… I know what it’s like. The pressure. The rules. So, if you need someone to talk to… just remember—I know what the game does to a guy. You’re not the only one who’s been told to be something you aren’t by someone who forgets you’re a person off the ice, too.

“See you tomorrow, Cap. Thanks for the ride.” 

***

Sirius is probably the one person in history who has managed to burn eggs without even turning the stove on. 

“How on earth did that happen?” James asks when Sirius phones him. 

“I dropped them into the toaster—hey! Stop laughing! It could happen to anyone!”

“Yes,” he hears from the other end of the line, “But it didn’t. It happened to you.”

It takes exactly two minutes and thirty-seven seconds after hanging up on James for Sirius to decide to call Remus. Cooking failures might not have been quite what Remus meant when he said Sirius could talk to him, but it’s the problem at hand right now. 

(Remus laughs just as hard as James, but at least he has the decency to apologize for it afterwards.) 

“Well,” he says, once he’s calmed down, “What are you going to eat now?” 

“I’m not sure. Cereal?”

“Practice is in two and a half hours. You need more than that.”

“I’ll be—”

“If you end that sentence with ‘fine,’ I’ll take the laces out of your skates and strangle you with them. Do you want me to walk you through, I dunno, a pancake?” 

“Sure. What do I need?”

“Flour, butter, eggs, milk…”

Twenty minutes later Sirius is left with milk on his shirt, flour in his hair, butter practically everywhere else, and a microwave that won’t start. 

“I think,” he tells Remus, “I should have cereal.”

“You are going to eat a pancake if it’s the last thing I do—”

“Why don’t you just come over here and make it for me, then? I’m sure you’ll have more success.” 

He holds his breath for a moment, hoping this wasn’t a step too far, before Remus responds. “Yeah. Sure. I’ll be over in… half an hour?” 

“Sounds good.” 

Click. 

The instant the call is over, Sirius opens the freezer and grabs one of the popsicles he secretly has stashed there. They’re not part of his diet plan, but he needs one. Then he takes a sponge and starts trying to get the butter out of the sole of his shoe. 

***

The first thought that crosses Remus’s mind is that Sirius’s tongue is purple from one of the popsicles he thinks no one knows about. If Remus kissed him, he’d probably taste like grapes. (The thought is banished from his mind the moment it enters.) 

“So,” he says, surveying the damage. “I am going to teach you how to make a pancake.” 

Sirius, it turns out, is infinitely better at following instructions when they’re simple, and the two of them work out a system quickly. Remus makes the pancake, Sirius gets the ingredients. It works. 

“That’s salt, not sugar. Try again.”

(Most of the time, at least.)

 “Really?” Sirius is squinting at the package. “Why doesn’t it say so?”

“It does. Right there.” 

“How am I supposed to read that?”

“You need glasses, Cap.” 

“I have glasses. I just never wear them.” 

“What?” This is news to Remus. Visions of Sirius with glasses and bed hair are swimming in front of his eyes. “Why?” 

A shrug. “I look stupid.” 

“I’m pretty sure you’d be drop-dead gorgeous in anything.” 

There’s a beat of silence. Remus realizes that, yes, he said that out loud. “I mean, all those fangirls certainly seem to think so.” 

“Right. Yeah.” Sirius clears his throat. 

“Anyway, pancakes! I think these are almost ready to cook—can you turn on the element?”

“The what now?” 

“The element? The coil on the stove?” 

“Should’ve just said that in the first place,” Sirius grumbles. “Fucking Americans.” 

“Fucking French.” 

Suddenly, Remus has a spatula pointed at his nose. He has to cross his eyes to see it properly. “Say that again; I dare you.”

“Fucking French?”

“Awright, that’s it! En garde, bitch!” 

And so begins the great whisk-vs-spatula duel of 2020. There is very little batter left once they’re done—in the bowl, at least. Most of it is on their clothes. 

They look at each other. “Cereal?” 

“...Cereal.” 

***

Kasey’s eyes go wide—almost comically so—when they show up to practice together. 

“Cap giving rides?” He says, and Sirius isn’t sure what accent he’s trying to fake but he ends up sounding like a scandalized duchess from the movie adaptation of an Austen knockoff. (Maybe that is what he was going for. It’s hard to know, with Kasey.) “I thought the day would never come.”

“Shut up.” 

“Make me.”

Remus’s elbow digs into Sirius’s rib cage. “You don’t want to say that. He tried to make me shut up this morning—it’s something I’ll never recover from.” 

Sirius almost laughs at the expression Remus makes when he realizes exactly how that sounds. 

“He dumped pancake batter down my shirt!” 

“You didn’t!” The look on James’s face is aghast. “First the eggs, now this—what will people think?” 

Finn looks up from his phone. “Eggs?” 

“Sirius here dropped the eggs he was going to eat for breakfast into his—”

“Shut up, shut up, shut up!” 

Dumo slings an arm around his shoulders. “The price you must pay for telling James to poke me yesterday. Learn from this, mon fils. Learn.” 

“Don’t tell me what to do, old man.”

“Treachery!” 

Shrugging him off, Sirius grins. “I am the kitchen monster. Cross me and I will slaughter you in a food war.”

“Try me.” This is Logan speaking; Sirius hadn’t even realized he was there. 

“You’ve been warned!” 

***

“Look, there are twenty-two hockey players in this arena, and I ain’t one of them,” Moody says, and Remus can’t be sure, but he thinks Sirius looks at him. 

***

“You’re favouring your right leg,” Remus comments as soon as Sirius is off the ice. “Want me to take a look?”

“It’s fine, really—”

“I’ll try again. Want me to take a look?” 

“Yeah, that would be great. Thanks, Loops.”

“That’s what I thought you said.”

They walk into the PT room in businesslike silence, Sirius hoping all the way that one of them will break it. Neither does, and it isn’t until Remus has taken off both his skates for him, now expertly examining his left ankle, that he realizes what he should say. 

“You mentioned you played, last night.”

The finger tracing his Achilles tendon stills. “I did.” 

“Were you any good?” He knows, somewhere, that he’s entering forbidden territory. He can’t bring himself to care. 

“I’d like to believe so.”

“Be honest.” Sirens are blaring in his head. He keeps going. 

“There were rumours…” Remus bites his lip, glances away. “People said I was set for first.”

“What? How come you never said anything? C’mon, you need to play with us sometime, just scrimmage or something—”

“Maybe. That hit…”

“Right. God, I’m sorry, Rem.”

If Remus’s Adam’s apple bobs at the nickname, Sirius doesn’t notice. He certainly doesn’t try his best not to jump to conclusions. (Double negative; that’s a yes, a voice that sounds suspiciously like James’s says in his head. Shut up, he tells it.)

“It’s fine. Really. I just don’t like talking about it. And besides, I like this. Working with the team, even if I can’t be a part of it.”

“You are. A part of the team, I mean. Just as much as I am.”

“Sure.”

There’s another awkward pause before Remus clears his throat. “So, I’m gonna put on some anti-inflammatory gel because it’s a little swollen, but don’t get used to it. I want you to keep doing some stretches, not too much pressure. Capeesh?”

“What the fuck is a capeesh?”

“Just say it.”

“...Capeesh?”

“Awesome.” 

Remus leans forward towards him, their foreheads almost touching. Sirius’s breath catches. 

It’s over just as suddenly. The tube of extra-strength Voltaren is in Remus’s hand, and Sirius feels stupid for thinking he was going to—

Nope. Not thinking about that. 

When he feels tears start to prick at his eyes, he glances up at the fluorescent lights overhead; at least then he’ll have an excuse. There’s a moth resting on one. Its wings flutter once, twice, then go still. Fragile things, moths are—maybe it’s died, maybe it hasn’t. He could read into that, but he won’t. 

He jumps when the cool of the gel on Remus’s hands touches his foot. “Hey!” He yelps, looking quickly down. 

Sirius hates to succumb to cliches, but he would be lying if he was to say his heart doesn’t still. 

Because Remus has pulled the sleeves of his jacket up to his elbows, and his wrist is turned to the sky—to Sirius, who has seen that mark before somewhere. 

Somewhere. He’s kidding himself. He’s seen it every day whenever he bothers to look at his own soulmark, and he’s seeing it again now. 

“You know what, I’m fine,” he blurts out, shaking his ankle out of Remus’s grasp. “Thanks, though. See you later, Loops.” 

***

Remus stays there for a second, watching Sirius leave. He doesn’t know what he did wrong, and he’s not sure he wants to. 

When he gets up to leave, tossing the container towards the first aid kit on the bench and allowing himself a small smile when it lands perfectly inside, blood rushes to his head. He closes his eyes, waiting for the dizziness to pass. 

And then he crashes into Finn. 

“Whoa, sorry,” Remus says, stumbling backwards.

“Nah, don’t stress it. There’s just something I want you to check on.”

Remus is hit by a sense of deja vu. He wonders if Finn, too, is going to leave without explanation. He follows him back into the PT room, Finn gesturing for him to lock the door. 

Though he may be the shorter of the two, Remus knows it’s his job to be the bigger person. “What was it you wanted to talk about?”

Finn waits another moment before yanking one sleeve up to reveal three paw prints, each no bigger than a thumbnail, clustered together—one forest green, one golden, and one a deep navy blue. 

“Your soulmark.�� Remus doesn’t understand. “What? Is something wrong?” 

“There’s three of them,” Finn says. “Which means there’s three of us.”

“You have two soulmates?”

“Yeah.”

“That’s fine, Finn. It may not be common, but it’s not unheard of. You don’t have anything to be ashamed of.” 

“It’s not that. It’s… hey, you can’t tell anyone this, okay?”

“I know. Doctor-patient confidentiality, remember?”

“Right.” Finn takes a breath, squeezing his eyes closed. “What if I told you I know who they are? Or I think I do?” 

“Hypothetically?”

“Hypothetically.”

“Well, I’d ask you if they knew.”

“And I’d say I don’t think so. One of them’s pretty stubborn—wouldn’t see love if it stood up on the ice and sang the national anthem—and the other isn’t nineteen yet, so he doesn’t—I mean wouldn’t—have his mark yet.” 

“His?”

Finn’s eyes widen. There is a pause before he nods, slowly. “Yeah. Got a problem?”

“Trust me, I’m the last person on earth who’d have a problem with something like that. Hypothetically.” 

This, at least, earns Remus a smile. “Are you…?”

“Yeah.” 

“Cool.” Another pause. “What if I told you, still hypothetically, that they were both on the team?” 

“Then I’d say get the fuck out of here and win them over before they start thinking you’ve forgotten about them.” 

Finn, smiling ear to ear, starts to leave. “Wait,” he says, hand on the doorknob. “You said you were…”

“Gay.”

“Yeah. Do—do you know who your soulmate is?”

Remus opens his mouth to say ‘no.’ He really does. But what comes out—when he takes into account the look of recognition on Sirius’s face when Remus had his sleeves rolled up; the understanding that had passed between them outside Remus’s building (god, that was just last night); the way they’ve always just clicked—is most certainly not ‘no.’ 

“Oh, fuck, I think I do,” he says, and he and Finn run out into the hallway together. 

Sirius’s car is pulling out of the parking lot when Remus arrives, out of breath, at the front doors of the arena. 

“I don’t know why he’s in such a hurry.” Remus jumps. He hadn’t heard James come to stand beside him. “Just packed up his gear at the speed of light and left. Didn’t even shower; he said he’d do it at home.”

So Sirius had been so appalled—disgusted, even—at Remus being his soulmate that he’d left without explanation, with barely even a goodbye. There was a pleasant thought. 

He turns so his back is against the door, sliding slowly down to sit on the floor. 

“Y’know,” James says, sitting next to him, “If I didn’t know better, I’d say you needed a hug.”

There’s a moment of comfortable silence before Remus says, “James?”

“Yeah?” 

“I need a hug.” 

James gives the best hugs. Everyone says so. But until now, Remus has never been on the receiving end of a true James Potter hug—warm, strong, and friendly as hell. (“I want that on a t-shirt,” James says when Remus tells him so.)

But eventually, James has to go, too, and Remus heads back to the PT room. He passes Logan in the hall, looking like he’s been hit over the head with a two-by-four. Maybe it’s Finn’s doing; he had mentioned that one of them was oblivious. Logan, Remus knows, is the definition of oblivious. 

***

“And I think that’s all,” Coach Weasley says, glancing around, “Unless anyone else has something to say? Moody? Cap? Loops?” 

“Actually, yes,” says Remus after a moment. “Checkups! Not naming names but Kris lied about his rib acting up so now all of you get to be interrogated.” 

Sirius swallows. He’s not anxious to be alone with Remus; not after yesterday. There’s no way there aren’t going to be questions. 

Kasey goes first, Remus taking just under five minutes to deem him ‘good to go.’ Kris, surprisingly, is only kept for eight, despite the claim of his ribs acting up again. Finn takes the longest—fifteen minutes—and as soon as he’s out he grabs Logan and Leo by the wrists and marches them off somewhere. Sirius’s turn comes last, right after Pascal’s, who gives him a knowing look as he enters.

“Hi,” Remus says, first aid kit nowhere in sight. “Sit down.” 

“Where?” Sirius gets only a shrug in response. 

He hesitates a moment, then sits on the floor, picking at the sole of his sneaker. 

“How are you feeling?” Remus asks suddenly.

“Fine. Ankle’s not bothering me any more.”

“No, I mean how are you feeling?”

Scoffing, he starts to stand up. “I’m not doing this.”

“Yes, you are.”

“No, I’m not.” 

“Sirius Black, sit your ass back down before I make you.” 

Sirius sits his ass back down. 

“Good. Now, how are you feeling?” 

“I’m… confused,” he says, trying to be honest without being specific. “And nervous. And I cried myself to sleep last night, which I haven’t done since I was like seventeen, so there’s that. But mostly I’m just really fucking mad.” 

“At me.” It isn’t a question. 

“No, not at you! At me! At the—” he gestures wildly. “—Universe, or whatever. Can I go now?” 

Remus doesn’t even acknowledge his request. “So you’re disappointed.”

“...Yeah.” 

“May I ask why?” 

“I’m pretty sure you fucking know why.” 

“Maybe I do. But I’d like you to explain it to me.” 

The stupid thing is that Sirius wants to talk about it. He really does. And Remus is the only person he can conceivably talk about it to. But he still chokes on his words when he says, anger burning his throat, “It was never supposed to be like this.” 

“What do you mean by that?”

“Shut up, shut up, shut up!” Sirius practically screams. “Stop trying to fucking— psychoalalyze me or something, for fuck’s sake. You fucking asked, and I—” He tears his fingers through his hair, feeling his chest start to constrict. “Just stop talking!” 

The echoes of his shouts fade out too quickly, and the only thing worse than the voices is the sound of his breathing getting faster and faster. Remus’s hand twitches, as though he wants to touch him but thinks better of it.

“It was always supposed to be someone different. Someone faceless; nameless. Someone I could run away from. I can’t fucking run away from you, Remus.

“I always thought I could lie. That I could—pretend, or something. Just keep hiding. It was supposed to be someone I could hide from, because I’ve spent my whole life fucking hiding and that’s all I know how to do. It was never supposed to be someone I could fall in love with.” 

There’s a choked noise from where Remus is sitting on the bench, but nothing else. Sirius refuses to look at him. 

“And I just—I just fucking hate this, because all I’ve been told is that hockey comes before my dreams. And that’s made sense until now because until now hockey was my dream, but now there’s you. Yeah.” 

Remus, to his credit, waits until Sirius’s breathing has calmed down and he’s furiously wiped the tears from his eyes to speak. “What do you need?” 

“I don’t know what you mean.”

“I mean forget everything. Forget your family, forget the team, forget me—what do you need?  

“Right now? For the rest of my life? Because those are two very different things.” 

“Let’s start with now. Can I do anything for you? Can you do anything for yourself?” 

“I need a hot chocolate.” 

***

They wait until everyone else has gone, and then make their way outside to Sirius’s car. There’s only one other in the parking lot—a grey Toyota Remus thinks belongs to Nado, or maybe Kris. He’s not sure why he thinks it matters, because it doesn’t. 

Silence hangs around them the whole four blocks to the nearest Tim Horton’s. Inhale; exhale. Inhale; exhale. This doesn’t necessarily mean anything. 

That doesn’t stop Remus from hoping. 

He knows it’s wrong; of course he does. It’s Sirius’s choice, in the end, because Sirius is the one who will be most affected. His career, his life—all on the line if he decides to trust whatever plan the world has in store for them. It’s not like that for Remus. Not anymore. 

There’s a parking spot right outside the front door. Sirius pulls into it, but he doesn’t get out right away. He glances around, makes sure there’s no one immediately in sight, and then he looks down to where his hands now rest in in his lap. Slowly, he pulls up his right sleeve to expose, bit by bit, his soulmark. 

“I don’t know why I never guessed it could be you—Wolfy McWolf Wolf.” 

Remus feels his lips twitch upwards into something resembling a smile. “I could say the same, Dog Black.” 

When he puts his hand on the console, Sirius rests his on top of it. It’s not much. 

But it’s something. 

***

Sirius looks longingly at the Boston cream doughnuts. “Please. I haven’t had one in so long.” 

“Think again, Mr. I’m-on-a-diet-plan.” 

He’s not surprised. What was he thinking, having his PT as his soulmate? (Well, he wasn’t. He didn’t get to choose. But, he thinks to himself, the point still stands.) 

“I’ll have a medium hot chocolate, please, a plain toasted bagel,” Remus looks at him and sighs. “...And a Boston cream doughnut.” 

When the food is set down on the pickup counter, Remus snatches it before Sirius has a chance to. “Hey, this is my doughnut.” 

Sirius pouts. 

“You’re cute. Here.” He tosses him the brown paper bag, and Sirius removes his prize carefully. He‘s going to eat every piece of chocolate glazing if it kills him. 

Back out in the car—this is a conversation neither of them is willing to have in the public dining area—Remus chews on his bagel thoughtfully. Sirius tries and fails not to swear when his hot chocolate burns his tongue.

“Shit!” 

Remus glances over at him. Their eyes meet for a moment, then both look away. “So,” Sirius says after a while. “I think we need to talk.” 

“Yeah.” 

Silence, then—

“You go first,” they say at the same time, and laugh. Some of the tension is broken. 

Sirius reaches hesitantly to where Remus’s arm rests between the seats. He doesn’t need to voice his question—Remus sees it in his eyes; nods. 

Up close, he can see that there are a few differences between their marks. Nothing that could possibly mean they aren’t soulmates—just the discolouring on the dog’s tail; the angle of one of the sticks; the faded white gash that stretches from one side of Remus’s wrist to the other, separating the wolf’s head from its body. Sirius doesn’t quite know what he’s doing when he presses his lips to the scar. 

When he looks up, he sees that Remus is trying not to cry. And that’s when he makes his decision. 

“I want this,” he says, voice soft but sure. “All of it.”

[labelleofbelfastcity]

hold my hand, it’s a long way down

1.5k, high fantasy royalty au, most of the details of which were provided by @capybart

read on ao3 here

Kalina smirks as she glides into the room, black furs gleaming around her shoulders and long train hissing across the floor. Riz, reflexively, takes a step back, as his eyes clock the false crown atop her head, the feline smile curving her mouth, and the knife in her hand, flickering in the candlelight.

“I trust you’re doing well,” she says, and keeps approaching until she’s standing right before him, staring him down.

Riz’s heart jumps a beat and his eyes dart around, trying to see where he can go, what he can grab, if it is even likely to move at all before that knife is sliding into his neck and tearing an ugly gash in his throat. “Not with any thanks to you.”

Kalina huffs, mouth quirking to the side, before she slumps down to sit on his bed, shoulders falling and head tilting to look at him. The black gem in the center of her diadem seems to dance like cold fire, drawing Riz’s eyes to it even as he tries to focus on a million and one other things. Unnatural, Riz thinks, with a sickening shock directly to his heart. And then he remembers the things people have always whispered about Kalina, words like witch and sorceress and Shadow Cat. Remembers those words and sees the way her eyes flash yellow in the candle’s flame.

“I’m disappointed in you, kiddo. I thought you’d figure out by now that this is all for you.”

“Where’s my mom?” Riz spits out, as he has done every time Kalina visits him in these much too fancy rooms, this much too fancy prison.

Kalina rolls her eyes, leans back on one arm, flips the dagger in her other hand, “Thought we got past that already.”

“I know you did something to her.”

“I didn’t do anything. Besides, she’s safe. She’s comfortable. What more could you ask of me?”

“I want you to give her back.”

“And I thought it was you, kiddo, who told me not too long ago that people weren’t toys. That they couldn’t be given and taken. Hm. Must be wrong about that.” Kalina flicks the tip of the dagger at him, holding it just a few inches away from Riz’s ribs, where she could slide it straight up and into his heart. “That’s not what I came here for, though. How’s the prince doing?”

“Aren’t you at court with him?” Riz spits out, and refuses to yield yet another step.

“Yes, yes. And he’s doing so well today, too. I’ve never seen a more attentive courter, practically glued to the Lady Aelwyn’s side. Which is funny, seeing as how we had to drag him from his rooms less than a week ago.”

“Fabian’s not planning anything,” Riz says, leaving out the because I am.

Kalina huffs, and taps the dagger against her own cheek, “I don’t know when you’ll learn. Everything you know, I know. I’m in your head, kiddo.”

Riz’s spine snaps straight as a scream he knows doesn’t exist sounds from his left, and then his right, screams that sounds like Fig and Fabian. Screams he only knows because of that day, weeks ago, when the Abernants and their holy warriors in gleaming sun-forged metal took the castle and forced the prince, Riz’s friend, the person Riz was supposed to protect above all else, to stab his father in the heart. Fig had screamed then, in rage, and tried to take the nearest knight out with a swing of her lute, and Fabian had screamed later, when the three of them were back in these rooms, in that soft, silent way of tears and grief and heartache and complete and total betrayal.

“See? That’s what you don’t understand,” Kalina says, standing once again. “That’s what I’m saving you from. I’m protecting your little friends because you’re useful to me. You don’t want to stop being useful to me, do you?”

Riz remains where he is, fighting back the nausea as the screams grow. Now, he couldn’t move even if he wanted to, rooted to the spot by a clawed hand holding tightly onto his mind.

“Do you?” Kalina asks again, and this time she brings the knife up to Riz’s jaw, just under his ear. The cold pricks against his skin and Riz is so afraid.

“No,” he rasps out, and she smiles again, eyes crinkling. The screams immediately stop.

“Good.” The heavy handle of the knife drops into Riz’s hand, and his fingers close over it reflexively. It’s dangerous, to give your enemy a weapon. Dangerous, still, to give them a weapon they have no hope to use in any way that counts. “You can’t get away from me, bud. Just remember that.”

Riz snarls at her, “We’re going to stop you.”

Kalina clucks her tongue and begins to walk away, “The only way you’ll escape is if I want you to.”

The door swings shut behind her right as her hold over Riz’s body drops, and he sags a little, before startling upright again. She must know, there’s no way she doesn’t. Her knowing had not been a factor of the plan, despite everything pointing towards its likelihood. Really, how could Riz have been so stupid? He’ll need a few minutes to change things, modify them so that they can actually escape, can actually get out of here.

Fabian is trapped in this castle. Fig is trapped. Their new ally, the oracle Adaine Abernant, their friend, is trapped as well. He can’t risk their freedom for himself, can’t risk Fabian and Fig’s sacrifices and the dangerous line between family and safety Adaine is flirting with. He just… he’ll figure out another way. He just needs time.

The heavy sound of a wooden lute being swung against a head thunks from outside Riz’s door, and then it’s opening to reveal his friends standing on the threshold. No, no, no, this is happening too fast. He hasn’t had time to plan.

Fig lowers her lute from where it’s raised in the air, hovering around where the now unconscious guard’s head probably was less than a second ago.

“Shit, Riz, we need to go,” Adaine says, hoisting her skirts and sprinting for his window, the same window Riz had been preparing before Kalina waltzed in.

Fabian twirls his red, embroidered, very much not stealthy court cloak from his shoulders, slinging on the black one he’d stashed on Riz’s chair earlier. The cloak that Kalina had most certainly seen because Riz hadn’t bothered to hide it. “We have five minutes.”

Adaine throws the window open and immediately heaves one of her legs out of it, hair whipping slightly in the breeze. She reaches behind her and grabs Fig’s hand, pulling her up and onto the windowsill beside her.

They’ve discussed this plan ad nauseum for weeks. So it’s almost too easy for Adaine and Fig to leap from the window with nothing but a nod, not even noticing how Riz has yet to move from his spot.

“Alright, we’re next, The Ball,” Fabian says, and hoists himself up onto the windowsill, cracking his knuckles and rolling his shoulders in preparation for the leap.

Riz moves, then, takes a step back, hands outstretched in a pleading way that doesn’t connect with the usual brave, cunning parts of himself, the parts that plan a castle escape and wind up as companion to the prince. “You can’t take me with you. Kalina, she’s— She’s in my head. She knows, Fabian. I can’t risk it.”

Fabian’s mouth tugs and he leans back into the room, grabbing one of Riz’s outstretched hands and tugging him forward, to the open window, to their one chance at escape. “I didn’t leave you behind before, I’m not about to start now.”

And Riz remembers, remembers the way he and Fig had fought tooth and nail during those first moments of the coup, before the King had fallen at his son’s hand. They’d bought Fabian a second of time, a moment to run, but he’d frozen, frozen as the knights grappled Fig and Riz, frozen with his sword hanging in the air, the wound on his face a bleeding mess.

“Go, Fabian,” Riz had screamed, Fig shouting as well.

Fabian’s sword clattered out of his hand, and he allowed himself to be grabbed by the knight who cut out his eye, to be dragged alongside Riz and Fig to that throne room, to where Kalina and the Abernants waited with King Bill Seacaster slowly bleeding out on his own steps.

“I couldn’t leave you, The Ball. I couldn’t lose you.” Fabian had said that night, once the tears were dry and Fig snored beside them.

“You won’t. We’re going to get through this together,” Riz had said and curled up tightly into Fabian’s side.

The memory flashes in Riz’s head, and then it’s gone, and Riz is back in his night dark room, wind from the open window brushing against his cheeks, and Fabian’s warm hand wrapped around his, pleading, in his own way, for him to follow.

Riz holds tight to the dagger Kalina had given him, the dagger he plans to hurl straight into her heart someday, and allows himself to be pulled out of the window.

[kyber-kisses]

Through a Mothers Eyes (Part 2)

Dean Winchester x Reader

Find Part 1 HERE

Warning: more best friend dumbassery, more crack. . . More of Dean and Y/N being oblivious about their feelings for eachother. The usual.

Summary: Mary meets an old friend of the Winchesters and apparently she’s the only one who can see the very obvious feelings the reader and Dean have for each other.

A/n: The chapters for this series are gonna be a little shorter than my normal ones, but I hope you guys enjoy either way! Also, feedback is greatly appreciated!

It didn’t take very long for Mary to see that you were quite the character. You brought a vibrance and liveliness to the bunker in a way she had yet to see before. You also brought out a liveliness in Dean too, one she hadn’t seen in him since he was four years old.

. . . And it had only been three days.

In such a short amount of time she found out so much about you. How you were raised in the life like her sons, how you had stuck with them through everything, along with everything in between. You were eager to learn about her too, holding conversations over coffee or while helping to make dinner. She could easily see why you and Dean were such good friends. . .

She just didn’t understand why there wasn’t something more.

Because it was there. It was there in the way Dean sat up straighter and lit up when you entered the room and it was there when the two of you cracked dumb jokes until you were both falling out of your seats with laughter. She wondered if anyone else saw it too.

It was early Friday morning when she almost stopped dead in her tracks while entering the kitchen, a new scene folding out in front of her that once again made her question why the two of you weren't together.

Sam was seated at the kitchen table, head in his hands and looking three seconds away from a mental breakdown while you and Dean worked at breakfast, singing along terribly to the music coming out of your blue tooth speaker.

An amused expression took over her face as she crossed the kitchen, her arrival yet to be noticed by anyone until she put a reassuring hand on Sams shoulder, the younger Winchester popping his head up instantly.

“Mom!”

“You okay, Sam?.”

Sam tiredly zoned out, looking off at some point in the distance. “They’re on their fourth round of singing Glen Campbell’s Rhinestone Cowboy. Fourth. round.”

A chuckle crawled up the back of her throat as she turned to look over her shoulder once more. It was both amusing and slightly embarrassing to watch as you and Dean danced to the music, singing into your “microphone” spatula. Every once in awhile you would pause to flip a pancake but then you were right back to it.

“With a subway token and a dollar tucked inside my shoe

There'll be a load of compromisin'

On the road to my horizon

But I'm gonna be where the lights are shinin' on me-“

A moment later you and Dean caught sight of Mary, you shot her a wide smile and wished her good morning alongside Dean.

“You want any pancakes? Y/Ns a master at making them!” Dean raised his voice to make sure he was heard over the music.

“I’d love some, thank you!”

“Blueberries?”

“Sure.”

The older Winchester turned back to help you, pausing when you made a silent communication by raising your hand in the air, a blueberry pinched lightly between your thumb and forefinger. He quickly tilted his head back, catching it in his mouth when you tossed it. A high-five was exchanged and then you were back to your singing. . .and dancing, if anyone could even call it that. It was clear now that the two of you were doing it to annoy Sam, grinning like idiots as you moved to the music, eyes focusing on Sam. Embarrassment was too strong a word. You tipped an imaginary cowboy hat at the younger Winchester.

“Its like living with children.”

“Like a rhinestone cowboy

Riding out on a horse in a star-spangled rodeo

Rhinestone cowboy

Gettin' cards and letters from people I don't even know

And offers comin' over the phone!”

Mary turned back to Sam, the hunter mindlessly looking into the black liquid inside his mug. “You sure you’re okay?”

“Yep. I mean, it’s getting pretty annoying . . . And it DOESN'T HELP THAT THEIR DANCING IS TERRIBLE!”

His words were loud enough to get you both to stop in your tracks, head spinning around to glare at him as the music continued to play in the background. You flipped another pancake, eyes still trained on Sam.

“We’re not terrible dancers!”

“Yeah! I mean Y/N is. But I’m great-“

You picked up another blueberry lobbing it at Dean and nailing him in the back of his retreating head as he passed a full plate over to his mother. “Hey!”

“Hey!” You lowered your voice several octaves in attempt mimic Dean, chuckling as you did, even when he glared at you again.

“You’re a delinquent.”

This time you nailed him in the center of the forehead, the blueberry leaving a small dot where it made impact.

“You’re a delinquent-“

The fire in Dean eyes grew as he took a menacing step forward, rolling his sleeve back up.

“I’m gonna-“

“Alright, that’s enough you two. How bout you sit down and eat?” Mary breathed, trying to hide the underlying chuckle in her voice. The two of you may not be children but you certainly acted like it.

You narrowed your eyes at Dean while you gathered up everyone’s coffee while he grabbed the pancakes, the two of you plopping down in silence besides each other.

“Are mornings usually like this?”

“You mean every damn Friday morning?” Sam questioned, stabbing at his pancakes. “Then yes. Yes it is.”

“Are Friday mornings some sort of special occasion or something?” Mary questioned over the lip over her mug, watching the two of you curiously.

“Fridays Y/Ns in charge of breakfast, I only show up because she like my help.” Dean spoke through a mouthful of pancake, quickly earning him a smack on the back of the head from you.

“You insist on helping me, and don’t talk with your mouth full. That’s gross.”

“You’re gross.”

You rolled your eyes, uncapping the can of whipped cream before spraying a generous amount on top of both your pancakes and coffee. “Great comeback there. Really original, Dean.”

“You know what? Sue me.”

Letting out a deep sigh you stabbed your fork into your pancakes. “Mary, you should know that your son is an idiot.”

“Oh, I know. You don’t need to tell me.” She grinned, finding Deans reaction priceless when his jaw dropped open, a second later your were using your freehand to push it shut once more. When you let go you reached for the can of whipped cream again, spraying more onto your plate.

“Y/N, you might want to cool it with the whipped cream-“ Sam began, reminding you that he was still there. You licked the remaining portion off your thumb.

“Nah, makes it easier to do this-“ scooping a portion of it onto your hand you brought your hand back and lightly smacked Dean across the face, a hefty thwap being heard over the music in the background.

Dean froze before slowly looking up from his pancakes and turning to you, face stoic and covered in whipped cream.

“I’m gonna kill you.”

You grinned and took off from the table with a laugh, disappearing down the hallway. Dean attempting to follow only for his socked feet to slide over the linoleum and slow down his attack.

Once she was sure the two of you were out of earshot she turned back to Sam. “Seriously?’

“what?” This time it was Sam's mouth that was full, his eyebrows knotted togther in confusion. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

“Y/N and Dean.”

“What about Y/N and Dean?”

“Are you sure they aren't together?”

Sam choked on his pancake, quickly reaching for his coffee. “Y/N and Dean? Together? Like together together? No! Hell no!” He cleared his throat with a shake of his head. “What would make you think that?”

She wanted to slap a palm against her forehead. “Are you serious?”

Sam shrugged. “They've been like that for as long as I can remember, doesn't mean anything.”

“You're telling me you cant picture Y/N and Dean as a couple?”

There was a grimace as Sam quickly shook his head. “I don't want to picture that! Y/Ns like an annoying older sister to me, and Dean is my literal, actual brother!”

Mary let out a sigh of defeat as she took another sip of her coffee. Was she the only one with a pair of eyes around here?

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[yourdeepestfathoms]

Medusa’s Child (part one)

eyyyy, here’s the first part of Medusa being a mom!! sorry if it’s not very accurate to the myths, i am trying my best. feedback and comments are greatly appreciated! i hope you all enjoy!

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

She was first alerted of a presence by an uneven splashing against the nearby shore.

It was the early evening, and the sun was at its best point in the sky, raining down on Sarpedon in just the right way to make her scales light with painless flames. She stretched out on her branch, pressing her bare belly up to the warm rays. Her tail flicked lazily while her mane of snakes hissed and tugged in the direction of the noises. She swatted a clawed hand at them.

  “Let him come,” Medusa murmured in a husky, languid voice, not bothering to open her eyes. “You know he won’t stand a chance anyway.” She ran her black talons down her exposed breasts and stomach, chuckling deeply. “He may as well die with the image of a beautiful woman in his mind. We can give him that, at least.”

There were mixed reactions from her snakes, some spats of disapproval, some hisses of agreement, but they all coiled back down into quietness. Or, as quiet as a head full of serpents could be.

Compared to other creatures across the land, Medusa had a remarkably good childhood if she did say so herself. Her parents were the ferocious Ceto and Phorcys, ancient sea gods that kept the ocean seething with their monstrous children. 

Phorcys was a grey-haired, fish-tailed mountain of a man, with rough red, spiky crustacean skin and huge crab claws that were strong enough to snap off the head of any mortal man that approached his territory. He was faster than any sea creature and stronger than any current in the existing waters. He could create a tsunami big enough to drown Greece with one splash of his mighty tail.

Ceto was quite possibly more terrifying than her father, however. She was a fair maiden with shiny, unblemished skin she never covered up and long, wavy black hair that floated like Kraken tentacles in the water around her. Her eyes were green and sharp enough to cut through obsidian, and her voice was booming enough to crack the earth and drain the entire ocean. She was as venomous as her animal creations, but she taught Medusa discipline and respect at a very young age.

Together, the two of them brought forth a myriad of devilish children. Ekhidna, a dangerous she-dragon with the head and breasts of a beautiful woman and the body of a coiling serpent; Scylla, a giant crab that ate sailors; Ladon, a dragon with one hundred head; the Graiai, three grey hags that shared one tooth and one eye; and the Gorgons, a trio of sisters with the bodies of serpents and hair made of living, venomous snakes.

Medusa was a part of the final group. 

Medusa and her two sisters were born on a dark day, where the sky seethed with storm and the sea seemed to wrath against its gods. Through crashing waves and spitting sea foam, Ceto dragged her soaked, swollen body from the hissing water and into a cave where it was dry. The tide tried to catch her, nipping at her heels like desperate piranhas, but could not chase her all the way up the sand.

Within the cave, the pelting rain and howling gales were muffled by thick stone. Droplets of water dripped from stalactites that hung from the ceiling like dozens of monster fangs. Small tidepools were laid across the ground like traps, seemingly existing to trip Ceto and make her crash down onto her thick belly. But she managed to avoid them, hissing strings of curses to the starfish and crabs and tiny fish that thrived within the wet sinkholes before collapsing to the ground, powerful cramps rippling through her body.

There, Ceto gave birth in the eye of a raging hurricane, her monstrous children writhing out of her womb, clawing and scratching for the world outside of her body.

Stheno was first, born thrashing and hissing and brimming with rage the moment she came out. She was a thin little thing, but her blood red tail whipped around with enough power to crumble mountains. Her red mane of snakes sprung to life instantly, fangs flashing, hissing so loud they challenged the whirlwind outside the cave. The scales upon her head and face made it look like she was permanently stained in mortal blood, and the boar tusks curling out from her mouth looked wickedly sharp. Mere moments after being born, she had lunged at a tidepool and ripped apart a small crab with bronze claws, devouring it in just a few snaps of her powerful jaws.

Euryale came next, sliding out in a slick of fluids and screaming so loud she threatened to bring the whole cave down on top of them. Her white and yellow tail lashed as she cried, sending clumps of wet sand flinging through the air. The mane of snakes upon her skull, which had red snouts that looked like they had been dipped in blood, wailed with her, strange, raspy sounds that vibrated through the air like static electricity. There were small horn nubs protruding from her forehead, which had explained the pain when she was coming out. Stheno tackled her, whacking their tails together, and began wrestling with her.

Finally, out came Medusa, green scales shiny and new-looking. The first thing she remembered was seeing her eldest sister chewing on her second eldest sister’s tail. She had blinked her golden yellow eyes at them, flicking her own emerald green tail like she was expecting something to be attached to it. And then, she was lifted up and saw a beautiful woman gazing down at her. Her mane of snakes snapped at the long black hair cascading down onto her belly.

  “What peculiar little beast you all are,” She remembered her mother rumbling. Ceto scooped up Stheno and Euryale and held all three sisters in front of her. “And what slayers you will all be, indeed.”

And she was right.

Medusa’s childhood passed by in a blur of mortal blood and seawater. Her mother taught her how to strike fear into mortal men. Her father taught her how to swim and fly when all of their wings eventually grew in. And her sisters taught her to hide her prey or else it would get stolen.

She was raised in the darkest reaches of the ocean depths, where granite tunnels formed interlocking caves and caverns below the rolling waves. While most children grew up raising family goats and playing with dolls made of straw, Medusa and her sisters grew up taming sea monsters and playing hide-and-seek venomous lionfish. They created crags of coral along the seafloor with their eyes alone and swept through the ocean currents on scaled wings. When they would go up to the surface, they watched the mortals in their wooden vessels, laughing at the way they attempted to overpower the waves that rocked them mercilessly.

That was when they discovered their deadly eye power.

Medusa was a monstrous teenager, floating along the ocean’s surface, when Stheno presented the idea to her.

  “Swim into their nets and pretend to be dead,” Her older sister had said. Sunlight glinted off her blood red scales. When she smiled, her teeth were like a shark’s. “When they pull you up, give them a scare.”

Medusa gave a laugh. The only thing better than observing a mortal’s stupidity was causing the mortal’s stupidity by interacting with them. Of course, she agreed.

She swam into one of the large nets drifting beneath the boat, startling off a cloud of slippery grey-blue fish. She let herself get tangled up in its loops, tugging on the ropes enough to alert the sailors. After a few moments, the net began to rise, and she faintly heard the giggling of her sister’s vibrating through the water.

Cool sea air hit her bare skin; a series of gasps exploded throughout the vessel. The rough feeling of wood chafed against the scales on her exposed back as the net was dropped into the boat. She struggled to keep in the giggles and play dead as loud murmurs whisked around her. 

The men were wondering what she was, asking themselves how they managed to wrangle up a thing. One of them poked her tail with something pointy and she almost flinched, but managed to tighten her muscles and stay still.

And then, there was a hand grabbing her breast.

The man above her purred out something about her being beautiful and warm and the others should “give it a try.” 

Her eyes snapped open wide. She ogled the man above her in shock and fear and disgust; he was a scruffy and flabby creature with hungry eyes and crooked yellow teeth. His hand remained on her breast as they locked gazes, and then his face did something strange.

It twitched. And his eyes went weirdly blank. And he sucked in a harsh breath.

The man’s entire body jerked like his soul was trying to claw its way out of his back. His brown eyes bulge and roll wildly in their skull, and Medusa could see grey spreading rapidly over the eye balls.

Stone began to march across the man’s flesh like a swarm of fire ants. He tried to scratch it off, but his nails bounced right off. His movements quickly began to stiffen as whatever came over him took hold.

His chest froze solid first, then his hands and feet, his ears, his arms and legs, all the way to his throat. His eyes were no longer brown, rather blank grey. His greasy blonde hair did not sway in the cool breeze. His mouth was open, teeth blunted by rock, and twisted in an agonized expression. One hand was extended outward to his crewmates in a final gesture of desperation.

The man had been turned to stone.

The other mortals on the boat began to frenzy. Some ran away in fear, others brandished their weapons, but they, too, met the same ill fate of their crewmate. One stare and they hardened into a statue against their will.

Stheno and Euryale had been alerted by the noise and they flew up to the ship. Both of them looked shocked at what was going on.

  “What is happening?” Euryale asked. 

  “I-- I don’t know.” Medusa replied, slowly sitting up. She was absurdly confused at what was going on. “I turned them to stone.”

  “How?” Stheno demanded.

  “I looked at them.”

  “Hm.” Stheno lashed out at a fleeing young man and flared her giant red wings open, essentially trapping him. Medusa heard a short scream, and then silence. When her sister pulled back, the man was frozen in an encasing of stone.

The discovery of their power sparked great fear across the land, but amazement inside Medusa and her sisters. Stheno used it the most, killing more men than both Medusa and Euryale combined. She kept her favorite statues in her lair as trophies, adorning them with her jewels and other treasures. 

Euryale rarely ever killed, not because she didn’t like it, but because she never went out of her way to go around mortals. She rather watch them from afar, observing their strange hive mind mentality. 

Medusa was a mix between the two. Sometimes she would simply stay away, other times she liked to see how dumb mortal men were when she came across them.

When they eventually came of age, the three sisters ventured off from the darkness of their homeland sea. Medusa went to an island called Sarpedon, claiming it as her own domain. Mortal men saw it as an arena, however, and often sailed to her home to challenge her. It wasn’t long before her island was filled with the statues of foolish men, decorating her gardens with the trophies of her success.

And another was about to be added to the collection.

There were crashes through her jungle; the stupid man was romping through her home and disturbing her nap!

Sighing, Medusa uncoiled her elegantly long body from the tree branch and carefully climbed down the trunk. Her emerald green scales shimmered in the sunlight filtering down from the canopy of leaves up above, dewdrops from the condensation of her garden sliding like melted diamonds down her tail. She slithered through the weeds, passing by ruined pillars and petrified statues, all of which were swathed with moss and vines. She admired them as she went by, as she always did, as she always would. It was quite lonely on her island, but she rather be alone than have the company of a man.

Emerging from the lush underbrush, Medusa set her eyes on a fleeting boat in the crystal clear water. Strange, she thought. There was still a living person on the vessel. Did they think against their decision to challenge her? No, there were footsteps in the sand… Someone was here.

Medusa flicked her pointy ears and slithered out onto the beach. A bright red crab saw her coming and darted into the splashing waves to hide. A mere crustacean was the least of her concern right now, though. She could eat later.

There was blood in the sand. Small, red droplets clumping the white grains together. A trail led across the bay in spatters that looked like the man had been in a hurry, disappearing into the thriving overgrowth of Sarpedon.

Medusa turned and followed the trail. The man seemed rather smart; there were many hiding spots in the jungle, but she knew this island like the back of her hand. He would not stand a chance.

A spray of bright yellow birds exploded from the trees when she came slithering by. Long-limbed creatures of fur leapt from branch-to-branch, poised and waiting to flee while they watched her. The monkeys always liked to test her. Perhaps that was what made them so delicious. The looks on their faces when she managed to snatch one and scarf them down was priceless.

There was rustling to her left. Medusa pricked one of her pointed ears while her mane of venomous snakes hissed in alertness. She smacked the nose of one of them to quiet them down and then went after her prey.

  “Hello?” She called out in a purr. “Come out, come out wherever you are…”

There was no reply, though there had been before. That particular man had really thought he could swoon her. How could anyone fall for the grating voice of a male?

The rustling sounded again. Medusa whipped around, smacking a tree with her tail and sending a macaw flying off with an alarmed screech. 

  “You are a quick little rabbit, aren’t you?” She chuckled. Fine then. She’ll play with her prey before killing him.

Fleeting footsteps squelched through moist jungle mud. He was quick, but she was quicker. Legs were so hindering, while her tail could get her around with graceful ease. It also made a perfect entrapment tool. Nothing was better than constricting her victim and getting to look at them face-to-face while their life drained away from them.

A squeal caught Medusa’s attention. A smirk came to her lips, fangs flashing in the sun. Finally.

Peering through the leaves, Medusa could partially see the body of the man on the ground, sprawled between two trees. His right ankle was caught in some gnarled roots, trapping him.

It was perfect.

Medusa sprang out of underbrush, claws raised and brandished, fangs bared, wings flared out to their full size. Her snakes swelled up and hissed loudly, mouths loaded with potent venom. Her bright yellow eyes were flashing, ready to strike this man into stone, and--

And she froze.

This wasn’t a man.

It was a child.

[vsquadgoals]

Settling Down (J.W) Part Three

Part One 

Part Two 

When Karyn finally pulled up to the pickup area she smiled wide when she saw her baby brother standing next to his beautiful girlfriend who was slowly pushing her stroller back and forth. Once she parked, she hoped out of the car and pulled her brother into a tight hug. “Hey stranger” he said chuckling a little. Once he let go of her, she smiled at Milena pulling her into a Warm hug as well. “Ugh it’s great to finally meet you!” Milena beamed at Jeff’s sister. “I know you too! I’m so glad you guys are here!” She peaked down at a sleeping Alethea and smiled “oh my gosh she’s so beautiful.” She whispered looking back at Milena. “Isn’t she? I’m so excited for you guys to all get to finally spend time with her.” Jeff says smiling proudly at his sister. Jeff loaded their bags into the trunk of his sisters car as Milena put Aletheas car seat in strapping it in tightly before going around to the other side of the car and sitting in the back seat next to her daughters car seat. Jeff got into the passenger seat and ran his fingers through his hair as they started to drive toward his parents' house. Milena sat in the back looking out the window watching the scenery as they passed it, although she was enjoying the view, she couldn’t stop her leg from bouncing with nerves. Jeff and Karyn were talking and catching up and she couldn’t focus enough on the conversation to know exactly what they were talking about; her anxiety was too high.  

Once they pulled into the driveway of Jeff’s parents' home Aletha was awake again smiling at her mom. Jeff unloaded the bags and Milena took out the car seat and opened to wheels pushing it to grab Alethea’s diaper bag from Jeff who was carrying their suitcases. Jeff kisses his girlfriend's forehead and before they follow Karyn into the house, Jeff helps lift the front of the car seat to get it up the stairs and into the front door. “You guys go upstairs and get some more sleep. The play pen is set up in Jeff’s old bedroom.” Karyn tells them closing the door behind them, Jeff and Milena go upstairs, and Alethea is starting to wine and fuss in the car seat. Milena puts the diaper bag on the floor and takes Alethea out of the car seat rocking her gently sushing her. Jeff set up her sound machine on the nightstand and closed the bedroom door as Milena sat on the bed and lifted her shirt to feed Alethea. “You okay mama?” Jeff asks running his fingers through his girlfriend's hair, she looks up at him and nods smiling a little. “Just nervous to meet them and tired.” She admits and Jeff nods. “It’ll be okay. We’ll get a nice nap and have a delicious breakfast in the morning.” Milena nods and smiles at Jeff “I love you.” She tells him puckering her lips up at him. Jeff smiles and chuckles before leaning down to kiss her lips.  

Once Milena was done feeding Alethea, she put her into the playpen once she was asleep, she changed into one of Jeff’s t shirts before climbing into bed with him. Jeff pulled her close and she snuggled against him quickly falling asleep. It was around 9am when Alethea was fussing in the playpen, Jeff carefully climbed out of bed and picked her up kissing her cheeks. “Morning Angel.” He whispered when she snuggled into his neck. Jeff quickly changed her diaper and then slipped out of the bedroom quietly trying not to wake Milena who was sleep fast asleep. Jeff went downstairs to find his mom and dad standing in the kitchen making breakfast, he smiled wide when his mom looked at him her eyes widening when she sees Alethea. “Hi honey.” she says kissing his cheek before looking at the very smiley baby in his arms, “Hi Ma.” He said smiling at her. “This is Alethea, she’s so excited to meet you guys.” Alethea is smiling widely at Jeff’s parents.  Jeff and his parents catch up a bit while he feeds Alethea her oatmeal.  

Milena walks downstairs slowly after getting dressed in something a little more appropriate to meet your boyfriend's parents in, she just wore a pair of jeans and a simple black oversized sweater. She also brushed her hair and teeth definitely stalling a little bit but here she was walking downstairs, and the smell of breakfast food filled her nostrils and made her mouth water. Milena smiled hearing Alethea’s coos and laugh while Jeff and what she assumed to be his mom talked to her. “Good morning.” Milena said her voice soft as she entered the kitchen. Jeff and his parents both turned to face her. “Good morning beautiful.” Jeff says smiling wide. Milena smiled and looked at his parents approaching his mom first. “It’s really nice to finally meet you.” She says as his mom pulls her into a tight hug. “It’s amazing to meet you too Milena, we’re so glad you guys could come! And that Alethea is the sweetest little thing in the whole world.” Milena’s cheeks blush a little. “Thank you.” Jeff’s dad pulls her into a hug next. “How did a pretty girl like you end up with my son?” He teases making Milena giggle, Jeff rolls his eyes but chuckles. “He’s not wrong.” Milena smiles at his parents. “I’m the lucky one here, he’s been the best guy in the entire world, so sweet, kind and the best father figure to Alethea. I’m beyond grateful to have him in our lives. You guys raised an amazing man.” Jeff’s mom’s eyes fill with tears and she pulls her into another hug. “Thank you.” She whispers to her kissing her cheek. Jeff smiles and wraps an around Milena’s waist pulling her close and kissing her. “I wouldn’t want to be anywhere else.” He tells her making her smile.  

Milena sits at the breakfast bar next to Jeff and kisses Alethea’s cheek. “Mmm someone had her oatmeal.” She hums after licking her lips. Jeff smiles at her and nods, “She did, she ate all of it too.” Milena kisses him and smiles. “Thank you love.” Milena takes Alethea from Jeff and smiles at her. “Hi baby girl.” She coos nuzzling her nose against Alethea’s chubby cheeks. They all sat at the kitchen table and ate breakfast together while Alethea sat on the floor playing with her toys next to Milena. “This breakfast is amazing that you so much.” Milena says smiling at his parents. “Oh, it’s our pleasure, it’s the least we can do to thank you guys for coming to visit us.” his dad says making her smile. They continued to talk and get to know each other, his parent’s asking her any question they could think of making Jeff beaming with happiness watching them get along. Once everyone was finished eating Milena stood and grabbed everyone's plates bringing them into the kitchen and starting to wash them for Jeff’s mom who tried to fight her tooth and nail over it. Jeff’s dad smiled down at Alethea ask she scooted her bottom across the floor to his chair and pulled on his pajama pants. He picked her up and sat her on his lap as she smiled wide at him. “She’s the best, isn’t she?” Jeff asks the happiest smile on his face, it was just them in the dining room, his mom and Milena were in the kitchen talking and cleaning the mess from breakfast. Jeff’s dad looks at his son and nods smiling. “You really love these girls, don’t you?” he asks, the question should catch him off guard, but it doesn’t, he just simply nods at his father before looking at the gummy grin on the baby’s face. “They’re it for me, Pops.” Jeff says not taking his eyes off of Alethea who’s now reached across the table for Jeff who happily stands and takes her before sitting back down. “We’re very happy for you. Milena is wonderful, we love her so much already.” Jeff looks at his dad and smiles. “Thanks dad. It means a lot that you and ma approve of her and the whole situation, I know its hard to understand and complicated but I’m so in love with Milena and at the end of the day I’d do anything for this little girl, she means more to me than I thought anyone could.” Jeff’s dad smirks and nods. “That’s what being a dad feels like.” He says honestly making Jeff look up at him. “That’s what you are Jeffery, you’re this little girl's dad. You may not be by blood but you two are raising this girl together.” Jeff bites his lip and looks at Alethea who is now snuggled against his chest with her tiny fingers tangle in his facial hair like she always does when she’s tired. “Do you think I can handle this... I don’t want to screw her up dad.” He says looking at his dad who shakes his head and smiles. “Look at you Jeffery, look how happy you make that girl. That’s the thing about babies, they can sense a bad person and she's madly in love with you. You’re made for this son, you’re more ready then you think.” Jeff smiles at his dad and nods. “Thanks dad.” At this point Alethea’s hands have stopped moving and she’s breathing deeply small snores filling his ear. Jeff walked upstairs and sat on the bed rocking Alethea slowly closing his eyes and holding her close tears slowly filling his eyes.  

Milena walked into the dining room and frowned not seeing Jeff or her daughter. Jeff’s dad smiles at her. “He brought her upstairs, she fell asleep.” She smiles and nods, before she can go to find them Jeff’s dad grabs her hand. “Can I talk to you Milena?” He asks and she nods her stomach turning with nerves, she sits down in the chair next to him. “Is everything okay?” She asks chewing her lip nervously, his dad smiles at her and pats her forehead reassuring her. “Of course. I just want to thank you.” She’s even more confused now. “I’m sorry Mr. Wittek I don’t understand, thank me for what?” He smiles at her and removes his hand from her arm. “For everything you’ve done for our boy, he’s truly happy with you and that little girl. We worried about him for a little while, when he broke up with Ciara we didn’t know what was going to happen to him. But since he’s met you, he’s a whole new person, he’s genuinely so happy and we’re so grateful that you are that person for him, you’re such a good thing for him.” Milena is listening to Jeff’s dad and looking at him, but her eyes are blinded by tears. “Thank you.” She manages to choke out wiping the tears that are rolls down her cheeks. “I hope you know how much he loves you and Alethea; he loves her like she is his own daughter.” Milena clears her throat and smiles nodding. “I know, she is his, he does so much for her and I. I couldn’t have asked for a better dad for her.” Jeff’s dad pulls her into a tight hug. “I’m glad you said that.” Milena hugs him back and he kisses the top of her head. When they separated, she wiped her eyes again and chuckled a little. “Go ahead and go upstairs.” He says smiling at her.  

Milena opens the bedroom door and is shocked to see Jeff holding Alethea close to him tears streaming down his face while he rocks her. “What happened? Is everything okay?” Fear washes over her as she rushes over to them then notices that Alethea is okay and fast asleep in her usual position on Jeff, her face nuzzled into his neck and her fingers tangled in his beard from playing with it until she falls asleep. Jeff clears his throat and wipes his eyes nodding at her. “Yeah I’m okay.” Milena takes Alethea from his arms and lays her down in the playpen. She stands between his legs and cups his face making him look at her. “Jeff, what’s wrong?” She asks wiping his cheeks. Jeff looks into her eyes and bites his lip. “I’m just so grateful to have you two in my life. My dad called me Alethea’s dad and I don’t know it really hit me.” he admits making Milena smile and peck his lips. “You are her dad baby. Making a baby with someone does not make you a dad, what makes you a dad is taking care of that baby, staying up all hours of the night comforting that baby until they go back to sleep. Or sleeping next to their crib when they’re sick and having a hard time sleeping so that you will be there when they wake up. Supporting the person that gave birth to them no matter what and helping their when they can’t even keep their eyes open cause they’re so sleep deprived.” Tears streaming down her cheeks now. “You’re her dad because that little girl looks at you like you’re her entire world, she is so obsessed and in love with you probably even more then she loves me. She feels so safe around you and can’t get enough of you. Those are the things that make a dad Jeff, all the things that you do for Alethea.” Jeff grabs the back of her neck and pulls her down kissing her hard. They both have tears streaming down their cheeks now. Of course, it was an unspoken thing at this point but now that they had laid everything on the table, and it had been said out loud it made it real. Once the two separated she leaned her forehead against his and smiled. “I love you so much Jeff.” Jeff smiles and runs his thumb over her cheek. “I love you more then you’ll ever know.”  

Once Alethea finally woke up from her nap Milena and Jeff decided to go to the park to get some fresh air and have lunch. Milena also wanted to see the neighborhood where Jeff grew up. Jeff told her that the park wasn’t too far away so they could walk there and see the area a little more. Milena changed from her sweater into a white t shirt since it was getting warmer outside. Once they had everything packed up into Alethea’s diaper bag and they had ordered their food to pick up on the way the said goodbye to Jeff’s parents who refused to join them no matter how many times Milena begged them. Alethea was sitting in her stroller chewing on a teething ring wide away while they walked. Jeff took them past the old barber shop that he worked at and learned how to cut hair, “Nick’s here if you wanna meet him.” Jeff says looking through the glass windows, Milena smiles wide and nods. “I’d love to!” She said excited, Milena wanted to meet anyone she could from Jeff’s hometown, it was fun to meet the people that knew Jeff before he moved to LA. Milena followed him into the shop where he was greeted loudly by the guys inside, He smirked. “Hey losers.” He joked chuckling a little. A slightly taller bald man pulled Jeff into a tight hug and looked over Jeff’s shoulders at Milena and the stroller before whispering into his ear. “Is this her?” Jeff patted his back and nodded before they separated. Jeff waved Milena over and she smiled brightly at the two before walking further into the shop and over to Jeff and who she assumed what Nick. “Milena, this is Nick, Nick this is Milena and Alethea.” Nick smiled and pulled her into a warm hug. “It’s great to finally meet you, Jeff has told me a lot about you, actually he never shuts up about you two.” Nick tells her once she’s out of his grasp, she blushes and smiles at him. “I’ve heard a lot about you as well.” Nick leans over to look into the stroller and smiles at Alethea who’s looking around at her new surroundings. “Hello their beautiful.” Nick says smiling at her. They stayed at the shop for a few minutes talking and Nick and Jeff catching up with each other. Once they said their goodbyes and left the shop Jeff looked at her while they walked. “Sorry I didn’t think we would be there that long.” Milena shook her head and smiled. “I loved every second of it, I like meeting your friends.” He smiles and kisses her cheek. “They love meeting you.” Once they grabbed their sandwiches and finally made their way to the park Milena laid out a blanket on the grass and took Alethea out of the stroller and sat her on the blanket laying her favorite toys in front of her.  

Jeff sat on the blanket handing Milena her sandwich and the two talked while they ate and Alethea played. “So, how are you liking it here so far?” he asks Milena while cleaning up their food, she lays down on her side facing him and Alethea. “I love it.” She admits. “Let’s never leave okay?” Jeff chuckles and kisses her forehead. “As happy as I am that you’re happy here we do have lives in LA baby.” Milena frowns and nods. “I know, it’s just nice being around your family. I miss being around family all the time.” She says and he frowns. “I know, but we’re a family, and our friends are family. And your mom comes often, right?” Milena nods and bites her lip looking from him to Alethea. “Yeah you’re right.” Milena laid like this for a while, watching Jeff play with Alethea and watching people and families in the park pass by then and smile happily at them. “I love you Jeff.” She says randomly making Jeff look away from Alethea and to her. He cocks his head to the side a little confused but smiles. “I love you too mama. Are you okay?” He asks and she nods smiling. “I just love our family, and I’m so grateful that you came into our lives and completed our family.” Jeff smiles wide and leans over kissing her. “Thank you for trusting me enough to make me part of your family.” Jeff sits back and picks up Alethea kissing her cheeks. After about 10 minutes Alethea was fast asleep and laying on the blanket next to Milena, Jeff looked around the park sighing happily before taking out his phone and checking the snapchats from his friends and group texts. Milena put her hand on Alethea’s belly and looked down at her watching her sleep with a small smile on her lips, she wanted to stay like this forever, happy with her little family and safe. He looks up at Milena and smiles before snapping a picture, it was too precious of a moment to miss. He posted it on his story with a simple caption ‘Family.”  

It was 20 minutes before they had to leave for the airport to head back to LA and Milena and Jeff’s mom were practically clinging to each other, tears streaming down their cheeks. “Thank you so much for coming to see us Milena, hopefully you can convince Jeff to come visit more often.” She says finally pulling away from their hug. Milena smiles and nods wiping her own cheeks. “I will I promise. Thank you for having us, it was truly a pleasure. I appreciate you guys accepting Aleathea and I with open arms, it means more the you know.” Jeff’s dad hands Alethea back to Jeff after he hugs his mom. “Take good care of these girls Jeffery or I will fly out to LA and kick your ass.” Milena giggles and hugs his dad. “Don’t worry I’ll call you if I need some muscle.” He chuckles and pats her back. “Good.” “We also need at least daily pictures of Alethea as well.” Jeff’s mom says making them both chuckle. “Sounds good. We promise.” Jeff kisses his mom's cheek before getting a text that their uber was outside. “The car’s here.” He tells Milena as he puts Alethea into her car seat, she nods and gives his parents one last hug before grabbing the diaper bag and following Jeff out the front door pushing the stroller and he had the suitcases. Once they were at the airport and their bags were checked they were sitting at their gate waiting for boarding time. Milena looked over at Jeff and frowned. “I miss them already.” She admits making him smile and wrap his arm around her shoulders. “I know mama, me too.” Jeff tells her kissing her temple. Alethea sat happily on Jeff’s lap while he read her a book trying to keep her calm while they waited to board the plane. Jeff’s phone started ringing and he handed Alethea off to Milena before standing and walking to a quieter area making Aleathea frown and reach of him. “He’ll be back tookie.” She says kissing her daughters keeps.  

“What’s up Dave?” Jeff asks once he answers the phone. “So when do you land back in LA?” David asks barely even saying hello to each other. Jeff sighs and runs his fingers through his hair. “Dude, I haven’t even boarded yet. We should land around 9AM.” He tells him and David groans. “Forget it, I needed some baby content.” David says and Jeff chuckles. “Sorry man, it’s also gonna be rough to get her back on her sleep schedule with the time change.” The younger one chuckles. “Wow Jeff, you sound like such a dad. We’ll see you guys soon; tell Lena I say hi.” And with that David hangs up, Jeff goes back to his girlfriend and a fussy Alethea. “What’s wrong Angel?” He asks chuckling a little when she throws herself into his arms. “She wanted her daddy.” She says not realizing the words leaving her mouth until they did, Jeff looked at Milena wide eyed unable to hide the huge smile on his face. “I’m sorry... I hope that’s was okay. It just came out.” She said biting her lip and frowning a little. Jeff shook his head and grabbed Milena’s chin bringing her into a loving kiss. “It was more than okay.” He whispers before kissing her a few more times. He sits back next to her and Alethea starts cuddling against him getting sleepy. “David says hi by the way. He was hoping for some baby content.” Milena rolls her eyes and giggles. “Imagine if we went long then 4 days, his head would explode.” She says making him chuckle. “He’s a needy boy.” Jeff teases making her shake her head smiling.  

Their flight went very smooth and Alethea slept for most of it, when she was awake, she was cuddling with Jeff while he played with her and read her some books which gave Melina plenty of time to sleep so that once they landed she could take care of Alethea and he could sleep. Jeff only woke her when they were starting to land. Alethea was wide awake now and she was sucking on her pacifier playing with her toys in their extra seat while Jeff repacked all their things. “Oh shit, I slept the whole flight? I’m so sorry, why didn’t you wake me up?” She says rubbing her eyes. Jeff smiled and shook his head. “She did just fine my love, we read some books, she slept, she played, it was fine.” He said reassuring her, she leaned over and kissed him a few times. “Thank you.”  

Once they were back at her apartment Milena forced Jeff to go get some sleep and promised she would go pick up Nerf from Oscars apartment. She put Alethea in her highchair and made her some oatmeal sitting down next to her with her own bowl before starting to feed her. Milena decided to facetime her mom to let her know they were safely back in LA and to catch up with her, she propped her phone on the table against a candle she had so she could see herself and Alethea. “Hi mama!” Her mom answered the facetime happily. “Hi mom! Is it a bad time?” She asks continuing to eat and feed Alethea. “Of course not. How was NY?” “It was amazing mom, we had such a great time, his parents are fantastic. Alethea loved them.” Milena’s mom smiles wide watching her daughter beam happily. “Oh, honey that’s great. I missed you guys.” She tells her making Milena frown. “We miss you too, come and visit again soon?” “Of course, maybe next week.” Milena nods and smiles at her mom before handing Alethea a bottle with some water in it. “I called Jeff Alethea’s dad yesterday.” She tells her mom biting her lip nervously. Her mom's eyes widen, and she nods. “Are you sure you both are ready for that?” She asks her bluntly, that’s one thing about Milena’s mom, she said what was on her mind. Milena nods and looks at Alethea before she looks back at the phone. “I think so, Alethea loves him so much and he loves her more than anything. He does a lot for us mom. I walked in on him holding her while she was sleeping and crying because his dad told him that the way he feels about Alethea is the way a father feels about their children.” Milena smiles and shrugs. “And the words just came out when we were talking, I didn’t even think about it.” her mom smiles and nods. “I agree. The way he is with her and the way he looks at her is exactly how your dad was with you.” “Really?” Her mom nods again. “And your dad would go to the ends of the earth for you. Plus look at her, she’s obsessed with Jeff, she wants him at all times.” Milena giggles and nods. “No kidding, she barely wants me anything.” Her mom giggles too and shrugs. “That’s how you were with your father growing up.” Milena smiled at her mom Alethea starting to get annoyed about being in her chair and fussing. “Thanks mom, I’ll call you tomorrow okay?” “Okay, bye girls I love you.” “I love you too mom.” She blows her a kiss before hanging up the phone. Milena cleans Alethea’s hands and face before she takes her out of the chair and changes her diaper and changes her into an outfit and out of her pajamas. “Wanna go get Nerf?” She asks Alethea making her smile wide. “You love Nerfy huh?” Alethea wiggles on the changing table making Milena giggle.  

Milena texted Oscar letting him know that she was on her way to pick up Nerf with Alethea. Thankfully Oscar didn’t live too far from her apartment and once she pulled up outside the building, she texted him to let him know, he agreed to bring Nerf down, so she didn’t have to take Alethea out. Once she saw Oscar exiting the building she got out of the car and hugged him. “Thanks again for watching him.” Oscar smiled and waved her off. “No worries, anytime.” He opened the back door and leaned over the car seat smiling at Alethea. “Hi pretty girl! I missed you.” Alethea smiled wide and cooed at him, Milena opened the passenger door and picked up a very excited Nerf. “Hi handsome boy.” She said putting him in the passenger seat and scratching his head before taking the bags from Oscar and putting them on the floor of the passenger seat. “How was he?” She asked closing the door, Oscar shrugged and closed Alethea’s door. “He was fine, he’s a good boy I never have a complaint when I watch him.” “Okay good.” Milena hugs Oscar again. “Thanks again, we’ll see you soon.” Oscar nods and waits until Milena is driving away before he heads back inside. Nerf is planted on Milena’s lap the whole drive back to her apartment. Before she goes back into the apartment, she decides to take a walk with them, she opens the car seat into a stroller and puts Nerfs leash on him and clipping his poop bags to the stroller. Milena decides to go to the dog park that’s right around the corner from her apartment, she lets Nerf off his leash once they're safe in the gated area. She tosses his ball back and forth for him a few times before he loses interest and starts chasing after some dogs around his size. Milena sat Alethea on her lap who was happily watching all the dogs run around and giggling once and a while when one came over and sniffed her. A woman sat next to Milena and smiled at her and Alethea. “She’s adorable. How old?” Milena smiled at her, “She’s almost 6 months.” The woman nodded and smiled at Alethea who was too busy watching the dogs. Milena didn’t realize how long they had been there until her phone was ringing, “Hello?” She answered not even looking to see who it was. “Hi baby, where are you?” He asks confused. Milena looks at her phone and frowns noticing the time. “Sorry Jeff, I picked up Nerf and we walked to the dog park. I lost track of time, we’re gonna come home now.” Jeff chuckles. “Okay I’ll see you soon.” She hung up the phone and started putting Alethea into her car seat buckling her in before calling Nerf over to them, he quickly waddles over to her and she clips his leash on. Milena smiles at the woman that she was sitting and chatting with before they start walking back to her apartment with a very tired Nerf following her closely.  

Once Milena opened the apartment door Nerf flew into the apartment in search of Jeff making her drop his leash and shake her head giggling. Jeff kneeled on the ground playing with a very excited Nerf laughing. Melina smirks and takes Alethea out of her seat and puts her into her walker which she has become obsessed with because she can follow Jeff around the house with it. After she puts everything away from Nerfs bag she goes into the kitchen and washes her hands before starting to cook a late lunch for the three of them. “How was the park?” Jeff asks sitting at the kitchen island, she smiles at him before going into the fridge and taking out what she needed for a salad and some raw chicken breast. “It was great, Nerf had a good time and Alethea loved watching all of the dogs run around and sniff her.” Jeff chuckled and shook his head. “He hasn’t been to a dog park in a while I’m surprised, he liked it.” Milena looked at him and frowned. “I hope it’s okay that I brought him there.” Jeff chuckled again smirked at her. “Of course, it is.” Milena nodded and smiled over her shoulder at him, she seasoned the chicken before putting it into the pan on the stove. While the chicken cooked, she made some mashed potatoes for Alethea to have for lunch with her baby food. Jeff was sitting at the kitchen island now finalizing a video that he was posting today; Alethea was chasing Nerf around in her walker. When the chicken was finished, she cut it and put it into the salad and added Jeff’s favorite dressing before putting it next to his laptop for him with a bottle of water. “Thank you love.” Jeff smiled at her, she picked up Alethea from her walker and put her in her highchair in between Milena and Jeff’s chair’s. Once they were all settled Milena fed Alethea her food while she ate her salad until Alethea wined and turned her head away from Milena leaning toward Jeff. She frowns and looks at Jeff who kisses the little girls head and chuckles taking the food from Milena and finishing feeding her. “Such a Daddy’s girl.” Milena says rolling her eyes as she takes a bite of her salad. Jeff smirks and kisses Alethea’s cheeks. “I wouldn’t want it any other way. Girls are always more attached to their dad; you were a daddy’s girl, weren't you?” Milena rolls her eyes again giving Jeff the answer he was looking for. “Exactly, plus when we have a boy, they’re totally gonna totally be a mommy’s boy.” Jeff says nonchalantly while he feeds Alethea.  

Milena looks at Jeff with wide teary eyes. “You wanna have a baby with me?” She asks biting her lip to keep it from quivering Jeff looks at her confused frowns. “What? Of course, I do Milena. Do you not want to have more kids?” He asks concerned. Milena stood from her chair and walked around sitting on Jeff’s lap straddling him, she held his face in her hands and smiled at him. “Only with you.” She whispers before kissing his lips lovingly. “Thank god.” Jeff mumbles against her lips holding her close.  

A/n: This part is just pure fluff. I’m sorry its so short! 

It was a very developmental chapter for their relationship. 

[ithinkiwilljustsay]

dyslexia

I can’t write well. And I don’t use the right words every single time. You can spell a word out loud for me and I wont be able to follow the sounds coming out of your mouth in time to write it down correctly. I look dumb or useless in moments when I ask someone to repeat their name five times or to tell me how to spell quiet one more time. I butcher the English language both while speaking and inscribing, but oh the words in my head are smooth, elegant, and often times scathing. I’ve done well to compensate don’t get me wrong through the hurdles I jumped to scrap my way to the top. Ah but at the top they don’t see my hurdles they just see my results. They don’t know what I have gone through to get here. My dyslexia is hidden by the coping mechanisms I was taught in elementary school. When my mom asked my teacher if I was goofing off or if I really could only write in gibberish in the second grade. When my mom fought tooth and nail to get me diagnosed and teachers that could train me to overcome it all. I missed reading class and part of grammar class in elementary. Its when I did cross word puzzles with my special teacher and she taught me how to recognize words and use techniques to read easier. Its ironic on this side of time that where I needed the most training, reading and writing, I ended up losing time studying it. I never did learn grammar, funny thing about grammar if your smart enough to get into top English they don’t teach it to you any more. A rhythm in the words, I feel it in my head, but you cant read it because my grammar doesn’t translate it for you. My voice is strangled by my grammatical and spelling errors. I don’t write at the graduate level because well damn what is that supposed to even mean. I used the wrong their in a sentence oops… then I didn’t catch it on the read through because my brain skips the word when it thinks it knows it. I’m so damn smart but you just don’t know it. Or you do. You just don’t care if it doesn’t fit into your expectations. What are those again you never clarified expect to say I missed them. Even with auto correct Word can only carry me so far. I love spoken word because it is everything I am good at my voice doesn’t get lost in the grammar because you hear my breath and my pause is noticed. Its worse in grad school. It is not enough to get my point across it must be clear and precise. I have never been either. My professor described herself as a “grammar nazi” as if it counted as some type of an apology for grading me so harshly.  Your annoyance should not impact my grade. I can’t help it. I’ve hit my limit and I don’t even like thinking that way, but im tired. I jumped the hurdles and I won’t do it any more. I know my skill level is limited so I use other people to improve it by checking and checking and checking my work after I checked and checked and checked my work. Yet still it is not good enough. My worth and the value of my knowledge should not be defined by my grammatical expertise. I am not an English major. I will not be writing books. But that is still silly because even in the real world authors have editors. I’m almost done and I won’t jump through an additional unnecessary hurdle, I’m walking to the finish line. Try to stop me.

[blueplanettrash]

#Pride (Bi Lance Story)

This is for @phoenix-xox for completing my crossword puzzle second! Sorry for how long this took and I hope you like it! 💙

Ω

All his life, he knew he was “different”. He didn’t really feel things like other people did; sure he liked people, he liked a lot of people but he loved a lot of people too. Boys and girls. To many people that would be completely fine, who cares what gender he likes anyway? It’s none of their business.

Those are the people he liked, the ones that didn’t care about his love like, who he wanted to be with, etc.

It was the people who made it their business that pissed him off.

They all thought they were high and mighty, that just because he went to school with them, or that they even breathed the same air that they somehow had a right to judge him and who he finds attractive.

He’s glad now; years later that the thought of people hating him because of his sexuality angers him more than scares him.

But obviously, that wasn’t always the case. He was a kid once, just wanting to have his peers accept him for who he was. That his sexuality wasn’t something that anyone else could decide for him, and they weren’t allowed to tell him to just choose one.

As a kid, that’s daunting. Especially when you feel like you’re the only one in the world that feels that way. Then to have your classmates and friends start spouting bi-phobic bullshit without batting an eye really just struck home for him. Sometimes he would go home crying, sometimes he would go home a blank slate.

Thankfully, his family was very supportive. He would talk to his siblings, telling them all the things that he heard over the day. So many times, he had to tell them not to go to anybody about it. It was his problem and he wanted to deal with It on his own. He didn’t tell them that he just didn’t want everyone to know he was bi, at that time it was too much for him.

Going into space presented a whole other problem for him.

Number 1: The mind melds. They tried not to do to many of these activities after the first one. Yeah, they needed to learn to trust each other and although on Altea, it was a perfectly acceptable ice breaker; on Earth, it was a complete break of trust if someone wandered a bit too deep.

If they just happened to look into his mind and see his memories of school or talking to his family; he didn’t know what he’d do. Probably scream and tear off the headband and seclude himself for the rest of the day. Not very heroic for a paladin of Voltron, but whatever.

Number 2: They were beginning to encounter aliens, that looked far more human than the ones on Arus. He was pretty lucky that the mermaids he and Hunk had met were all girls, other wise it would have been awkward for him.

And finally, number 3: He wasn’t used to having such open friends before. Well, he didn’t know about other people but the people he became friends with before; they needed time to open up. It seemed like you needed to know someone for years before they would even tell him about who they’ve dated before. Like that was some huge scandalous secret.

Seriously Ryan, we were ten. Your mom is not gonna ground you because you held hands with Britany on the playground.

Either way, the point is that he didn’t have open friends before so when they all collapsed in the lounge after a rigorous training exercise and Shiro went:

“I miss my boyfriend,” he sighed, face smooshed into the lounge’s couch.

He was understandably in a state of shock.

“He’s not your boyfriend you know,” Keith smirked, dirt smeared across his face from when one of the gladiators tripped him and he fell on his face. “Besides, he wasn’t exactly supportive of your dreams before Kerberos,”

“Yeah, but still… I miss him,” Shiro lamented with a groan.

Lance was essentially stunned. He’d never even had a clue that Shiro was interested in relationships, let alone with another guy.

“What do you mean he wasn’t supportive?” Hunk asked and Lance’s head whipped over to Hunk. He wasn’t surprised? He glanced around the room and noticed that they weren’t shocked like he was, hell, Pidge wasn’t even looking up from her computer.

“Well, I had this whole “disease” thing going on,” Shiro said nonchalantly, turning over onto his back.

“Disease thing!? What are you talking about?” Hunk cried, suddenly panicked.

“Its like this degenerative disease, I’ve had it since I was a little kid, its not a big deal,”

“Is this real life?” Hunk asked, turning toward Keith.

“I know right? That was my reaction when he told me too,”

Lance felt like he was in a sort of limbo. Thankfully, no one really witnessed his inner dilemma and he was free to question everything. Shiro was so open with his sexuality and if he was being honest, he’d never seen someone be so blasé with their preferences. At that moment he wanted nothing more than to go:

“Hell yeah, I miss the earth bois too!”

But he was unsure. He knew Shiro and he knew his team. He knew that they wouldn’t judge him for anything but still, he had engrained in his mind that there were some people that you just can’t tell. Yeah, there were the people who believed that his sexuality didn’t exist and they were all over but, by far the worst people were the LGBT people that also said that he needed to choose one or the other. It never made sense to him, they knew what it felt like to beaten down and cursed at for their preferences. They fought tooth and nail to not be stigmatized yet, they would tear him down the first chance they got.

Thankfully, by going to the Garrison, he cut himself off from a lot of those people’s ideas and opinions of him. He went through his entire first year thinking the other shoe was gonna drop and someone from his hometown or old school was going to transfer over and start the whole process over again. It wouldn’t be that far off to say that he lived his school life in fear for a good part of his first year.

It was comforting to see that other people weren’t as backwards as he thought they were; or was lead to believe they were from growing up in his hometown.

Maybe he could speak up. But what if they think that he’d mocking Shiro or something? I mean, his blatant flirting with some of the alien girls would probably make them think that. He didn’t show any interest in any of the guys they’d come across so far, even though Rolo was a snack.

But, honey. That took effort on his part.

In the end, he decided to ignore the voice nagging in his head to say something and just laid back and enjoyed their night off.

Did he have a bit of a pit in his stomach the rest of the night? Yeah, he did.

Did he regret not saying anything? Not at all. He was uncomfortable and he did what he thought was right for him.

Did it feel good? Absolutely not.

Ω

He didn’t exactly know how they got on the topic of his sexuality. But suddenly he was just telling Shiro that he was bi. Maybe it was because he was sick of hiding it, maybe he felt like he was supposed to tell him. He honestly, didn’t know.

“Why didn’t you want to tell us?” Shiro asked with bewilderment. “I mean I kind of get not telling other people, but we’re pretty open here,”

“I mean we didn’t really have a heart to heart or anything like that,” he shrugged, while inside he was full on panicking.

“Oh, okay…” Shiro trailed off looking a little hurt.

“Look, it wasn’t you or anything… just, back home it wasn’t really “acceptable” to be bi? I guess?” Lance started, rubbing the back of his neck nervously. “I just didn’t know if you would be the same or not,” he admitted, ashamed.

“Wha- but I’m gay Lance! I wouldn’t do that!” Shiro cried, disbelief shining in his eyes.

“I know you would never do that, but it’s happened before and I was scared!” Lance defended himself, the feelings inside finally reaching threshold. Shiro watched him with wide eyes, unused to this “unhinged” version of his friend and teammate.

“It’s happened before?” Shiro asked softly. “Oh, Lance. I’m so sorry,”

“It’s fine. It wasn’t like it was you or anything,” he sighed, curling into himself.

“Well, I get that but I kind of was that person before,” he admitted, rubbing the back of his neck. Lance head whipped up to look at him in shock. “I guess that takes away from my point before,”

“What?”

“I know. I was young and dumb and didn’t care about other people’s feelings,” he said shaking his head. “So, I am sorry. I’m sorry for my actions before and I’m sorry that people like me made it hard for you to be yourself,”

Lance paused in shock for a while, just trying to comprehend what he’d just heard. Takashi Shirogane used to be one of the people that made him hate himself when he was younger. His hero, could have been someone to tear him down.

“What changed?” He asked after a few minutes of uncomfortable silence.

“Honestly, Matt,” he answered. “Or moving to the Garrison. Before I didn’t really have that person to tell me that what I was saying or doing was wrong but Matt laid into me the first time I said anything around him,”

“So the Garrison changed both of our perspectives, huh?” Lance grinned, uncurling slightly. “Or cut us off from other people’s ideas at least,”

“Yeah, guess so,” Shiro hummed, sitting down beside him. “I hope that you’ll be able to open up to us someday,”

“Yeah, me too. It’s just… hard sometimes,”

“Well, don’t rush yourself  or anything, you should be able to feel comfortable around us,”

And eventually he was. He let himself pace himself and decide when he was ready to tell his friends. Sometimes he wished that he was able to tell them sooner, or forced himself to tell them sooner. The battle with himself is half the journey though and now…

He can be who he truly is.

[mutantsrisingrpg]

Congratulations BECKY! You’ve been accepted as VENUS.

Becky’s back, back again. Becky’s back, tell a friend! Now that I got that out of the way, I can make this a serious acceptance note. I can honestly say there was not a moment while reading this app that I didn’t think your Hana was it. Hana is obsessed with power and the way you hit on that through her bio had me on the edge of my seat. You created this storm of a girl that I want to know more about even if I know the danger associated with her. Both of us are beyond excited to see the “human embodiment of pikachu with anger issues” on the dash!

Welcome to Mutants Rising! Please read the checklist and submit your account within 24 hours.

Out of Character Information:

NAME/ALIAS: Becky

PRONOUNS: she / her

AGE: 24

TIMEZONE & ACTIVITY LEVEL: GMT ( but technically GMT +1 currently bc summer! ); online daily, particularly active atm because ya girl is working from home

In Character Information:

DESIRED ROLE: Venus / Hana Mercado

GENDER/PRONOUNS: Female; she/her

DETAILS & ANALYSIS:

Even in a city like Miami, Hana is hard to miss in a crowd. Bubblegum bursts, her lazy chew concealing the switchblade sharp smirk that slides across her mouth a little too late for anyone to be able to avoid the trouble that comes from it. She thinks she’s wired up wrong, like a casino gambling machine full of bullets that just keeps dishing out violence while playing its disjointed electric-warped song of congratulations, bright lights flashing wildly.

To your left, a man walking his pet leopard down the sidewalk; to the right, Hana Mercado paralysing a man with the touch of a fingertip for wolf-whistling her. She fits in well here, Florida born and raised, helping the drug lords keep their territories and the mutants keep their identities and everyone and anyone in between keep what’s left of their slowly unravelling sanity. Despite the bustling sea of tourists that ebbs and flows with the good weather, it’s easy to feel lonely. Hana isn’t great when it comes to other people. Pushing them away is a lot less difficult than making them stay.

Everything is loud. Everything is bright. The electricity is near palpable as she splashes through the remnants of a thunderstorm, rainwater spraying over fresh white sneakers. She’s quiet when the sun sets, bleeding red across the sky, the colour of the popsicles she’d eat for dinner as a kid. It’s hard to fear the consequences of her actions when she’s as close to a young god as anyone’s ever going to get. Mutants? Deities? Same difference if you know how to play to the right narrative.

Fuck you has always been easier to spit than a genuinely spoken I love you and that’s the honest-to-fuck truth.

[ + ] driven / brave / resilient / passionate [ - ] arrogant / reckless / unpredictable / childish

BIO:

Money is power. And power is power. And electricity? The sort that decorates the country like a spiderweb, an interwoven network of wires, all humming, all singing to her, the siren’s call of greatness from above ground and beneath it? Power.

Hana is a vicious formation of blood and desire, with the scent of someone burning from the inside inhaled like a nicotine hit. Interrogation comes naturally to her; smiles that should be sweet on a face like hers turn sharp and deadly. She likes to hear them beg. To watch them shake. People spill their secrets to her whether they like it or not.

It’s been that way since she was nineteen years old, static dancing between her fingertips after getting too riled up in an argument with a neighbour’s son over stealing her family’s gas cylinder. An impromptu lightning strike had left the tarmac lining the trailer park sizzling, black and sticky like summertime ( and don’t worry, the Cheeto-dust-decorated-rude-mouthed-slacker-of-a-punk-ass-brat had survived – getting hit by lightning suddenly made him interesting, too, so if anything she’d been doing him a favour ).

A freak accident, they’d called it. Another one of those unexpected Florida storms. But she knew better than that. As had her mom, smoking a fresh pack of Camel Blues from the other side of the door’s insect screen, fresh foils in her hair, acrylic nails the colour of the algae in the neglected community pool down the street. Thinking back, maybe this all stemmed from swallowing too much of that fucking nuclear-waste-looking water when she’d dared to swim there as a kid, hot and sweaty as a storm breaks on the horizon.

But the point – the point is that, to her mom, having the human embodiment of Pikachu as a daughter was as good as winning a jackpot at one of her weekly bingo sessions. She tries to sell it. Power. The ability to pluck electricity from charged particles in the air makes her daughter useful. A living battery. Studies on mutants at University of Miami dish out hefty paychecks after the right terms and conditions have been signed ( note: if you die, that’s on you, don’t try to sue us ). Hana attempts to protest but even she can’t deny that the allure of getting rich sounds like a dream come true.

So she goes to college. Not in the usual sense, sure, but she gets to live on campus ( in a secure underground testing facility beneath the BioMed building ) and hang out with others ( mostly mutants ) her age. And it’s fine for a while until simple fitness tests and blood sampling turn more extreme. Some days are hazy, pumped full of drugs and hooked up to machines that she doesn’t know the name of, let alone the purpose, beeping their own idle hospital-like symphony. Other days are dark and quiet, plunged into sensory deprivation for the sake of whatever it is the boffins in their lab coats are trying to figure out.

She’ll get rich or die trying and, ironically, neither of those things happens.

When the anti-mutant-testing protestors storm the building, they free Hana from both the confinement and the contract. The money she was supposed to get at the end of all this vanishes, along with the pleased looking humans who pat themselves on the back for doing a good deed and disappear to go and celebrate. None of them ask her if this was what she wanted. None of them stop to think that maybe liberation was never an option for her.

Her mom’s gone too. A new trailer stands where Hana’s home once had. The monthly paychecks from the university never reached her bank account, instead wired directly to Mrs Mercado. She laughs until she cries, the air crackling overhead.

After all that, turning to a life of crime is far easier than it has any right to be. Angry and alone, she fucks a guy in a gang in the back of his drop-top and makes herself useful when it comes to getting money out of those who owe it. She runs from the cops. Has a gun pressed to her temple. Watches an illegal weed farm burn at the flick of a lighter. Nothing phases her because she doesn’t let it. Rules stop meaning anything when you realise just what having powers can get you. Making a living from getting spineless people to open up their mouths and offer the gold that is information makes her feel a little less like a failure. Interrogation has a nice ring to it, after all. And once she makes a name for herself, sought after by those who know that secrets are worth a decent stack of bills – well – who is she to turn a job down?

EXPANDED CONNECTIONS:

YVETTE. It’s more than just the sticky sweet sugar of sisterhood. Hana would fight tooth and nail for Yvette should she say the word; would go to war for her if needed. There are very few people in the world that she cares about more than herself, but her partner ( in crime, in the sport of bringing their enemies down, in a vodka-tasting kiss that she’s managed to take a little too far ) holds the throne to Hana’s adoration. If only Yvette would take another step further into chaos and embrace becoming the seductive sort of danger that people run from.

ANDREAS. He knows how to say the right things, she’ll give him that. Hana wants what is hers. And sure, she may not know what that is exactly but the whispers of power he offers are captivating. After so long of operating alone for anyone with enough money to afford her services, the concept of joining strengths is a tricky one to navigate. She keeps him waiting, keeps him on his toes, avoiding a crystal clear answer for the sake of keeping her cards close to her chest. Better to have multiple options on the table than settling for the first one that comes along.

DEREK. Oh, the joy of knowing she’s the shiny new model; a glossy picture-perfect upgrade; a brand new battery to keep Damien and his clowns energised. The temptation of coaxing out Derek’s anger to watch him slip up and fall further from grace is all too great. She’ll press a cherry red lipstick kiss to the dark shades of the sunglasses he will no doubt need down here in paradise. Her future is bright, can he say the same about his own?

DAMIEN ft. JACKSON. He sends his loyal hound. She can only assume that Jackson is missing a collar because he doesn’t like wearing it in public; his Tiffany heart-shaped dog tag would probably get too warm glinting in the Miami sunshine. Hana knows a mob boss pet when she sees one, sniffing her out amongst the cheap cocktails and plastic palms of a Tiki Bar on Ocean Drive. Who’s a good boy? It’s appealing, the carefully constructed dream Damien offers. Almost a little too good to be true given the circumstances. She knows his gang has chased others out, a fine show of strength and organisation, but how long will it last when he doesn’t even know this city?

EXTRA:

Inspo [ x ]   Pinterest board [ x ]

ANYTHING ELSE: ily both

[avengers-nextgen]

Noctis IV

The power had gone out later that night. Alex had finally gone back to sleep when everything stilled. There was no gentle whir of fan blades, the hum of a nearby clock, or even the indication of a hall light being on. After a moment, the sound of feet shuffling across the floor outside greeted Sage’s ears. Then the noise stopped. The door was eased open and a flash light beam darted inside.

“Guess the power’s off for everyone,” James frowned, looking like he was still half asleep.

“What’s going on?” Alex groaned, sitting up to see her brother standing in the doorway half naked. “James? What happened to your clothes? It’s morning isn’t it?”

“Not a chance,” James snorted, “power went out.”

His remark was harmless in nature but Alex made some form of a gagging noise. She’d paled.

“Did anything seem off?” Sage asked, eyeing Alex wearily.

“No, why?” James frowned. He stiffened as the sorceress approached him. She leaned in close so only he could hear.

“Alex says Prom-well, you know. She says he’s back. I don’t know how but she woke up in a panic. Salem was acting funny too. Like he could sense something.” As Sage spoke, James’ expression hardened.

“So what do we do?”

“That’s what I thought you would know,” Sage hissed, sparing Alex a brief glance. “I mean, it could be nothing.”

“Nothing is never nothing around here,” James grumbled, turning on his heel. “I’m going to do a head count. I’ll be back.”

— — —

Nathaniel woke to the sound of a door creaking open. He normally slept the night away undisturbed, but with all that was going on he was as light a sleeper as the trained assassins he lived with.

Propping himself up onto his elbow, he scanned the crowded room. His entire family had managed to fit into the relatively large space and none of them appeared to be awake. Nathaniel had found comfort in their numbers, and their proximity, but something was off.

Getting carefully to his feet, he ventured about the room trying not to step on any limbs. The adjoining room’s door was always cracked, Ellie slept there, but now it’d been swung open. Peeking inside, Nathaniel expected to see Salem meandering about but he found nothing. No cat, and no infant.

Heart leaping into his throat, he turned and ran back through the overstuffed bedroom not caring if he stepped on anyone.

Cries of pain and anger followed his sporadic sprint, but Nathaniel was terrified. Tearing down the hallway, the eldest boy nearly flattened James like a pancake.

“What’s wrong?”

“Ellie’s missing. She’s not in her crib!” Nathaniel panted. James’ eyes went wide and he too began to run. Only, unlike Nathaniel, James was trying to wake everyone up.

Feet pounding against the ground, Nathaniel knocked open every door only to find that Ellie wasn’t there.

It wasn’t until he stumbled into the living room that he saw her.

“Shhhh. We don’t want to wake her,” Crowed a familiar voice. “They’re always so cute when they sleep. Don’t you think?”

“Put her down!” Nathaniel snarled.

“Oh, you don’t get to make the orders,” Prometheus cooed, “you’re in no point of power. Weaponless, and suit less. What are you, but a man?”

Hands balled into white knuckled fists, Nathaniel tried to find something he could use to his advantage. He was alone across the room while a maniac held his niece. It seemed hopeless until the area behind Prometheus erupted in a ring of sizzling light.

Nathaniel was vaguely aware of Chloe knocking Prometheus aside while Penny shifted into view snatching Ellie away.

“Arthur,” Penny called, passing the sleeping girl off to the second Strange to emerge.

Though it was a temporary win, Prometheus melted into darkness like before. Only this time, he didn’t emerge alone. From the shadows crept snarling beasts. Their teeth were white along with their eyes, razor black nails scratched upon the floor, and the hunched over forms resembled horribly mangled dogs.

“Arthur, time to go!” Chloe reminded, as they all broke out of their stunned surprise. To his credit, Arthur tried to run, but the monsters were seemingly everywhere.

“I don’t wanna die playing baby keep away!” He shrieked, nearly losing a calf.

Before another attack fell upon him, bright bursts of red knocked the shadowy beasts over like bowling pins. Scout and his mother had come in the nick of time.

“Are they only in this room?” Vision asked, flying past.

No one got a chance to answer his question when the floor exploded upwards and a gleaming suit slammed into the ceiling

“Owww,” Tony groaned, “I hate big ink cats.”

“Big ink wha-OH MY GOD!” Penny yelled, as a massive head emerged from the crater sized hole. It was the ugliest looking saber tooth cat demon she’d ever seen.

Rolling her eyes, Chloe blasted the monster in the face and Scout followed suite along with his mother.

“Nathaniel, go check on the others. Make sure Arthur’s okay!” Wanda instructed.

With a nod, Nathaniel sprinted off once more. He wasn’t sure where everyone was or how they were going to manage a cat demon but he was only concerned about his family at the moment. Halfway down another hallway, the archer came down hard on his back.

Prometheus stood above him, having appeared just to block his path. “Now look what kind of mess you’ve made. This could have been much simpler.”

“You-fucker!” Nathaniel wheezed, as Prometheus stooped down to collect the fallen warrior.

“What to do with you,” Prometheus mused. “Oh, I know.”

“Put my baby brother down!”

Nathaniel was dropped like a sack of potatoes. Heat washed over him and the smell of something ghastly hit his nose. Burning?

Squinting through the small fire, Nathaniel spotted Cooper wielding his bow.

“Thanks.”

“You should have the explosive ones labeled,” Cooper smirked, going to help his brother stand. There was a fire in his eyes that Nathaniel hadn’t seen in a while. His protective nature shining through. “Mom’s got Ellie and Dad’s keeping watch. For now we need to handle the rest of this mess.”

“My bow?” Nathaniel breathed.

“Right, here.” Cooper passed over the weapon and gestured for Nathaniel to take the lead.

— — —

“I hate cats!” Valkyrie growled, as the weirdly humanoid paw of the cat clutched her by the ankles and hung her upside down.

“Hey!” Siyanda protested, also dangling by her feet.

“You’re not an actual cat!”

“Both of you shut up!” Loki hissed, appearing mid air and lashing out at the demonic hand. Both girls went tumbling to the ground in a heap along with the weird gelatin hunk of meat.

“Fry it!” Tony ordered, racing by and collecting those he could off the ground. Thor struck his hammer against the beast’s leg sending lightning straight through its system. The smell was horrible, and the blackness momentarily retreated, but the creature seemed to sense its defeat. In a desperate move it disintegrated completely into a sticky, gooey, rain.

“This reminds me of Scooby Do,” Piper noted.

“Not the time,” Thor huffed, trying to wipe the black substance from his body.

— — —

“If we cut it, it only grows back,” Drew frowned.

“Like a hydra,” Orion nodded.

“A what?” Fox cried, firing a few more rounds. She’d given up on her knives ages ago.

“Scout knows the myth better than I do. Cut one head off two more grow back. He says you have to burn where you cut. That much I remember,” Orion explained, avoiding the lizard things tail. They were stuck on the bottom floor.

“Anyone got fire?” Maria asked hopefully.

“I do,” Enzo assured, his hands glowing with golden flames.

“Great, lets hack this son of a bitch up,” Maria grinned.

“Now, that is my language!” Drax bellowed, all too happy to go and stab the thing. Drew followed suit.

— — —

All around the tower, chaos unfolded. The structure’s defenses had gone out with the power. Tony had been inspecting the back up generator, unsure why it wasn’t working, when all hell broke loose.

Frankly, he wasn’t too surprised, but then again...he’d seen enough of this shit to know what was up.

“Guys?!” Harper called, her voice sounding particularly panicked.

“What is it Harpsichord?” He asked, turning to face her.

“The others are stuck!”

Confusion was the first thing that hit him, but with the demon cat gone for now, he followed the panicked teen. What he wasn’t prepared for were the statues. Well, not exactly.

No, these were the forms of his friends and family but they were encased in some writhing black goo. There was Pepper, Salem, Steve, Bucky, Alex, and Bianca. All of whom were mid fight when this had happened.

“Oh sweet Jesus,” Tony breathed. “That’s not good. Not good at all.”

“I tried to get them out but that stuff is like rock. But it’s alive. It doesn’t make any sense,” Harper explained.

“Stand back,” Tony warmed, eyeing some writing tendrils in the floor. “I think it’s spreading.”

“Are they alive?” Harper worried.

“My suit shows vitals,” Tony assured. “But other than that I don’t know what’s happening,”

“This is different than the last time isn’t it?” Harper frowned. “The others were telling me stories.”

“Honey, this is last time on steroids. Hopefully no one gets an aneurysm,” Tony looked grimly at the hallway. “Hang tight guys.”

Harper watched the genius rush off with worry etched on his face. She nearly stayed to keep an eye on them when something rigged at her shoe. The weird tendrils were inching towards her. With a disgusted shiver she turned and ran.

[pan-princess-levy]

from across the ocean

name: from across the ocean rating: general relationship: gajeel redfox/levy mcgarden (platonic and romantic) tags: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting | Texting | Pen Pals | Long-Distance Relationship | its a chat fic | but with lots of emotion in it | Tooth-Rotting Fluff | Gajeel Redfox is an actual meme summary: 

for her 15th birthday, levy receives membership to an international pen pal program.

[pen pals/long-distance relationship. 2nd-anniversary gift for my beloved bailey, @blackbloodrose20 ]

also read on ao3 and ffnet!

(although it doesn’t match any of the prompts, this is considered an entry for gajevy week 2019. rejoice with love!)

Membership in an international pen-pal program was not what Levy expected for her 15th birthday, but at this point, she was so lonely she was ready to accept everything.

She struggled to sit down with her broken leg, awkwardly stretching it on the small stool under her computer desk before pulling the box with the documents over. She could still hear the soft murmurs coming from downstairs and considered getting up to close the door.

Then she knocked her toes against the wall.

“Nope, not today. I’ve done enough walking.”

It was hard, to maneuver her fingers into the tight space between her computer and the wall, but after the third attempt, Levy managed to find the start button and turn the machine on. The whirling noise only worried her for a moment. Grandmere had suggested they could get a new computer soon anyway.

If she was even going to need that new computer.

The program had a forum and everything established. Levy looked up the rules and the suggestions of the server then searched up some more things about proper forum etiquette just in case. The registration only took a minute at the most. Finding a proper picture of her took longer and at last, she picked the one she found best from that visit to Paris from Christmas. (Her face looked horribly red from the cold, but it would have to do.)

The forum soon matched her up with her partner. Levy watched the animation process with curiosity. Her picture appeared from a small red dot that was supposed to be her hometown. The same red dot appeared somewhere in North America and a small picture jumped from it. A thin red line connected the two pictures.

A new tab opened, startling her.

Her fingers hovered over the keyboard and she narrowed her eyes, urging herself to switch to English. The tab was almost empty, only containing a big box for messages and few small menus to the side with options for adding pictures, emoticons and other things she didn’t really care about.

A green dot by the side meant her partner was online, too.

Levy bit her lip. She could always quit. She could always put everything away and hand the documents down some other kid in town, then wait for her leg to heal up and do her best to be social.

Or she could try to be brave for once in her life.

FlowerLevy: Hello?

The three dots on the screen almost drove her insane. Levy nibbled on her nails.

the_dragon_warrior: hi? i’m gajeel. what’s your name?

FlowerLevy: My name is Levy. It’s nice to meet you!

flowercrown: I want to die.

panthers: who do i have to kill

flowercrown: You can’t just go around killing people, Gajeel.

panthers: i mean

panthers: i can try?

flowercrown: It’s illegal!

panthers: i’m already a criminal you foolish child

flowercrown: Buying a beer that one time doesn’t count.

panthers: but it’s also illegal

flowercrown: You can’t offer murder every time I complain about something.

panthers: i so much can

panthers: fucking watch me tiny one

flowercrown: Stop calling me short.

panthers: but you are short

flowercrown: One day, Gajeel Redfox, your growth spurt will stop.

flowercrown: And then, I’m going to have the upper hand.

flowercrown: Just you wait.

panthers: i’m so scarred. terrified.

flowercrown: I hate you with a burning passion.

panthers: but you love me

Levy blinked for a moment, staring at the screen of her laptop with a mixture of confusion and something she didn’t recognize.

flowercrown: You don’t deserve my love.

panthers: <3

When Levy touched her cheeks, she felt heat radiate from under her fingers. Something strange had settled in her stomach, making her feel as if she was going to throw up any second.

flowercrown: <3

panthers: ha! i got you to send me a heart!

flowercrown: You’re so strange, Gajeel.

panthers: i know tiny

panthers: i know

He was horrible.

actual-disney-princess: um

actual-disney-princess: i might have done something

sunflower: Please tell me you didn’t kill anyone.

actual-disney princess: i did not kill anyone

actual-disney-princess: why do you always assume that?

sunflower: … Really.

actual-disney-princess: touché

actual-disney-princess: but nope

actual-disney-princess: i did something better

actual-disney-princess shared a picture

sunflower: Is this a kitten?

actual-disney-princess: yup

actual-disney-princess: meet lily

actual-disney-princess: i met him today and he stole my heart

actual-disney-princess: he’s my child now

sunflower: Oh dear god, he’s so beautiful!

sunflower: You’re going to be a good dad, Gajeel.

actual-disney-princess: dad?

sunflower: You adopted a little animal. I think that makes you a dad?

actual-disney-princess: oh

actual-disney-princess: i didn’t consider that

actual-disney-princess: that’s cool

actual-disney-princess: does that make you his mom?

sunflower: Why am I the mom?

actual-disney-princess: you’re my best friend dumbass

sunflower: Calling me your cat’s mother implies I’m your wife.

actual-disney-princess: oh

actual-disney-princess: do you wanna marry me?

Levy slammed her head against the library table, startling the small group of first-years on the next table over. Her face was burning as she awkwardly apologized to them and turned her laptop to the side. He was so dumb, it was a wonder she loved him as much as she did.

sunflower: You can’t ask me to marry you just because you want me to be your cat’s mother.

actual-disney-princess: umm rude

actual-disney-princess: are you going to leave poor lily motherless?

actual-disney-princess shared a picture

actual-disney-princess: LOOK AT HIS SAD KITTY EYES

actual-disney-princess: HOW CAN SAY NO TO HIS KITTY EYES

actual-disney-princess: HEARTLESS

sunflower: OKAY I’M GOING TO MARRY YOU

sunflower: Please stop, you’re making me feel like a bad person.

actual-disney-princess: didn’t want to

actual-disney-princess: but at least it worked?

sunflower: You confuse me so much sometimes.

actual-disney-princess: sometimes it’s my intention

actual-disney-princess: now wife

sunflower: ugh

actual-disney-princess: i see how much enthusiasm you have, lev

actual-disney-princess: you wound me

Levy stared at her phone’s screen for a long time, her heart beating like a hummingbird in her chest. She had trouble catching her breath, find it difficult to put her mind in a single, coherent thought.

Be brave, she urged herself. You can’t hold it anymore. It’s enough.

Her classmates had been talking about love and romance. Levy didn’t care about romance. Her grandparents were strict in their care and her school was even stricter. But they were young girls, young girls with dreams of love. And they talked and gossiped and shared.

And she closed her eyes and thought for someone who waited for her across the ocean and it made her heart hurt.

Levy’d been in love with her best friends for a couple of months—maybe more, who knew?—now. And with every day that passed without telling him, it hurt her more. It had needed for her to face her old crush and listen to the girls in her class talk about their relationships for her to realize her feelings, but once she did, keeping them in her heart made her break apart.

Telling Gajeel would, at worst, probably ruin their friendship and make him hate her. But not telling him meant risking souring the warmth she held in her chest for him and truth be true, she preferred losing him and keeping the memories of the joy she had over watching their friendship turn into hate over dark feelings.

Ugh, what am I thinking about? My childish crush isn’t something out of a Shakespearean drama. I should stop the dramatics and focus.

Tell him.

minicat: Gajeel?

bigcat: what up tiny?

minicat: Are you free right now?

minicat: There’s something important I want to talk about.

bigcat: yeah i’m free today

bigcat: what’s wrong?

Her fingers gripped the sheets of her bed. Do it. Tell him.

minicat: I like you.

minicat: I mean, in the romantic sense.

minicat: In the sense that I want to hold your hand.

minicat: And hug you.

minicat: And kiss you.

minicat: I’m sorry.

bigcat: wait what?

bigcat: what are you sorry for?

bigcat: i’ve been into you for like

bigcat: a year or something

minicat: You what?

bigcat: ha

bigcat: ha

bigcat is calling you…

Levy promptly dropped her phone, her hands shaking. She needed a couple of tries to swipe in the proper direction in order to pick the call.

“Hello?” she called out, her voice shaky and breathy.

“You’re so fucking dumb” came the voice from the other side, cracking just a bit. “I love you so damn much, dumbass.”

She stared at her room’s wall in awe, seeing black spots dance in her vision.

“Lev? Levy, fuck, answer—”

It took her only a couple of minutes—and some more of him calling her name— in order to gather her brains enough to form a coherent answer.

“Excuse me, you what?”

Laugh. He was laughing, the arrogant, egoisitic—

“I love you” Gajeel called from the other side of the connection, his voice cracking with laughter. “So damn much, you horrible, horrible, idiot bookworm.”

She covered her mouth to stop the choked sob for escaping, tears running from her eyes. She’d spent months wondering and pondering and torturing herself, and hoping, hoping for a little answer, the smallest hint—

“Say it” he told her. “I want to hear you say it.”

“Say what?” Levy asked, pulling her knees against her chest.

“You know what! Say it!”

She bit her knuckles to hold back another burst of emotion, feeling fear and worry and joy mix into her belly until every breath she took was heavy and ragged.

“I love you” she whispered, gasping.

“I know. But I do more.”

“To Andromeda and back” she added, and laughed, tears of joy trickling down her cheeks.

He stayed up with her for hours, until it was 3 am and the girl next door slammed against the wall and yelled for her to shut the fuck up.

“I suppose I have to say goodnight” Levy whispered as she tucked herself into bed. “Goodnight, Gajeel.”

“Night, Lev. Will you dream of me?”

“Maybe.” She smiled. “Talk more tomorrow?”

“Always.”

lionheart: Have you ever considered a double suicide?

black-panther: why are we pulling a romeo and juliet?

lionheart: Remember that exam I told you about?

black-panther: yikes

lionheart: Exactly. Yikes.

black-panther: sorry lev

black-panther: if it calms your heart i have finals too

lionheart: It does not!

lionheart: Why are you texting me instead of studying?

black-panther: i’m already dead inside tiny

black-panther: it won’t be much of a difference if i fail my academic career too

lionheart: I hate you.

black-panther: no you don’t

lionheart: No, I don’t.

black-panther: do you wanna talk?

black-panther: i have a free period in a bit

lionheart: I don’t think I would be able to.

lionheart: You’ve seen my revision schedule.

black-panther: i have

black-panther: it’s ridiculous

black-panther: you’re panicking too much

lionheart: I’m not panicking.

black-panther: you are

black-panther: i mean you’re texting me

black-panther: that means you don’t want to revisit and you want to distract yourself from studying

lionheart: I’m texting you because I’m dating you and I miss you!

black-panther: that’s cute

black-panther: but my point stands

lionheart: Gajeel, I need to pass this.

lionheart: My whole life depends on this.

black-panther: i know lev

black-panther: that’s why i know you’re gonna do this

black-panther: and even if you don’t

black-panther: that doesn’t make you a failure

lionheart: Gajeel…

black-panther: live ain’t just classes and grades and uni

lionheart: Thank you.

black-panther: wait i want to continue my tirade

lionheart: You care about me, don’t you?

black-panther: i’m dating you, dumbass

black-panther: and since don’t have any sort of instinct of self-preservation

black-panther: i gotta fill in

lionheart: I love you, grumpy.

black-panther: love you too dumb woman

lionheart: <3

princess: Gajeel?

dragon: hm?

princess: I might have done something.

dragon: murder?

princess: God be good, no.

princess: But… you might not like it.

dragon: tell me

princess shared a picture

dragon: your

dragon: your hair

princess: … Yes?

dragon: it

dragon: it blue

dragon: it fucking blue

dragon: you dyed your hair???

princess: … Yes?

princess: Is it that bad?

dragon: fuck

dragon is calling you...

“You really should stop doing that and just talk to me, you know” Levy said softly as soon as she picked, leaning into her comfy chair and sticking her legs out.

“Turn on your camera.”

She blinked and tilted her head back, staring at the ceiling.

“Gajeel, I’m not turning on my camera, I look horrible.”

 “Levy, love of my life, sun to my moon, turn the fucking camera on and let me see you.”

Levy let out a low hum, barely containing a wave of giggles as he started cursing from the other side. She’d found she loved teasing him—once she’d gotten under his skin, she knew just how to push his buttons in order to have the most fun possible.

“And what if I don’t?” she asked, lowering her voice to a gentle whisper.

“Please?”

Her chest filled with warmth at the sheer feeling in his voice. Levy whispered a soft “okay” and set the phone down by her laptop, then pressed her finger to the small camera button and waited. Her teeth dug into her lip to contain her nerves. It was rare that they talked on camera and dear God, she looked like a mess—

“Hey.”

When she looked at the small screen, Levy saw her chérie and smiled at him. All the worries in her belly came to an end, however, when she met his eyes. She waved shyly at him, pulling the pillow she kept on her desk to her chest and hugging it tightly.

“Hi” she called back, hoping her smile conveyed her joy. She wanted to hide so much.

Gajeel looked almost as much of a mess as she felt. His hair—sweet goodness, it was even longer than she remembered it now!—was tied off into a messy ponytail, his black-framed glasses almost falling off his nose. When she looked hard enough, she noticed he had added another pair of studs to his ears, bringing the total to eight. The eyeliner on his lids was just a bit smudged and from the back of her mind, she wondered when he’d put it on.

More than ever before, Levy wished she could touch him, run her fingers over his cheeks and his jaw and that small uneven bump in his nose he’d told her he’d gotten after breaking his nose when he was little; bury them into his hair and feel the silken strands between her fingers. And then, then she would kiss him, press her mouth to his, feel the warmth of his lips against her own.

“Stop hiding” Gajeel called out, a hint of amusement in his voice, and she looked up from where she’d buried her face into her fluffy pillow. “I want to see you. Please, Lev?”

“O-okay” she said with a bashful smile and lifted her head so she could properly meet his eyes. “Just for you.”

Even through the screen and all the kilometers between them, she could feel his gaze on her, touching her and caressing her as if it were his hands and not his eyes. It filled her with a warmth that not even the cold of the wind blowing outside could put down, that spread from the ends of her hair to the tips of her fingers and made her feel… Loved.

“Beautiful” he breathed out, his eyes soft and gentle. “Fuck—you look like a goddamn angel or something.”

Levy buried her face into the pillow and laughed, laughed until her chest hurt and she could barely breathe. His words, awkward but filled with kindness and affection, were more precious to her than any high praise someone could sing her.

“Do you really think so?” she asked when she finally gathered her breath, her face flushed with warmth. “I was worried you might not like it…”

“I don’t like it” he said, and for a moment her heart fell. “I goddamn love it.”

“Don’t scare me like that! Silly Gajeel…”

Gajeel laughed and it made her heart sing along, a smile coming to her face despite her desire to pout and hide in a corner. Had he been there, with her, she would have pushed him to the ground and tackled him, hitting his stupid beautiful face with her pillow. Alas, he was far, far away, and the only thing she could do was laugh along and stick her tongue out to him in the most childish manner ever.

She loved this idiot so much.

“Why didn’t you tell me before?” Gajeel asked after some time.

“I was worried you might try to convince me not to” Levy admitted, holding the comfy pillow to her chest and tucking her feet under her thighs. “My grandparents are probably going to have a heart attack when they see me, but honestly… I love the feeling of it.”

“Well, it certainly loves you. Hell, you look amazing.” His smile made her toes curl with joy. “Like a tiny, sparkly blue diamond.”

“Just because you’re tall doesn’t mean you get to make fun of us small people, giant.”

“Levy, you’re five feet nothing.”

“Five feet and half an inch!” She was exactly five feet, but he didn’t know that. Yet. “I’m exactly 1 meter and 53 centimeters tall! You’re just jealous because I’m the perfect cuddling size!”

“Lev, you’re so tiny I can probably fit you in my pocket.” His smirk only fed her sudden desire to kick him. “So small. Bite-sized.”

Oh, if looks could kill… Gajeel only laughed at her, the sound sending pleasurable shivers all through her body. Levy let out a sound of defeat and buried her face into her pillow, desperately hoping it could silence her cries of anguish. Sadly, it did not.

“You’re so cute when you pretend to hate me” he cooed. “C’mon, blue, look at me.”

Shy, Levy lifted her head met him. Her moon—she’d found she liked calling him that, to match him calling her his sun—had a soft look on him. He wasn’t smiling with his mouth but instead with his eyes, the deep brown-red now filled with warmth and the sort of adoration she’d only read about in her old romance books.

“You called me blue” she mused. “A new nickname?”

“To match your new hair, of course.” His smirk made her shiver. “Do you like it?”

“No, I don’t” Levy admitted with a bashful smile. “To be true, I love it.”

The banner was growing heavy and her arms could barely keep holding it up, but to hell if she was going to put it down.

She'd spent hours upon hours last night to make the best possible welcome banner. In the end, what came out of her desperate attempts was bigger than anything her arms would hold, with “Welcome, Gajeel!” written in the brightest, most neon shade of pink she had been able to find after days of searching around the stores in the Parisian neighborhood her auntie lived in. Flowers and hearts decorated the bright pink letters.

His plane had landed half an hour ago. She saw it touch down and saw the bridge. She saw people coming out, luggage and everything.

He was nowhere to be seen.

Levy did her best to not panic.

She'd arrived at the airport precisely 15 minutes before the plane landed, courtesy to the poor taxi driver she almost drove insane. (She'd left the largest tip her broke student self could afford.) The first part of them was spent in pacing around and muttering to herself in a peculiar combination of french and english. The second contained excitedly bouncing around the entry doors with the banner flying in her arms, unable to contain her joy.

By now, her arms were positively dying down from the weight and the size and the effort it took to keep it up. The neon pink letters glimmered in the harsh Parisian sun. Yet Levy held it up, determined to hold out. Even if it meant muscle fever for the next week.

“You look even tinier in person.”

Levy whipped around, retort on the tip of her tongue. She promptly hit herself in the face with the banner in her haste to fight whoever called her out for her height and their horrible french.

Then her mind registered what was actually said and she squeaked.

The person standing beside her only laughed. They were wearing the widest, happiest grin she'd ever had the courtesy to see, only mirrored by the one she'd noticed on her own face the morning when she woke up. Her eyes saw long hair and gleaming silver and incredibly impractical leather and combat boots. Her hair only saw warm red-brown eyes and a smile.

Gajeel raised one eyebrow at her, crossing his arms.

“Really?”

And then she promptly squealed and threw herself into his arms.

“I can't believe you hit me with the banner” Gajeel complained.

Levy was too happy to remind him why exactly she hit him, her hand tightly gripping his to the point her knuckles were almost white. He didn't seem to mind it, holding her as close as it was socially acceptable. The banner, bright pink letters and flowers and hearts, hung from her other arm, safely tucked against her side.

The sun shone brightly as she led him to the taxis lined just outside the airport. People were rushing in and out of the large building, like ants desperate to follow their High Queen’s orders. She heard a combination of languages all around her. Usually, the loud sounds and the mess and the people pushing against her would have sent her into a state of near panic. Right now however, with Gajeel gripping her as if she was his lifeline, Levy felt oddly calm.

She found she liked that feeling a lot.

His uncle waited for them by one of the larger taxis, arguing with the driver. He was just as tall and his aura just as murderous as she'd seen Gajeel's in one of his bad moods. His choice of language wasn't very far from it, either… The red-faced driver was almost glowing by now, bellowing insults in french and broken english in the same way.

Levy looked at Gajeel and noticed his nose wrinkling like it always did when he saw something funny.

“Should we interrupt?” she whispered, although she was sure even if she'd spoken louder, neither would have heard her.

“Nah.” Gajeel snickered and pulled her closer, his fingers slipping from her grip when his arm wrapped around her. “Lemme watch. It's fun as hell.”

Levy gaped, her mouth opening and closing. He was warm. Despite the searing July heat, she found herself nuzzling into his hold. His other arm followed and soon she was buried into his chest, face pressed into the faded gray shirt he wore. His scent - spice and just a little bit of sweat - made her belly curls and brought out a purr from the back of her throat. His laughter rang against the crown of her heat. Her flesh and bones melted at the warmth of his hold. She felt safe and sound. She never wanted to let him go.

It took time and strength to untangle herself from his hold. Gajeel looked like a kicked puppy and Levy had to cover her mouth to hide her giggles. He pinched her in retaliation and she yelped, pulling back and almost falling. (Again. Would she ever stop embarrassing herself in front of him?)

Just a meter or so away his uncle was still arguing with the driver, their fight growing louder by the minute. The passerby would stop and watch them. Levy felt her cheeks burn with shame. It wasn't something she hadn't seen before - her own family had no less fire—but not for the first time, she felt embarrassed.

Gajeel either noticed her discomfort or felt in a similar situation, because he stepped ahead and grabbed his uncle's shoulder. His voice was a hushed whisper. Levy couldn't help but notice how different it sounded from when he spoke to her—rougher, more natural, with an accent that made something in her tingle. His uncle let out a disappointed huff, yet still turned around and apologized to the red-faced driver about some of the words he'd used.

Levy watched the object of her affection (her silly dragon) with curiosity. To her utter surprise, Gajeel turned to the driver and spoke in clear, if lightly accented, french to him, apologizing further for his uncle's behavior and for not stepping in earlier. His uncle—whose name was Acnologia, it seemed—looked at him with a mixture of shame and annoyance. Gajeel ignored him and smiled with satisfaction when the driver opened the door and welcomed them in his vehicle.

After a particularly long and awkward (Gajeel had taken pity on her and let her sit by the window while he answered all of his uncle's embarrassing questions about their relationship) drive, their taxi stopped at the small square in the middle of the neighborhood. Levy got out immediately and moved her toes in her shoes, eager to take them off and dip them into cold water. Gajeel followed behind, the welcome banner under his arm and with that stupid grin on his stupid face. His uncle helped him get all his luggage.

“You sure you're gonna be okay, brat?” he asked, setting down the last bag. “There's plenty of space at the hotel.”

“Nope. Not gonna miss a single second around Blue.”

Acnologia made a sound that could only be described as gagging and waved him off, then got back into the taxi. Soon enough they took off, the sound reverberating through the relatively empty streets.

Gajeel was frowning.

“What is it?” Levy asked, adjusting the knot of her ribbon.

“I imagined Paris more… “

“More…?”

“Dunno. More… Not empty.”

Levy covered her mouth and giggled. He looked so confused. She wished she could take a photo of him like this. Alas, he would more than not likely finally fulfill his threats tickle her to death if she tried. Her wish would stay a wish.

(Fortunately, she had a whole folder on her laptop saved with embarrassing photos of him. His mother had sent some - “for posterity”, she'd claimed - but the rest were all screenshots from their face times. She would have so much fun finally getting to blackmail him.)

“Well, it’s hot outside” Levy reminded him as she picked some of his bags. “Also, we’re in the suburbs right now. Tomorrow, I’m taking out you to see the city.”

“Taking me out?” Gajeel asked, amusement written over his face. She couldn’t stop staring at him. “Like a date? Or with a sniper gun?”

“We will see” she said, giggling.

Together the three managed to carry all the luggage up the stairs. Aunt Amelie was ecstatic to finally meet the “sweetheart you haven’t stopped talking about for years!”. Levy gaped, torn between utter embarrassment and the urge to scream. Gajeel laughed so much he almost fell on the floor, clutching his stomach. At that point she had to hold back the desire to disappear into the floor.

They set his things in the small guest room by the side. Levy sat on the bed and watched Gajeel rummage through his bags. He was just five minutes in and the whole room already looked like a hurricane went through it. She found it hilarious.

She must have laughed out loud because when she lifted her head Gajeel was staring at her with a peculiar look in his eyes.

“What is it?” she asked, reaching down to slip off her shoes.

“We’re alone” he muttered. “I just—it’s strange.”

Levy couldn’t quite tell what he was trying to say, so she offered a shy smile. Gajeel looked equal parts confused and amazed, but when she offered her shaking hand, he reached out to grasp it with such eagerness that startled him. Taken by his momentum, she ended falling into his chest, her head knocking against him and sending her glasses somewhere in the floor.

“Sorry for hitting you” she mumbled into the fabric of his shirt. “And for… currently stepping on your feet.”

She tried not to burn as she took a step back, his laughter ringing in her ears.

“No, it’s fine.” His hand dropped from hers, only for seconds later to wrap around her back and pull her closer. “Can I hold you for a bit?”

The question startled her, but Levy nodded her head anyway, shyly curling her arms around his middle and burying her face into his chest. The warmth he seemed to radiate filled her soul, from bottom to top, as if she’d been drained from life for ages and only now got to feel it.

“You feel safe” she whispered, voice muffled by the cotton.

Gajeel let out a humming sound, his grip growing tighter around her. Instead of afraid, she felt as if she wanted to come closer and closer, until there was no space left between them. But perhaps it wasn’t the right time yet.

“So do you.”

[canaryatlaw]

alright, well today has certainly been interesting. my alarm went off bright and early at 7:30, and though I was tired of course the adrenaline for today’s events kicked in pretty quickly and I was off getting ready. I did my makeup to make sure it was impeccable (and it did turn out really nice) and got my freshly dry cleaned suit on with all its buttons and such. Spent about ten minutes eating breakfast before getting an uber to the juvenile courthouse. I was still feeling kind of tired so I decided it would be a good time to use a piece of my caffeine gum, which starts as like a hard tablet thing then turns into gum as you chew it (kinda like a gumball). So I’m chewing it and I’m like wtf there’s like something hard in the gum??? so I pulled it out and oh, that’s definitely a piece of tooth. great. I have about a billion fillings so I figured it had to be one of those, so the first place i checked was the last one that had gotten done that wasn’t all that stable but it was fine, and it ended up being the last tooth on the top left side of my mouth. Well, not much I can do about it at the moment. I got dropped off at the courthouse around 9:15 and just decided to wait around for a few minutes since it wasn’t terribly cold out rather than find another place to stake out for a bit. so I called my dentist’s office and told them what happened, and they said I could come in today at 11:30 or 2:30, I wasn’t sure I’d make it back from the interview for the 11:30 so we decided on the 2:30. I waited a couple more minutes before going inside and going through security, I swear it was the same sheriff that manned that security check point my first summer there that was so much better than the other ones, but after that first summer I moved and my public transit was closer to the other entrance. but they let me through easily, even though I definitely did set off the metal detector 😂story of my life. so I went up to the 4th floor where their office is and ran to the bathroom by the elevators right outside their actual office to make sure everything was good and kill a few more minutes so I wasn’t too obscenely early. Once I figured it would be a decent time to go in I headed in, the email instruction had said to you know let the receptionist know your name and that you’re here for an interview, except I knew the receptionist, so I didn’t have to do any of that lol. They gave me a standard employment application to fill out (which I’ve filled out for them before) which stated you didn’t have to rewrite any info that was on your resume, you could just write see resume, so that’s a lot less annoying, and to email a reference list in afterwards. So I finished that and gave it back, then a few minutes later the woman I’ve been communicating via email with, who I also know, came and got me to take me back to the conference room, which is in the back of the office, so while we were walking there she was like oh I love your suit that’s so cool, is it custom?? so that was cool to hear, I said it was and that a former employer had decided to get it for all of us and she was like awesome, my husband has a custom suit he loves lol. Once we reached the conference room she walked me in and, unsurprisingly, I knew the two people on the other side of the table that would be interviewing me (so just to keep track, I’ve officially known every person I’ve encountered in the office). One of them was actually in my first interview for being a law clerk way back in 2016 and then she ran the training so I knew her quite well, the other guy I didn’t know that well but I was familiar with him and he said he remembered me so that was a good sign. So they asked me about what my experience working with the office had been so I talked about the unfounded reports and the child death case and the permanency hearings and the interviews ranging between a 4 year old who’s been in her foster home for 3 days and is already calling her foster mother “mom” and wants to stay with her forever, to a 16 year old boy involuntarily in a psych ward which he would be stuck in way past the point of medical necessity (like, two months past when he was cleared after 6 days there) to the point where we had to get a court order for DCFS to place him somewhere else- so really running the gamut of different experiences here. So I talked about some of my other legal experiences like working for my dad (which is always a good one to use because I can bs it pretty freely to fit whatever I need it to be) and at the DV clinic and how I handled dealing with judges and clients and all that good stuff. They asked some question about the majority of the population they serve being African American and why I thought that was, so I said that of course the fact that 95% of parents qualify for a public defender means that the vast majority of them are living in poverty (and sadly a lot of people living in poverty in Chicago are African American), and while poverty itself is not child neglect it makes it a lot more difficult when you have to choose between going to work to feed your family and leaving your 8 and 10 year olds home alone which is child neglect, or not being able to afford a bed for your child, which is child neglect. And of course that while child abuse takes place across all socioeconomic levels, those in poverty are often in positions where their actions could be reported to DCFS a lot easier whereas someone with some social standing would probably be given the benefit of the doubt by not reporting when they see what could be evidence of abuse/neglect. There were a few other questions about using common sense and if I could give an example of how I thought that played into the job, so I talked about how when I was reviewing unfounded reports there was one against a daycare owner that had originally been indicated but was unfounded on appeal because the supposed act of abuse had been fairly minor, but the fact that the owner would treat a small child like that to begin with coupled with the fact that she lied to the parents and lied to the investigators and completely refused to cooperate were all big flags for me that this is not someone who should be entrusted with young children when they are capable of such actions, and how I took steps to ensure something was done about the situation. They wanted to know more about the child death motion so I talked about that and how I had researched it and the ultimate conclusion the judge reached that while he did not grant the motion, we were successful in convincing him he had the power to do what we were requesting, it was just the facts that he found unconvincing which of course we don’t have any control over, so I was still pleased with the outcome. And yeah, lots of questions about handling a high case load and all that good stuff, they had said since they lost a lot of staff they were down to like 3-4 attorneys per courtroom when it used to be more like 5-6 so caseloads had been rising again and that I’d have to be prepared for that. I asked them if they had a timetable as for when they would be making hiring decisions, but they were like oh yeah we have no idea, so still don’t know what to do with that other than wait I guess. So yeah, overall I think it went pretty well, I was confident in pretty much all of my answers and I think my passion for the work really followed through. So when we finished I headed out, it was like 10:40 at this point so I called the dentist office back and asked if the 11:30 was still available and they said it was, so I got an uber pool and rode it downtown to where my dentist is located. So he checked it out and got his little camera pen thing in there so I could see, basically a fairly large part of the tooth/filling had come off revealing the silver filling beneath it, which means it wasn’t a filling that we’ve done over the past 3 years I’ve been here with this dentist, but was something my New York dentist had done. The dentist said it was stable for now though, so we made an appointment for next week to put a crown on it. I took the brown line to the bus and then home which was fairly easy. After changing out of the suit I made some lunch and tried to relax for a bit, watched some Reign and made sure I sent the reference list over. I also started picking at my gel nail polish because once you start doing that it’s really hard to stop, so my nails were not in good shape by the end of the day, but that was okay because once Jess got home we met up at the nail place we’ve been going to and got manicures, and then walked over to main street and got dinner and then ice cream because ice cream is always needed for birthday celebrations, even if it’s slightly delayed. Headed home after that and looked at stuff on my phone for a while trying to figure out what I want to do tomorrow. I’m supposed to (and by that I mean I responded yes on facebook) to this event with Illinois prosecutors and government attorneys where there are a bunch of different government agencies attending and will be possible networking attorneys. And of course part of me is like just suck it up and go it could be helpful, but another part of me knows I’m really not interested in any of the options listed, I don’t want to end up in some random government office, and I highly doubt I could get hired by the SA’s office given my dearth of experience with criminal law in the actual courtroom. The one thing that might’ve been slightly interesting was the office of the inspector general, which I would be interested in as they have a division that works inside DCFS that I would love to work for, but those that are attending are apparently from the office of the executive inspector general, which just means they oversee state operations and such and basically has no connection to the DCFS branch. and I mean, what am I gonna do, hand them my resume and ask them to give it to someone at a totally different office? they’re obviously not going to do that, so at this point I’m seriously doubting going, I really just don’t think there would be anything worth going for, but I guess we’ll see. And yeah, after that I showered and got ready for bed and now I am here and I am definitely ready to pass out, so I will end this here. Goodnight darlings. Congrats on being halfway through the week.

[artificialqueens]

oh, the weather outside is frightful

based off of a craquaria prompt I saw from @mixcrackerxaquaria. Sweetie lil lesbian christmas party smut with background Monet x Kameron aw. My first ever fanfic! say nice shit if u wan a chapter 2 !!

Brianna is bored. And, okay, tipsy, she concedes as she stumbles a little, teetering on her heels before coming to rest, thankfully upright, beside the snack table. She makes a face down at the festive spread, asking herself for the umpteenth time that night what she’s doing at a Christmas party. Brianna’s Jewish, for god’s sakes. She doesn’t even celebrate Christmas. A group of men in suits brush past her, nearly knocking her off balance again, and Brianna retreats to the corner behind the snack table to spot her reason for attendance. Her best friend Monet, spinning a muscled, tattooed woman around the dancefloor. The woman has her head thrown back cackling, leaning into Monet’s body as Monet swings her around to face her, strong fingers flexing on the small of her back. Brianna grins to herself, giving an oblivious Monet a small thumbs up. Monet had begged her to come with her to her office Christmas party, insisting that she needed Brianna there as emotional support the night she intended to finally make a move on Kameron, the accountant who Monet hadn’t shut up about all damn year. “Besides”, Monet had said, waggling her eyebrows, “like 70% of the office is female, and about 70% of them like women. Wear that pink dress and you’ll get a little mistletoe kiss for sure.”  Brianna had sighed, grinned and agreed, which was how she had found herself here, bored and tipsy and staring down a plate of gingerbread men in said pink dress. Not being kissed under mistletoe by women who liked women. She snags the smuggest looking cookie and bites off its head.

Please God, if you’re listening, Ma’am, Aquaria thinks, Please let this man stop talking soon. I don’t care about craft beer. I don’t even really like beer. Please let him shut up. Aquaria’s eyes drift as the man continues to talk, watching people talking, dancing, drinking. Outside, snow had begun falling thick and fast. Aquaria was mentally debating whether she should walk the 3 miles home in the cold or pay for an uber when she is interrupted by a woman tucked into the corner behind the snack table. Or rather, Aquaria interrupts herself, suddenly unable to focus on anything else. The woman is breathtaking. She has the sweetest little face, huge eyes and a pretty mouth, framed by bouncy blonde waves that reach her little waist. Her hot pink dress is tight across her breasts and hips, the silky material finishing mid thigh. Total stripper barbie. Or stripper polly pocket, Aquaria thinks, noting that the woman doesn’t seem to be more than 5’2, even in her tall heels. Aquaria watches as she puts the last of what looked like a gingerbread cookie into her mouth, bright pink lips wrapping around her fingers to collect remnants of white icing. The way her cheeks hallow as she sucks down is vaguely obscene, and Aquaria feels heat pool in her stomach. Yanking her eyes back to the man in front of her, Aquaria downs the last half of her drink and gestures towards the empty cup, offering him a tight smile. “I’m going to get a top up. I’ll see you around, ‘kay.” Before he can respond Aquaria is sidestepping him, making a beeline for the snack table.

Brianna hums appreciatively as she finishes the cookie, which had admittedly been delicious, and picks up her empty glass. She’s reaching for the open wine on the table when slim fingers wrap themselves around the neck of the bottle and whisk it away from her. Glancing up, Brianna sees that the fingers belong to one of the most beautiful women in the world. Her jet black hair is straight down her back, with a choppy fringe in front. The red latex number clinging to her thin body matches her huge, glossy lips, which shit, Brianna realises, are moving. “Huh?” is all Brianna can manage in response to the goddess. The woman grins wide, her face scrunching up to show huge, white teeth. “I said, I’m Aquaria, and I’ll get that for you.”

“I’m sorry, get what ?”

The woman smiles wider. “Your drink ! I was headed over here to pour my own anyway”

“Oh !” Idiotidiotidiot Brianna curses herself internally. “Yes, please, that’d be good. I’m Brianna.” She sticks out her hand for Aquaria to shake and shivers as Aquaria’s long red nails stroke up the inside of her wrist.

“Oh, pretty name. Normal! I wish my parents had been a touch less liberal and given me a name like Brianna instead of Aquaaariaaa”. Aquaria drawls her name in a snooty voice, pulling a face.

“Oh no! Aquaria is a beautiful name !” Brianna giggles. “Besides, my name isn’t normal, not with my last name. I’m Brianna Cracker.”

“Brianna Cracker”. Aquaria stops, still holding Brianna’s hand. “Bree Ahna Crack Er. I don’t get it.” Her glossy lips twist into a confused pout.

“Like..” Brianna scans the snack table and snatches up her namesake, holding it in front of Aquaria’s face.

“Oh !” Aquaria’s eyes light up “Brie on a cracker ! Oh my god!” Aquaria begins to laugh, gripping Brianna’s hand tighter in order to stay upright. All of a sudden her face turns serious. “I can’t believe your parents did that to you.”

“Oh, I’ve never minded it. Most people don’t even get it unless I tell them.” Brianna grins. “I totally could have had it weirder, my mom’s name is Bob.”

Aquaria giggles again, releasing Brianna’s hand to begin pouring wine into her glass. Brianna misses the warm, firm, pressure and tries not to flush at how long she’d held onto Aquaria in the first place. “Bob is such a cool name for a woman, I’m into that! God, I’m hungry !” Aquaria stops mid pour. “Those any good?” she asks, gesturing with her head to the plate of gingerbread cookies Brianna had been eating from earlier.

“Oh! Yeah! I mean, I thought so. I like all cookies though, I have such a sweet tooth” Brianna rambles, heat creeping up her neck at the thought of Aquaria watching her from across the room.

“Yum, me too!” Aquaria smiles, meeting Brianna’s eyes and opening her mouth wide, resuming pouring Brianna’s drink. Brianna stares back at her, drawing a blank. Aquaria opens her mouth wider and makes an aahh sound like she’s at the dentist.  “Hands full!” Aquaria nods to where she’s now pouring her own glass of wine. Brianna feels herself flushing bright pink as she raises a cookie to Aquaria’s mouth and watches her take a large bite, pink tongue darting out to remove a crumb where it sticks to her lipgloss. Aquaria chews, swallows with a satisfied “mm”, and opens her mouth again. She’s done pouring the drinks, she could feed herself. Should feed herself. Even as Brianna thinks this, she’s lifting the rest of the cookie to Aquaria’s mouth, feeling her stomach tighten hotly as her fingers brush up against Aquaria’s shiny lips and she feels that pink tongue lap gently at the sticky, sweet frosting on her fingertips. Brianna blinks, just for a second, and an image of her fingers, pushed to the knuckle into Aquaria’s warm mouth, Aquaria’s cheeks hallowed as she sucks and glossy lips parting with a wet pop to release them flashes behind her eyelids. Her cunt throbs. When Brianna’s eyes are open again, Aquaria’s cheeks are pink as she slowly withdraws her hand. Aquaria hands a wine glass to Brianna, her eyes dark as she leans up against the wall next to her. “So, how did you end up here ? I’ve never seen you around the office before.”

Brianna points towards Monet and Kameron, still intertwined and giggly, on the dancefloor. “That’s my best friend. She brought me as her plus-one.”

Aquaria follows Brianna’s gaze and lets out a happy gasp “Oh my god! Monet and Kameron getting it on finally! You have no idea how frustrating it’s been to watch them make love heart eyes at each other across the office all fuckin’ year and refuse to do anything about it!”

Brianna tips her head back, laughing. “Girl, try listening to Monet sigh over Kameron every time you go out for a whole year !” She bats her eyes at Aquaria and puts on a high pitched breathy voice in an impression of a love struck Monet; “Oh, she’s so strong and her tattoos are sooo cool. And she’s so sweet, Brianna, you should see the way she smiles !” Brianna simpers, pouting up at Aquaria.

Aquaria bursts into giggles, hands flying up to cover her mouth. “I can imagine, I really can! So if you don’t work here, what do you do ?”

“I’m a Comedian.” Brianna blinks up at Aquaria, feeling doubt coiling in her chest even as she says the words. “Well, not a very successful one, I mean, some people like me but some people say -”

“A comedian, oh my god !” She’s cut off by Aquaria’s squeal. “That’s so cool, you’re so cool. That explains why you keep making me laugh so much!” Brianna feels a small swell of pride replace the doubt at the other woman’s reaction. Grinning excitedly down at Brianna, Aquaria glances back to Monet and Kameron, now partially obscured as a group of people join the dancefloor. “Do you dance?”

Aquaria can’t help but grin to herself as she leads Brianna by the hand to the dancefloor. This girl is cute! and funny. Plus, she had said she was friends with Monet, so she must be nice. Monet didn’t hang around any other kind of people. Aquaria is yanked out of her thoughts as Brianna spins her around so they’re face to face with her arms wrapped around Aquaria’s waist. “You’re strong” Aquaria blurts, surprised that despite the good 6 inches of height she has on Brianna, the other woman had manoeuvred her with ease. Brianna’s pretty mouth quirks up into a smug smile .

“You bet! I’m a national gold medallist in Karate. Black belt!”

“No shit!” So you can like, beat people up and throw them around and shit?”

Swaying to the music, Brianna lifts Aquaria’s arm over her head, twirling her out into the crowd, before pulling her back in close to her body. “Yep. Why, anyone you need me to throw around, baby?” Aquaria bites back a little whimper the “baby” and at the thought of Brianna throwing her around a little bit. Aquaria runs her hands up and down Brianna’s biceps, feeling ropy muscle. God, she can feel herself getting wet.

The two women get closer as they dance, bodies pressed up against each other. Aquaria can feel Brianna’s small hands tracing patterns into her lower back and wills them to slide the inch down to cup her ass through her latex dress. Her own hands roam up over Brianna’s strong arms and down her back, digging in at her thick hips before travelling back up to toy with her long blonde hair. “Aquaria” Brianna breathes hotly against her collarbone “Do you want to –“

“Yes.” Aquaria gasps back, because she does want to, and then she has Brianna by the hand again, leading her off the dancefloor.

Brianna’s heart races as she trots behind Aquaria, struggling to keep up with the strides her long legs are making. She can’t think of anything save for Aquaria’s fingers wrapped around her wrist, and the sinful stretch of red latex over Aquaria’s ass as she hurries along in front of Brianna. And then the other woman is bundling them into a bathroom and locking the door behind them. Brianna reaches up to tug Aquaria down towards her by her hair, their lips pressing together in a rush, teeth clinking. Brianna nips at Aquaria’s plush bottom lip and shoves her thigh in between Aquaria’s legs, feeling her hips buck against it as she whines needily into the kiss. It’s so dirty, doing this in an office bathroom, with a hundred or so people just outside the door. It’s so dirty how Brianna wants to kiss Aquaria breathless, wants to watch her ride her thigh until she cums right here, like this. Attaching her mouth to Aquaria’s neck, Brianna snakes a hand up her body to rub over her breast and fuck, she’s not wearing a bra because Brianna can feel her hard nipple through the fabric of her dress. She pinches, just to hear Aquaria squeak, and slides her hands around Aquaria’s back to unzip her tight dress.

Aquaria feels so naked, in only her tiny panties and heels in front of Brianna’s dark eyes. Brianna leans up to kiss her again, hands snaking down to play at the waistband of her underwear, tugging them up at the front so they rub against Aquaria’s clit just right. Aquaria steps out of her heels, and Brianna kisses down her collarbone to lick over Aquaria’s nipple, grazing it with her teeth ever so slightly so that Aquaria cries out and her hips buck at the hint of pain. Brianna pulls back, “Turn around”. Aquaria spins, stumbling slightly and pressing her palms against the wall to steady herself.  Brianna hums softly against Aquaria’s shoulder, hands hooking under the waistband of her panties to pull them down over her ass to her ankles, peppering her skin with kisses and nudging Aquaria’s legs apart further “So pretty. So wet, Aquaria, fuck.” Brianna moans at the sight of the dark haired woman spread open in front of her. Aquaria is so embarrassingly wet, dripping for Brianna’s strong arms and how dark Aquaria’s name sounds coming out of her pretty mouth. She can feel it on the insides of her thighs and she flushes and squirms under Brianna’s hot gaze. Then Brianna is pressed right up against Aquaria’s naked back, one arm around her waist to hold her steady and the other snaking around her front to rub soft circles just under the jut of Aquaria’s hipbone. And Brianna’s running a finger through Aquaria’s folds and up to circle her clit, finally, and Aquaria’s gasping and her hips are bucking forward into Brianna’s hand of their own accord. Aquaria feels her legs buckle and thinks she’s going to fall when Brianna’s other arm leaves her waist to rub down over Aquaria’s hole. Brianna feels, and her arm is back around Aquaria in a second, holding her tight against her clothed body. “Hey, you’re ok. I’ve got you. Arms out, lean against the wall again, hm? Good girl.” Aquaria obeys and whines, clenching down around nothing, desperate for something inside her. Brianna obliges, slipping two fingers inside Aquaria. Aquaria wants to cry at how good it feels. Brianna is fucking her fast and twisting her strong fingers inside her, right up against where Aquaria needs them. She’s so wet and the sounds in the empty bathroom are obscene, Aquaria can hear when Brianna pushes a third finger inside her. Heat gathers in her stomach and god, Aquaria’s not going to last, not while Brianna’s other hand is skating rhythmically over her clit and she’s whispering into Aquaria’s hair that Aquaria’s so beautiful, so wet, such a slut for letting Brianna fuck her in her office bathroom. It’s the last one, the thought that any one of her colleagues could walk in right now and see Aquaria spread out like this, dripping around Brianna’s hand, that pushes her over the edge. Aquaria clenches down hard around Brianna’s fingers and cums, shaking. Brianna rubs her through her orgasm and Aquaria’s moaning Briannabriannabrianna, high pitched and girlish, until her cunt stops twitching and she’s leaning, panting, against the other woman.

Brianna gently turns Aquaria around so she’s leaning against the bathroom wall, and lifts her fingers to Aquaria’s face. Aquaria opens her mouth to suck down around the digits, tasting herself. She looks so wrecked, eyes hooded and cheeks hallowed, red lipstick smeared all around her mouth. Her eye makeup is smudged underneath her eyes and there’s one black streak down her left cheek, Brianna throbs at the thought of Aquaria crying for her. She slowly draws her fingers out of Aquaria’s mouth, shiny with spit, and drags them down over her bottom lip, smearing her lipstick further. And then Aquaria’s leaning forward to push her lips against Brianna’s again, she can taste her on her tongue and fuck, she’s so sweet, Brianna makes a note to eat Aquaria’s pussy next time and then blushes, because next time. Brianna’s still embarrassed at herself when Aquaria drops to her knees and pushes up Brianna’s skirt. She groans softly as she’s met with Brianna’s bare, dripping cunt, realising that the other woman isn’t wearing panties. Aquaria nips at the inside of her thigh and then her tongue is pressed right up against Brianna’s folds, her nose buried in groomed hairs, and Brianna throws her head back with a broken moan. Her hips move without her brain’s permission, grinding down onto Aquaria’s tongue and Aquaria moans happily into Brianna, grasping her thighs and alternating between licking over her clit and into her, until Brianna’s breathing is ragged and she’s coming with a whimper, all over Aquaria’s face. Aquaria stands up to pull Brianna into a kiss, and Brianna can taste herself on Aquaria’s lips, can feel her wetness slick over her chin and god, it’s so hot, makes her feel like Aquaria is hers.

“Thankyou” Aquaria breathes, her forehead resting against Brianna’s.

“Thankyou” Brianna smiles softly back. “Would you maybe want…Could I give you my number?”

“Yes.” Aquaria grins, that scrunched up white teeth grin from earlier, and steps around Brianna to wiggle her dress back up over her hips. “My phone’s in my bag at the coatcheck, we’d better clean up before we go get it.”

“Yeah, we’d better.” Brianna takes a paper towel from the dispenser at the side of the sink and hands it to Aquaria before grabbing one for herself and joining her at the mirrors, starting to clean away the mixture of pink and red lipstick staining her chin. There’s a smudge of said pink lipstick across Aquaria’s exposed shoulderblade where she’s kissed her, she notices. It’s out of Aquaria’s sight, Brianna thinks, she should wipe it away for her. Instead, she turns back to her face, meeting Aquaria’s warm eyes in the mirror. Brianna’s going to leave it right there.

[aprilrichardson]

I Know It’s Over

There are people to whom music doesn't matter. I often envy these people. My mom is one of them -- she's not really concerned with music, poetry, movies, or anything in popular culture. She considers herself a whole, satisfied person without these things in her life, free from any aesthetic crutches. I am not one of those people. I needed music. I need music. From a very early age, I needed music to tell me I was okay. I needed it to tell me I was normal, I needed it to tell me I was weird, I needed it to confirm that I'd be fine either way. I needed it in a dramatic way. I needed it in a mundane way, playing all the time in the background like wallpaper with a pattern you've stopped noticing. I needed to identify with it, I needed it to make me feel complicated emotions I'd never felt before; it could comfort me or repulse me, soothe me or force me to look outward, echo my own sentiments or expand my mind to fit new ones. Music (and the bands/people who made it) served as my mentor, my older sibling, my voice of reason and, at times, bad influence. When you're an only child from a fractured family, you spend a lot of time in your room. Your hobbies can become your closest friends. Music became my savior and my most time-consuming, all-encompassing, money-draining pursuit. My savings account would be at least triple its current amount had I not been so obsessed with seeing bands and collecting their records. Perhaps I would have created more things of my own if I'd not spent so much time fawning over the creations of others. My personality would have been entirely different if, early on in my youth, I had not blatantly lifted the clothes and mannerisms and styles of those I looked up to or had not read the books and watched the movies they had championed. For better or worse, art -- this specific form of art, music -- has been and continues to be a transformative force in my life. At the very center of this were two bands, R.E.M. and The Smiths, and specifically two people: Michael Stipe and Morrissey. My first two real heroes, with now only the former still on the pedestal I built when I was around 11 or 12. I moved to a new neighborhood and school district when I was in second grade, and became fast friends with a boy my age who lived one street over. Nathan and I shared a lot of the same interests, and as we started middle school, a deep obsession with those two aforementioned bands and frontmen (and, also, Depeche Mode and Dave Gahan). Nathan was gay before either one of us knew what that meant, and was often mocked for this -- I was made fun of, too, but for reasons far less difficult for me than coming to terms with my sexuality as an adolescent. But, for our own reasons, we were outcasts, seeking comfort in our chosen art. This was conservative Georgia in the late '80s/early '90s, a time well before the Internet, before easily accessible media, when role models were fought for tooth and nail, with plans having to be made on how to save enough allowance for cassette tapes, older friends or siblings bribed to purchase things with "parental advisory" labels we'd smuggle into our rooms later. I can barely put into words what hearing (and seeing!) Morrissey for the first time did to us -- did FOR us! For Nathan, in such an environment, Morrissey became a blueprint for queerness, the very first peek into the very POSSIBILITY of life as a grown man who wasn't either an alpha male jock, like all the ones at our school, or stern businessman with a briefcase, like all of our (step)dads. He was the first person to, with his mannerisms and his very existence, communicate to Nathan that it was perfectly fine (and cool even!) to, in the words of the bullies, "act like a girl." And the magical thing is, he somehow simultaneously did the exact opposite for me! As a masculine tomboy, I saw in him a person so easily blurring the lines of both! He made me feel better about the qualities I had so often been told "weren't ladylike." We talked about him constantly. We dressed like him. It goes without saying that his music was playing in the background nearly every time we hung out. I remember my mom allowing me to stay up late to watch Johnny Carson the night Morrissey was on -- I was 12, and I absolutely remember my mom getting angry, watching alongside me as Morrissey fans screamed over Bill Cosby (gulp) as he tried to talk. The next year, Morrissey was on Saturday Night Live, and my mom let me go over to Nathan's house to watch it (our parents became very close friends as well). He taped it on their VCR as we watched, and we immediately played it back. We watched it probably every day for months. We didn't have the money to buy all of his back catalog, so an older kid in my youth group at church let me borrow his Smiths CDs, and I dubbed copies on my tape deck for us. I sat and hand-wrote the lyrics down on notebook paper, carefully transcribing from the liner notes as the tape recorded. It's difficult for me to be eloquent here, and I always find it hard to convey these feelings to people who are, well, normal, who can hear a song and go, "That's nice!" and not have to immediately know its backstory, who wrote it, why they wrote it, what inspires them, what books they read, etc. Who don't feel their insides twist into knots when a turn of phrase meets a melody and the combination makes them feel understood in a way they never have, sets them at ease in a way that even the kind words of the closest relative couldn't do. That is absolutely how I felt the first time I heard The Smiths. When you're 12, at least when I was 12, the last people you feel like you can talk to about your feelings are your parents; and for Nathan, doubly so, as I don't think he could even articulate his until Morrissey's lyrics shed some light on what he'd been going through. So, for us, this guy was so far from "just a singer" -- he was a beacon, a mentor, he told us it was okay to be effeminate and okay to be masculine and okay that you didn't get invited to the parties because staying in your room reading books was more glamorous anyway. The world wasn't made for people like us and that should be worn as a badge of honor, not shame. Such a message was REVELATORY for a girl whose every male role model had let her down or left entirely and a boy who didn't want to play football or shoot guns. The obsession continued and deepened, and in high school, became full on reliance. Who better to help me navigate the emotional minefield that is the teen years than Morrissey? I didn't drink, I didn't smoke, I didn't do drugs, I didn't "party," I didn't even so much as hold a boy's hand until I was a couple weeks shy of 16 years old -- all of the things that kids considered fun and did on a regular basis were so foreign to me, until I got home to my bedroom and was soothed by the voice of a guy who also did not participate in any of the above. I didn't really know anyone in real life who seemed to understand my plight more than the man whose voice was blasting out of my speakers. To me, Morrissey was always absolutely the voice of the underdogs. The weirdos. The outcasts. The disenfranchised. Anyone who felt left out, let down, misunderstood, too sensitive, too sad. He was there to comfort us, understanding and empathetic to our needs while giving the finger to the system and the people therein who were keeping us down, shoving us into lockers, ripping the glasses off our faces and stomping on them in front of their domineering friends. When someone writes songs as seemingly personal as Morrissey's, you tend to think you know them. And in my case, having read so many books about him (and now some BY him), I felt that way, to a degree. I like to think of myself as a rational person (perhaps after reading this far, you disagree), but I definitely felt a bit like I "knew" him in the sense that I'd picked up on words he'd frequently used ("vulgar" and "vile" were personal favorites), had working knowledge of the causes that were important to him, and certainly knew his favorite bands and movies and authors. I'd even been lucky enough to meet him quite a few times, especially after moving to Los Angeles, where I'd see him at restaurants and shows, and he was always cordial (if not downright sweet) to me every time we spoke. Of course I'd heard stories about him "being a dick," but that never bothered me, truly, only because I think that's kind of relative, and perhaps a lack of manners or catching someone on a bad day is a bummer, and the "temperamental artist" archetype exists for a reason. Sure, it's ideal that someone you admire is nice to you should you ever interact, but a surly encounter would not cause me to write someone off completely. So, because of this, well, perhaps delusion, I was able to explain away certain statements, such as calling Chinese people a "subspecies" while addressing animal rights, because I knew of his history of exaggeration when trying to get his point across about that subject in particular, the one perhaps dearest to his heart. (And I won't pretend that white privilege didn't play a part; it's undoubtedly and shamefully easier to conveniently ignore something when you aren't the target.) This person's main place in my life thus far was almost as a therapist, so the possibility of him having anything other than the best of intentions seemed so unlikely. But the words became harder to parse, excuses harder to make. Playing the contrarian for the sake of it isn't helpful (or even entertaining) in times like these. You aren't at the Algonquin Round Table. You're courting Stormfronters. It's not funny or charming. I don't expect every artist I look up to (or even every friend or acquaintance in my life) to share my exact same views, but when your band wears T-shirts supporting the Black Panthers yet you voice your support for the likes of Nigel Farage, how does the cognitive dissonance not paralyze you? You change lyrics to songs to slam Trump, yet you basically share his views on immigration? You imply that a gay teenager -- arguably the demographic most deeply affected by your art -- is at fault for the predatory behavior of an adult? You've told anyone who will listen that you were raised on feminist literature, yet you claim the female victims of Harvey Weinstein -- a man who hired fuckin' BLACK OPS to spy on his accusers to make sure they never came forward, so calculated were his plans -- were just "disappointed" that their RAPES didn't result in career advancement?! WHO ARE YOU. Who is this person saying this? The very person who gave me the strength to stand against the establishment has become the establishment! The person whose voice soothed with empathy and compassion for outsiders like me has become someone I would have crossed the street to avoid. The bullied has become the bully. He has, for years now, exhibited the very closemindedness I thought he was trying to free us from. Is it just an inevitability that the spoils of success will change a person? If you isolate yourself and invite no one into your circle who will ever question you, is this the result? Contempt for the very people who supported you for so long? A quality I used to admire in Morrissey was his obstinance, but I've found as I've aged myself, standing by opinions for the sake of it, refusing to allow yourself to grow and change as more information becomes available, to never soften your heart and swallow your pride and apologize when you've realized you might have been wrong about something -- that's not admirable, that's cowardice. I appreciate it more when people admit they don't know enough about a subject to comment on it instead of making a statement just for attention. My heart is broken. The man I looked to as an oasis of sensitivity in a desert of toxicity seems, well, just plain mean and vengeful now. I refuse to be cynical, and I refuse to be someone who says, "That's what you get for having heroes." Perhaps the lesson here is just knowing when to let go. And that it was indeed the songs that saved my life, not the man.

Fifteen-year-old me in my bedroom.

[fandomoniumflurry]

Who’s to Blame?

the first fic for my @spnangstbingo​ card! ugh this literally made me sob. Why do I do these things to myself?? I had this song on my mind the whole time!

Square filled: Divorce AU

Dean Winchester x Reader

Nearly 3k

of course there’s angst! I mean come on. language, cheating, nudity, some implied sexual content, suicide, loss of a child its just heartache all around, man. So if you like your heart, don’t read this.

“No. No, you don’t get to do that.” Her face was bright red as she pointed a slender finger in his face. Her voice was loud almost to the point of being terrifying but Dean never budged. He was glued to his spot right in front of her, his face equally as red, his emerald orbs burning with his rage. “You can’t make me the bad guy here, damnit! I’ve tried! You’re the asshole that can’t keep it in his pants. You can’t blame this on me.”

Dean smacked her finger away, taking a half step forward to get right up in her face. “At least one of us is getting some.” Her brow furrowed, a flash of hurt mingled with her fiery gaze. Her hand lifted, intent on smacking him across the face but the Winchester had expected it. His hand shot up to catch her wrist and an intense staring contest began between them. It wasn’t until her tears began to leak from the corners of her eyes that Dean released his grasp on her and took a step back.

“You have no heart. You never cared about me. You just wanted a warm body to sleep with, a whore you could wake up to so you wouldn’t have to be alone, wouldn’t have to clean up after yourself or cook your own damn food.” Her tears poured freely now, leaving streaks down her cheeks as she yelled in frustration and pain. “You’re a selfish bastard, Dean Winchester! You always have been and always will be. And I don’t know why I even married you!” The last words pierced his chest, nearly crippling him with the pain. She didn’t wait around to see him shed a tear, but quickly spun on her heels to run up the stairs. He heard the hard slam of their bedroom door, his eyes closing and his body flinching at the sound.

This was the worst fight they had ever had. It was vicious and loud, words, cursing, names all tossed around with the intention of cutting each other to the quick. And clearly it had worked. There was no winner in this situation. Just because she had run off in tears didn’t mean he felt any better. He hated to hurt her, he hated that they fought. The last thing he wanted to do was see her cry. When he married her, he had promised to love, honor, and cherish her for the rest of his life. Be there for her through thick and thin, sickness and health, good and bad. And yet here they were only a few years later and already they were falling apart.

He knew it was his fault. Maybe she was right. Maybe he didn’t want a wife but a maid. Not a lover but a warm body to hold him when he felt himself falling into a dark pit. She deserved more than that. He always believed she deserved better than him. And yet he was too selfish to ever let her go. He would rather have her stay and be miserable with him than make her leave and him be miserable without her. As he stood at the base of the stairs, his green orbs misty as they glanced longingly up, his hand resting on the railing, he began to hum a familiar tune.

Dean’s childhood was troubled to say the least. His mom died when he was very young, leaving him and his little brother in the care of his dad. The old man was never the same after he lost his wife. He used to be a very outgoing guy, a favorite down at the local body shop. But the drinking began to keep him from going to work until he finally lost his job. With no way to support his kids, he dumped the boys at their uncle Bobby’s and took off, never to be heard from again. To this day, Dean and Sam don’t know if their father is alive with a brand new home and family, or long since dead in a ditch somewhere off a long forgotten highway.

Living with Bobby wasn’t ideal but he was a kind old man. He could be grumpy and he drank too much from time to time but at least he tried to be there for the boys. He sent them to school and even helped pay for them both to go to college. Sam was the only one that graduated, going on to law school and eventually becoming a lawyer. Where as Dean seemed to follow in his father’s footsteps, dropping out of college and joining the Marines. Where John was an honored veteran, Dean was dishonorably discharged which led him again into his father’s footsteps and led him to drinking.

With Sam and his girlfriend Jessica’s help, Dean was sent off to rehab and counseling. Though he had fought them tooth and nail on it, he had come out a better man. But that was mainly because he met her. The nurse that stole his heart. She was sweet, caring and beautiful. The moment he saw her, he knew he was done for. He tried for ages to try and get her to talk to him, pulling out all the stops and using all of his best moves. She would smile sweetly but deny him his invitations to coffee or lunch. But Dean never gave up and eventually she gave in.

One coffee led to two, which led to a lunch date, which led to a dinner date, which led to her spending as much time with him as she could without neglecting her duties. Somehow he had managed to talk her into having sex in a supply closet. It was fast and it was sloppy but it was the hottest moment of his life. It was then that he knew he was head over heels in love with this girl. When he checked himself out, he wasted no time in taking her out on a real date. He even dressed up and went all out on the restaurant. The food was gross and it came in too small of portions and they didn’t even serve beer but at least he tried. But they ended up leaving, walking hand in hand to the diner down the road from Dean’s apartment.

He got to make love to her for the first time that night. They took it nice and slow, learning each other’s bodies and logging everything to memory. Soft touches, warm kisses, heaving breaths all leading to the most intense orgasm Dean had ever experienced. And for the first time in his life, he had fallen asleep with a woman and woke up the next morning to make her breakfast. She had come into the kitchen wearing just his flannel, leaving nothing to the imagination and making him want to take her right there on the counter. So he did. They ended up taking a shower and having another round in there before they finally were able to have breakfast.

It didn’t take long for Dean to ask her to move in with him. He wanted to wake up with her every day, have moments like these for the rest of his life. She had agreed but once Dean had got a job at the auto shop his dad once worked at, he was pretty busy working. And her job at the rehab center gave her crazy hours and they barely saw each other for a while. It was rough but they adjusted and the time together became that much more precious. It was two years together when Dean finally proposed and they didn’t even wait a month before they headed off to Vegas and signed the marriage license.

They had a reception for their family and friends when they got home but with her job, they weren’t able to go on a honeymoon. So instead, Dean had given her a full body massage complete with fragrant oils and soft music while they were surrounded by the soft glow of candlelight. He was very thorough with his massage and he made love to her over and over that night until they couldn’t move anymore. Satiated and blissed out they had curled up in each other’s arms and drifted off into a peaceful slumber.

At the beginning they were the ideal couple. With the money both of them had saved, they were able to put money down on a home loan and bought their very own home not far down the street from Sam and his wife. Though Sam was the younger brother he had been married for a while and they were already working on having their second child. This of course, caused Dean’s wife to catch the baby fever. Dean never saw himself as ever being a father. And they had talked about it several times in the years they had been together but he had never said one way or the other if he would ever have kids or not.

After a while, she stopped asking and just let it go. If they were meant to have children one day, then it would happen. For now, she was happy just having her husband. When Dean went in as co-owner of the body shop, it seemed like the perfect time to start planning a family. He could work less hour and got paid more money. This time when she brought up the subject of kids, Dean was more than ecstatic to agree. She cut back her hours at work and they spent time trying to make a baby Winchester of their own.

As time passed with no luck, they became discouraged. Fertility clinics, a handful of different doctors, even in vitro fertilization but nothing worked. She was perfectly healthy and so it made no sense why she couldn’t conceive. They stopped trying as often, deciding that if it was going to happen it would happen sooner or later. And when their hope began to dwindle, they tried less and less until they barely even cared to try anymore. They both went back to work full time, spending more time apart than together. They had accepted the fact that they would never have a baby.

Until one day, it happened. A spur of the moment quickie in the bathroom of Dean’s garage had done the trick. Finally, they were pregnant. They were beyond excited and this ray of hope brought the couple closer together once again. Only after a few weeks they were already planning on what to do in the nursery, deciding on baby names, stocking up on diapers and baby wipes. There were no two happier and prouder parents to be. Things were finally starting to look up, Dean finally finding that light amongst his darkness.

All good things must come to an end. It was pitch black that night, the rain coming down with a vengeance. His wife was behind the wheel of her little smart car, her music blaring as she took her time through the storm. She sang along to the song without a care in the world, her hand falling every once in awhile to rub her growing baby bump. She was on the way back from seeing her mother and Dean had said he had a special surprise for her when she got home. But she wouldn’t make it home that night.

She couldn’t have seen it coming. How could she have known that the SUV would hydroplane and slide right through a red light and collide with her vehicle? There was no way of knowing that her car would roll and spin when the truck hit it, totaling the car and leaving her hanging onto life by a thread. Dean didn’t know what had happened until he tried calling her when she was late getting home. He hadn’t heard a word and she wasn’t answering and after calling her mom, there was no way she should be this late. The moment he opened his front door to dash out to his Impala to go find her, he was greeted by Sam and Jessica.

She was curled into a ball, her head resting against Dean’s chest as he let her sob. Their baby, that they had tried for for so long, was gone and she felt empty. Her heart was broken as the life inside her was ripped away. Dean couldn’t find it in him to cry. He clung to his wife but his face was emotionless, cold and distant. She would say that was the moment everything changed. He never said that he blamed her, but she knew that he didn’t look at her the same after that. He never spoke of the accident again even though she would stay up at all hours of the night mourning for a child she never got to know.

Dean spent his nights drinking. The hard times and trials that the Winchester had been put through his entire life finally had broke him. The shattered pieces of his heart were now cased in ice and fortified with high walls. Instead of comforting his wife, laying in bed with her as she cried at night, he would lay awake on the couch with a bottle of whiskey. That was when the fighting had begun. It didn’t start off slow either. It was yelling and screaming from the start. If she wasn’t left in tears by the end of an argument, he didn’t do it right. Not that he wanted to see her cry but it was better to push her away than let her back into the darkness that was overcoming him.

The drinking eventually led to the Winchester frequenting strip clubs. It was just a way to get out of the house, spend time with people that weren’t his family or his friends or his wife. He hadn’t been with her in quite a while and his urges were starting to get the best of him. The so called late nights at work were spent in a private room at one of his favorite joints. At first it was just dancers, watching as beautiful ladies exposed themselves to him. Then he allowed for them to touch him, give him lap dances. Until finally, he paid a little extra and talked a few of the girls into giving more.

He didn’t care about the girls. He just liked the way they made him feel. There pleasure didn’t matter, he was the one paying, he would get what he wanted. He was rough with them, the girls he chose were into that kind of thing and loved to have him push them around, leave bruises and welts on their body. He spent less and less time at work and at home and more and more time in the arms of sleazy women who would blow him without even being asked. His wife wasn’t the one to find out on her own. She had to hear it from one of her best friend’s who was actually a friend of one of the strippers at the club.

At first she didn’t believe it. But there was plenty of evidence against him. She even had proof that he was frequenting the place. And that he was getting far more than just lap dances. She gave it some time, dropping hints and giving him time to come clean. But he would have the same excuses. He was working or he went out to drinks with the guys. Anything but the truth. Up to the point where she couldn't take it anymore.

And that was what led them here. The night she finally confronted him and pulled the truth out of him. The last straw, the final nail in the coffin of their marriage. He slept on the couch that night, like most nights, drowning himself in alcohol. When he awoke the next morning, he groaned. He didn’t understand why after all this time drinking, he still got such bad hangovers. Padding his way into the kitchen in a groggy stupor, he missed the envelope on the counter the first time he passed. As he chugged down a beer, he caught sight of it. With a furrowed brow, he set his bottle down and reached for the paper, his name scribbled on the front.

He didn’t get far into the letter, written out in her beautiful penmanship before he ended up on the floor on his knees, the beer bottle shattering on the tile beside him. He was pale and silent as the grave as he read about how she was leaving, how she couldn’t do it anymore. She wished him well and hoped that he would find peace and happiness again and how much it pained her to not be able to be apart of it. She told him that she had filed for divorce not that long ago and that the papers should be arriving soon.

He couldn’t cry. He couldn’t breathe. He couldn’t even move. He just stared at the paper with lifeless eyes, his world crumbling around him. He had nothing left. That was it. His world was gone. He couldn’t hear the knocking on the door or the incessant ringing of the doorbell. His body moved of its own accord as he made his way up the stairs. He would have wished that it wasn’t Sam that had found him. The last thing he wanted was for his little brother to see his lifeless body laying in a pool of his own blood while he clung to the gun that took his final breath away from him.

Taggers: @keepcalmimthecupcake @becs-bunker

[junker-town]

Devin Hester’s son is already way more athletic than us as children and here’s why

None of us are breaking ankles like this.

Drayton Hester, son of legendary NFL kick returner Devin Hester, is already on the field and turning the ankles of his opponents into powder.

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Draaaayy-Day starting to come out his shell now!!! ‍♂️

A post shared by Anytime (@devin_d_hester_23) on Jul 15, 2019 at 6:43pm PDT

I love that Hester put “2029” on the video, just to give us a little something to look forward to in 10 YEARS TIME. Either way, I’m still in awe of Drayton’s ability to break ankles like Kathy Bates in Misery, so it got us thinking about our own youth sports past, more pointedly the times we were athletic and felt like superstars ourselves — if only for a moment.

What’s the most athletic thing you ever did in sports?

Flipping like a boss.

OK, so I was a kid at camp and we went to one of those gymnastics places. I weighed like four pounds so I could flip through the air pretty easily. I took it upon myself to try and flip off a trampoline into one of those foam pits and I did it! Except then my knee went into my face and my teeth busted open my lip and I had to go to the hospital.

I nailed the flip though.

— Matt Ellentuck

Tagged a kid out in a rundown

I was a tubby little guy with short legs. Chasing down a much more lithe baserunner was probably the highlight of my Little League career. I distinctly remember my mom questioning whether or not the other kid had an undisclosed leg injury on the ride home from the game.

Pretty good heckle, mom.

— Christian D’Andrea

Carrying the team — literally.

I was a husky lad. Think a cross between Chuck from The Goonies and ... I don’t know, a small muscular terrier? Anyway, I was on the absolute worst Under-8s rugby team. We sucked. We sucked so freaking bad. It was the last game of the season and we were carrying an 0-11 record, losing on average 37-0.

That’s right, we never scored ever. I was determined to change that in our final game. As a front rower I never got to carry the ball in space, but a dropped pass gave me the window I needed. I picked up the ball and began charging down the sideline. It was pouring rain, I was covered in mud and tacklers couldn’t get hands on me. I fended off the first two, then the third — suddenly I was literally carrying a kid on my back who was trying to tackle me, and one on each leg. I probably looked like a parent, with children attached to me like barnacles, refusing to break their hold.

I kept running. I never put so much effort into anything in my short life. I don’t remember any cheering, I don’t remember the sound of anything. Everything was just focused on scoring that try. The line in sight I made one last break, diving over and becoming the first player on the team that season to score.

Then the referee told me I’d stepped out of bounds about 10 meters earlier and didn’t notice his whistle. We went on to lose, 63-0.

— James Dator

Confessions of a Little League bully

It was the summer of one of my childhood years. Little League baseball was my life. I played for a ragtag baseball team in one of the most rural areas of Michigan’s already extremely rural Upper Peninsula.

Our team was playing against the best squad on our schedule, full of outstanding baseball players and lots of wins. That really wasn’t our style. So while the team that hailed from Trenary was the trim and proper kind, ours was more like the Bad News Bears (seriously, we had a kid who used to smoke in the outfield during practice and had another who was cross-eyed who would often get hit in the face while trying to catch fly balls).

In one of our several outings against the crème de la crème, there was a throw to home following a hit to the outfield. The ball rolled past the catcher and to the backstop and bounced around. I was coming from second base and rounded third, too excited to heed the warning of our third base coach as I excitedly ran for home. Being that I was a tubby child without much in the way of wheels, it wasn’t hard for the pitcher to get to the plate and snag a quick throw from the catcher. The pitcher, who was named Chris, turned, ball in glove, and faced me while blocking the plate.

I was fat. There was no turning back. The momentum was going in one direction and there would be no attempt to return to third base. Oh — and I had never even practiced a slide at this point in my short career. So I Pete Rosed him. Totally legal if they do it in the majors, right? Baseball is baseball is...

Nope.

Crushed the kid. I outweighed him by 50 pounds. He goes flying. Ball goes flying. I hit the dirt and then stand up, brush myself off, and step on home plate expecting cheers. Instead, there was a man screaming from the bleachers “Kick him out! He’s a fucking monster!” and the ump, an ancient fellow named Buck, booted me with an apology.

“Sorry, Sam,” he said with a frown. “That’s not allowed. You have to leave the game.”

As I plopped down on the bench, the man who had been screaming came to the dugout and began yelling at me. I watched as my dad stood up from where he was sitting in the bleachers and I was like “oh, man...” — but our coach stepped up and told the fellow to make like a tree and get out of there.

It was a rough moment in my sporting life. Apparently, Pete Rose wasn’t perfect. Who knew?

— Sam Eggleston

Stand up, and fall down, triple

Not to brag or anything (I’m bragging), but I was a pretty fast kid. Because of that fact, I was a slapper by the time I got to 12U softball. I also rarely hit the ball out of the infield, opting to just outrun the throw to first base.

Somehow during this random midsummer tournament, the ball did get out of the infield and I hit a hard shot down the first base line. I kind of blacked out after that, but according to an old Instagram caption this is the series of events that happened: during that excitement I tripped on first base while rounding, ripped my sock on my metal cleats, volleyball rolled, hopped up and continued running the bases. I’m honestly not sure if it was my athleticism or the other team’s incompetence, but I still ended up being safe at third base for my first, and only that I can remember, career triple.

We lost that game and got second for the tournament.

— Kennedi Landry

Dunk on somebody in a pickup basketball game

I’m probably about 20 or 21 years old at this point, and at the time had very Steph Curry-esque dunking abilities. I could do it in a game, but the moment had to be right.

Some weasel-ass guy was really just getting on my nerves the entire game, talking a lot, but not very good. So I stole a pass on the right side of the court, just behind the halfcourt line. I saw him on the left side trying to time a block.

I took one last hard dribble near the basket on the break — he jumps, I jump, pull him in with my left hand, and dunked with the right. I landed and stared at him, his soulless body laying on the court while everybody yelled.

That was the first, and last time it’ll ever happen as clean as that moment.

— Harry Lyles Jr.

Sacrificed my body for the sake of the team

I broke my nose diving for a ball playing second base in sixth grade recreational softball, but I played through the pain, got the out, and won us the game.

I’m absolutely kidding. It hit me squarely in the face because I was zoned out and not paying attention. I fell to the ground and immediately started sobbing, then ran off the field to go find my mom. Of course, as soon as I found her I wanted to play it cool and pretended it didn’t hurt that bad so I wouldn’t have to go to the doctor. To this day my nose is a little bit crooked because of it.

That was the beginning of my illustrious softball career. I went on to achieve amazing athletic feats such as making it onto my school team in eighth grade as the “team manager” because the coach felt too bad to cut me. I’d love to say I was great at sitting on the bench and being in charge of the scoresheet, but I definitely was not, because (big surprise) I was awful at paying attention to the game.

— Sydney Kuntz

Hit a home run, lose a tooth

I played Community Athletics baseball when I was a kid, which was a made-up organization that was somewhere between Little League and Babe Ruth on the age level, but not that organized. We didn’t have uniforms or official looking stirrups, but we had T-shirts and cheapo mesh hats and that was enough to have a good time with our friends.

So here we were playing a day game on a Saturday in the middle of July in New Jersey and it’s hot as hell. I was the catcher, which meant that I was also rocking sweatpants when everyone else was in shorts. (No uniforms, remember.)

My turn came up to bat and I hit the farthest ball I had ever hit in my life to that point. There were no fences on the field so I don’t know for sure how far the ball traveled but it was a majestic blast. Because there were no fences I ran as fast as I could around the bases until I slid across home plate with a dramatic flourish even though the ball was still making its way back to the infield.

As soon as the dust settled, I threw on my catcher’s gear for the next inning and dashed over to first base to help coach. Not that anyone needed a first base coach at that level but I was that kind of kid. I had barely made it to the coaches box when I felt my head get heavy and my eyes begin to close.

I distinctly recall dropping to my knees before face-planting in the dirt. That was the last thing I remembered until waking up to my very concerned parents throwing water on my face. I left the game with a black eye and a dead tooth that forced me to eat pudding for the rest of the weekend. (I highly recommend the all-pudding diet, by the way.)

I still have that tooth, discolored though it is, and my five-year-old loves to hear the story so it all worked out reasonably well. The moral of the story is to always hydrate and to not take youth sports so seriously because, in the end, all we have from it are memories of faded glory.

— Paul Flannery