#look at me saying more and more phrases from my grandparents as i get older | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

theageoftheunderstatement · 2 years ago

Text

Los Angeles Times: Arctic Monkeys’ Alex Turner on fame, Frank Sinatra and the elusive search for the ‘mega-riff’

Written by Mikael Wood, 21/10/2022

Arctic Monkeys blasted out of the U.K. in 2006 with “Whatever People Say I Am, That’s What I’m Not,” a scrappy modern-classic debut that framed the young quartet as a kind of transatlantic counterpart to the new wave of American garage-revival acts.

Seven years and a part-time move to Los Angeles later, the band conquered U.S. rock radio with the stomping and sexy “AM,” which spun off hits like “R U Mine?” and “Do I Wanna Know?” (Current Spotify play count for the latter: 1.4 billion.) Now the Monkeys — singer Alex Turner, guitarist Jamie Cook, bassist Nick O’Malley and drummer Matt Helders — are two albums deep into their older-and-weirder phase: On “The Car,” which came out Friday and follows 2018’s “Tranquility Base Hotel & Casino,” Turner croons enigmatically about disco balls and snooker clubs over slo-mo psychedelic funk that suggests an otherworldly wedding band.

Which was actually a gig Turner, 36, took up recently when he serenaded a couple of just-married friends with Dion’s “Only You Know” at their nuptials in L.A. “How’d you hear about that?” he asked a few days later over tea in a deserted Los Feliz bar. Told a guest had posted a clip of his performance on Instagram, he laughed and said, “Suppose it would be astonishing these days if that didn’t happen.”

Indeed, though the Monkeys can fill arenas and headline festivals in the U.S., Turner is a proper tabloid-level celebrity (and low-key style icon) in London, where he’s back to living most of the time with his girlfriend, French singer Louise Verneuil. Dressed in a filmy floral-print shirt and smartly tailored trousers, he discussed Frank Sinatra, great hair and the death of England’s queen.

When you were 17 or 18, could you have envisioned yourself singing the way you’re singing now? No. At first I didn’t even accept that I was a singer. I can’t remember really thinking about the idea of melody within the vocal performances. It was focused a lot more on just getting the words out. I can’t put a percentage on it, but I feel like there were a lot more words per 30 seconds of music in that original stage.

Does the early stuff seem overly wordy to you now? I wouldn’t put it like that. But some of the choices I find amusing.

I caught your set at Primavera Sound a couple of weeks ago and there was this funny moment after “Why’d You Only Call Me When You’re High?” where you said to the audience, “Simple stuff — let’s hear it for simple stuff.” Well, I’d just repeated that phrase four times in the song, and by the fourth time I said it, people were still saying it back to me. So it seemed like I needed to give some recognition to simple stuff. Not that I necessarily think what we’re doing now is extremely complicated in comparison. But a song like that — that’s on “AM,” and I reckon we had a feeling before that record of trying to go more direct in that moment. I think that tune was probably the most direct you could go.

Do you find the idea of someone asking you to explain your songs excruciating? I don’t know if I’d go all the way to excruciating. I’m just not sure what I would say if someone were to ask me.

As a listener, are you drawn to music that can be kind of confusing? Absolutely not. I’m drawn to straightforward things. For some reason I’m thinking about this “Sinatra at the Sands” record that I love. There’s this song, “Don’t Worry ’Bout Me” — that’s one where you can guess what it’s about from the title. But there’s stuff going on in the band and in the music that’s intricate. He does this bit that always gets me — a sound comes out of his mouth, but it’s not any of the notes. He just kind of swoops up: [Sings] “Look out for yourself.”

How’d you get into Sinatra? Through my dad when I was a little kid. He was playing in a big band, and his stepdad was part of a big band. Between being in my dad’s car and being with my grandparents, that music was around a lot.

Does it feel reasonable to compare “The Car” to something like Sinatra? I’d certainly be careful with that. But the fact that that kind of music has been there is probably partly responsible for why I’ve arrived at a place where I thought it was all right to scratch whatever we’ve been scratching on these last couple of records.

A thing I love about Sinatra is that he still had swagger even as he got older, lost his hair and gained some weight. I remember when I was a kid my grandmother trying to convince me that, you know, “This is what a pop star used to be.” I was like, “What? No, that’s in a different world.” This was when the thing was, like, boy bands or whatever it was. But she was like, “This is what young people used to be mad for.”

You have famously great hair. As a pop star, do you worry about losing it? On some level, no one’s thrilled about that. But I suppose the guy with the microphone has more of a cause for concern. It’s one show at a time, isn’t it?

Say more about being the guy with the microphone. Your performance style these days feels to me like a kind of riff on that idea. There’s a self-awareness to the way you carry yourself. Because we’re back onstage again [after the pandemic], I’m trying not to let myself do things that I would have done three years ago. I’m trying to wrangle the gestures into what’s right for this music, and I think I’m kind of starting to figure it out. It’s not as if I’m sitting down with video after a show and making notes, though in a weird way, I don’t mind that idea.

There are some historical through lines to the role, right? Harry Styles’ act runs back through you and through guys from the ’70s and back to Sinatra. When you see Harry, are you like, “Yeah, I know what that guy’s doing��? What is the answer to that? [Laughs] I feel like I’d have to go see his show to be able to properly answer. Sooner or later I’ll get the chance.

Some Arctic Monkeys fans will hear this album and wish it was more of a loud rock thing. I’m sure. But the rock-guitar side of things, it’s still in there — more than I expected it to be, if I’m honest. I’d been working on this for a while by myself before we had a session with the band. And in that session I started to find myself wanting to stand up and turn up the guitar amp.

Your drummer, Matt, recently told an interviewer that the “heavy riffs” were never coming back. I can’t rule out the possibility that we’re gonna write another mega-riff. But I didn’t find one this time.

Do you enjoy being a pop star? I have very little basis for comparison. The band has been going on for a larger fraction of my lifetime than it hasn’t, which is a threshold that’s only just been crossed. That’s the point at which you cease to be able to give a valid answer to that question.

You ever long for a more traditional life? I mean, just like writing a mega-riff, I don’t want to rule it out. I’m not taking anything off the table.

Last thing. I saw Duran Duran play the Hollywood Bowl in September, and they put a photo of the late Queen Elizabeth on the big video screens and asked the crowd for a moment of silence. What did the crowd do?

Kept respectfully quiet. I don’t know if you’ll have an answer to this, but if you’d been playing a show that weekend, would you have felt some impulse to comment onstage? [Pauses] I think you were right when you said I might not have an answer to that.

#interview #arctic monkeys #alex turner #the car era #los angeles times 2022 #lmao some of the questions here are so weird

54 notes · View notes

zaneaquaman · 2 years ago

Text

Coming out At Thanksgiving

My hands shake as I sit with my new therapist who questions me about how I am feeling about coming out to my extended family this upcoming Thanksgiving. She looks at me expectantly, trying to piece together the stories that spill out of my mouth as I explain to her (my cisgender, straight therapist with not nearly enough training in this area) why the fear of their reactions still clings to my heart and why I know that, after this Thanksgiving, nothing will be the same during our family dinners.

I came out to my parents on my birthday, the only day they weren’t allowed to hate me even if they hated who I admitted I was. In my head, there was no option of being kicked out of the streets. I told myself either it would go well enough for me to get by in the house or I wouldn’t wake up tomorrow – it was up to my parents to decide.

We sat in their bedroom as I told them who I was and that I was their son. My mom’s face reeled in disgust as my father simply kept repeating that he didn’t understand. He’d further push to find cracks in my knowledge in an attempt to prove to me that I couldn’t possibly understand what I claim to be if he couldn’t understand it. My mother said various phrases, all of which I had read about online beforehand in preparation for the criticism I knew I would receive that night: “But you’re a girl”, “God gave you this body”, “You can’t ruin this body”, “You’re too young to know”, “You always liked your chest”, “You never hated wearing dresses and skirts”, “You never thought about this before”, “Where did you get this idea from? Is it from one of your friends?”, “Maybe you’ll grow out of it”, “You’ll think differently when you get older”, “Don’t make any life choices that you’ll regret later”, “You’re nothing like boys”, “You don’t want to be a boy”, “You hate boys”, “Why did you want to go to an all-girls school then?”, “You don’t even know what boys are like so how can you want to be one?”, “You’ll think differently when you actually talk to boys”, “No one will see you as a boy”, “You’ll always be my little girl”, “No one will love you if you choose this”, “No one will ever love who you are now”, “No one will ever understand you”, “I hope you change your mind”, “Being transgender is just a recent trend; it didn’t exist until 20 years ago”, “You will confuse everyone”, “How do you know you want to be a boy?”, “Are you sure you want to choose this?”, “Do you know the life you are choosing?”, “Who even are you anymore?” and on and on until they both ran out of conservative phrases to say and opted to say they still loved me, but they do not understand me. Two years have passed since I came out to them and they still do not understand me. My father is quiet in his lack of understanding, whereas my mother, despite two years of having to adjust, still slips up and claims she needs more time. Four months ago, she lectured me on why I should not live in a male dorm even though I am a man. One month ago, I received a package from her with my dead name written on it for all my friends to see. Last week, my mother tried to encourage me to take some feminine clothes with me back to my dorm. I said I’ll consider, and I left all the clothes with her when I flew back to my college dorm (my home-away-from-home that feels more comfortable for me than my real home).

What I try to tell my therapist, and what she doesn’t seem to understand, is that for my own protection, my family had decided to tell my grandparents, aunts, uncles, cousins, and extended family about me while I was away. The therapist thought it would be better to say it in person. I agree to some extent but, with a family as conservative as mine and my mental state that is currently balancing on a thread, my mom argued that it would be better for them to find out before I arrive and have time to cool down before seeing me again in person.

Another subject that my therapist doesn’t quite grasp is that people generally do not want to acknowledge I am transgender. It’s easier to slip up and call me she, a daughter, a woman, and my deadname than to view me as the “abomination” that I am. If there is no one to correct them while I am away, they do not bother to try to correct themselves. If there is no one to push them to tell others about the fact that I am transgender, they will not bother to push themselves to say it. My mom has had almost three months to tell my extended family about me. Despite constant reminders from me in the form of texts and calls, she doesn’t fulfill her promise to tell them while I am away. Instead, she pushes the burden onto my father. He tells them the week before Thanksgiving.

This past month, I heard someone say they don’t want others to assume they are gay. My face twists in muted disgust and offense. Why would it bother someone if they are assumed to be something that is not an insult? If they aren’t gay, they can always say that outright without any consequences, whereas if you are gay, you know deep in your heart the fear that comes with first admitting you are and the tension of waiting to know the other person’s response. You can always correct people and say that you are straight, and nothing will be said against you. When you correct someone and say you’re gay, you always have to prepare yourself for the chance that you’re about to be bombarded with hatred and assaults of various kinds.

I returned to my family the week before Thanksgiving for a weekend trip. I attend a carnival at my old middle school, wearing a hat with my name clearly spray-painted on it while parents, teachers, and students alike ignore it and call me my dead name. Even the teachers that were told about me do not comment on me being transgender, nor do they even say my name as if the subject itself terrifies them.

My uncle comes up to me and says hello without any further comment. I’m told by my dad later that my uncle was alerted about me being transgender before that day, yet he still said nothing to me about it even though it was the first time I had seen him in months – even though he knew about me; even though he must have known that I know he knows about me. My father claims my uncle will tell the rest of his family before I arrive for Thanksgiving. My only questions are if he really will and when.

I have breakfast with my partner who asks if I am nervous about Thanksgiving and my extended family's reactions. Chewing my food slowly to provide me more time to think, I answer by simply saying I think everything will go alright. I don’t tell them that if something goes wrong, I might fall down a never-ending black hole that leads to a dark place I no longer want to go back to. I don’t tell them that I expect to disappear into the bathroom that day to cry and hide from the world because I know I won’t be able to handle the pressure. I don’t tell them that, although I am eternally grateful they are joining me on my trip down to my family for Thanksgiving, it will crush me to hear my family call me something I am not and for my partner to be there to witness it.

My therapist asks me if I am nervous too. I say I am fine and that I don’t care what others will think of me. She nods, that being the only thing she fully understands, and ignores the way I hollow out as I leave her office and walk back into the real world.

#lgbtq characters #lgbtq community #lgbtqiia+#lgbt representation #coming out #transgender #transgender awareness week #trans struggles #trans pride #transgender community #transgender youth #protect trans youth #trans masc #thanksgiving #holiday #family issues #family stress #family dynamics #parents

11 notes · View notes

bqstqnbruin · 4 years ago

Text

Always be my plus one

Here we go, y'all. We're ignoring that it's 3:30 in the morning but I'm just yeeting the first part of this into the wild and hoping it goes well. Ignore typos, we all know that everything I post is a first draft.

I need to thank @hockeywocs, @chara-hugs, and @zinka8 (WHY CAN't I TAG YOU) and all the anons who have come into my ask box to help me with this! ily all!

WARNING: some description of child birth

Hope you like it!

Series masterlist

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

Part 1: Christmas Day and the day after Christmas

The name for Christmas comes from the shortening of “Christ’s Mass,” a traditionally Christian holiday that celebrates the birth of Jesus Christ to the Virgin Mary and Joseph in a manger in Bethlehem. Although the exact date of his birthday is unknown, around the fourth century the Catholic church fixed the date of this celebration to be December 25th. Other religions and belief systems have similar celebrations around the same time, such as the Winter Solstice, or Midwinter. Celebrations include a mixture of pre-Christian, Christian, and non-secular traditions, such as gift giving, completing an Advent Calendar or Advent Wreath, Christmas music, church services, a special meal with family and loved ones, Christmas trees, lights, nativity scenes, and Santa Claus to name a few.

The day after Christmas, known as Boxing Day in some European countries, is traditionally known as a shopping holiday. In America, this is typically the day when people start to return any unwanted Christmas gifts, stock up for next Christmas on items that are marked down on sale, or see friends that they hadn’t been able to see before Christmas.

=============

December 21, 2021

“One fifteen means fifteen minutes before I have to clock in. Fifteen minutes before a twelve-hour shift that I’m not ready for and don’t have enough caffeine for,” Anne muttered to herself, staring at her reflection through her car's rearview mirror. “But, fifteen minutes before getting to do something that I thankfully love, something that I enjoy doing.” No matter how long the shift in front of her, Anne had developed a habit of giving herself a pep talk before she got out of her car. “Whatever happens, you’ve helped someone.”

The last part wasn’t always true, knowing that there was the possibility that something could go wrong that she and the other nurses and doctors wouldn’t be able to fix. Lying to herself that everything was going to be ok was the only want to convince herself to go into the hospital every day. Finally mustering up enough courage to get out of her car, she grabs her bag from the backseat, heading in for yet another long day right before the Christmas holiday.

The maternity ward where Anne worked never ceased to be hectic, the miracle of life happening at least once an hour. No matter how much Anne had studied in nursing school, nothing could have prepared her for the stress that could come from the job, the long hours, the potential for something so right to turn so wrong in a minute, the way nothing can go planned since the baby dictated all, the mess that comes with every birth, or the joy that results from a former patient sending her the occasional picture of a baby she helped deliver as they’re growing up.

“Hey, Tyson, come on!” comes from inside the open doors of the building, Anne not paying attention to who it was coming from, causing her to collide with a stranger, spilling her much-needed coffee all over the both of them.

“Shit,” she says, not looking up from the brown splatter on what should be mint green scrubs. “I am so sorry.”

Standing in front of her was a curly-haired boy, about her age, wearing what she was sure was a Colorado hockey jersey. Beyond that, she had no idea. “No, no, it’s my fault. I wasn’t looking where I was going. Let me buy you another,” he offers, ignoring the persistent calls from his friends to hurry up.

Anne checks her watch: 1:19. “It’s ok. I don’t really have the time, I have to clock in in eleven minutes, and knowing the cafeteria or the vending machines, it would take a lot longer,” she says, trying to get by him. Before he can protest, she gets to the elevator that would bring her to her floor, thankful that it was ready to get her there without her having to wait. The doors start to close, only to be stopped by a hand stuck through them, the curly-haired boy with the coffee stain down the front of him getting on the elevator with her. Anne gives him a confused look, begging him to explain why he was trying to make her late for her shift.

“If you aren’t going to let me buy you one now to make up for it, at least let me see where you work so I can drop one off for you.”

Anne rolls her eyes, unamused by the man in front of her as he attempts to flirt with her. “That would be nice, but the chances of me getting it before it goes cold are slim to none, so you need to suggest something else if you really want to buy me a coffee.”

“Let me get your number so I can buy you one when you aren’t working?” he asks, reaching into his pocket to pull out his phone. 1:25. “I’m Tyson, by the way.”

The elevator dings, signaling that they were on Anne’s floor, opening the door to nurses and doctors running around, expectant fathers who were probably kicked out of the delivery room for making the mom too nervous pacing the halls, grandparents trying to control younger children who had little to no idea what was going on as they waited in the strange building. Anne walks to the backroom to drop her stuff off and clock in, typing her information into the stranger’s phone as he followed her like a puppy, his friend’s texts coming across the top of his screen asking where he went so they could leave.

“I’m Anne, and I’ve got to go,” she tells him, handing back his phone. There was no way he was going to text her, and it’s not like the coffee was that big of a deal to him. She could go to the vending machine down the hall and grab one during her break, or have someone else on their break do it for her if she needed it sooner.

“Can’t wait for our coffee date, Anne,” he says, winking at her before shoving his hands in his pockets and sauntering back down the hallway.

“Who is he?” her coworker, Jess asked, popping up out of nowhere. “He’s hot.”

“In more ways than one, apparently,” Anne jokes, “he’s also wearing my hot coffee on his shirt.”

“You didn’t,” Jess scolds her, turning her around to see the coffee that was spilled down Anne’s own outfit, knowing Anne’s tendency to be a little absent-minded as she gets wrapped up in her own thoughts. “Anne, you did.”

“Not on purpose!”

“DeFormicola?” Anne’s supervisor, Jackson, pops his head into the room just as she was clocking in, “We need you in room 414.”

“Saved by the bell,” Anne teases, walking down the hall to where all the noise was coming from, trying to throw on the appropriate clothing before she went into the room, struggling to get the gloves on as she entered.

“Ok, Erin, we’re going to need you to push,” one of the doctors says, Anne standing behind him as she watched the baby’s head crowning.

This was her favorite part of the job, helping the mother stay calm and trying to make sure that despite the child coming out of her, she was as comfortable as possible. Normally, she would be with the mom as soon as she came in, Erin clearly nervous as to what was going on. They had to be first-time parents, the dad going back and forth to Erin’s side and behind the doctor, looking mortified each time and clearly regretting what he was seeing.

“It’s a boy!” the doctor says, handing the new baby to a breathless Erin.

“A boy! A boy!” the dad yells, going out to the hallway, Erin clearly unamused by whatever antics he was going about.

“Don’t worry, he’s not the first one to do that,” Anne reassures her, knowing that something like that would happen at least five more times during her shift, hearing the father’s voice repeating the phrase. “I’m going to get him cleaned up and then get him right back to you, ok?” Anne asks, reaching for the baby as everyone else around her tries to clean everything else up.

“Be careful with him,” Erin warns, not meaning anything bad by it. She was definitely a first time mother.

“I will be,” Anne tells her, feeling her phone vibrate in her pocket as she does. “So you have a name picked out yet?”

“We were thinking Matthew.”

Anne turns her head, smiling at Erin. “That’s a good name. My older brother is named Matthew.”

Erin smiles at her, the father finally coming back in, clearly overjoyed by the birth of their new baby. Anne hands him back to his parents, Matthew screaming his head off as they get wheeled into another room.

Anne goes over to the desk, sitting down where she was supposed to be for the start of her shift to do paperwork, but the uncertainty in the hour by hour of the schedule was not surprising. She pulls out her phone, ‘Maybe: Tyson’ coming up across her screen.

“He’s already texting me,” she alerts Jess whose head whips away from her computer to look over Anne’s shoulder at what message the mystery man could have sent her.

“He’s horny.”

“Jessica!” she squeals, wishing she was more shocked by what her friend had said. “Why is that always your first reaction to a boy sending a message?”

She shrugs, swiveling back to her own computer, “I’m normally right. What’s he saying?”

“He wants to know when he can buy me coffee.”

“Horny.”

“Enough.”

“You should date him.”

Anne turns to her, clearly unamused by Jess’s need to continue the conversation. “I don’t have to date anyone.”

Jess lets out a long sigh, Anne knowing that she was rolling her eyes. “I’m not saying you have to, I’m saying you should.”

“Ok, I don’t want to date anyone.”

“Oh, come on Anne,” Jess says, getting up and plopping herself on the desk in front of Anne, fiddling with the wire connecting the mouse to the rest of the computer. “You work in a maternity ward where people become parents every day, and you haven’t even thought of finding a man?”

“You don’t have a point,” Anne tells her, not making eye contact with her.

“My point,” Jess says, leaning over to block Anne’s view of her computer screen, “is that you can’t be single forever.”

“Says who?”

“Didn’t you tell me that you were named after the patron saint of the town your grandmothers were from?”

Anne rolls her eyes, knowing where this was going. It was going in the same direction that this conversation always went in when she had it with her mom every single holiday. “All four of us are named after the patron saints of the towns our grandparents are from.”

“St. Anne is the patron saint of child care, grandparents and mothers.”

“She’s also that patron saint of unmarried women, so your argument is invalid, as usual.”

Jess takes in a breath to say something, cut off by Jackson calling for Jess to go into one of the delivery rooms. “Just don’t say no because you think you have to be single,” she advises as she walks away.

Anne leans back in the chair, rubbing her hands over her face. “This is how Christmas is going to go, isn’t it?” she asks herself.

=============

December 25, 2021

The number of cars lining her parent's driveway meant that she was one of the last ones there, but knowing her aunts and uncles, she wasn’t the last one there. Her parents were the ones who did Christmas Day for her dad’s family, Christmas Eve being the anniversary of her mom’s mom’s death, and, on top of that, Teresa doesn’t talk to her family over some argument and grudge being held over their parent's house.

Scanning the cars, she didn’t see the one belonging to her brother Matthew, or his wife, Stephanie. “I’ll just leave Harper’s gifts in the car,” Anne mutters to herself, trying to juggle as many gifts as she could while also balancing the box of pastries her mom asked her to pick up for dessert.

Without a free hand to open the door, Anne did everything she could to ring the doorbell with her elbow, praying that someone would come to open the door before she dropped anything.

Her younger brother, Sebastian, opens the door, a disappointed look on his face. “What the fuck is all this for?” he asks, taking some of the bags from her arms to lighten her load.

“Merry Christmas to you, too,” she remarks, “Yours is still in my car if you’re wondering.”

“Did you have to get gifts for everyone?” he asks, Anne greeting her aunts and uncles on the way to the tree to put everything down for later.

“Well, it’s Hazel’s first Christmas," she explains, referencing their sister's youngest daughter, "So getting her something and not getting the other children something seemed wrong, and then Jessica took me shopping and kept saying things like ‘oh this would be perfect for Lucy,’ or ‘oh don’t have you an aunt who likes mystery novels?’ And everything went downhill from there.”

Sebby groans, walking with Anne back out to her car to retrieve the rest of the gifts, Anne still holding the box of pastries since they hadn’t made it to the kitchen yet. “Please tell me you didn’t get Aunt Lisa that Agatha Christie illustrated novel that the bookstore was selling.”

“Please tell me you didn’t get Aunt Lisa that Agatha Christie illustrated novel the bookstore was selling,” Anne laughs, Sebby nodding his head. “I got a gift receipt.”

“What did you end up getting Matthew?” he asks her. Anne had texted Sebby in panic on Black Friday, coming home from a day of shopping with Lucy that left her without a gift for Lucy’s twin brother.

Grabbing the rest of the gifts and handing them to Sebby, she closes the door to her car and starts to go back inside. “I found this ‘make your own wine’ kit that I think he would like. That way Steph doesn’t have to listen to him complaining about how the stuff she drinks is ‘too sweet.’”

“What about for me?” Sebby asks, nudging Anne with his elbow as they arrange the rest of the gifts in the already mountainous pile under the tree.

“Oh, I knew there was someone I forgot,” she says sarcastically, Sebby ripping the bow off one of her carefully wrapped presents and throwing it at her. “Ok, now I’m never getting you a gift again.”

Sebby laughs, helping his older sister off the ground. The two of them wander into the kitchen, slipping in unnoticed due to the sheer number of family members and noise that was filling the room. “Aunt Anne! Aunt Anne!” Harper and Skylar squeal in unison when her nieces spot her, hoping that either she or Sebby had grabbed Harper, Matthew, and Stephanie’s gifts. She didn’t think there was anything left in her trunk.

“Hey there, fireflies,” Anne greets them, bending down as they both kiss her on the cheek. “Guess what? Santa stopped by my place and left some gifts for you, but he made me promise that you two were really good today if you want to open them after dessert, ok?”

The two girls nod excitedly, bouncing up and down at Anne’s words. To still be young and believe in Santa, that must be nice.

“Hey, ma,” Anne finally finds her mother, putting down the box of pastries in front of her and kissing her on the cheek. “Upstairs or downstairs fridge?”

“It goes downstairs. Come on, I have someone I want you to meet,” her mother says, dragging you away from your aunts that had aggregated around her. They all had excited looks on their faces, something that instantly worried Anne as she followed her mother down the stairs with the box. She could hear Matthew and Lucy’s voices, knowing that her brother and sister’s wife and husband had to be down there with them, too. “Matthew told me about this friend of his who couldn’t make it home for Christmas,” her mother whispers before she got to the last step.

“Mom, no,” Anne says, already knowing where this was heading. “I told you: I don’t need a boyfriend.”

“But I don’t have a grandson,” her mom whines, shaking Anne’s hand in her own against her chest.

“How is that my fault?”

“If you just find a nice boy, and get married, I just know you’re going to be my child that has a boy.”

“Oh my god,” Anne groans, pushing past her to get to the fridge.

Teresa pulls Anne over to the couches where her siblings were, Lucy sitting on one with her feet in Jason’s lap, Jason’s hand lazily rubbing his wife’s shins. Matthew was on the other, Stephanie nuzzled against his shoulder, all four of them with a glass of wine and three bottles open. Next to Matthew was a guy sitting there awkwardly, straightening his back when he saw you while Sebby tried to contain his laughter as he sat on the floor. “Jeremy, this is my youngest daughter, Anne. Anne, this is Jeremy,” she introduces the two of them before running up the stairs.

“I do have a girlfriend, actually,” Jeremy says, “So I’m sorry.”

Anne and her siblings burst out laughing, Lucy pouring her sister a glass of wine. “If only this were the first time Ma tried to set Anne up with a guy who was seeing someone.”

“I even tried to tell her that but she didn’t listen,” Matthew adds. “It’s better than when she tried to set you up with Adam,” he says, referencing Lucy’s partner at their optometry practice.

“Yeah, his husband wasn’t too thrilled by that potential match,” Sebby says.

They all keep talking, Anne just sitting and listening to them reminisce about all the people their parents had tried to set her up within their desperate attempt for her to no longer be single. It didn’t help that the last time she listened to them about dating was Andy, the boy who cheated on her when they got to college. Apparently going to school half an hour from each other wasn’t enough for him to keep up their two-year relationship instead of shoving his tongue down multiple girls throats before doing god only knows what else.

“When do you think they’ll stop trying to set me up with someone?” Anne finally pips in, accidentally cutting off something Jeremy was saying as she stared at the wine she was swirling in the glass.

“When you get a boyfriend,” her siblings say in unison.

“I hate all of you for doing that,” she laughs. “But, seriously, why is it so important that I have a boyfriend?”

“Oh, you know your mother,” Jason says, putting his glass down on the floor. “She saw what Lucy and I had and then wanted that for all her children.”

Lucy playfully shoves him, kissing him as Anne and Sebby groan. “She just wants you to be happy, and to her and dad, happiness is marriage and a family.”

“Where am I going to meet someone if I go to work or here where they try to bring in non-single non-potential suitors?” she asks, looking over at Jeremy. “Sorry.”

He shrugs, not able to get a word in before Matthew starts, “What if you met someone at work like how Steph and I met?”

“Yeah because there are so many single men walking around the maternity ward,” she says, her phone buzzing in front of her. “What about you, though, Seb, how’s Collins?” Anne asks, changing the subject.

“Eh,” he shrugs, his eyes wandering to Anne’s phone screen, “I’m not sure we’re going to last to graduation.”

“What?” Lucy squeals, causing Jason to jump as she threw her legs out of his lap. “I thought you said she was ‘the one’?”

Sebby looks down at his glass, a stupid smirk on his face. “Nah, that changed. She doesn’t want me to go to law school in Boston, she wants me to stay here or move to California with her.”

“But the adventure of moving with your girlfriend to another state!” Matthew offers, Stephanie rolling her eyes.

“Matthew, not everyone needs adventure like you do, hon.”

Anne’s phone buzzes again, a reminder that she had a text waiting for her. Picking it up before Sebby can see who it is, ever the nosy little brother, she sees a message from Tyson popping up as they continue their conversation about Sebby’s love life and Anne’s lack thereof. . They had only been texting for a few days since their encounter at the hospital, but every time his name came up she couldn’t help but smile, lifting the wine glass to her lips to cover it in hopes of her siblings not noticing.

How’s your Christmas been so far?

A simple ‘eh’ as a response was all that she needed to send. It could be worse, but her mom trying to set her up with a guy with a girlfriend was definitely not something that made for a good Christmas. The only thing that could be worse is if their dad came home early from the flight he was on with a guy he picked up in whatever country he had to go to that prompted him to miss the holiday. Normal dads who had to travel would bring their kids back little trinkets or a postcard, but Anne wouldn’t put it past Tony to borderline kidnap someone from the plane he was flying and bring them home for Anne.

Tyson’s contact comes up again, an incoming call that prompted Anne to step away so she could answer it. “What’s up?”

“You said your Christmas was ‘eh.’ What’s going on?”

“It’s a long story,” she groans, pressing her back up against the fridge.

“Well, what if I have something that might make it better?” he flirts.

“Oh? Like what”

“What if I said I’m 100% free to buy you that coffee any time tomorrow, since I know you said you didn’t have work, and you can tell me about Christmas then?”

Anne hears her siblings laugh not ten feet away, praying that they couldn’t hear her conversation. Taking in a deep breath, she knew that her cheeks were turning pink at his words. “Sure, that sounds good. I’ll see you tomorrow?” she asks, walking back over to join her siblings.

“I’ll text you details,” he tells her, hanging up.

“Oh, my god,” Lucy yells, interrupting their conversation. “Anne was talking to a boy.”

“What the hell? What makes you think that?” she asks.

“Your cheeks are red," Lucy says, prompting Anne to raise her hand to feel the heat radiating from her face, "Who else would you be seeing tomorrow?” her sister eggs on, her eyebrow raised since she knew she was right.

Anne tries to find her words, unable to think of a name that wasn’t a guy's name to blurt out.

“Is it Tyson?” Sebby asks, Anne’s unlocked phone in his hand.

“You jackass!” she yells, lunging at her brother to try to get her phone back.

Teresa’s footsteps sound down the stairs, her poking her head between the gap in the stair rail and the steps themselves, Anne and Sebby looking like a deer in headlights when they see their mom. “I was coming to say that dinner was ready, but what’s going on here?”

“Anne has a boy she wasn’t telling us about,” Sebby blabs, earning an ‘I’ll kill you’ look from Anne.

“Oh! Annie!” their mom squeals, running down the stairs to pick her up off the ground and hug her. “Why didn’t you tell us about him?”

“I, uh,” Anne starts, still not sure what to say.

“You have to bring him to New Year’s Day at Uncle Vince’s house,” she tells her, the rest of the siblings following Anne being dragged back up the stairs for dinner, her mom announcing that Anne had a boyfriend when she, in fact, didn’t.

=============

December 26, 2021

“So, are you going to tell me why your Christmas was only ‘eh,’ or am I going to have to guess?” Tyson asks, setting down two cups of coffee in front of them. Tyson had asked Anne to meet him at a small coffee shop that was within walking distance of her apartment, thankful that she didn’t have to drive through Denver on the day where everyone was returning anything unwanted, like her Aunt Lisa returning one of the copies of the Agatha Christie novel that her and Sebby each got her.

Anne groans, the images of last night’s dinner flashing through her mind. “Can we talk about something else, first?”

“Fine,” Tyson says, taking a long sip of the coffee, “What did you get for gifts?”

She raises her eyebrow at him, Tyson mirroring her expression except with a goofy grin on his face. Rolling her eyes, she starts listing off the stuff she got: “My parents got me a new attachment for my KitchenAid stand mixer since my younger brother, Sebby, broke it last time he was over and a voucher for a flight anywhere in the country like they do every year, um, some gift cards from my aunts and uncles, my nieces all did their best attempts at drawing a portrait of me, Sebby told me he was going to come over and make dinner for me, which scares me because he can’t cook, Matthew and his wife got me some books they thought I would like, and Lucy and her husband got me this bracelet,” Anne tells him, extending her arm out to show him.

“I have so many questions,” Tyson starts.

“I might have answers,” Anne tells him, raising her cup to him.

“How big is your family?”

“I’m the third of four, Lucy and Matthew are twins and are about five years older than me, then Sebby is a year younger than me. Lucy has two daughters and Matthew has one. My dad has two brothers; one older, one younger. The older one has three kids, the younger has two and then three grandchildren.”

“Mom’s family?”

Anne looks down at her coffee. “I’m the only one who talks to anyone on that side of the family. My mom and her brother got into a fight when their parents died over what was left to them. My uncle has two daughters and two granddaughters.”

“I’m sorry,” he says, looking between the coffee and Anne.

She shrugs, not really bothered by it at this point. “It’s whatever. I talk to them because I want to, so it’s fine. What other questions do you have, though?”

“The ticket voucher?”

“Yeah,” Anne laughs, “Our dad is a pilot with Southwest Airlines, so every Christmas they give us a voucher to fly anywhere we want. They say they want to make sure that we take time for ourselves, but I think Dad gets some sort of bonus for every voucher he buys.”

Tyson throws his head back laughing. It wasn’t that funny, but seeing him so happy, Anne couldn’t help but smile back at him. “What about you, what did you get for Christmas?”

“My mom and sister flew down and basically restocked my kitchen for me.”

“Ok, that’s a great present, though,” she says. “Where was your dad?”

The smile from Tyson’s face fades, not looking up at Anne. “I never knew him. My mom and grandmother raised me.”

“Oh, Tyson,” she says, reaching out for his hand. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t know.”

He shrugs, a forced smile on his face. “I wouldn’t trade it for anything, I don’t think. My mom and my grandmother are the reason I am who I am. I wouldn’t give that up or change it.”

The two of them sit there, Anne trying to think about how many times she helped deliver a baby when the father was nowhere to be found. She normally figured they were busy or just not in the delivery room, not being there all together was something she couldn’t even begin to imagine. “But enough about me. Why was your Christmas ‘eh’?”

“My family has it in their heads that I need a boyfriend,” she admits, Tyson smirking at her words. “And my brother saw your texts coming up on my phone and being the asshole that he is, announced that I was texting a boy, so now, I need to find someone to bring with me to my uncle’s house on New Year’s Day that I can pass off as you.”

Tyson gives her a confused look. “Why wouldn’t you just bring me?”

Anne sits there, a shocked look on her face. “Because they think ‘Tyson’ is my boyfriend, and you aren’t?”

“So we pretend. They don’t need to know,” he shrugs, acting like it was no big deal.

“That would never work,” Anne dismisses him.

“Why not? You don’t think I’m a good actor?” Tyson whines, acting insulted at Anne’s words.

She scoffs, “Ok, one, hockey players are never good actors, and two, Sebby or Lucy are bound to figure out that you are not my boyfriend. Sebby wants to be a lawyer so he analyzes everything and Lucy is just this perfect anomaly of a human who would be bound to figure it out.”

“I think I can play your boyfriend for New Year’s Day,” he says, confidence dripping in his voice.

“No, I can’t have you do that.”

The maternity ward where Anne worked never ceased to be hectic, the miracle of life happening at least once an hour. No matter how much Anne had studied in nursing school, nothing could have prepared her for the stress that could come from thhe job, the long hours, the potential for something so right to turn so wrong in a minute, the way nothing can go planned since the baby dictated all, the mess that comes with every birth, or the joy that results from a former patient sending her the occasional picture of a baby she helped deliver as they’re growing up.

#tyson jost #tyson jost imagines #tyson jost fic #tyson jost oc fic #colorado avalanche #avalanche #nhl #colorado avalanche imagine #avalanche imagine #nhl imagine #hockey #hockey imagines #tyson and anne

179 notes · View notes

definitearticle · 4 years ago

Text

Dear Baby Boomers...

"When you're accustomed to privilege, equality feels like oppression."

Older friends, come in! Sit down! I'm so glad you came.

Can I get you a water?

So listen. As your friendly neighborhood geriatric millennial, I need you to understand something. It's important, and it's going to hurt. But pain can be a sign of growth, and I want you to hear this from a friend. So know that this comes from a place of love.

So nu. I'm gonna ease into this by making sure we're on the same page with some ideas.

You know Bob Dylan's song, "The Times They Are A-Changin'," yeah? It might not have been THE anthem of your youth, but it's certainly one that's held up over time. It speaks to the ever-continuing cycle of change and the need for members of the previous generation (and those in power generally) to "get out of the [way] if you can't lend a hand."

Thing is, younger generations have been asking older generations to listen, to understand, and to help the culture progress since time immemorial. And older generations have traditionally pushed back. So your generation's experience of pushing your parents' generation into begrudging acceptance of civil rights, feminism, et al, isn't new.

But y'all came up with some great turns of phrase to express it. One of my favorites, technically coined by Jack Weinberg (5 years too old to be a Baby Boomer) was "Don't trust anyone over 30." It was an offhand phrase said in anger when Weinberg felt that the reporter interviewing him wasn't actually listening, but was instead looking for ulterior motives so that he could dismiss the message of his protest.

But the phrase stuck, and it was used not only as a rallying cry, but also as a talking point by older folks who wanted to dismiss the New Left as a bunch of whiny brats, rather than people we now know were on the right side of history regarding the war, police brutality, and so on.

So with that in mind, in the words of The Who, let's talk about MY generation, and the even younger generation just starting to come into their own.

You know how a few years ago, there were a whole lot of women in the #MeToo movement who were talking about their experiences with men and how they constantly feared sexual assault? And then you had a whole bunch of idiots coming on saying "Not all men!" because they weren't used to their demographic being the target of negative criticism? Yeah, they were idiots, and you knew it. Of course "not all men." But the MeToo movement wasn't about hating men. It was about hearing women and understanding their fears.

And by and large, you understood that. You were pretty solid on it. Good for you! No, seriously, I'm really proud of you for continuing the fight for feminism that you were on the front lines of back in your more enthusiastic years.

And you know how #BlackLivesMatter has been a thing for several years now, and how it's really a continuation of the Civil Rights movement that you grew up in? But of course, idiots tried to reframe the narrative by saying "All lives matter!" And you knew that that was just a smokescreen. Of course all lives matter, but once again black lives were being treated as if they don't matter. And the reason you recognized this was because was all familiar to you. It was the same scene you remember playing out on your 12" black-and-white screens decades ago, where protests erupted against an injustice (frequently assault or murder of an unarmed black man) and the resulting police violence shook the conscience of the country.

So you stood with BLM, or at the very least listened and acknowledged when it was explained to you. We appreciate it, truly. We do.

But here's the thing. You're not the only ones we were talking to. And a whole lot of the "all lives matter!" and "not all men!" crowd? They were from your generation. Now, not all of them, certainly. We definitely have our regressive stooges in Gen X and Millenial age groups. But let's be honest, a strong majority of the people raising a ruckus against "these kids today, with their PC woke brigade cancel culture" are members of the Baby Boom generation. And those who aren't? Well...they have the same kind of regressive attitude that comes from being the third generation out.

You know...like your parents and grandparents were when Dylan wrote his song. When your social circle embraced "Don't trust anyone over 30."

There's a frustration that comes from trying to explain something important to people who appear to not wish to listen to you, but are instead spending their time looking for reasons to discredit you, or make you feel inferior, or find any excuse to belittle you and the incredibly important message you're trying to express. When you get to that breaking point, you need a way to ripcord out of the conversation in a way that expresses not only that you're through pretending to maintain civil discourse, but also that you recognize that there was no intent for honest dialogue in the first place. You need a shorthand phrase for "You're a dishonest, condescending jerk who couldn't care less about doing the right thing or about the lives of anyone other than yourself. I am through wasting my time casting pearls before swine. Good day, sir! I SAID GOOD DAY!"

Weinberg felt it in his interview.

You've undoubtedly felt it yourself, countless times.

My generation feels it constantly. And we've come up with a pretty good phrase that encapsulates our frustration with those in power who've apparently forgotten the lessons of the past and are happy to sit in apathy in the middle of the road and never lend a hand.

And that phrase is "Okay, Boomer."

Oof. Yeah.

I know.

It stings. A lot.

And I can hear you screaming at me right now. "How dare you judge us based on our age! This is ageism, pure and simple! It's hate! Not all old people! All ages matter!"

Shhh, shhh, it's okay. You're in a safe space. We're friends. No one is judging you.

See, just like MeToo wasn't denigrating all men, and BLM wasn't saying that non-black lives didn't matter, the use of "Boomer" here is not about age. It's about the same progressive vs regressive divide you experienced when you were young, that was largely drawn along generational lines.

Not all Baby Boomers are "Okay, Boomers," and not all "Okay, Boomers" are Baby Boomers.

If you're with us on the issues, if you're supportive of people's self-identity and fight for equality, then it doesn't matter what age you are. You're gold.

But if you get told "Okay, Boomer," it's not about your age either. You've just been told that your approach to the conversation indicates to the speaker that you don't want to engage on the issues in an open and honest manner.

It means that you've probably hit a blind spot in your experience which is incredibly common and nothing to be ashamed of, but is also something that needs to be addressed.

It means you've upset the person talking to you, and they've given up trying to be reasonable with you.

It's not hate speech. It's not ageism.

It's a wake-up call. For the times, they are a-changin'.

Weinberg aged out of the demographic he framed in his statement 5 years after he made it. But from what I can find online, he continues to this day to fight the good fight. He was an anti-war activist and a union organizer before becoming a champion of environmental issues. He turned 81 earlier this year. A statistical tally in the Silent Generation, he was nonetheless clearly a member of a young Baby Boomer movement in their prime.

You can stick with us. Join your voice to ours like Weinberg joined his voice to your generation's. Like Martin Luther King (born 1929) did. Like Abbie Hoffman (1936), John Lewis (1940), Gloria Steinem (1934), Bertrand Russel (1872)...

There's plenty of room on the right side of history to be an older person that the young'uns can trust, a mentor we can talk to, someone who will actually *listen* to us and help us move the culture forward.

Or you can be someone who embodies the cause of the admonishment "Never trust anyone over 30."

But if you decide to do that, if you choose to close your ears to the pleas of the younger generation because they don't show you deference and respect? Then you're not a Baby Boomer, a phrase once used to dismiss your generation as youthful, idealistic, and unreasonable.

Then you're just an "Okay, Boomer."

71 notes · View notes

arhvste · 4 years ago

Note

dad hcs with your top 3 HQ boys? 😚

my top 3 haikyuu boys? #exciting 😌

KUROO, IWAIZUMI AND ATSUMU AS DADS

KUROO

he’s always wanted 3-4

growing up the only child in the household with his grandparents and father got a little lonely when he wasn’t with kenma

so you, y/n his wonderful and beautiful wife, fill his world with much more joy by bearing his children

you have 3 so far and phew good luck

two boys and a girl

kuroo has already started teaching your kids his trademark catchphrases

to your despair your youngest son’s first words had been “oya oya”

your face dropped while kuroos hyena laugh roared through the house

“wHY WOULD YOU TEACH HIM THAT”

“because bokuto dared me??”

for the first few weeks all you can hear is little mutters and screeches of “oya oya” and it’s driving you ✨insane✨

kuroo is however good with kids

and he will put a stop to it by giving your kid a pacifier to keep quiet

kuroo would love if his kids took an interest in volleyball

but he won’t force it on them

he’ll support whatever they want to do

your kid wants to try ballet? kuroo will buy several pairs of specially made shoes

art? kuroo is more than happy to hire a whole studio for the day

swimming? he’ll have a pool installed in your house

material arts? kuroo will find a ninja to train your kid

he wants to be the best dad he possibly can for his kids

i’m not saying he plays favourites but he does have a soft spot for his little girl

he will absolutely try and encourage her that boys are the worst and she shouldn’t date them until they get his seal of approval

he has a ridiculously high standard for the type of boy your daughter can date

you could be a high achieving graduate, astronaut in training, saved 36 old ladies on the street and a candidate for president

and kuroo would still be like

“is that it? 🙄”

good luck to your daughter then

he is there for every event

his whole schedule will be made around any birthdays, graduations, shows etc

he will make sure of it

he doesn’t care if he’s scheduled a meeting with the highest world leader

if that meeting falls on the same day as his kids sports game he will not be sat in an office chair but rather in the crowd cheering his kid on alongside you

he wants to give his kids the best in life but he also doesn’t want to completely spoil them

he was raised pretty normally so you and him agreed you should try to at least do the same

however when uncle kenma or uncle yaku babysits his kids 👀

“dad uncle kenma bought me a new pc!”

“uncle yaku bought me a pony!”

that’s it

kuroo will spoil tf out of your kids from time to time just to one up his friends

overall he is such a doting dad

yourself and the kids mean the absolute world to him

and he appreciates you to no end for bringing them into this world

together the two raise such humorous, perceptive and successful children

and he couldn’t be more proud of his family

IWAIZUMI

years of practically babysitting oikawa have prepared him for this

he has the patience levels built up

he is also extremely responsible and level headed

the two of you have 1 son who is 4 years old

the toddler has iwaizumi wrapped around his little finger

iwa denies this though

whenever your son misbehaves or makes a mistake (which is rare btw) iwa is looking down at him sternly

“s/n, you know better than this”

but all it takes it one pout and iwaizumi is all soft again and swoops your son into his arms

lmao i just know he’ll teach your son to insult oikawa

“say trash-y-ka-wa! that’s my boy!”

“iwa-chan stop teaching your baby to bully me i can’t even handle it from you alone 😩”

sometimes iwaizumi takes your son to work if you’re feeling particularly tired or have somewhere else to be

he definitely will wear on of those baby carrier harnesses

that’s kinda hot tbh

bokuto and hinata are all over your kid while iwaizumi is trying to train team japan

while he manages to get both players back over he notices his son is missing from the portable baby chair he brought with him

“omi omiiiiii look! baby germs!”

atsumu is running around with your son securely in his arms while sakusa is SPRINTING away from the blonde shouting profanities at him

needless to say, iwaizumi tries not to bring his kid along whenever serious training needs to be done

he will bring him to more laid back sessions though

iwaizumi is THE responsible dad of the year

he cooks, he cleans and he knows how to handle your son

by now your son has started to develop into his personality more

being around his calm and level headed dad has really rubbed off on him

he doesn't get too overexcited and knows how to behave well

there is something that bothers iwaizumi about your son though

his first words

“iwa-chan~”

iwaizumi’s face dropped when the familiar phrase left his sons mouth

“shittykawa i will FLY over to argentina to personally beat you up”

“it’s not MY fault s/n likes hanging out with his uncle tooru 😗”

oikawa is a doting uncle too

whenever he can he visits your family and spends time getting to know your kid

the nickname ‘trashykawa’ did happen to stick though

iwaizumi considered it fair now that your son called his best friend after the nickname he taught him

another dad who would like if his son took up volleyball, but won't force it

your kid does actually pick it up though

and he’s damn good at it

not to be clichè but he will like the position of ace the best

this is to your husband and bokuto’s delight

iwaizumi will be there for every game and will absolutely let him come to work with him more often as he gets older so he can watch pros up close

maybe one day your kid will end up on the very team his father trains

and he’ll be there alongside you cheering him on

ATSUMU

atsumu is blessed with the gift of twin daughters

hey, twins are in his genes it was bound to happen somewhere down the line

his girls are the most precious beings to him

other than you obv

to him, you are his heart, soul and everything inbetween

he treats his girls like princesses

like kuroo, boys are off the table

“oi if ya think you’re bringin boys home you can think again!”

“baby, it’s only their first day of preschool please calm down 😀”

unless these boys can beat him at setting, they’re not allowed within a 48 mile radius of your daughters

he will defo want you to bring them to his games

put them in personalised jerseys and he will be showing them off to his team and the crowd

every point he scores he’s pointing at you and your girls

“THAT ONE WAS FOR YOU MY PRINCESSES!”

when his team wins he will absolutely bring the three of you out onto the court and pull you all in for a tight hug and shower you all with affection for the world to see

your kids take a liking to sakusa believe it or not

they find his presence interesting in comparison to the other msby players

lmao sakusa will show your girls his flexible wrist trick and they’ll giggle in excitement

“uncle omi is so cool!”

hang on a minute

‘UNCLE’ omi???

atsumu is in shock

“how come’s ya nice to em and not to me omi omi?”

“they take after y/n more than you. they're not annoying and gross like you that’s why”

as he’s apart of the dedicated dad society, atsumu will make sure he’s there for every event he can too

if his games fall on the same day as an event with your daughters you can bet ur ass he is there as soon as his game is over

celebratory drinks with the team? not on his watch when his daughter has a dance recital

any moments he misses when he's playing an away match or can’t get out of training he asks you to record so he can watch it back multiple times later

probably cries when he watches your daughter win her sports match or perform in a dance show

his camera roll is FULL of pictures of you and your daughters

insists on posting them all so he can show the world what a beautiful and loving family he has

uncle osamu makes sure he tells your daughters embarrassing stories about their dad

“and then your dad turned around and told the girls to stop squealin like pigs when they were only showin their support”

“wth dad that's so rude 😠”

“thEY MESSED UP MY SERVE SAMU SHUT UP”

your family is raised super close

atsumu always knew he wanted both of your families involved with his daughters upbringing so he makes sure everyone is included and the two girls are familiar with their whole family

it’s important to him that they’re familiar with his volleyball family too

he loves the fact they're so comfortable and familiar with his teammates

uncle bokuto and uncle hinata are a hit with the twin girls

but its uncle omi who takes the crown for favourite

there is never a dull moment in the miya family

and atsumu couldn’t ask for better people to be involved with his daughters upbringing

requests are open!!

631 notes · View notes

notquitetwilight · 4 years ago

Note

Would you mind sharing some headcanons for Irish/American Emmett?? 🥺 What do you think is the story of his parents or like what connection does he have with his identity? Both in Cullanos or in canon?

Irish-American culture seems quite different to Irish culture in a lot of ways (when I was in the US I first heard the term “an Irish goodbye”, which apparently means leaving a place without saying goodbye, and that was so bizarre to me because actual Irish people say goodbye about four times and are still there talking an hour after saying their first 💀) so I’m not entirely sure but I’m gonna project as someone who lived in the US for a period of time and wondered how I’d keep my kids close to my culture if I was to settle there!!!!!! Lol

I know that while a lot of plastic Paddys claim heritage without knowing anything about where their ancestors came from, the country itself, or the culture and instead perpetuate cringe stereotypes about The Old Country™️, there are plenty of Irish-Americans who are closer to their roots, especially when their parents or grandparents were Irish and so an actual Irish person from Ireland had a hand in how they were raised. Given the time and place Canon Emmett is from (Tennessee, 1915), he’s probably more likely to be a descendant of immigrants or indentured servants to the Appalachian region in the 18th Century.

But I like to pretend he was born in NYC or Boston to fresh-off-the-boat parents from Cork (where the McCarthy with a T surname hails from). Cities on the coastal East make a lot of sense, given how many Irish construction workers sailed across the Atlantic there for a better life at that time bc of how poverty-stricken Ireland was while under British rule. And his English forename would still make sense bc English would’ve been widely spoken in Ireland by that point, plus many Irish immigrants would’ve given their American-born kids English names for assimilation purposes.

I like to think of first-gen Emmett’s bedtime stories coming from Irish legends and folklore; his mother telling him about Oisín and Niamh in Tír na nÓg, the Children of Lir, the Salmon of Knowledge and so much more. My personal lil headcanon is that Emmett truly respects the wolf pack and is actually happy when the Cullens finally get to work with them, because they remind him of the stories he grew up listening to about shapeshifters who took the form of wolves (this is a really common thing in Irish mythology).

His surname suggests he’s also Irish Catholic so I find the idea of his mother dragging him to mass or confession hilarious. I can literally picture him in the confession box mumbling “bless me Father for I have sinned” and the priest recognising his voice and smelling the stale alcohol and being like “Christ above, Emmett, what have you done this time?”

We know he was into his drinking, gambling and womanising as a human so I’d say he was consistently threatened with this Irish Mammy favourite:

👆🏻This also fits perfectly with the fandom canon that Emmett calls Esme “Ma”, it’s what many Irish people call their mothers (as fans of Derry Girls will know). Irish mothers also worship their first-born son so I’d say he was such a mama’s boy who adored her and that’s why he adores Esme — he loves that maternal dynamic.

The eldest kids in large Irish families also would’ve had quite a few responsibilities when it came to looking after the younger kids (taking them to school, minding them etc) because both parents had to work to make ends meet and/or bc there were so many kids to be looked after! So I imagine Emmett as a loving older brother who was surprisingly responsible in his care-taking duties. With both this and what I hc about his mother, I find it very hard to get on board with the idea that he just took to his new vampire life with no questions or hesitations. I hc him and Rose having a much more slow-burning romance than they were given, and that they bonded while she grieved her humanity and he grieved his family.

I think it’s really sweet to imagine them spending one of their honeymoons in Ireland, given how his parents likely wouldn’t have been able to ever afford going back once they immigrated. So he’d never have seen the country he heard so much about growing up while human, and I think he’d make it his business to do so as a vampire. Plus it’s such a small island that it’d probably take them 5 mins to run from one side of the coast to the other, meaning they’d fit lots of different parts of the country in on their visit!!!! There’s this Celtic wedding tradition called handfasting which symbolises the binding of two lives by tying the couples’ hands together with knots of cloth (it’s actually where the phrase “tie the knot” comes from!), so I also hc them having an extra lil ceremony to do that while they’re there, maybe in Cork as a nod to his parents. 🥺🥰

102 notes · View notes

aerinsfables · 3 years ago

Note

Part 6 for the Flower Shop AU PLEASEE! I need to know what happens next!!

Flower Shop AU Part 6 below :) In which Warrenessa makes an appearance.

Read part 5 here!

-----

Bracken showed up at the address Seth had given him about ten minutes before the event was scheduled to take place. He’d brought a bouquet of flowers for Kendra’s grandmother, and a green salad he’d made that morning to share with the other attendees. Kendra had told him that he didn’t need to bring anything, but he felt weird about dropping by empty handed.

Almost as soon as he pulled up, he saw Warren leave the front of the house and walk toward him. Bracken exited his car and picked up both the bouquet and the salad bowl as Warren approached and clapped him on the back. “Good to see you again, Bracken,” he said. “I’m glad you could make it.”

“I’m looking forward to getting to know everyone,” Bracken replied.

Warren then pointed to the flowers. “For me? Aww, you shouldn’t have.”

Bracken smiled. “Sorry to disappoint, but I brought these for-“

“You’re moving a little fast if you brought them for Kendra,” Warren interrupted. “She’s not in a good place right now.”

He blinked a few times. “I brought these for her grandmother,” he explained. “This is where Seth and Kendra’s grandparents live, right?”

“Ah. Trying to get into Ruth’s good graces, huh? Smart man. Good approach.”

Before Bracken could reply that he’d simply intended to be polite, Warren led him toward the house and began walking while he spoke some more. “Ruth is inside, or at least she was when you pulled up. Most everyone else is in the backyard. Stan and Scott - Seth and Kendra’s grandpa and dad - are grilling. I’ll introduce you to everyone as we meet them.” He opened the front door and motioned for Bracken to head inside.

The interior of the house was comfortable but also a tad ornate. The floors were made of quality hardwood, a staircase led to a second story, plush rugs were located in stylish locations, and a lot of knick knacks rested in various floating shelves which lined the walls in some spots. Family photos were artfully placed in different spots around the area as well; some hung on walls, some occupied desk or dresser tops. To the left was a living room, and to the right was a hallway which led somewhere Bracken couldn’t see. Overall, the house was quite large and held an inviting atmosphere.

Warren led him through the living room and into the adjoining kitchen which Bracken hadn’t been able to see from the entryway of the house. It was large and spacious, with lots of counter space and what was apparently a walk-in pantry. “Ruth,” Warren called, and an older woman came out of said pantry.

“Oh, hello there,” she greeted with a warm smile and a wave of her hand. “Warren, who is this handsome fellow?”

“This is Bracken,” Warren said. “Bracken, this is Ruth. Kendra and Seth’s grandma.”

“Pleased to meet you,” Bracken said. He offered the bouquet to her. “These are for you. Thank you for permitting me into your home.”

“Ooh, he brought a gift! Well, these are certainly beautiful. Thank you. Make yourself at home. Most everyone’s out in the backyard. Show him around, will you, Warren?” She sniffed at the flowers and smiled again. “I’ll put these in some water!”

Warren grinned and patted Bracken on the back again. “Okay, you little suck-up, let’s take you out back to meet the others.”

Ruth clicked her tongue at that remark. “It wouldn’t hurt you to bring me flowers every so often,” she said. “You just come here to raid my kitchen.”

A chuckle left Warren’s body and he walked over to embrace Ruth, who swatted at him the whole time in a manner which suggested to Bracken that she was clearly very fond of him, and they were used to bantering with each other. He smiled. Warren pulled away from Ruth and walked away, then motioned for Bracken to follow. “This way,” he said as he opened another door which led outside.

The backyard was quite large, with a spacious deck connected to the house, steps leading down to a grass lawn where a volleyball net had been set up, a pool off to the far left, and a fire pit to the right. Bracken noticed two men standing near a nice grill on the deck, Seth was at the volleyball net with someone Bracken didn’t know, and Kendra sat near the unlit fire pit with Dale and three other women. Warren led Bracken toward the two men who were cooking hamburgers and chicken at the moment, and introduced him to them. “Stan, Scott, this is Bracken. He works at the flower shop across the street from our cafe. Bracken, this is Kendra’s dad and grandpa.”

He waved at them, probably a little awkwardly, and said, “It’s nice to meet you both. Thank you for allowing me to be here today.”

Scott smiled. “Friends of my children are always welcome.”

Warren then pointed at the volleyball net. “You know Seth. Looks like he’s getting ready to start a game. That’s Tanu over there with him. Come with me, I’ll introduce you to the ladies. Oh, but first - ditch the salad over there.” He gestured toward a picnic table which was laden with other foods; chips, fruit, cookies, hamburger and hotdog buns, potato salad and the like. Bracken did as instructed, then walked with Warren to the fire pit.

“Hello, ladies and Dale,” Warren greeted. Bracken did not miss the mildly exasperated look which crossed Dale’s face. “This is Bracken. He works at the flower shop across the street from the cafe. Cool guy. Brought a salad to a barbeque, but you know. Whatever.”

“Don’t be mean,” Kendra tutted. She then waved at Bracken and pointed at a spot next to her. “You can sit here.”

“I was just teasing,” Warren said. “He helped get rid of Gavin earlier this week. I did actually mean it when I said he’s a cool guy.”

“Ah, so you’re the man who helped my daughter,” one of the women spoke up. She walked over to Bracken and laid a gentle hand on his forearm. “I’m Marla, Kendra’s mother. Thank you for interfering the other day.”

“It was no trouble,” Bracken replied. He could feel his face heating up a little. “I did what anyone in my position would’ve done.”

“No, honey. Most people probably would’ve just sat back and watched, or recorded the event with their phones. You and Warren really made a difference.”

He wasn’t sure what to say in response, so he went for his usual phrase when he received compliments from strangers or new acquaintances. “Thank you for your kind words. I was happy to help.”

“Come, join us,” Marla invited. “The spot next to Kendra is open. We can chat while we wait for food to be ready.”

Bracken made his way over to the empty space and sat down. Kendra gave him a somewhat weak smile and he gave one back to her, then mumbled, “You okay?”

She nodded her head. “I’ll introduce you to everyone here. To your left is Mara, then Vanessa, my mom, and Dale tells me that you already know each other.”

He waved at everyone and said, “It’s nice to meet you all.”

Mara looked like she didn’t really care whether he was there or not, Vanessa looked at him as though she was trying to gage how much of a threat he was going to be, Marla’s smile was sweet, and Dale gave him a friendly nod. He could deal with Mara’s indifference, but Vanessa’s glaring was uncomfortable to endure.

Warren stepped in and wrapped his arms around Vanessa. “Don’t mind this one,” he said. “Her bark is worse than her bite.”

“I haven’t said anything,” she retorted.

“You’re doing that suspicious sizing up thing you like to do. It’s intimidating,” Warren replied. “Cut the guy some slack. He’s the one who made the good riddance flowers.”

Marla laughed, while Mara and Vanessa seemed to look at him in a slightly different light; Mara seemed perhaps a little more interested, and Vanessa’s glare felt a little less deadly. Maybe.

“That arrangement was perfect,” Marla complimented. “Hilarious. Kendra sent pictures. Did you really fill it with loose glitter?”

“That part was up to her,” Bracken said. “Did you? I didn’t even ask my mother.”

Kendra nodded but didn’t say anything. Warren spoke up instead. “I hope he realized the glitter problem when he was in the middle of his living room, and I hope he never gets it all the way out of the carpet.”

“Agreed,” Marla said.

“I still say it wouldn’t have been a tragedy for him to die,” Mara added.

“I punched him in his face,” Warren said in a defensive tone.

Mara shrugged. “He could’ve died. I’m just saying.”

“Murder might be pressing a bit too far,” Dale stated.

Warren stroked the stubble on his chin. “She’s right. I probably should’ve accidentally pushed him into traffic.”

Bracken noticed that Kendra seemed to shrink into herself a little as the conversation progressed. He tried to think of a way to change the subject, but failed to come up with anything. He needn’t have worried about it, though, because it seemed that someone else had picked up the same memo.

“Ugh. Go play volleyball with Seth and Tanu,” Vanessa said to Warren.

“What did I do?“ Warren whined.

“Seth!” Vanessa shouted. “Come get your cousin!”

Tanu held the ball in his hands and both he and Seth turned their attention to Vanessa.

“Oh, hey, Bracken!” Seth called and waved in a summoning motion. “Come play with us!”

“I told you to grab your cousin,” Vanessa emphasized.

“Warren! Get over here so we can play two on two!” Tanu said.

Vanessa turned toward Warren with what looked like an extremely insincere smile on her face. “Your presence has been requested at the volleyball net.”

Warren rolled his eyes. “Fine, I can tell when I’m not wanted. Bracken, you coming?”

Bracken hesitated before standing up, as he felt concerned for Kendra and wanted to make sure she was doing alright. She looked at him and gave him a soft smile, then waved and pointed to her brother.

“I hope you like volleyball,” she said. “Watch out for Seth. He likes to cheat.”

“I do not!” Seth protested.

Warren leaned closer to Bracken and whispered in a conspiratorial voice, “He really does.” He then pushed Bracken’s shoulder and led him toward the volleyball net.

---

Part 7 is here!

#fablehaven #brackendra #side warrenessa #aerinm writes #flower shop au #sorry i'm a day later than i said i would be

27 notes · View notes

earthstellar · 4 years ago

Text

TFP Megatronus x Orion Pax Experimental Concept Playlist: The Timescale of Cybertronian Lives + Music from 1890 - 2021

I know there are tons of playlists for these characters out there, but I’m trying to do something a little less conventional with this one; Please hear me out!

Two Playlists in One: Love Throughout The Ages

The first half of this playlist is almost all new music mixed in with some hits from the 60s, 70s, 80s, etc. to give variety, plus tracks from different genres so that hopefully everyone has a song they can enjoy in there somewhere.

For the second half of the playlist, I wanted to emphasise the idea of how long the war on Cybertron has been going on for, and just how old this conflict and the people involved actually are.

Cybertronian Timescale: Long Lives and The Perception of Time

We think of the Orion Pax / Megatronus stage of their relationship as being relatively brief, which it was in comparison to how long the war has been going on for as of TFP, but these are people who live for centuries. The scope of that is staggering.

Optimus Prime and Megatron have known each other personally (either positively or negatively) for longer than modern human civilisation has existed.

So to me, the best way to touch on that idea of time, musically, is to have the first half of the playlist be modern music, remixes, etc. and then the second half is well known and lesser known hits throughout early radio/TV (with many tracks on this playlist pre-dating those forms of media as well).

What’s on the Playlist, Then?

My grandmother was born in 1914, and her music collection spans nearly 100 years. It’s all good stuff.

I have included some of her favourites, which she always called her “sweetheart jingles”, on this soundtrack. I think many of them work surprisingly well for the Megatronus/Orion Pax relationship.

Many of these songs will probably be unknown by the vast majority of people who might want to listen to this playlist, which is also appealing to me. (I hope if this is your first time hearing some of these, that you enjoy a few of them!)

My parents were born in 1944, and I remember all of the classics they would play; Some of those tracks will be more recognisable as this was the era when radio and TV became far more common and accessible, but I picked the tracks that I think best apply to the pairing and the relationship between the two characters at that point in their lives.

The link to the playlist is below after some notes on Cybertronian language evolution!

Quick Thought: Cybertronian Language Over Time and Era Specific Speech Patterns

While thinking about my grandmother’s music collection as I assembled this playlist, I thought about some of the words and phrases she used commonly that are now totally non-existent in modern conversational English.

She had what would probably sound to most people like “1930s radio voice” or a more Trans-Atlantic Accent way of speaking; She grew up in the Northeast USA and so she had a very distinctive way of stressing the vowels in words. It’s not just the words themselves, or how they were pronounced, but the tone and pace of speech was also very different.

This got me thinking about Cybertronians, age, and speech:

Bots as old as Ratchet may have grown up with a totally different spoken language version of Cybertronian, and we already know that there are regional dialects, multiple written forms (glyphs), and era-specific types of Cybertronian language.

But the way they speak, as I mentioned above with the stressing of vowels and the tone and pace of speech, might still be different due to the different eras, even after language packs/programs are downloaded and updated periodically as needed. We already know Cybertronians have regional accents, so it stands that generational accents would also possibly exist as well.

Such a difference in speech patterns could possibly be used as a primary indicator of relative age on Cybertron, as physically they don’t age in the sense human beings do.

Back to the Playlist: Link + Track List + Notes on Audio Prior to 1930

The playlist is here on YouTube.

Scroll down to get to the second half (oldies section) if that’s what you’re here for!

Please note that the songs are not arranged in any particular order aside from the first half being newer music and the second half being far older music.

Also note, where original recordings are available on YouTube for some of the older songs, I have used those original recording versions.

However, keep in mind that there may be a couple seconds of “fuzz” at the top (start) of those older tracks, because they have been recorded from records or wax cylinders, which are formats of music that typically had a “pause” on the track to allow for needle and speed calibration when playing them manually. Modern records don’t do this in quite the same way and nobody uses wax cylinders anymore, but older records typically did. If this bothers you, skip ahead about two seconds or so, and it will resolve.

Tempo may seem slightly “fast” on two of the tracks due to difficulties with the medium and modern recording tech/methods, and one track has some persistent “fuzz” throughout due to the original recording being rare and therefore it is a “best copy available” type archival recording, but otherwise I’ve managed to find the clearest audio possible for the vast majority of the older songs!

(Fun music note, the “click track” in modern digital music was partially inspired by the clicking of the needle hitting the “countdown grooves” on old cylinders and records, which creates an audible mild clicking sound as the needle finds the groove and provides time for usually a half rotation or full rotation of the record before the track actually begins to allow for adjustment before the music starts! If the clicking is too fast, dial down the rotation speed, for example.

This itself was inspired by classical metronomes as well as the actual physical method of playing the music in this way, but it’s cool to see how this persists throughout musical history even now when we don’t need the click for digital production for quite the same reasons/applications. It’s all about timing, no matter the medium or era!)

Due to the method of how some player piano rolls were credited, often by roll company and not by individuals, the actual artist name is often not available for those tracks. Where possible and where known, I have included credits to the artists/musicians. I have done my best to research and find the artists in these recordings.

I have also included orchestrions and other “automated” music in addition to a player piano track as I think it’s interesting; These are often very old compositions being played on these machines, and as such are designed to reflect the earliest days of their relationship.

Songs range from the years 1890 to 2021, and I will add more as I manage to find YouTube videos with some of the older songs I’m still looking for.

By the way, if you need a love song for like an actual partner or crush that you have, I’m just going to say it now and point out that a lot of these classics are great to use in real life for cute purposes. My partner of ten years agrees, and my grandparents were married for over 60 years and sang many of these daily, so obviously something here works well. You’re welcome. ;)

Below the cut is a track list of the second half of the playlist, as it’s 7 AM and I’d like to emphasise the “classics” section here as it’s the central theme of the concept.

I will add to this list as more tracks are added:

You’re the Top - Cole Porter

What is this Thing Called Love - Leslie Hutchinson

I Get a Kick Outta You - Cole Porter

Puttin on the Ritz - Phil Spitalny Orchestra

What a Day - Carl Fenton

Come Fly With Me - Frank Sinatra

Earth Angel - The Penguins

Ring a Ding Ding - Frank Sinatra

In my Merry Oldsmobile - Billy Murray

Singin in the Rain - Gene Kelly

Dream a Little Dream of Me - Doris Day

Unforgettable - Nat King Cole

Can’t Help Falling in Love - Elvis Presley

Good Golly Miss Molly - Little Richard

Bei Mir Bist du Schoen - The Andews Sisters

Shine on Harvest Moon - Ruth Etting

1920s Dance Sequence from Don’t Knock the Rock

In the Mood -Glen Miller Orchestra

Dream Lover - Bobby Darin

When the Ragtime Army Goes Away to War (Artist Unknown)

After You’ve Gone - J. Lawrence Cook

My Sin (Artist Unknown)

Flick Flack by Albert Vossen (Unsure; Song + Artist Unknown; Orchestrion)

Lotosblumen Walzer by E. Ohlsen (Hupfeld Violina)

Waltz no.2 - Dmitri Shostakovich

Jupiter - Gustav Holst

Love Potion no. 9 - The Clovers (Please note, this song mentions the word “g*psy” once in the beginning of the track. Skip this song if you would prefer not to hear it; I have done my best to only include songs that are friendly to the modern listener, but where needed I will make annotations such as this one to ensure nobody has to hear anything potentially offensive, as is unfortunately often the case with older music/lyrics.)

Come a Little Bit Closer - Jay and the Americans

Sh-Boom - The Crew Cuts

Oh Boy - Buddy Holly

#long post #playlist #megop #megops #cybertronian culture #transformers #transformers prime #tfp #maccadam #maccadams #megatron #optimus prime #orion pax #music #concept playlist #megatronus

36 notes · View notes

imherongraystairstrash · 4 years ago

Text

Gabrily, Anna and Kit (A fic)

A/N: It can’t be. Ana? Posting a fic? After all of this time?! Yes, it’s true. Sorry for not posting in such a long time :(

A quick side note though: I found this post on my dash about using these symbols for sarcasm for Neurodiverse folk, so that’s what those ANs in the middle of the fic are <3

/s = sarcasm

/srs = serious

Cecily and Gabriel were supposed to be training, but instead they were kissing furiously up against a wall. Gabriel was gliding his hands up and down Cecily’s body, and she was trying very hard to keep from moaning in pleasure. It was so rare they had a moment to themselves that, when they did, it was like they were two stars that could not be put out. Cecily felt like she was sixteen again.

“MAM!” A child yelled from a distance.

They broke apart and looked toward the closed door. When nothing else came, Cecily turned Gabriel’s head back to her.

“It’s probably nothing.” She said. Children weren’t exactly known for distinguishing emergencies from something that is not so urgent.

Gabriel’s eyes drifted toward the door before coming back to meet Cecily’s and nodded.

He leaned in and they were kissing once more. Cecily intertwined her hands at the nape of his head. Gabriel lifted her so that she rested on his hips. She began running her fingers through his soft, curling hair.

“PAPA!” Another yell sounded. “MAM! COME QUICK!”

Cecily sighed and let her forehead fall on Gabriel’s shoulder. She felt him shrug it so that her head bounced lightly against his neck.

“Let’s see what’s the matter.”

Cecily lifted up her head, kissed him quickly, and put her hands on his shoulders. He let her slide down to the ground, his hands lingering on her hips.

“They better be calling for something important.” Cecily said.

...

It was, in fact, important.

“By the angel,” Gabriel breathed, his grip tightening around Cecily’s hand.

“What are you two doing?!”

“We got stuck!” Anna yelled down.

Stuck indeed. Gabriel and Cecily’s toddlers were clinging on the ceiling beams. Anna was standing, hands spread out to keep her balance. Kit was sitting down behind her, playing with a stuffed toy.

“Yes, darling, we can see that,” Cecily said.

Gabriel simply opened and closed his mouth in surprise. “H-how?”

Cecily shrugged, “I have no clue, but we should probably find a way to get them down before they get hurt.”

“Good idea.” Gabriel said, bending down to lift her up.

Cecily, not having realized what Gabriel was doing, flailed when he picked her up.

“GABRIEL!”

“Sorry,” he said, wincing.

Once Cecy found her balance, she reached up to grab the wood beam that ran across the ceiling.

“A little bit higher,” she said, and Gabriel lifted her higher. A bit too high, as she ducked out of the way to avoid getting hit on the head. She held back a laugh. She loved him so much.

Cecy put her palms facedown on the wood and hoisted herself up, swinging a leg over on the beam, so that she was straddling it. She tried not to look down as she got to her feet, and began escalating the walls, making her way to the old chandelier that was close by. Gabriel followed from below, ready to catch her if, on the unexpected occasion, she fell.

“Mama!” Anna called.

“Hello, bach.” she smiled.

Cecily stood back and ran down the beam, flinging herself onto one of the chandelier’s rungs. She swung on the chandelier, gaining impulse by swinging her legs, and flung herself to the other side, landing in a crouch. She caught Anna’s gaze.

“If you ever try that,” she told her daughter, “I will hang you from your legs.”

Anna nodded, wide-eyed.

Cecily smiled and began crossing the distance between them.

Soon, she got close enough that Anna came running to her. Cecily caught her in her arms and kissed the top of her head.

She cradled Anna’s lithe body against her own before looking at her sternly in the eyes.

“Do you want to explain to me why you and your brother are on the ceiling boards?”

“We were getting Bunny.” Anna said.

Cecily sighed.

Bunny is a stuffed animal that Gideon and Sophie gifted Anna with when she was born. Anna then gave it to her brother when he was born. Bunny is not strictly old, but after washing it so many times, poor Bunny was on the verge of loosing one of it’s ears.

“Next time, you call your father or myself, and we will get Bunny down without the risk of you two getting injured. Yes?”

“All right, Mama.”

Christopher was still straddling the beam, grabbing on to it with both hands, but not in any sort of danger, nor did he look frightened at the idea of staying there a while longer. In fact, he seemed content to look at the world from up there, swinging his legs and waving at Gabriel when he caught sight of him.

“Christopher, stay there. I will be right back.”

Anna looked over her shoulder as Cecily picked her up.

“Where are we going, Mam?”

Cecily exchanged a look with Gabriel, communicating wordlessly.

“To get you down.”

Anna looked confused which prompted Cecily to change the subject before Anna began asking deeper into how she was going to get down.

“Anna bach, are you excited to visit your grandparents for Christmas?”

“Yes!” Anna exclaimed, “I’ve been practicing my Welsh.” she grinned, showing all of her teeth.

“Is that so? I’m sure your grandmother will be overjoyed to hear that.”

Anna smiled even wider.

Cecily smiled back at her and kissed Anna’s forehead. “Close your eyes.”

Anna obliged with alacrity.

Then, Cecily released her.

Anna didn’t have time to scream before she fell into her father’s arms.

She made a small hmph at the impact, and then smiled up at father.

“Can we do that again?”

Gabriel shook his head. “You are forbidden from doing something like that ever again.”

Anna frowned, but she soon forgot of her woes and skipped away, muttering phrases in what Cecily assumed was Welsh from the occasional lilt she heard.

Cecily turned and began walking back to the place where the beam met the wall to retrieve her son. She was relieved Anna didn’t scream on her way down, for it surely would have made Christopher back away from her now. Instead, his eyes followed hers, and he tilted his head back when she stood in front of him. She knelt down and looked into the lavender eyes that were the same as her mother’s.

“Are you ready to go on an adventure?”

Christopher, who did not talk much, simply held out his arms for her to pick him up, his fist clutching Bunny’s body. Cecily picked him up and kissed his cheek softly as she walked the length of the beam.

She held Christopher over the edge.

“No!” she heard Gabriel call.

“Were you not ready?”

Gabriel said something that sounded like “childhood trauma”.

Cecily rolled her eyes. “That’s irrelevant. Look at Anna, she’s fine.”

Gabriel glanced at his daughter, who was still skipping around the room.

“Anna is older, Christopher is a baby.”

Cecily sighed and looked into Christopher’s eyes. “Your father is a pain in my you-know-what.”

She surveyed her opinions, furrowing her eyebrows while she mapped out her route for descent. She smiled to herself in satisfaction and confidence. She opened her gear jacket and placed Christopher inside before closing it up again. He looked at her through lavender eyes.

“Are you ready?”

Christopher simply stared at her.

“Can you say ‘yes mam’?”

Christopher blinked. Cecily smiled regardless.

“Hold on to your bunny,” she said, half to herself.

She made her decent, occasionally speaking to get Christopher’s attention when he started leaning farther out than she wished.

She was nearing the ground when Kit got excited over something he saw (perhaps Gabriel) and leaned far out enough to tip over. Cecily panicked and let go, grabbing hold of him with one of her hands. Had she been higher off the ground and alone, they probably both would have gotten seriously injured. Thankfully, Gabriel took Christopher and sat him down on the floor, allowing for Cecily to jump down the rest of the way.

By the time she landed, Kit was already crawling away in the direction of his sister.

“Goodness, look at what becoming a mother has done to me. All I do is panic.” Cecily said.

“Yes, you panic once a week. Definitely all of the time.” (A/N: /s)

“Well, compared to how much I used to panic over things, this is a drastic change.”

“Well, I cannot argue with that.” (A/N: /srs)

Cecily and Gabriel watch their children as they play. Anna was holding Bunny’s paws and spinning in a circle, making it seem like Bunny was flying. Kit was giggling on the floor next to her.

“What is all this about ‘childhood trauma’?”

Gabriel shrugged. “When I young, my father pushed me off of a tree in an attempt to teach me how to ‘fall’”

“What happened?”

“I broke my legs.”

Cecily felt her eyes widen.“Both?!”

“Yes, both. It was quite a fall. The point is, every time I have to jump from a high distance, I cannot help but think about that day.”

“You never told me,” Cecily said.

“I haven’t really told anyone. The only person who knows is Gideon.”

Cecily felt a tug at her heartstrings.

“Do you want a hug?”

Gabriel made a grunting noise.

“A hug?”

“Yes. To make you feel better.”

“Um,”

Cecily wrapped her arms around him. Gabriel was stiff.

“This is for all of the hugs your father never gave you.”

He was still for a moment, before he wrapped his arms around Cecily and leaned down to put his head on her shoulder.

It was hard for Cecily to appreciate the few things Benedict Lightwood did well in his life. She hated him for he had done to his sons and daughter. But she also knew that Gabriel had loved him, and that she never met Benedict. She couldn’t judge him based on the stories she’d heard of him, nor was it her place to tell Gabriel how horrible she thought his father was. She wouldn’t like it if he said such things about her parents. She’d decided long ago that Gabriel’s feelings on his father were his own.

Gabriel pulled away after a while and Cecily looked down to find Kit hugging his leg. She laughed as Gabriel lifted him. When Anna came, Cecily picked her up as well.

“I would be angry with you if I did not love you so much.” She told her daughter.

Anna replied by hugging her.

“I have a question,” Gabriel said. “How did you two even get up there?”

“Yes, I was wondering that myself.”

“Oh,” Anna said. “We took the balcony and walked the railing.”

Cecily sighed. “Why did you not tell us?”

“I thought you knew.”

“By the angel. Our children are already more intelligent than we are.”

Gabriel smiled. “We already knew that Cecy.”

Tagging (if you want me to remove or add you, please send me a dm):

@sankalina @kit-12 @tsccreatorsnet @hitheresomeoneusingthus

#gabrily #gabriel lightwood #cecily herondale #christopher lightwood #anna lightwood #cecily x gabriel #gabrily kids #herondale-lightwood #tsc #cassandra clare #tsc fanfic #tlh fanfiction #tlh fanfic #tid fanfiction #tsc fanfiction #the last hours fanfic #the infernal devices fanfic #gabrily fanfic

61 notes · View notes

broadstbroskis · 5 years ago

Text

surprises- pt 3 | mat barzal

hi again, back with part three! thanks for reading so far💜

warnings: umm a not great family, mentions of quarantine

part 2

-----

Team Baby

Tito Beauvillier: today?

Mat Barzal: for fucks sake what did i tell you at praccy?

Tito Beauvillier: i was asking yn not you mathew thanks for your garbage opinion

Molly Sutton: omg are we telling people?

Mat Barzal: NO

Brian Kelley: You are no fun, sir.

Molly Sutton: he’s practicing dad duties

Tito Beauvillier: 😂😂😂😂

You: no one is saying anything until we talk to both parents

Molly Sutton: you got it momma

Tito Beauvillier: 👍

Mat Barzal: are you fucking kidding me?

Mat Barzal named the conversation “fuck off motherfuckers”.

Tito Beauvillier named the conversation “team baby”.

You put your hand onto Mat’s. “Don’t.”

He groans. “I still can’t believe they made fucking t-shirts.”

“Can’t you?” You raise an eyebrow at him

Mat hesitates. “Okay, I can.”

“Just need to make sure my brother never finds out.” You drum your fingers on the restaurant table. “He’s going to be all over that fucking t-shirt.”

“You have a brother?” Mat asks. You nod. “Is uh, is he coming tonight?” He’s looking across the table at the two chairs across from you, waiting for your parents to arrive (fashionably late, per usual).

You burst into laughter and Mat looks at you in clear confusion. “I texted him, but I never heard back. He’s a little bit of a drifter.”

“What is this, the 1930’s?” Mat gives you a look. “Honestly, a drifter?”

You ignore that in favor of continuing on with your family traumas. “On the bright side, Chris has already locked down the role of family disappointment so a grandchild should just get like a pursed lip and a cool nod.” You tell him.

The look on Mat’s face at that is what makes you realize he’s actually unfamiliar with your family. There’d been no reason to bring them up to him before; you didn’t really like talking about your parents as it was and while you adored your older brother, he was so flaky you were lucky if he responded to a text every month. “Are you going to be okay tonight?” Mat asks carefully, moving his hand to squeeze yours softly in support,

“I usually drink before dinners like this, which cuts back on a lot of the sarcasm.” You admit. “But obviously, that won’t be happening.” Mat squeezes your hand again and smiles at you weakly. “I’m sorry.” You tell him, spying your parents walk in the door.

He frowns. “For what?”

“For whatever they might say.” You say grimly, standing up to greet your parents.

You can tell right away that your parents don’t like Mat and you wish you could say you were surprised. It’s in the way they introduce themselves as Don and Karen, in the handshake Mat offers your dad that’s just barely returned. In the tone your mom doesn’t bother to disguise as she responds to Mat’s “nice to meet you,” with a dripping “pleasure.”

Mat handles the whole thing like a pro, keeping his placating smile in place the entire time, but you’re seething internally as you all start searching through the menu, and so when your dad mentions something about ordering a couple bottles of wine, you seize the opportunity.

“I can’t because I’m pregnant, but you all enjoy!” Mat is frozen next to you, his media smile still on his face, but it’s the look on your parents faces’ that you relish. The shock, the disbelief...the disappointment.

It feels like the moment couldn’t get any better for you but then the host arrives at the table, with a familiar figure-horribly underdressed for the fancy restaurant in jeans and t-shirt and his long hair pulled back into a bun. “What’d I miss?” Your brother grins, pulling a chair from the empty table next to you, before the host can do it for him.

“You’re going to be an uncle!” You grin at Chris.

Chris returns the grin. “Hey, sweet!”

“Sweet?” Your mom hisses. “This is not sweet! This is so far from sweet, Christopther!”

You watch as she stands and storms out and then look over at your dad, who shakes his head and sighs, before following at a much more leisurely pace after throwing a couple bills on the table. “Well,” You say mildly, as Chris relocates his seat at the table. “That went better than expected.”

“That was better than expected?” Mat asks incredulously.

“No one cried; that was a win!” You tell him.

“The bar has been set so low for when we tell my parents.”

“Now do you understand why I insisted we tell mine first?”

He laughs. “ Yeah. I got it now.”

The two of you are interrupted by your brother slapping his menu shut. “Let’s blow this place and grab a pizza. I’m dying for good pizza.”

Mat’s up for that in an instant, standing and offering his hand to you before Chris even finishes his sentence. You laugh, gripping his hand for the assist and joining in the discussion of where you should place the order from. Chris makes the call and you feel a squeeze of your palm, looking down and realizing it’s still engulfed in Mat’s.

“I’m sorry this went so shitty.” He says softly.

You shrug. “I really wasn’t expecting it to go well.”

He squeezes your hand again. “Doesn’t mean it wasn’t shitty.”

You lean forward to rest your forehead against his shoulder, happy when his other hand moves to rest on your back, just craving the comfort he provides. “Thanks.”

-----

Mat’s family is due to arrive in town on Friday afternoon and you’ve scheduled the entire weekend. There’s family time for them to catch up, they’ll be able to catch Mat’s afternoon game on Saturday, and you’ll pop over for dinner afterwards for you and Mat to share the big news.

But because timing is a bitch, you run into Mat and his family as you’re walking out of the elevator after coming home from work, and they’re bringing their bags into his place. There’s a moment when you stop walking completely, which might have gone unnoticed had Mat not stopped what he was doing too, which has his mom turning to look at you. “Hello!” She waves immediately, and that brings the attention of his dad and sister over to you as well.

Fuck, what are their names? Mat’s told you, multiple times. “Hi.” You say back, trying to buy yourself some time.

Something clicks in Mat and he waves you over, even though each step closer to his parents makes you more anxious. Like they’ll know just by you standing close enough to them.

Mat swears they’re going to take the news of a grandchild well; you’re just skeptical of that. How could they? This can’t be what they had planned for their son.

Mat makes introductions and you smile at all of them, eager to make a better impression than you had at the elevator. “So you’re a friend of Mat’s?” Nadia, his mom, asks.

“Um, yeah.” You watch as she and Mike, his dad, exchange a knowing look, and feel the panic grow in your stomach. “I should-”

“You should join us for dinner tonight!” Nadia grins excitedly.

“Oh, um.”

“You should.” Mat says quickly and there’s nothing saying otherwise when you meet his eyes, so you nod.

“Let me just go change real quick.” You point at your door. “And, um, I’ll be right over.”

“Great.” Nadia smiles.

Molly laughs at how long it takes you to change- to find something that is comfortable, doesn’t outright show the tiny belly that doesn’t quite seem to go away now, and still cute enough to make a good first impression on your future child’s grandparents-but eventually you make your way back across the hall, flipping her off one last time as you make your way out the door.

“Since when do you knock?” Mat frowns, when he swings the door open.

“Since your parents are here.” You admit; you’d been unsure of what the protocol was. You two hadn’t bothered with knocking on doors since you’d been quarantined together. Even afterwards, when you’d settled back as friends and then with all this going on, you’d still just barged back and forth. But it somehow felt different when his family was there.

“I told you not to worry.” Mat grabs your hand and pulls you inside. “Come on, let’s just go do it.”

“Now?”

“Yeah, like ripping a bandaid off.”

This is...so not what you’ve prepared for. This was not the plan.

This is pure Mat. Ready to go on the rush, to switch up the play and go with his gut, and you realize looking up at him, you’ve got complete faith in him. If he thinks it’s the right move, you’re going to trust him. “Okay.” You agree.

Mat smiles, squeezing your hand. “It’ll be okay.”

He’s incredibly calm for this, so reassuring, considering what the two of you were about to walk in and tell his parents, and it’s that that has you nodding along.

Mat’s mom actually starts beaming when you and Mat walk into the living room, hand in hand. You watch it slowly fall off her face as Mat struggles to find the words and you can’t take it anymore. “I’m pregnant.” You announce and then wince at the silence in the room. “Uh, we? We’re pregnant.” You wince at the phrasing, but Mat smiles, squeezing your hand.

Mat’s sister recovers first, and with all the innocence of a younger sibling, she rushes over to the two of you and throws her arms around you. “Congrats!” Liana gushes. “Oh my god, this is amazing!”

Mat manages a full grin at her but you can only give her the smallest of smiles as you pull away, eyes more focused on Mat’s parents, who haven’t moved yet. “Li, can you give us a minute?” Mat doesn’t give her the option to say no, as he catches sight of you watching his parents, and shoves her gently towards his kitchen.

“What? Wait!” She whines, but goes willingly, leaving you and Mat alone with his parents.

“Look, we obviously didn’t plan this,” Mat says, addressing his parents, more than you.

His mom interrupts him. “Are you okay?” She looks at you, concerned.

Thrown off at the abruptness of her question, you look over at Mat, who looks equally confused, but gestures for you to answer. “Yeah.” You nod. “I’m good.”

She gives you a look, then pats the seat next to her, which you move over to slowly. “It has been many years since I was last pregnant, but I do remember the first few months and how I felt during them.” She smiles at you and wraps her arm around your shoulders. “You don’t have to lie.”

You can’t help but laugh because you’re tired and nauseous and just feeling a little bit bloated all the time. “It’s not terrible.”

Nadia squeezes your shoulders. “Good.”

Mat’s dad has yet to say a thing, and you’d been worried about how he’d react to the news, knowing how close he and Mat are, but when you sneak a peek over at him, he’s smiling at you wrapped under his wife’s arm. “Well I can’t say I thought it’d be this soon.” Mike grins. “But I am certainly going to enjoy watching you chase a kid around. I hope they’ve got even half your energy so you know what you put your mother and I through.”

“Constantly moving!” Nadia recalls.

“Wow, thanks guys,” Mat huffs at them.

“This is the joy of grandchildren.” His dad laughs and his mom squeezes your shoulders as Mike continues and you’re ready to cry at how wonderful they are. “You get to give them back!”

“What, so you’re not going to babysit?” Mat asks.

“Oh, anytime sweetheart!” Nadia smiles. “Although, I think your sister might fight us for that.”

Mat laughs. “Yeah, probably.”

“Better her than my brother.” You add.

“Probably also true.” Mat laughs again.

Nadia smiles. “Let’s go pick out dinner and you can tell us more about this.”

-----

One minute you were in pajamas, the next minute Mat’s mom and sister were banging on your door and insisting you get dressed to join them at his game that afternoon.

They refused to take no for an answer, which is how you found yourself tugging a spare Barzal jersey over your head, the same as Mat’s family all wore, as you, Mat’s parents, and his sister waited for your uber. “Are you sure? I don’t want to intrude on your family time.”

“Nonsense.” Nadia waves it off. “You are family now.”

Which really only serves to set you off and you then spend the entire ride over to the game trying not to cry. She can’t possibly know what it means to you for them to be so open and accepting, but it’s everything.

And if you weren’t in awe of this family the night before, you certainly are now. You’ve seen supportive families before, but to actually feel included and a part of one is something else entirely. These hormones are going to kill you; there’s at least five occasions where you almost have to stand up and leave a hockey game because you’re about to cry.

It ends, finally, and you join Mat’s family in waiting for him in the family room, where they’re quickly roped into a conversation to catch up with some of the people already waiting. Not at all eager to bring the spotlight to who you are or why you’re here, you slip your phone out of your purse and lean against the wall, looking back to where your last text with Molly left off.

“Hi!” A pair of arms wraps around your stomach.

“Hi, babe!” You don’t bother to turn around and greet Tito.

He’s frozen though, his hands stuck on the small pouch of stomach. “Oh my god, she’s an actual belly!” He grins.

“Tito!” You do turn at that, and you want to be annoyed because he still hasn’t taken his hand off your stomach and that he continues to refer to the baby as a she even though there’s zero evidence of that fact currently, but his face is caught somewhere between a grin and pure shock and you slow your roll. “You know it’s only going to get bigger, right?”

“Yeah, obviously!” He says. “I just...it didn’t seem real until now, I guess.”

You stare at him flatly. “You had t-shirts made about that fact that it was real.”

“Didn’t seem real.” He repeats, still looking at your stomach in awe.

The look you give him after that will go down in the history books, but you’re interrupted by one of his teammates. “Hey man, you coming to-holy shit!”

“No!” You exclaim quickly. “That’s not-this isn’t-just no!”

Whichever teammate this is bursts into laughter and Tito finally pulls his hand back. “Wow, YN, say that a little faster next time!”

“Cannot stress this enough!” You repeat. “You had t-shirts. T-shirts. Made.”

“Listen, I know my flow’s not as good as Barzy’s but-” You bury your face in your hands as the teammate standing with you makes a choking noise and then Tito rattles off a string of swears in French. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay.” You tell him, trying to avoid the wide-eyed gaze of their teammate.

“Team Baby?” Tito says hopefully.

“I’m going to let Brian beat you up instead of Mat.”

“My fellow members of Team Baby won’t turn on me like that.” Tito says confidently.

“Molly and I have killed a lot of Mat’s plants over the years. Hiding evidence like that really builds a bond; she’s totally on my side.”

“What have I just walked into?” Mat stops next to you, looking between you, Tito, and his laughing teammate across from you, like he’s unsure where to start.

“Tito can’t keep a secret, that’s what.” You tell him, returning the soft smile he sends you.

“I hear you’re going to be a dad!” Across from you, their teammate manages to stop laughing (well, kind of) and grin at Mat.

Mat sends a look over at Tito, who looks anywhere but Mat, and Mat nods back at his teammate. “Yeah, uh, surprise?”

“Surprise all around.” You mutter, unable to hold it back, which brings the smallest of smiles to Mat’s face.

“Any uh, any tips for us, Ebs?”

The nickname triggers the face and name for you and you watch as Jordan Eberle grins back at you. “I’m sure we can come up with something.”

#surprises series #mat barzal imagine #mat barzal fan fic #hockey imagines #hockey fanfiction #hockey fanfic #nhl imagines #nhl fanfiction #my hockey fics

224 notes · View notes

c-optimistic · 5 years ago

Text

ally

She was led into an office and left alone with a cup of lukewarm coffee for nearly fifteen minutes before the door opened to reveal Maggie Sawyer.

Lena couldn’t exactly help her eye-roll.

“Correct me if I’m wrong, detective, but I was under the impression your job involved investigating aliens in National City, not just Luthors.”

“Brr,” Maggie said, grinning as she sat down in the seat next to Lena. “You know, I’ve heard of the world famous icy Luthor charm, but damn if those descriptions don’t do you justice.” She leaned back in her seat, arms crossing over her chest, still grinning—much to Lena’s annoyance.

“What are you doing here?”

“You may find this hard to believe, but I’m here for you.”

“Funny, I do find that hard to believe,” Lena said, leaning back as well. “Can you tell me what’s going on at least?”

To Maggie’s credit, she looked conflicted for a moment, like she was actually debating on telling Lena the truth.

“I can tell you that I really want to be here to see the look on your face,” she finally said, shrugging a little. “And also because I promised my friend who works for social services that I wouldn’t leave her alone with you.”

“Social services? Why would—”

She was interrupted when the door opened again, a small woman with short hair entering the office with a vaguely worried expression on her face. It was obvious she was the friend Maggie had mentioned, if the tiny smile Maggie gave her was any indication. Lena watched her settle into the only empty seat left—across the table from Lena and Maggie—and clasped her hands together, sitting up straight and meeting Lena in the eye.

“Ms. Luthor,” she began, her voice gruffer than Lena expected. “My name is Sarah Wilkins. I work with Child Protective Services. I’m here to speak with you about Ally.”

Lena blinked, not following at all.

“I’m sorry, who?”

“Alexandra Peters, your niece.”

The laugh that escaped her wasn’t her fault at all, though judging by the look on Maggie’s face, the wince and then frown, it likely wasn’t appropriate. Thoughts of this being one grand joke were immediately replaced by the nagging suspicion that her life would be upturned once again by something Lex had done.

“I’m afraid you’re mistaken. I don’t have a niece. You see, my brother is in maximum security, and his chances of having a child are, well, low.”

Maggie and Sarah exchanged a long look and Lena shifted uncomfortably in her seat.

“Ally is six months away from her second birthday, Ms. Luthor. She was born before your brother was put away.” Or, Sarah didn’t say, Lex had plenty of time to have a child. Rather than speak, Lena continued to stare at Sarah, waiting for her to get to the point. “About a month ago, Ally’s mother, a Gwen Peters, died in a car accident—”

“Was it…?” Lena trailed off, unable to even finish the thought. To her shock, Sarah seemed to understand, her eyes even softening.

“It seems to have been just an accident. A tragic one, of course, but an accident all the same.” She stressed it enough that Lena found herself believing her. “Ally was placed in the care of her maternal grandparents, but CPS has recently discovered…well, to put it bluntly, the Peters are not fit to raise a young child. Which is where you come in.” She blinked, pausing long enough to needlessly straighten her blazer and to tuck a stray strand of hair behind her ear. “In Ms. Peters’ Will, in the event that her parents are unable to care for her daughter, she names you as Ally’s guardian.”

“I don’t even know Gwen Peters,” Lena protested immediately, shaking her head.

“That’s not actually true,” Maggie interrupted, placing a hand on Lena’s shoulder briefly. “You might not remember her, but she apparently worked with you in R&D at LuthorCorp for nearly two years before you began taking over your brother’s responsibilities after your father passed away.”

“And more to the point, Ms. Peters was quite adamant that Ally remained with family in the event of her death. And Ms. Luthor, you’re all the family Ally has left.”

Lena gaped at the two woman—at Sarah’s calm expression and Maggie’s suddenly concerned one—and shook her head again.

“I’m—no. How do we even know she’s actually Lex’s daughter? And why would—was the woman mad, wanting a Luthor raising her child?”

Sarah and Maggie exchanged another look and this time Lena could read the sadness in Maggie’s eyes, the reluctance in Sarah’s.

“Let me put it this way, Ms. Luthor. Without you, Ally will find herself in foster care. Is that something you want for your niece?”

(She thought about her own upbringing, raised amongst a father who paid her very little attention, a mother who hated her, and a brother who eventually left her. She thought about her loneliness, her ineptitude with anything relating to emotions, and the fact that everything she touched slowly wasted away.

But most of all, in a voice that sounded suspiciously like Kara’s, she thought about how she could never leave family behind—even a niece she hadn’t known about fifteen minutes ago, a niece she hadn’t even imagined could exist.)

“No,” she said, voice not shaking despite the trembling of her hands. “So? What do I have to sign?”

“You know, I looked her up,” Lena called out, childproofing the last of her cabinets, smiling slightly at her finished work.

“Looked who up?” Kara asked from where she sat on the ground, surrounded by all sorts of screws and pieces of furniture, an adorable crease between her brows as she studied the instructions for the crib. “By the way, Lena, I’m ninety percent positive that there’s at least three pieces missing.”

“Gwen Peters,” Lena said shortly, walking over to Kara and studying the crib. “I’m ninety percent sure you attached the head to the wrong piece.”

“Oh for the love of—” Kara cut herself off, unscrewing all her hard work and resigning herself to starting from the beginning. “So? What did you learn about Gwen Peters?”

“She was smart. It’s no wonder Lex liked her enough to…” She trailed off, not quite sure what she was trying to say. Kara kept fiddling with the two pieces she had in her hands until she realized that Lena had gone silent, looking up worriedly. Whatever she saw on Lena’s face spurred her into action; in one quick movement, she’d abandoned the crib entirely and was on her feet, approaching Lena slowly (as if she didn’t want to spook her).

“You did the right thing, Lena,” Kara said softly, and Lena nearly laughed, wondering how on Earth Kara had understood what she was actually trying to say (how Kara had heard the I can’t raise a kid, don’t you think Ally deserves better, what am I doing? in between the admiration she felt for Gwen Peters and the reignited anger she felt for Lex). “And it’s not as if you’re going to be doing any of this alone.”

“Sorry?”

“What? You thought I’d let you deal with something this big by yourself?” Kara rolled her eyes and reached out to squeeze Lena’s hand before turning on her heel and crouching back down next to the mangled remains of the crib. “Maggie claims she’s great with kids, and Alex is a doctor, and James can soothe any baby it’s practically magic I’ve seen it, and not to brag but Winn and I are greatbabysitters, we only lost Carter for an hour tops—”

“—you lost a child?” Lena tried to interrupt, but Kara was on a roll and didn’t seem to be listening at all.

“—so really, between all of us, Ally won’t even have time to feel lonely.”

(She talked as if they’d all be around when Ally was much older, when she knew enough about her family—her father—to feel sad.

Kara talked as if she and her sister and her friends were accepting responsibility for Lena’s niece as well, and it was overwhelming.)

“Kara…you can’t—I don’t know how much Maggie or your sister would appreciate being dragged into this mess,” Lena said, staring at Kara’s back, clenching her hands into fists in order to hide their shakiness.

Kara waved her off without even turning to look at her.

“Well, you’re my friend,” she said easily, picking up one of the pieces of wood and studying it before dropping it back down. “And by extension, my friends are your friends. And friends help out.” She turned her head, gracing Lena with a small smile. “I’ve said ‘friend’ too many times, but the point is you’re not in this alone, Lena. And if I have to spend all night figuring this crib out for you to accept it, then I’ll do just that.”

Lena laughed, recognizing a lost cause when she saw one, and crossed over to sit down next to Kara, hands finally unclenching.

“You know, I gave you the easy job.”

“The easy job, says the engineer,” Kara huffed in mock annoyance. “Fine then, show me how it’s done.”

“She sort of looks like him,” Lena said, head tilted to the side as she studied the slumbering Ally. They’d brought her home—and that phrase in and of itself boggled Lena’s mind, she brought her niece to her home, two words she never thought she’d think in relation to herself—earlier that morning, all the paperwork finished, Maggie’s friend Sarah long gone. “Doesn’t she?”

“I was going to say she looks like you,” Maggie called from the kitchen, busy digging through Lena’s fridge, searching for something to eat. Lena wasn’t quite sure how to feel about the familiarity Maggie presumed, but she didn’t comment on it. Even if it was unnerving, it was nice. “The dark hair, the pretty eyes. She’ll end up with that strong Luthor jaw too, just you wait.”

“You think I have pretty eyes, Sawyer?” Lena asked, focusing on only a single part of Maggie’s comment, blinking and turning to look at the detective. Someone snorted indignantly in the living room, where Kara and Alex were arguing in whispers over how to use a camera James had given Lena earlier in the week (calling it a peace offering, an apology, a gift he’d thought she could use what with having a child in her life), and Lena found herself smiling.

“I’m right here, Maggie,” Alex deadpanned, though judging from the way she was looking at Kara, she hadn’t been the one to snort. “And everyone knows you have pretty eyes,” Alex continued, not looking away from her sister. “Wasn’t there an article about it in the last issue of CatCo Magazine? Kara?” she prompted when Kara seemed much more interested in the camera than in the conversations around her.

“Who knows really? Maybe. Laurie might have pitched it. She might have spent over a day looking at photos of Lena, asking for everyone’s opinion for which picture showed off her eyes the most. I might have accidentally—” Kara stopped suddenly, clearing her throat and looking up, eyes flitting over Lena’s face briefly before throwing Alex and Maggie a dirty look—one that Lena hadn’t really known Kara was capable of making. “I mean, I was on assignment. Reporting the news. Doing my job. You know…writing.”

“Are you having a stroke, Kara?” Maggie asked casually, abandoning her search for food.

“She doesn’t look like him,” Alex informed Lena, ignoring her sister and girlfriend entirely. Sparing her sister an odd glance, as if silently promising a future (and private) conversation, Alex focused her attention on Lena. “She just looks like a kid. Because that’s what she is, Lena.”

(And Lena knew what Alex was actually trying to say, even if she didn’t know the elder Danvers as well as Kara, even if she was sometimes slightly intimidated by Alex. She knew that she was telling her not to worry, telling her to forget the nature versus nurture debate, telling her to remember that Ally was just a child who needed a loving family, that the sins of the father did not extend to Ally.

She was telling Lena to relax, that she could do this, and Lena marveled at the fact that Alex could say so much in so few words. She thought it might have been a sibling thing—or maybe just an Alex thing.)

“You’re right,” Lena whispered, eyes falling to Ally again, still slumbering peacefully in the crib Lena had suggested they leave out in the open where she could always see it, at least for a while (a part of her still thinking this was just a dream and she’d wake up and find she’d imagined the whole thing). “She’s just a kid.”

She reached down to gently smooth back some of Ally’s dark, curly hair, and without thought, warning, or preparation, Lena Luthor promptly fell in love with her niece.

She wasn’t going to call Kara, she told herself determinedly, huffing a breath and tucking a stray strand of hair behind her ear as she took in her niece’s red face. This was okay, this was manageable, she did notneed Kara. The fact that Ally had finally stopped crying gave a little bit more credence to her argument, but her soaked clothes and disaster zone of a bathroom spoke otherwise. But Lena did not need Kara.

At least, she didn’t think so.

“Come on, Ally,” she practically begged, dropping to her knees next to the bathtub and looking at her niece carefully. “You need a bath.”

Ally, standing shakily next to the bathtub, glared—yes, glared—at Lena, her blue eyes a little bit too fiery for Lena’s comfort.

“No,” she said resolutely, accentuating her point with a firm shake of her head.

It was undeniably frustrating and inconveniently endearing.

(In the past week, Lena had learned a great deal about her niece, first and foremost being that she inherited her parents’ intelligence, something Lena wasn’t sure she was entirely glad for yet. For example, though Ally didn’t speak more than a dozen or so words, it was always quite clear she understood everything that was said and done around her. She couldn’t confront Lena, tell her she knew that Lena wasn’t her mother—that she wasn’t even familiar—but she managed to convey those feelings by refusing simple tasks, like bath time, glaring at her food suspiciously, refusing to sleep until she literally passed out from sheer exhaustion.

In fact, most times it was only Kara who could coax Ally into doing anything—changing, bathing, sleeping, eating, it didn’t matter. Kara claimed it was because she just had ‘one of those faces’ but Lena wondered if her niece felt the same thing she had felt the day she first met Kara: an inexplicable pull, an undeniable trust.

Most obvious, however, was that Ally was full to the brim with what Maggie liked to call ‘the charming Luthor stubbornness’ something Lena found less and less charming every day.)

“Ally, please.”

“No,” her niece repeated, eyes actually narrowing.

(She’d been reading extensively about children and development and all the ins and outs of raising a child that wasn’t even yet two. She knew she had to be firm, knew that children took advantage of leniency, knew that she had to set boundaries as the adult. And yet…

She remembered her own harsh upbringing, the cold glances from nannies, the disinterest from Lionel, the outright aggression at times from Lillian. She remembered not feeling wanted or liked or even tolerated, and though she knew she had to be harder on Ally—put her foot down, so to speak—she just didn’t have the heart, even if she knew it wouldn’t be the same, that she’d never go too far.

She didn’t want to be a Luthor with her, even accidentally—even just out of habit. She didn’t want her to have the same childhood Lena suffered through.)

“What if I told you a story?”

(It was a last ditch effort, she didn’t think Ally would go for it.

Lena resigned herself to calling Kara yet again.)

Just as Lena made to get up, reaching for her phone, Ally held up her arms, finally acquiescing to her bath, allowing Lena to pick her up and place her in the tub. And Lena, woefully ill prepared for an impromptu story-time, cleared her throat and began to talk about the one thing she knew Ally would love—a tale about Supergirl.

By the end of bath-time, as Lena was drying off her niece, she earned the one thing only Kara had managed to coax out of Ally thus far: a smile.

She was in a meeting when it happened, arguing with some arrogant, narrow-minded old man who believed he knew what was best for her company. She was in a meeting, one she told Jess not to interrupt under any circumstances (wanting to put the old man in his place, needing the time and the privacy to do so), one she hadn’t expected to drag on quite as long as it did.

She was in a meeting when Ally was rushed to the hospital.

(Later, after she waved away all the apologies from the woman who ran the ridiculously expensive daycare, after she assured Jess she was right to contact Kara, after the doctor had smiled at Lena and swore up and down that Ally was fine—“She’s a child, Ms. Luthor, this sort of comes with the territory of being a parent”—and Alex and given Lena a sympathetic look, Lena collapsed in one of the uncomfortable hospital room chairs, head in her hands, body trembling.

She was in a meeting, she was rolling her eyes at the words of an insignificant man while her niece was struggling to breathe—because Lena hadn’t known Ally was allergic to peanuts.)

“How’re you holding up?” It was Kara, Lena could tell by the sensible shoes that were suddenly in her line of sight, and judging from the smell of coffee that wafted towards her, Kara had been successful in her quest for what she called a ‘pick me up.’ After several seconds of silence, Kara let out a soft sigh and knelt down, placing the coffee cup on the ground and then using the tips of her fingers to gently coax Lena to look at her. “Lena, it’s okay.”

“Is it?” she snapped, regret flooding through her immediately when Kara’s eyes flashed with hurt for an instant before she managed to mask it. “Do you know what could have—” Lena began, tone considerably softer, “—she could’ve…Kara, she could’ve—”

“—she’s fine,” Kara said gently, taking Lena’s hands into her own, squeezing a little, as if to ground Lena to the moment. “She’s been laughing at Maggie’s faces.”

It was Kara’s soft voice, the sturdiness of her presence, the fact that she could still somewhat hear Ally’s giggles as Maggie continued to make faces, Alex watching the whole thing clearly torn between amusement and fondness, that Lena found herself confessing everything to Kara.

“She deserves better than me,” Lena said, voice cracking, the truth of her words sending a stab of pain through her chest. Because it was true but oh she didn’t want it to be. “She deserves a family like yours. Something normal Maggie or Alex could give her. With me—with me she’ll always be a Luthor.” Lena thought about nights waiting up for her father to return home, of falling asleep in her father’s study, tucked in his leather chair and breathing in the smell of tobacco. She thought about afternoons meant to be spent with Lillian that she just spent alone, the days she waited for Lex to call when he went off to college and left her behind. She thought about how she’d learned—barely even a teenager—that the best way to gain her father’s attention was to drag herself to LuthorCorp every afternoon after school and watch him work, eventually wandering off to R&D when Lionel barely acknowledged her presence. “She’ll end up like me, Kara. How could I do that to her? How could I let her become like me?”

Kara leaned up, pressing a lingering kiss to Lena’s forehead.

“Ally could do a lot worse than become like you,” Kara whispered against her skin, not moving away, the heat of her hands finally—finally—beginning to warm Lena’s.

“Kara,” Lena chastised, not really in the mood for false platitudes, but she came off sounding less peeved and more amused, because Kara chuckled and pressed another kiss to Lena’s forehead.

“Fine, I’ll admit it. You’re right,” Kara began slowly. “We don’t want her like you. We don’t want her to grow up kind or generous, funny or intelligent. I especially don’t want her to be health conscious like you, for her to care about others, for her to be so willing to love—to be so good, in spite of everything terrible that’s happened.” Kara pulled back a little, just enough that Lena could meet her blue, blue eyes, a smile on her lips.

“She would be better off with a real family,” Lena argued.

“I will always be grateful for the Danvers, Lena,” Kara said, releasing Lena’s hands and cupping her cheeks instead. “I love them for taking me in, for giving me so much love, for being my family—for accepting me despite everything I put them through. But,” Kara’s smile turned sad, her thumbs wiping gently under Lena’s eyes, erasing the evidence of Lena’s tears, “I will always be heartbroken and will never understand why my own family—all I had left—sent me away.” The comment was loaded, heavy with untold truths, and though Lena burned to ask—knew that Kara would tell her anything in that moment—she just swallowed, attempting and failing to shake her head. “Don’t give up on her, Lena,” Kara whispered, sounding a little faraway, lost in her own thoughts for a moment, “she needs you, and she’s too young to know it yet, but she’ll want you, too.”

“And you?”

(Two words, that was all Lena was capable of saying. Two words, and yet Kara understood anyway.)

“She’ll always have me. And so will you.” She wiped at Lena’s cheeks once more with the pads of her thumbs then smoothly stood up, smiling down at Lena with her glasses slipping down the bridge of her nose. “Your coffee got cold,” she informed Lena simply, gesturing to the cup that was left forgotten on the ground. “It’s probably a good thing, Alex said it was really bad.” She held out a hand. “Come on, I know a great café not even five minutes away from here. We can even get Maggie a bagel.”

“But—”

“Alex and Maggie are hovering, Ally’s perfectly safe. Come on,” she repeated. “let’s go for a walk.”

And to Lena’s ultimate surprise, she found herself taking Kara’s hand, accepting the tacit offer of help.

“So, Luthor,” Alex said cheerfully, licking her fingers clean of chocolate icing, “when did you and my sister start dating?”

Lena very nearly dropped the eggs in her hand, resulting in a moment of stupid juggling that had Ally pausing her search for grapes in her fruit salad long enough to giggle.

“I’m—what—we’re not dating,” Lena said, putting the eggs aside and helping Ally out by swapping her fruit salad with a small bowl of grapes. She seemed terribly pleased by the turn of events, clapping her hands together and shouting wape—what Lena assumed was Ally’s attempt at saying grape.

“Yeah, that’s what Kara said too. But with more stuttering. And blushing.” Alex grinned widely. “And head ducking, which means she’s hiding something.” She pulled the chocolate icing towards herself, clearly intending to get another taste, but Lena’s face must’ve showed her disgust more clearly than she thought, because Alex sighed and wiped her hands on a towel in defeat, abandoning the icing entirely. “Fine,” she said, choosing embarrassing Lena over sampling everything in sight. “So you’re not dating. Do you want to be?”

“Why are you here, Alex?”

“Seriously? I offer to help bake Ally’s birthday cake and that’s how you treat me? I’m hurt,” she said, going as far as to place her hand over her heart in mock-distress.

Before Lena could bother to point out that Alex hadn’t helped at all, Ally threw her now empty bowl of grapes towards Lena.

“More wapes!” she demanded, making Alex laugh.

“No more grapes for you,” Lena said, knowing her stern voice was off because Alex just laughed again. She turned around to check the oven—still rather unfamiliar with baking despite practicing as much as she could over the last few months—unsurprised to see Ally snacking on more fruit the second she turned back. “Seriously?” she asked Alex, raising an eyebrow.

“In her defense, she said wapes, which could mean anything, really.”

“You’re spoiling her,” Lena said flatly, though she couldn’t help her smile as Ally happily searched through her grapes, picking out the biggest ones and popping them into her mouth. “I’ll blame you if she becomes an intolerable teenager.”

“Brr,” Alex said, mimicking Maggie’s teasing—something that had, unfortunately for Lena, caught on in the past several months—and grinning. “Isn’t that right, Ally?” Alex said cheerfully, stealing one of Ally’s grapes, something that had Ally’s mouth dropping open in shock.

“No!” Ally said, eyebrows rising and hands flying, reminding Lena so much of Lex in that moment that she thought her heart would stop. For a moment—a brief second—Lena was almost sure her older brother would pop his head out of the guest room, gesticulating wildly as he excitedly told Lena about his latest experiments, begging her to shut off her music for just a moment so that he could concentrate. She was so busy feeling overwhelmed by Lex’s sudden non-physical presence that she nearly missed Ally turning to her, looking a little bit betrayed. “Mommy, say no!”

“Did she—?” Alex started.

“No, no she can’t have,” Lena finished, eyes wide. She was barely aware of Alex calling Kara—telling her to put out the fire as quickly as she could—and only blinked blankly when Ally repeated the word that put Lena in this state in the first place.

“Mommy!” Ally said, trying to get Lena’s attention. “Mommy!”

Ally’s birthday party—something Maggie had rolled her eyes at, wondering what the point of throwing a two year old a party even was—had devolved into an impromptu comfort session, James putting his ability to soothe any child to good use while Lena sat on the ground, back against the wall and legs stretched out in front of her. Someone, likely Winn, had brought her cake earlier, but it sat forgotten as the minutes turned into hours of silence.

“You want to talk about it?” Kara asked, speaking for the first time since she arrived—still covered in soot from her fire rescue—and slid down the wall to sit next to Lena, cape and boots looking rather out of place in Lena’s apartment. She was being so patient, so good, and to be perfectly frank, Lena couldn’t deal with it.

“No,” she snapped. “I’m not her mother,” she immediately added.

“I know that.”

“Why would—why are—how are you so calm?” Lena suddenly felt the inexplicable need to cry. And Luthors…Luthors did not cry.

“She didn’t call me her mom,” Kara pointed out unhelpfully, chuckling when Lena could do nothing but groan.

“This is serious, Kara. Why would she think I’m her mother?”

As one, their eyes shifted towards the living room, where James was sitting with Ally in his lap, the two of them seemingly completely entranced with whatever was playing on the television. Winn was on his phone, sneaking not-so-subtle glances at James and Ally every few seconds, not-so-subtly taking photos. Not for the first time, Lena marveled at how normal it all felt, having friends at her apartment—having her niece giggle and play with James Olsen’s camera, James bravely hiding his anxiety as a two year old manhandled expensive equipment—talking, laughing, eating, generally enjoying each other’s company.

Six months she had this, the support, the friendship, the knowledge that she had people she could count on—that Ally could count on, years down the line—and it was only now, with Kara’s shoulder brushing her own and Alex and Maggie arguing over proper tackling procedures (which Lena hadn’t been aware existed), that she finally, finally, believed she wasn’t in this alone.

As soon as that thought registered, she felt calmer.

This would be okay. She’d get through this—with everyone at her side.

“For the last six months,” Kara began slowly, making Lena turn to her in surprise, unsure how to feel about the careful way she was measuring her words as she spoke, “you’ve been everything to Ally. It’s natural that she’d become attached to you. I became attached to Eliza.”

“Did you ever call her mom?”

“Well, no. But I was also much older.” She bit her lip, dragging her gaze away from James and Ally and looking and Lena instead, eyes full of a sadness that had only ever been hinted at before. She smiled, but it only served to make her seem more broken. “I was…I was really hard on Eliza and Jeremiah,” she explained softly. “I felt guilty that I was able to be happy with them. That they could make me smile and feel as if I was home. I worried—I still worry, sometimes,” she amended, laughing mirthlessly. “I worry that if I’m not careful I’ll forget about Krypton, that the love I feel for Eliza will replace what I feel for my own mother.” She knocked her shoulder gently against Lena’s, ducking her head as if she was trying to hide the extent of what she was feeling. “I lashed out at Eliza. Especially in high school, when she had to give me those talks usually reserved for your own mother. But even though I’ve never called her my mother, she’s been my mom in more ways than one.”

“But letting Ally think I’m her mother—she’ll find out the truth eventually. Should I lie until then? Should I try to tell her the truth?”

Kara laughed in response, taking Lena’s hand in her own.

“She’s too young to worry about all that anyway. That’s a problem for future us,” she said with a grin. “Right now we just need to worry about potty training. I called Eliza about it, she mostly just laughed, so I assume it’s not fun.”

Lena stared at Kara fondly for a moment, thinking of her use of the words us and we, the fact that she reached out to her adoptive mother for help, and she thought her heart might stutter right out of her chest.

“I think, when she’s old enough, I’ll ask her if she wants to be a Luthor. Alexandra Peters Luthor, it’s a good name.”

“The best,” Kara agreed immediately, smiling when Lena dropped her head onto her shoulder, leaning heavily against Kara’s soot covered suit. “I think I smell like smoke,” she added when Lena breathed her in, took in her warmth.

Lena closed her eyes and buried her face in the crook of Kara’s neck.

“Doesn’t matter,” she said, voice slightly muffled. “I think you’re perfect.”

It wasn’t much of a surprise that Kara just laughed, hearing Lena’s tacit confession. And it wasn’t much of a surprise when she squeezed Lena’s hand reassuringly in response, wordlessly letting her know she felt the same way.

#fanfic #supercorp #kara danvers #lena luthor #old

442 notes · View notes