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talkfantasytome · 3 years ago

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Rules of Babysitting

Rowaelin Month Prompt: Single Parents

Rule #1: Know exactly who you're babysitting for…and why.

Warnings: None | Word Count: 1,575 | Read on AO3

"So, you have my number and my cousin's should something go wrong, and all the emergency numbers." Aelin prattled off the repeated information as she slid her shoes on as quickly as she could. She was running so late. "Isabelle's already eaten and is ready for bed, but she doesn't go to bed until-"

"Eight-thirty, I remember," Olivia sighed with an amused smile. "Ms. Galathynius, we're good here, I promise."

"No, we're not. Not until you call me Aelin," she replied with a grin, making the sixteen-year-old girl laugh.

"Aelin. Now, please, go. Didn't you say you were supposed to meet your date at seven?" She pointed up at the clock, which now read 7:15.

"Dammit, yes! Okay, have fun. She likes to color and play make believe. Please don't turn the TV on until she's in bed, she's watched enough today." Aelin was now walking toward the door, making sure she had her keys, wallet, and cell phone. "There are also a ton of books you can read her, and some of the easier ones she can read herself."

Aelin paused and then rushed back, finding her daughter currently working on a coloring page of a princess riding a stag and kissed her softly on her brunette head.

"Be good for Olivia, Iz."

"I will, mommy," the six year old sighed.

"Good girl." Aelin straightened up and smiled at her babysitter, meeting green eyes quickly before she was practically running out the door and to her car.

"I am so sorry!" a woman's voice exclaimed, cutting through the din of the restaurant as gold flashed before Rowan as the seat across from him was suddenly filled. "I have the hardest time getting my daughter ready for bed early and she was still in the bath when my babysitter got there."

Rowan chuckled at the excuse, knowing all too well the perils of being a parent trying to go out for the night.

"Don't worry about it," he offered, admiring his date. She was in a tight, just-modest-enough gold dress that made her look like a living flame, and Rowan hoped he might get burned. "I'm just glad we're able to do this."

Aelin's panting lightened and her face softened into a smile as she met his eyes, striking him once again with those golden-rimmed turquoise irises. "Me too," she agreed. "I'm sorry it took so long."

Rowan just shook his head. "I'm just as guilty. More so, really, considering how busy a schedule I have."

"You've got an athlete-scholar daughter," Aelin argued. "That takes a lot of time in a parent's life."

"A shocking amount, really," he sighed, he and Aelin laughing in harmony. "You'd think such an overachiever would be a bit more independent, but she always needs - or needed, now - to be driven to some engagement that will pad her college application. The things she has to do…when I was sixteen, playing a sport and getting decent grades was enough."

"Yes, but you're ancient," Aelin teased, her breath hitching slightly at the light she found in Rowan's pine eyes. "You also look like someone who was probably so ridiculously talented in whatever sport you played you didn't need a backup plan."

"Thirty-six isn't ancient. You're just blinded by still being in your twenties," he shot back.

"Well, I guess I'll see the light in two more years."

She beamed at him and Rowan met her gaze, smiling in amusement as the waiter came to ask what they'd like to drink.

A bottle of wine for the table and entrees ordered, Rowan finally felt like he could relax and enjoy a date with Aelin.

The two had met at the annual town-wide PTA meeting about six months before. With Aelin's daughter still being in elementary school, they never would have crossed paths if their town didn't do this one meeting a year, bringing together the PTAs of the Orynth elementary, middle, and high schools.

Rowan had been immediately drawn to the flurry of golden blonde hair that had rushed in less than a minute before the meeting started. As soon as it ended, he rushed to where she'd been sitting and managed to push his way into an opportunity to meet her, unable to stop himself.

He wasn't typically so forward, but he could feel it, in his gut, that she was special.

Of course, this was Aelin. She used it to her advantage, roping him in to helping out with an early-morning food bank she ran in the center of the city. Every two weeks he was up at the ass crack of dawn, helping to hand out food to those in need, Aelin by his side.

It started out as a tentative friendship, but soon enough dissolved into a flirtation that made Rowan feel like he was sixteen again. He eventually asked her to have dinner with him, and after three months of struggling to find a night that worked for both of them - and then one of them cancelling due to unforeseen circumstances, often having to do with one of their daughters - they were finally on their date. Likely aided on by the fact that his daughter just got her driver's license.

It was perfect.

The conversation just flowed, the two sharing stories from their lives, discussing books they'd recently read, new movies, and more. It was so easy, and Rowan found himself already wanting to find a way to merge their lives, wondering if Ollie would like Aelin, and if her daughter would like him.

After dinner, and a shared dessert that Rowan got all of one bite of, he found himself walking Aelin to her car, the two pausing once she'd reached the door to the driver's seat.

"I had a really great time." Aelin leaned against the metal body, her eyes wide, sparkling in the moonlight as she looked up at him.

Taking a step closer, Rowan tucked some of her loose hair behind her ear as he smiled and breathed, "So did I."

He saw Aelin's lips curve upward and she leaned in slightly. Noticing that, Rowan moved quickly, closing the gap and brushing his lips to hers.

Aelin's hands quickly came up to the nape of his neck, holding him close as she deepened the kiss - something Rowan was all too happy to reciprocate. He wound his arms around her waist and pulled her against his chest, his tongue sliding into her mouth as she opened for him.

The kiss was like the missing piece to a puzzle, hidden and difficult to find, but when finally discovered, everything seemed to make sense.

After a moment he broke away, his breathing heavy. "Do you have to go home right away?" he asked on to her lips.

Aelin groaned, leaning her forehead on his shoulder. "I do. I told my sitter I'd be home by ten. Do you?" She looked up at him with that question. "Izzy should be asleep, and the stairs are right by the door. You could probably slip upstairs before my sitter notices you, and she drove herself to my house, so I don't have to take her home."

Rowan smiled, leaning down and giving her a soft kiss. "I can stay out. I have a later curfew," he chuckled.

Aelin laughed loudly - the sound melodic and enchanting - and then lifted herself up onto her toes, pressing her lips to his again quickly. "I'll text you the address."

He kissed her one last time, a stupid grin on his face as he did, and then untangled himself from her, walking toward his car and pulling up the GPS on his carplay once he had the address.

Olivia sighed, closing the book as she finished the chapter she was meant to read for Monday. She typically loved her English classes, but some of the books for this semester were difficult to get through.

She checked her watch. 10:03. Aelin had said she'd be back by ten. Admittedly, based on earlier, she wasn't surprised Aelin was running late. Hopefully it would mean a larger tip.

Olivia had been referred to Aelin by the woman's typical babysitter - her friend Dahlia - who had another babysitting job lined up for the night when Aelin called. Dahlia had sworn through the roof that Aelin was super easy to babysit for - she was nice, friendly, and paid really well for such an easy daughter to watch. And Olivia could already attest to that last part - Dahlia hadn't been lying. Izzy was a breeze.

Sliding her book back into her backpack, Olivia was about to pull out her history book when she heard the slam of car doors.

Quickly, Olivia started packing up her bag and pulling on her shoes. She heard the click of the lock and swung her backpack over her shoulders, starting toward the foyer as the door opened.

She caught sight of Aelin kissing a tall man with silver hair who stood at the bottom of the stairs, the two laughing as Aelin lightly pushed him back onto the first step.

Olivia froze, scarred for life as she watched the man stumble onto the stair, kissing Aelin with a ridiculous grin she'd never seen him wear before.

His eyes caught hers, widening as they met their mirror, and he stiffened, pulling away from Aelin quickly. His body straightened to his full height and Olivia could have sworn he looked afraid as she shrieked.

"Dad?!"

a/n: I had so much fun with that ending. 😈

#rowaelinmonth #rowaelin #rowaelin fic #rowaelin fanfiction #rowan whitethorn #aelin galythinius #daughter #single parents #day 10 #babysitter #throne of glass #tog #throne of glass fanfiction #tog fanfiction #heehee

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libraryoftime · 2 years ago

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Couples receive “parent points”, which they can use to purchase their children. Most parents wait for a few thousand, but you chose to buy the cheaper, 100 point child.

Shane knows what it’s like to be a 100 point child. He knows how it feels to see potential parents–potential families–come through the facilities doors, faces bright with excitement. He knows how it feels to see them reading the little plaques on the nursery doors, scanning the lists there for the right bits of knowledge and etiquette and grace that they want their baby to have.

He knows how it feels to see their faces pinch outside the window before they hurry to the next room.

Shane grew up in a 100 point nursery. They had torn, ratty, books and no teachers, and when snack time came, the tray was pushed through a slat in the door. They were called “unruly” and “damaged” and “stupid.” A lot of the other kids threw tantrums and broke furniture (and sometimes other kids). A lot of the other kids went quiet after the first few years when they realized they’d never be adopted until they were old enough (or pretty enough) to be useful. A lot of the kids cried and didn’t stop until they got taken away or were aged out.

Shane’s grown up a lot since aging out. He put himself through school, got himself a job, shed his 100 points like the torn clothes he’d left the facility in. He’s powerful now, successful, and he’s grown out of the twisted nose, big ears, and gap-toothed smile that had made him one of the less attractive 100 point babies. Or maybe he’s grown into them. Who’s to say?

It’s taken him a long time to get enough Parent Points to do what he wants. Being a man is, for once, somewhat hindering as most of society equates “parental” with “maternal.” He’s lost count of how many social workers have politely hid expressions of surprise when he told them he wanted to adopt stag, that he’s willing to take the classes, get the grades, make the oaths to get even one Parent Point.

Sometimes they ask him about his sealed records. They want to know about his experience growing up (since surely someone as successful as him was a 1000 point child at least). He shakes off those questions with a smile, an offhand comment about protecting his parents, or, if worst comes to worst, a smile.

Finally, finally today he’s got the points. Thousands of points from years of classes, of seminars, of simulations. Shane’s got the Parent Points to buy a child of his own.

The facility’s staff welcomes him in with open arms, eyes flicking over his suit, his nicely combed hair, the watch on his wrist. Their smiles brighten when he scans his Parent Points and a six digit number appears.

“Right this way, Mr. Carson,” the social worker, Ms. Daily, says, sweeping her arm to the right. “I have just the nursery for you.”

He follows Ms. Daily obediently, looking neither right nor left. She’s clearly taking him to the higher point children, the ones at the heart of the facility, the protected ones. He can hear crying as they pass the first window and his hands curl into fists in his pockets.

“Here we are,” Ms. Daily chirps, stopping in front of a large, viewing window. “Please, let me know if you see one to your liking. I have all the relevant information here.” She holds up her data pad and smiles.

Shane steps forward, eyes dropping to the plaque just under the window. Magnolia Room. Advanced language skills, superior mathematics, excellent athleticism. 80,000-120,000 PP.

The children in the room scream with laughter as their caregiver chases them around a brightly colored carpet. They’re all young here, babies and toddlers. When they’re older, they’ll become cheaper and cheaper until the regular masses can buy a ten-year-old prodigy for just a few thousand.

Shane’s jaw tenses as he takes in the opulence of the room, so different from the nursery he grew up in. There are books strewn all over the ground, intermingled with toys and puzzles and snack boxes. There’s a caretaker for every three children, equipped with radios and first aid training in case there are any injuries. He can see genuine affection on the caretakers’ faces as they play with the children, listening to them, loving them.

“They’re lovely,” Shane says to Ms. Daily, not taking his eyes off the room. “Really.”

“Thank you,” Ms. Daily says, preening. “We begin the educational process early. These children are magnificently bright, you see, sure to flourish in your home.”

“I’m sure,” Shane says, “but no, I think, for me. Shall we?” He turns on his heel and heads back down the hallway, strides long and sure.

“M-Mr. Carson?” Ms. Daily stutters. “Wait!”

Shane doesn’t wait. He stalks past the 50,000 point children, catching glimpses of solid beds, individual heaters, and caretakers beginning to prepare the evenings meal with the kids. He sees smiles and hears laughter and is happy for these children, truly he is.

He hates that not all the kids here are so cared for.

“Really,” Ms. Daily huffs, yanking down the back of her skirt, “I don’t think you’ll find a child to your satisfaction here!”

Shane ignores her and slows down. These nurseries are markedly different now. The 1000-2000 point kids’ room is plainer, still bright and cheerful but not quite so…vibrant. The caretakers here wear scrubs, like nurses, and they sit at folding tables, not oak ones, as they color with their charges. The children are munching on carrots and celery, some trail mix, drinking juice.

There’s one more room at the end of the hallway. Shane knows what it is.

“If you haven’t seen any child you like,” Ms. Daily says, catching his arm, “we have a sister facility in Panama City! I hear they have a little girl with the bluest eyes– Mr. Carson, wait!”

Shane stops in front of the last window. It’s yellow with age and there’s chicken wire embedded in the glass. In the bottom right corner, there is a web of cracks as if it had been hit with great force from the inside.

The plaque under this window reads: Yarrow Room. Disruptive behaviors, low proficiency in core subjects. 100 PP.

There are fifteen kids in this room, which is wrong since this nursery is much smaller than the other. Their beds are metal bunk beds with thin, space saver mattresses. The children sit scattered on the floor, not enough chairs for all of them. They range in age from toddlers to teenagers and their clothing looks old, worn, and doesn’t suit the children in the least.

There are no caregivers at all.

“It takes certain certifications to handle these children,” Ms. Daily says, flustered. “We can’t afford to keep a specialist on the staff 24/7. I assure you, the children don’t particularly mind it. They’re a…slow group.”

Shane sees the bags under each set of eyes. He sees the way they sit, backs too tense and straight to be anything but aware of being observed. He sees the food wrappers littering the ground, the grease in their hair, and the scarcity of color in the room and grits his teeth.

“All of them,” he says. He thinks about his big house, all the rooms, all the money. He hadn’t planned for this, not so soon, but he can’t. Not now. “I’ll take all of them.”

Ms. Daily sputters. “Mr. Carson! I–I admire your charity but a man of your position, if I may speak candidly, can not buy a 100 point child!”

“A man of my position,” Shane repeats, eyebrows climbing up his forehead.

“Exactly,” Ms. Daily says, nodding fiercely. “You are a man in the public eye, Mr. Carson, and you need a child able to do you justice! One of the 10,000 PP children, even, would serve you better!”

“I don’t know,” Shane says, mouth twitching. “I think a 100 point child could handle it just fine.”

Ms. Daily seems appalled at the very thought. “I assure you, they can’t!”

“I could and did,” Shane tells her. Then, while she’s processing, he inclines his head towards the window. “All of them. Shall we start the paperwork?”

All Ms. Daily can do is meekly follow him back towards the front office.

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fabergegrenade · 2 years ago

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𝐂𝐎𝐋𝐃 , 𝐆𝐋𝐈𝐓𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆 , 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐃𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐋𝐘 , 𝐋𝐈𝐊𝐄 𝐀 𝑭𝑨𝑩𝑬𝑹𝑮𝑬 𝑯𝑨𝑵𝑫 𝑮𝑹𝑬𝑵𝑨𝑫𝑬 .

> … name ⸺ artemisia fox . > … nickname(s) ⸺ misha . > … age ⸺ thirty - six . > … d.o.b. ⸺ december 20 , 1986 . > … category ⸺ three . > … alias ⸺ traviata . > … civilian occupation ⸺ art conservationist . > … specializations ⸺ forgery , close quarters / hand to hand combat , improvised weaponry , interrogation . > … secret ⸺ for the ruining of her life , artemisia intends to find and extract a fair price in recompense from the donahue family : death . it’s part of her deal with the newly formed contact she’s made at mi6 : while they may dismantle the legacy , she gets to cull the dynasty .

OPEN DOSSIER ? VIEW FILE SUMMARY ?

black and white films playing to an empty theatre. a nose tucked into fur collar and the flashing of camera bulbs white and relentless as the snow. a wine goblet purposefully overturned. the tremoring choreography of hands in an orchestra, awaiting the finale. a sleek black porsche careening down an isolated road covered in ice. the scream of a violin string as it breaks. a dark head of hair rising from the sea under moonlight. jewelry inlaid with family initials, irremovable as a brand. the head of a mounted stag set burning. the sensation of somebody watching you undress. static at the end of a record. a cherry soaked too long in brandy, all hard pit and bitterness. curtains moving when everyone is asleep. the sound of heels on church stone. driving with the top down at night. bare feet along the thin razor of the balcony railing. the motto on a family crest too far away for you to read. a note written on a fogged mirror, signed with a spiral.

TL;DR HISTORY with trigger warnings for: fire, death, suicide, mental/emotional abuse.

born anita salazar , only child to a single mother , in the staff quarters of a palatial english manor where her mother works�� as a maid . there is more love than prosperity to go around between them , but neither mind . the family her mother works for is kind , and they have a daughter of similar age that anita plays with .

at age seven , a fire claims both anita’s mother and the daughter of their employers . having spent her entire young life with the owners , they take her with them after the bodies are recovered and move to an isolated estate in sweden to heal from their losses .

sorrow and trauma do terrible things to a person , who in turn do terrible things to a child . wracked by grief and driven to instability with the desire to rectify the loss of her daughter, over the course of months anita is slowly treated as and “ made ” into their deceased daughter artemisia fox . it starts as simply as being given her old clothes to wear and ends as severely as being presented a birthday cake on the wrong day and called by the wrong name .

family friends the donahues enable this , altering legal records through their agency and promising to clean up any bumps that arise from the identity switch going forward . the cost is to share their property : when artemisia turns twenty - one , she will become numbers property . artemisia fox is reborn with dyed hair and a rhinoplasty at age nine to correct a “ deviated septum ” to further enhance her resemblance to a dead girl .

artemisia never believes she is the girl she is pretending to be , but a lost girl desperate for love and with no one else to look out for her will graft to what is given out of necessity . she is a wholly obedient child until her mid - late teenage years , within which she becomes unruly and rebellious in private , spurred by anger for what life has done to her .

finds a gift for forgery after learning to mimic her predecessor’s handwriting as a child , and after discovering she has a natural and incredible talent in fine arts at boarding school , this leads to producing and selling art forgeries by age eighteen .

at twenty - one , her father drops her off at the address given to him by the donahue patriarch nearly fifteen years ago . he does not look in her eyes as he does so . her mother has already died , but would have looked away if she could . upon entry , misha is blackmailed into joining numbers through threat of ( A ) the reveal of her true identity and ( B ) the threat of exposing her art fraud to both buyers and the law .

initially a very loyal dog to the agency , and preternaturally suited to the lifestyle given she has spent the last decade and a half falsifying her existence . [ little nina vc : ] you’re loyal to whoever holds the leash

father admits in a suicide note that he regrets what he allowed his wife to do to artemisia , as well as the bargain made with the donahues , but that he allowed it because she was always his daughter , even if she never knew it ⸺ the result of an affair committed in the estate . this is more or less her turning point , scrubbing from her eyes any remaining favourable colouring cast over her life and the agency . she sees them for what they are : the devil playing god , and a god that had still managed to mold her in their image .

PERSONALITY - WISE , very a burnt child loves the fire . magnetic but reckless , doesn’t respect her own life because of who she was forced to become as a little girl , w the bonus that she already assumes she won’t make it much longer due to both her vocation and what she plans to do . catch her walking along the edge of your hotel balcony’s railing , at a gala making caustic remarks at london’s 1% , telling the valet she’s your wife and taking the bugatti home , doing that thing from skyfall doing the tequila shot w a scorpion on her wrist , skinny dipping , etc .

FACTS .

her agent name is often shortened to vi or via .

has two dobermans named zeus and attila. they’re guard dogs but more importantly they are her sons. do not talk to them.

notably strong endurance. noted in her training days for finishing first in exercises or blacking out while trying. it’s perseverance rather than talent that’s taken her to the level she’s at.

great dancer and loves to do it... if you can get her out there

time with the agency currently amounts to 15 years , having begun her training shortly after her twenty-first birthday .

mentored under AGENT MALIBU as a category one / two and was slated for proper partnership upon graduation to category three . this was disrupted by the agency after they got too close , subsequently risking mission objectives .

has a particularly strong ( civilian ) working relationship with sotheby’s and the british museum . only works freelance / part - time but considered the top of her field .

WANTED RELATIONSHIPS .

the former category 3 or 4 that was responsible for training misha after the troublesome breakup with malibu , who as a result she was particularly difficult towards ( pipeline to jim hawkins and long john silver energy or still antagonistic to this day ?? up to you !! )

a category five that is somewhere between longstanding mentor and actual genuine parental figure ? like goodbye give it to me .

a rival , particularly one that is fiercely loyal to the agency . idk man but wouldn’t it be sexy for misha to know if she’s going to break all this apart , it’s going to mean a final showdown with this person

a friend or work partner that knows her intimately enough to know she’s up to something / planning something

the classic ‘ we argue until we fuck ’ dynamic or a john bender vc : sweets , you couldn’t ignore me if you tried sexual frustrationship energy

an instinctually protective friendship . neither know why they’re so raw about the safety of the other , but they become wolfish if they’re threatened

we always hook up on missions but ignore each other in real life - oh fuck there you are at the hotel bar

you ran recon on artemisia before she was brought into numbers , and still feel responsible for bringing her here

she was an innocent young throat - cutter throwback to training days energy and / or when the new kid showed up on your mission and promptly showed you up

whoever in cat 1 / 2 she’s responsible for training atm , but is doing so poorly - aka she wants to scare you away from a lifetime of this

idk but the scene in tdkr where bruce comes out and asks the valet where his car is and he says your wife took it . smashcut to misha in your luxury car on the way home while the panicked my wife ? is overheard

we accidentally ran into each other in our real lives and now it’s all banter and innuendo like a long waltz

also the scene in skyfall where moneypenny shaves bond . yoof

i don’t need you to take care of me or be concerned , i need you to come here and get fucked up with me

#na.intro

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potterjstag · 3 years ago

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— is that JAMES POTTER i just saw rushing down the corridor? i hear they’re a(n) TWENTY year old GRYFFINDOR, returning for their SIXTH school year, but their friends would tell you that they are ENERGETIC & FORTHCOMING as well as IGNORANT & MADCAP. if you want to know more about them, i guess i could tell you that they’re PUREBLOOD and from what i hear, they’re currently allying with the order. when our divination professor looks into their crystal ball, they see: socks constantly falling down, skewed glasses bent back to shape, quick feet echoing down hallowed halls .

full name: James Potter

nicknames: prongs

birthday: march 27

accent: hints of West Country melded into Southern posh

sexuality: not really sure, like he’s probably good to go but is sort of stuck in such a way that he can’t imagine being attracted to anyone else

relationship status: pining, but embarrassed by it

positive traits: energetic, forthcoming

negative traits: ignorant, madcap

patronus: Stag

boggart: tba

wand type: mahogany with unicorn hair, 11 inches.

The pride and joy of elderly parents, even if he never really realized it. He had no reason to. Everything James Potter needed was before him and at a whim. No other world could exist outside of him and his parents in a perfectly enchanted home. It wasn’t until Hogwarts that James realized the wealth he came from, the recognition his last name brought, and the varied opinions on what exactly that could mean.

But kindred spirits were all around him, the moment he was sorted into Gryffindor. His only questions relating why exactly he needed to listen to the adults in the room when they asked something of him. It seemed ridiculous. But Merlin, did he love Gryffindor and practically everyone in it. Far enough away from the purebloods of Slytherin, but close enough to people who reminded him of the best parts of home.

And soon enough, he’d formed something of a circle about it, barely realizing he’d placed himself right at the center of it - for that just seemed to naturally be where he had always fit. He was never meant to be a leader -selected from a rag tag group to plan, picked from an army of mediocre quidditch playing teens, recognized in the halls.

But the last name turned out to have more recognition than James Potter ever considered. A good, honest upbringing kept him sheltered from the dubious entrances of pureblood societies, while the comfort of a wealthy home left him ignorant to any other way of life. But slowly, he fell into that mythos - the trouble-maker, the sly grin, the next quidditch captain. The attention, different from his mum and dad’s dotings, fueled his ego even as he filtered his friend group to a specific few.

“Hey, watch me scale the outside of the castle.”

“Those weren’t my stink bombs, Professor.”

Though, it never was about getting away with it. It was about who in particular would notice, and if not, then it was about sharing those smirks and hidden laughs while new plans were just waiting to be made every year

Facts:

- Smart boy, but dumb boy like he just doesn’t comprehend concepts outside of the classroom

- He barely realized he was the ring leader among his friends and it happened as a result of always being the center of attention. It seemed so natural that he didn’t even process it.

- He has been cockblocked by Marlene for literally the last six years, no wonder he keeps writing Lily’s initials on everything - he barely gets the chance to talk to her

To be honest, my ideas with James are a lot more abstract so i don’t have much concrete to put down yet. We’ll flesh him out for realsies though.

#revelio.intro #i promise he'll get more stuff later

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thejakeformerlyknownasprince · 5 years ago

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What if the Animorphs could use magic-like, in addition to the morphing?

All her life, Cassie’s dad has treated raccoons and ferrets, the occasional goose or hawk. And for as long as she can remember, he’s treated other things too. There was the pine marten with tiny horns that the long-fingered man with the scars on his face brought from under his coat. There’s the seahorse that buzzes up to their door on the regular, gossamer fins beating hummingbird-fast at the air as it hovers five feet off the ground. There are winged foxes and antlered rabbits and animals for which Cassie has no comparison.

Walter never comments on them directly. Instead he skids the Venetian blinds closed and pulls out his other kit — the one with bone needles and spools of spider silk and not a trace of metal throughout — and gets to work. Cassie can’t remember how she learned never to comment directly on these night customers. But she knows. She does not mention them aloud. Most of all, she does not thank them or ask for favors.

They never pay in coin, these visitors that step over the back threshold and never come when there is road salt on the ground. It doesn’t matter. Every stock share Walter and Michelle buy proves to be lucky; every item they store in the downstairs refrigerator never spoils. Michelle can heal animals at the Gardens that no one else can save. Cassie’s parents are careful never to ask for these gifts, or indeed express any opinion on them at all. Their night visitors bargain exactingly, mercilessly, without quarter. The only recourse is not to bargain with them at all.

Tobias doesn’t believe he’s a changeling. Not really. He’s pretty sure that’s just something his aunt says to excuse how little she cares about him. That doesn’t stop him from leaving a capful of her Rodda’s clotted cream on his windowsill every night, especially because he wakes every morning to find the cream gone. Just in case, he tells himself. Just in case his real family is out there somewhere, keeping an eye on him.

Jake has no thoughts on magic or fae. If asked he’d shrug and casually disbelieve. But he listened all the same when his Grandpa G whispered the secret to controlling a golem, to making life of clay. To destroying that life with a press of the thumb.

Marco learned not to count anything out he hasn’t seen disproven with his own eyes. Eva lit candles for the Virgin Mother and for the ancestors, for Rihannon and Guabancex and the Holy Ghost. Marco doesn’t always honor the old rituals, but he also doesn’t cross still waters or take favors from strangers. He always cleans spilled salt and keeps a tiny iron knife tucked into one pocket. He wears his underwear inside out and spits on the floor after wishing good luck. He hedges his bets.

Rachel’s heard of the old gods, of course she has. They were the fascination of her entire primary school year for a full week, just after unicorns and slightly before everyone became silly amateur witches.

Andalite culture frowns on superstition, and so Ax does as well. Outwardly, at least. That means not telling anyone how thoroughly, how casually, Elfangor has always believed in magic. It means not thinking of the still pool of water, the silver knife, the other scrying tools from eldritch andalite culture… and the way his brother would, just sometimes, know things it was surely impossible for anyone to have seen.

“I put no faith in magic,” Marco says, when Cassie tells them about her dreams. “I don’t trust it, and neither should you.”

«Fine, then.» Tobias glares at him. «Explain how we had the same dream, about the same voice, every single night. Go ahead. We’re waiting.»

Andalite magic isn’t like Earth magic, they’ll come to learn. And sometimes the magic and technology are hard to tell apart at a glance.

It was just a long-distance call, Ax insists when they find him. He doesn’t know how they talked to a whale. He can’t explain why Tobias, but not any of the others, would have received that call. Surely it doesn’t mean anything. Technology only looks like magic, when viewed from a distance.

Tobias sees the rabbit disappear when it enters the unnaturally round circle of mushrooms. But he’s hungry, and he’s tired, and the rabbit is fat and white and moving slow. He doesn’t pull up from the dive in time. Instead he follows it inside—

And hits the ground on two stubby-toed feet, strong human arms thrown out for balance. He’s naked, but that seems incidental. He’s human. He hasn’t been human for almost six months.

Mostly human. There are feathers on his arms and along his back. He sees through hawk eyes and hears with hawk ears, a raptor’s head on top of a human body. He thinks of ancient Egypt, of that god with the ankh, when he imagines how he must look.

And then he staggers back several steps, all the way to the edge of the suddenly-vast circle of mushrooms, at the sight of the beings who approach. Their leader is a tall man made even taller by the enormous antlers that sprout from his head. Behind him walk trees who are also teenage girls, goats upright on two legs, an entire court of half-human half-other beings.

Tobias’s whole body is cold with fear. He tries to fly, but his wings cannot lift heavy human bones. Tries to speak, and a hawk’s harsh cry comes out of his mouth.

“Come, little hunter,” the king who is both stag and man says. “Dance with us.”

«What will you give me if I do?» Tobias asks, finding a different voice. A stupid and brave thing to say.

The king smiles. “An answer to one question.”

Tobias doesn’t ask what’ll happen if he refuses. He’s no fool. So when they start to dance, he joins the flow of their bodies.

His body moves with grace and speed impossible to him. There is no music, other than the endless eerie wails of the other dancers. The dance rages around him, drags him down into dizzy undertow. He can either keep up, or he can be crushed underfoot. Those are the only options. He dances.

It’s been no time at all. It’s been years. Exhaustion sets in. Hunger. Thirst.

But Tobias is no fool. He refuses their cordials and fruits, their temptations of hide and bone. The glistening pomegranates and airy cakes are easy to ignore. The fresh-killed snake, the blood-warm fox… Those are much harder.

Once, they bring before him a plump, struggling rabbit. It’s enormous, fat and juicy and still kicking, and he feels himself weaken. But just before he swings his enormous beak forward to rip at the flesh, he catches a hint of its true reflection in the eyes of the river-maiden who holds it.

It’s not a rabbit. It has the seeming of a rabbit, but even now he can hear its cries. Close to rabbit cries, close… but not quite.

Tobias rears back. He doesn’t see what happens to the not-a-rabbit, because he chooses not to. And it’s easier after that, so much easier, to refuse the haunches and marrows that they try to pass his way.

Maybe that’s why they throw the net over him. Darkness and pain cage him in. His inner hawk panics, screaming and breaking bones against its sides. But a half-remembered bit of lore surges to the front of his human mind.

He morphs. Speed is of the essence, and he twists down to the shape of a garter snake he has never acquired. The net tightens, so he grows large. Becomes one of the hork-bajir that haunt his nightmares, with blades to slash the net. So it becomes sticky and dense, and he becomes a spider who can scuttle along its lines. It grows heavy enough to crush him, so he surges upward and out as a stegosaurus. It ensnares him with clever knots, and he grows human fingers that he might untie them. It weights him down, so he goes hawk to fly free. It becomes fibers that abrade and embed, so he takes on andalite shape to slash the bindings to pieces.

After that, the net falls away. He stares around the clearing in all four directions at once, seeing them now for what they really are. His chest is heaving, his tail blade trembling. He’s desperately tired, but here is no place to sleep.

The woman whose hair drags clear the ground steps forward. She presses a hand against his cheek, and just like that he’s the human-hawk again. Only the andalite stalk eyes remain, along with the taloned feet of a hork-bajir. The world around him remains vicious and savage and beautiful.

“You have entertained us well, little changeling,” she says. “You may go now.”

«Wait—» Tobias knows it’s stupid to argue, but he also knows it’s even stupider to leave here with a bargain unresolved. «My question.» He takes a breath, filling human lungs nestled between andalite hearts. «What am I?»

The woman laughs, a tinkling sound that fills the clearing. “My dear boy, there’s no need to ask us directly, not after we just spent all evening answering you.”

And just like that, Tobias is a hawk. Or something with the seeming of a hawk. He sits on the ground just outside an ordinary circle of mushrooms, the rabbit he followed mere inches away.

He watches it leave. He’s not hungry for rabbit anymore, and suspects he might never be again.

Little changeling, she called him. And he cannot help but wonder what might’ve become of the boy he replaced, remembering the not-a-rabbit’s helpless cries.

“Fuck it,” Marco says. Only it comes out like “f-f-f-f-f-fuck i-t-t-t-t” because his teeth are chattering so hard. They ended up somewhere covered with ice and snow and devoid of life except for polar bears. No. Scratch that. They’re nowhere. This place might as well be the surface of the fucking moon.

Which is why he’s gone just crazy enough through some combination of hypothermia and desperation to be trying this now. His fingertips and toes are already grey-white with frostbite at the edges. Ax is upright for now, but has already collapsed twice. They’re fucked. Utterly and completely fucked.

Unless, of course, Marco can coax fire from ice.

The theory behind it is perfectly sound. Take a beam of sunlight, direct it through a curved lens — in this case a chunk of ice floe that Ax carved with his tail and Marco shaped with what little heat is left in his hands — and that’ll generate heat. Generate enough heat, and the kindling should ignite.

Only, if you stop to think about it for half a second, that’ll never work in an environment as cold as this one. If Marco stops to think, he’ll remember that the tiny pile of kindling will burn up in an instant if it even combusts at all.

The kindling is a pile of hair, blond and brown, black and blue. And a single crumpled feather, striped in brown and gold. A small, sad pile. But also: A sacrifice. An evocation.

It shouldn’t work. It shouldn’t.

Cassie is murmuring something that Marco elects to ignore. Because Marco doesn’t believe in astrotheology. He doesn’t believe in pyromancy. He just needs to believe in reality.

The sun’s own light casts through the fragment of glacier in his hand. The concentrated seed of its power rests squarely in that nest of hair. Don’t move, Marco wills his aching, cold-numb hands. Don’t move. Focus. Breathe. Don’t move. Believe.

Smoke curls. Jake makes a noise, cutting himself off. Marco imagines his own mind, focusing in a beam just like that weak Arctic sunlight. Imagines it bending into a pure, strong core with the power of that ice. The world fades away. The cold recedes, or maybe that’s just the final stages of hypothermia setting in.

The hair puts up a tiny curl of flame. The flame gutters and grows. It races along strand after strand. The smell is something animal and awful, but the fire is growing. It’s becoming red at the edge and blue at its core, hotter than the meager fuel should allow. Marco’s teeth are clenched so hard they cannot chatter, his whole body clenched around where the dying skin of his hands presses with unforgiving power against the ice that kills it.

The flame grows. It grows. It’s not possible, and that very fact seems to add strength to its stubbornness.

It’s candle-sized by now. It could illuminate a lantern. It’s throwing shadows and glow onto Cassie’s face where she crouches across from him, still chanting. It’s a fistful of flame. It’s a campfire.

The hair is gone by now. Even the ice is melting away, every drop of water that hits the flames becoming like oil in its power.

Marco sits down, hard, on the now-slushy ice. Jake is leaning forward, laughing, crying, tears frozen to his face. Rachel thrusts both hands at the flames, fingers starting to unfurl from their painful permanent clench. Even the frostbite on Cassie’s nose and Ax’s stalk-eyes is visibly healing, another impossibility even with the hearthfire now flowing strong between them.

“This,” Marco whispers, sunning himself in the heat of cannot-be, “is insane.”

Cassie steps out into the daylight beyond the barn, half-startled as always by the shock of its heat. She isn’t like Marco; she doesn’t need explanations or words. Her father has always just focused on using whatever works, without trying to apply her mother’s formal empiricism. Sometimes the creatures bring themselves in for healing, and usually when they do they don’t look like any animal that has ever appeared in one of Michelle’s zoology textbooks.

Sometimes Walter sits out all night with a deer’s head cradled in his lap, a snake wound through both his hands, or one of the beings who is neither mammal nor reptile sheltered by the curve of his body. He wills, on those nights, and sometimes a broken-legged deer will run free or a fatally ill snake will roll healthy from his palms when he’s done. Whenever that happens, whenever the will succeeds, he’ll come inside with a few more white hairs, slightly more of a limp in the creeping arthritis of his knee. That’s the reason Cassie isn’t allowed to join her father on those nights, isn’t allowed to help beyond her mother’s methods: needles full of cortisone, needles trailing twine.

It’s also the reason she doesn’t know how this works. She suspects that her father doesn’t know either — Walter’s the type to shrug and say they can either explain the molecular structure of water or they can fill this water trough that’s empty now, and only one will ensure the horses remain healthy on a day this warm. So maybe not knowing isn’t a hindrance, not when it comes to willing wellness to travel from her body into another.

The being she holds in her hands has certainly never appeared in any of Michelle’s books. Which is part of the reason that Earth’s weak yellow sun, giver of both cancer and trees, can do nothing for her.

Aftran needs kandrona, needs the rich light of her homeworld. Cassie has no kandrona to give.

“Please,” Cassie whispers. She holds the fragile little body toward the sky, an offering to Sol. “Please, just hold on for a little while longer.”

Aftran doesn’t answer. Aftran cannot hear her, cannot see the brilliant star that warms them both.

Cassie can feel the weakness inside of Aftran, the hunger. Tonight they’ll take her to the sea. Tonight they’ll give her whale DNA, and a new chance at life. She only has to make it that long.

She’s not sure when the trance begins, or how long it lasts. Later, she’ll have no memory of her knees giving out and her shins hitting the dirt, or of the hours she spends with her hands raised toward the sky in supplication.

It’s Aftran who wakes her. Aftran who sends a jolt of something through the connection they’ve shared ever since their minds were briefly one. It jars Cassie and causes her to topple over.

Aftran is strong, scrunching and stretching fins as she basks in the glow of a sun she shouldn’t even be able to see or feel. Cassie is weak, joint-aching and head-pounding as she fights unconsciousness. The feeling is so overpowering, so painful and unlike anything she’s experienced before, that it takes Cassie several seconds of lying on her side fighting even to breathe to recognize this as hunger.

Not hunger, famine. The dangerous kind that leaves her body screaming for sustenance, devouring its own fats and muscles in its desperation to find more fuel for the fire that keeps her alive. Cassie has grown up secure, with a full refrigerator and loving parents. This ravening full-body ache brings to mind her great-grandmother’s stories of sharecroppers so desperate as to devour earthworms and hay seeds.

But Cassie has it easy. She is on her own planet, and she is a child of plenty. All she needs to do is crawl the ten feet to her parents’ vegetable patch. To rip the first of the row of carrots from the ground, rolling the dirt off between her palms before she eats it. Stealing the sun’s sustenance from this plant that has worked so hard to store it.

She is human. She cannot make her own energy from suns’ light like Aftran. To be human is to murder and devour just to stay alive. But to be human is to choose, at times like these, to share the plenty that surrounds her.

Aftran rests on the back of Cassie’s wrist now. Stronger than she has any right to be. Cassie rips the life from another carrot, and stops for a moment of gratitude before she begins to devour.

Rachel takes time to gather the supplies. A mason jar emptied of jam. Nails and tacks and razor blades, sharp nasty iron and steel to keep evil at bay. Sea salt and rosemary to purify and protect, layered inside the jar overtop. And then, last of all, several ounces of her own urine. To mark it as hers, old-school the way that wolves do. The lid sealed with wax from a black-tallow candle, wrapped with red ribbon to keep the magic inside. She buries it at the edge of her yard, whispering invocations to Aphrodite and Ares as she does.

She can’t take it with her, especially not when she morphs, but she can create a bubble the length and width of the property. She can carve out a space for herself and her mom, Sara and Jordan, that no yeerk can enter. She has power.

She tests it one time, calling Mr. Chapman to come pick up Melissa at her place. Smiling, lips pulled tight with glee and anger, she watches him get to the edge of the property line and… stop.

Watches as his head shakes, his body shifts, and he comes no further. The spell holds. The yeerk leaves.

And then comes the day when Melissa herself freezes at the edge of the yard, an expression of confusion on her face. She leaves, after a while. Only it’s not really her leaving. Not anymore.

Rachel doesn’t feel so smug about the spell, after that.

«Please be quiet,» Ax says, after the fourth or fifth time Jake asks Cassie in an undertone how much longer this is going to take. «I am not confident in this process, and cannot do with distractions.»

They stand at the edge of a waterfall deep in the California woods. It’s not much, less than ten feet tall, but that’s not what’s important. What’s important is the place, and the harmony of that place.

What’s important, Ax knows, is the entropy. Water eroding rocks, breaking down walls. Trees broken apart by murmurations of termites and fractals of rot. Nature building and pulling down, creating and destroying, allowing no rest but in rhythmical motion, chasing everything out of one beautiful form into another.

Entropy is a release of cosmic energy. That’s what Elfangor taught him, anyway. And if he does it right, if he feels this place — water in his hooves, wind in his fur, seeing and feeling and becoming a part of that steady joyous death — he can harness and direct some small fraction of that energy.

The energy flows out of him, and down the bond. He thinks he can feel it. His strength becoming Tobias’s, Tobias’s pain becoming his.

“Is it working?” Jake loses patience again.

«I believe it might be,» Ax says. He reaches out, all four eyes closed, and takes Jake’s hand in his. A second human hand, strong and blunt and warm, wraps around his other wrist, as Cassie takes hold.

His shorm is not here. His only family on this planet is in the yeerks’ hands. They are hurting Tobias right now.

Rachel and Marco are on a rescue mission. Jake and Cassie and Ax are here, having walked for hours in the wrong direction, standing by a destructive stream. Keeping Tobias alive.

Jake sinks to his knees, gasping hard. Cassie is making a small noise in the back of her throat, one that has no words. Their strength flows through Ax, and away. The power in their joints, the sight in their eyes and the succor in their limbs, drains away. Every heartbeat, every breath, leaves them and does not return.

No one asks if it’s working now. There are tears running down Jake’s face, his hand trembling in Ax’s as it squeezes hard enough to grind bones. But they don’t let go, and they don’t end the spell. They send strength down the bloodline, down the lines more powerful than blood, until one by one they fall into the icy current when they have nothing left to give.

“I don’t believe in magic,” Marco says, but he uses the same tone as when he says “I don’t believe in aliens.”

Cassie asks her father, her grandmother, and her mother’s grandmother more questions. She pretends it’s idle curiosity, any time her father asks.

Rachel finds that coven she once thought so silly. They teach her to write names on willow-pulp paper and freeze them underwater, to drag minds away from the forces that might otherwise take hold. “Melissa,” she whispers, “Melissa Andrea Chapman,” and she prays it will work this time around.

Anyway, they kind of win.

The first person to appear to him is an unfamiliar woman with rough-cropped hair. No one Jake knows, or no one he remembers, anyway. But she wasn’t on the dead, drifting hulk of the Rachel a second ago, and now here she stands. So the ritual must have worked.

“I’m sorry to disturb your rest,” Jake tells the ghost. “I just…” He looks down at the drying clay still smeared across his hands, the familiar characters in cascading rows across his arms and across the metal of the deck. It’s earth, farther from the Earth than any precious quantity of dirt has ever been. Just like him.

“I wouldn’t have come if I didn’t choose it.” She crouches in front of him, placing an inexplicably warm hand over his. “I’m Jondrette. You saved my life at the battle under the garment factory. You should’ve killed us. Instead you called off your forces, told us to run.”

“You died anyway,” Jake says sadly. “You owe me nothing.”

“Not before I returned the favor.” She smirks, proud of herself. “Visser Three would’ve killed you in that hospital garage, had we not shot him from behind. I owe you nothing,” she agrees. “Because you’re going to die anyway.”

“I’m scared,” he confesses.

The Blade Ship, and the thing it became, are gone. He rammed it. Shattered shrapnel floats past through the Rachel’s failing gravity. He won, and all it cost was everything.

“I don’t think I want to die anymore, but…” Jake laughs, harsher than expected. There’s no one to lead here, no one to impress. “It’s a little late for that now, huh?”

«It’s all right to be scared,» Elfangor says, when he appears. «You’ve done well.» He looks andalite and human, standing guard over Jake’s death as Jake once did for him.

Jake nods, and Elfangor returns it as a bow.

«You’ve honored us all, and it was an honor to serve with you, my prince.»

This new ghost causes Jake to surge several inches off the deck in horror before he falls back, lacking the strength to stand even in this reduced gravity. “Ax,” Jake gasps. “Ax… No. You?”

«It’s all right,» Ax says. «You killed it. You honored me. The ritual of mourning is complete.»

“I wanted to save you,” Jake whispers.

«And you did. Rest, Prince Jake.»

«You were feared by your enemies, beloved by your cousins. No higher praise can be spoken of any warrior.» Arbron, when he appears, is the same strange duality as Elfangor: all andalite and all taxxon, all at once.

Jake wonders if it’s a nothlit thing, if Tobias…

No. Tobias and Marco, Jeanne and Menderash and Santorelli, all made the escape pod in time before the collision. Jake has to believe that. He has to.

«Rest,» Ax says again. «It’s time.»

“He’s right, you know,” a new voice says, and for the first time Jake feels his eyes prick with tears. “It’s the easiest thing in the world, once you let yourself go.”

A familiar arm slips around him, and Jake lets himself lean against his brother’s shoulder. “You’ll stay with me?” Jake asks, hating the weakness in his own voice. “You’ll stay?” He doesn’t know how long he can keep up the ritual.

“‘Course,” Tom says. “No getting rid of me now.”

The specter shapes crowd the room by now, crouching close or standing by. All here, if Jondrette is to be believed, because they chose to be.

It’s harder to breathe, now. Harder to see, darkness blurring his vision. Tom is warm against his side, but Jake is bitterly cold.

“I don’t want it to end,” Jake slurs. Falling asleep never hurt this much, and the dreams that awaited him on the other side were rarely kind.

“It doesn’t.” She’s already grinning when she appears in front of him, like this is the greatest daredevil stunt ever pulled. “We go on.” Rachel gestures around to the crowd on the bridge. “Aren’t all of us proof of that? Nothing is ever lost.”

“Go on to where?” Jake can’t help asking.

At that she laughs. “Like I’d spoil the surprise. C’mon, I’ll show you. Let’s do it.”

She grabs his hand and yanks him forward. Or maybe that’s Tom, shoving him from behind. Or Ax’s smile, eyes only, pulling him in.

A small strand of space-time goes dark and coils into nothingness.

#animorphs #animorphs au #long post #aus #magic au #character death #animorphs spoilers #high fantasy au #gore #starvation mention #brief oblique references to cannibalism #child endangerment #fae #witchcraft #thank you to all the internet strangers who helped with research on this one #i'll blame that for the fact that this ask has been sitting in my inbox unanswered since 2016 #anyway here it is #anonymous #asks

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kabillieu · 4 years ago

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I’m officially one week out from starting classes for my PhD. Today, I’m supposed to be “gently transitioning” into doing work to prepare for the one section of writing I’ll be teaching this semester, but--pffffttthhh--how to start up again after six weeks of break. Also, the last two weeks I’ve been helping my kid do his schoolwork remotely for hours every day, so my break has really been curtailed.

I had wanted to do some writing over break, but that didn’t happen. Instead, I focused on reading, resting, and doing my journal editing work. In novels and memoir, I read Memorial Drive by Natasha Trethewey, All My Mother’s Lovers by Ilana Masad, and Opium and Absinthe by Lydia Kang. In poetry, I read Kontemporary Amerikan Poetry by John Murillo, House of the Night Watch by Tara Ballard, Winter Stars by Larry Levis, Indigo by Ellen Bass, and Stag’s Leap by Sharon Olds. I’ve also read hundreds and hundreds of poems via my literary journal work.

I’m starting my second semester of the PhD under stressful and awful circumstances, but in many ways I’m much better off than I was in the fall. My kid is going back to school 5 days a week starting two weeks from now. I’m mostly grateful. What this means for my ability to do my own work is so significant I can’t overstate it. However, I am worried about the increased risk in this dark hour before most people have been vaccinated. But, still, for my particular circumstances, having him back in school full-time is a gift, and he’ll also finally be receiving the extra support and help he’s been lacking for the past year. Also, I had hired another tutor back when I thought he was still doing half-weeks, and she’s agreed to transition to being an after school tutor/babysitter. So not only will I have school hours to do my work, I’ll also have a window between 4-6pm as well. Last semester I had some help sometimes, but often, even when our former tutor was available, my kid was having meltdowns that lasted hours, during which I had to intervene. My home was a pressure cooker of worry, dread, and stress. It felt almost impossible to accomplish any work, and yet I did.

I still don’t know if this PhD is right for me. I still feel lost and unsure and unfocused. I feel cut-off from my program, and I feel ridiculous to be--at 38--returning to school for creative writing. I don’t know what to do with these feelings except to remind myself that I entered the program under exceptionally difficult and unreasonable circumstances, and I can’t judge whether I belong in this program based on one semester of attending it during a pandemic.

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shallowgravesrp · 4 years ago

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“It is both a blessing and a curse to feel everything so very deeply.”

James Potter

Age: Nineteen

House: Slytherin

Affiliation: Order

Career: Bartending at the Three Broomsticks

aesthetics: the strike of lightning, tattoos for the fun of it, pushing glasses up in frustration, unruly hair, worn in jean jackets, bone crushing hugs, crinkled eyes, scrawled out love notes, bastard smirk, rolled up sleeves, forgotten tea, crooked tie, constantly moving, pushing his hand through his hair, finger guns, stubborn stare downs, skinny dipping, shit-eating grin, boisterous laughter, a fluttering golden snitch, stag antlers, cleaning glasses on shirt tails, fireworks in the dead of night.

what we all know: James Potter had such potential in his life. With such a strong name and a pure bloodline behind him, he could’ve done anything he wanted to, but he ended up throwing it away. One night while he was in Hogsmede, James found himself on the other side of a fight he wasn’t prepared for. Before he knew it, a bite was made into his neck and he was changed forever. It was the help of Remus that got him back on his feet, and found him a best friend and partner in a hunt for their lives. Along with their jobs and their work with the Order, they are working together to find those who attacked them and end the terror finally.

As a child, James was given the world on a silver platter, at least for the most part. His parents taught him right from wrong, how to love fiercely and unconditionally, and most importantly how to accept people of all types. James had never been raised with the prejudices that so many of the other pureblooded children were exposed to. However, despite the love that his parents had for him, and their general agreement on how James should be raised, they just never seemed to work. The divorce happened before James was even six years old, and for a while he went back and forth between his parents homes equally. James knew they loved each other in their own way, they just didn’t work as a couple. It wasn’t until his mother, Euphemia, asked her best friend to move in with them that he understood why. Seeing the love between his mother and Theadora though, James could hardly begrudge them. Though they couldn’t be legally wed, James always viewed Theadora as a second Mum, and that his love for his family only grew more. Around that time, his father started traveling more for work, which meant that James spent more time with his Mums. James still saw his father frequently though, as he made a point to see him every time he was home from a business trip. Despite being a bit unconventional, James loved his family more than the world.

When he went to Hogwarts, James wasn’t sure what he expected, but to be placed in Slytherin wasn’t it. He had heard rumors about the house growing up, and it was particularly popular amongst a crowd of people James never wanted to be associated with. However, the more he learned about his house, the more he understood why he was placed there, and that the stereotypes placed on the house were just as dangerous as any other prejudice at times. Having always had a mischievous side, James was filled to the brim with cunning and strategic prowess. He took care of his own, fiercely at that, and he was ambitious in every sense of the world. James made friends with people within his house, but he also branched out beyond just his housemates. Joining the Quidditch team his first year, taking after his mother who played seeker for the Holyhead Harpies before going on to coach them, James became friends with some of his rivals off the pitch as well.

It wasn’t until his fourth year that everything changed for James. He had everything he ever wanted, good friends, great grades, and all the right connections to get any career he wanted. James was going to be a professional Quidditch player like his Mum, and then go on to do even more. However, a night at Hogsmeade had shifted his fate entirely. While at Three Broomsticks, James had noticed a man continuously harassing a girl a couple years older than him. Despite all of her efforts to get him to back off, he was persistent, and James couldn’t stand by and just watch it happen. At only fourteen, James knew he was picking a fight he couldn’t possibly hope to win, but he didn’t realize just how out of his depth he was until it was too late. James had hoped it would stay a verbal confrontation, but the first fist flown at him was enough to discourage such a hope. The fight was taken outside of the bar, and before James could even properly get his footing in it, he was being bitten. The pain was unlike anything he had ever experienced, and despite his disorientation, he knew what had happened. James used his invisibility cloak to sneak back into Hogwarts, and stumbled all the way to the hospital wing before he dared to take it off. When he explained what happened to Madame Pomfrey, he couldn’t help the sobs that overtook him as she wrapped her arms around him and told him she could help.

Later that month, James met another boy with the same condition. He had no idea that Remus Lupin was a werewolf, though in fairness, he didn’t really know the other boy well at all. Despite being the same year, their paths had never really crossed, but once they had, the two had stuck together. James found a trust in the other boy that he couldn’t quite manage with anyone else, especially now. They also shared a common goal, and James was grateful that he wasn’t the only one that wanted retribution. More than anything else, he wanted to make sure the person that hurt him couldn’t ever do it to anyone else ever again. James fully believed that there was nothing wrong with being a werewolf, but he knew society didn’t see it that way. Moreover, he knew that it was hard to convince anyone they weren’t monsters when he had been turned by someone he would consider just that. Still, James kept his status a secret, aside from his parents, Dumbledore, and Remus, he didn’t feel it necessary for anyone else to know.

After graduation, James wanted nothing to do with the ministry, despite once thinking he might want to take up a career in it. James knew he had to pick a career that allowed him to take time off whenever the full moon time fell, and it had to be something people wouldn’t watch too closely. Working as a bartender would allow him that freedom, as well as kept him out of the public eye for the most part. It was frustrating that his options were so limited, and it made his disdain for the ministry grow. The system as a whole was corrupt, but he didn’t know where to even start in terms of changing it. Joining the Order was a good start though, and between the work he did with them, as well as the time he and Remus spent hunting down their respective tormentors, James felt like maybe, just maybe, he was making the world a better place after all.

REMUS LUPIN - James thought his life was over when he got bit, but luckily for him, another student came out to help him. Remus has become a close friend of James’ and is also now his partner in crime. They’ve promised to help each other find who attacked them, no matter how long it took.

PETER PETTIGREW - Peter was never someone that James thought was actually his friend. He was clearly looking for a leg up, which was really shown as Peter rose up in popularity when James fell. He actually didn’t mind in the end as he had more important things to worry about.

LILY EVANS - James had met Lily randomly while they were school, and his big headed personality had made a terrible first impression. He never really got the chance to talk to her again until after his attack. At that point he was far too distracted and honestly didn’t pay enough attention to even notice how she felt about him.

CONNECTIONS JAMES POTTER IS MENTIONED IN

James Potter is currently a TAKEN role with the faceclaim of Matt Daddario. He is played by Elle.

#marauders rp #dark rp #lsrp #hp rp #james potter #order #o #jamespotterbio #mention: remus lupin #mention: peter pettigrew #mention: lily evans #taken #takenm

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anthonyed · 5 years ago

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stevetony - the proposal edition

tony stark (born to an american father and an italian mother) owns the world’s most reknown tech conglomerate which hq is stationed in manhattan and for some ridiculously stupid reason, he’s still operating in states under a working visa

with ms potts as his pa, he has less to almost nothing to worry about until ms potts decides to get married out of the blue moon “happy and i got engaged 3 years ago, tony!” - okay, maybe not so blue moon but still!

ms potts predictably (ever so detailed and well planned) arranged her substitute “great heart, good tactition. you’ll be in good hands, mr stark.” except she forgot to counter check if rogers actually had all those experiences he claimed in his resumes.

“you said you worked for wintour. are you sure you worked for wintour?”

“i was in her design team”

in retrospect, that should be telling enough for tony to personally double check everything and watch his own back - basically, don’t trust rogers - until pepper comes back from honeymoon. but tony being tony, he got distracted and fabulously forgets all about that minor - teeny weeny tiny - really. blink and you can’t see - lie that he told 10 years ago when he first approved the manhattan branch as the primary hq of SI

rogers panic like a true vet he is; “you lied?!”

“it was nothing until trump.” tony rolled his eyes

but no amount of dollar slid beneath the immigration files could buy his ass out. they insist on investigation the great tony stark “as per our rules and regulations, mr stark.”

thus began the lies of “mr and mr stark-rogers’

“why do you live in alaska, rogers?”

rogers, six foot plus with 200 pounds muscle is apparently sitka’s most elligible bachelor with a price tag of a billion dollar to his family’s name. not as much as tony’s but still -

the way the locals crowd around him, makes tony reevaluate his own identity. his pride is injured the more he hangs around there. what with rogers’ high school sweetheart, peggy carter who’s so adamant on winning his heart back - tony, for some odd nauseating reasons, feels outrageously lacking in a town smaller than all those he’d traveled to combined. the horror-

mrs rogers is nice. papa rogers is nice to tony but mean to rogers. rogers bestie is a long haired hunk called bucky with an alluring smile and striking eyes

“careful tony, sitka is shit, sitka is shit” he keeps repeating to himself but oh god, he still ends up making out with barnes in that corner booth of sitka’s most popular stag party host-bar/club

rogers officially hates him for that. tony tries to repent. he buys him a yacht. except its manufacture is Roger’s Motor, so he doesn’t really know how that works but the way steve’s frown melts and his lips quirk upwards a little, he thinks he’s good.

until 23rd of december when a handsome man called sam wilson turns up at rogers’ front door.

suddenly tony was experiencing himself in sitka on his first day all over again. mrs rogers, mr rogers and dodger rogers ALL crowds wilson like tony doesn’t exist anymore to them and for a man who had been on the receiving end of most of the affection in rogers’ household for a fortnight straight, this shift was like carving a huge chunk of something out of his chest.

the wedding doesn’t happen because tony flees. it wasn’t because ms potts is finally back, no. it was because wilson - rogers’ old flame/first gay love/longest relationship to date, from college- somehow finds those immigration notices tony carried from manhattan to sitka and demands the truth of it right in front the entire rogers clan

tony flees. dignity shredded, heart broken into pieces, because in between all these ridiculousness, somehow he had managed to fall hard for steve and now he feels like he’s bleeding everywhere, aching somewhere viscerally and he cannot take another second in that goddamned town; sitka

tony spends the rest of his stay in US making plans and calling for emergency board meetings. he’s getting deported on new years eve and despite however much his company needs him in manhattan, he doesn’t think he could afford fixing those leaks in the state he is at the moment; broken

he’s on his final call for the day with a very vexed but fortunately mollified pepper in the conference room when the door flies open and a 200 pounds of pure muscle slams him hard against the wall and claims his mouth in a kiss.

“rogers-,”

“no, you listen. sam is an idiot. my parents forgive you and i - i.” he pauses, blue eyes wide and blinking at tony’s shocked browns’. he’s still adorably wrapped in his sitka appropriate winter jackets, furry hoodie tickling tony’s cheek, the way steve is plastered close to him, hot breath clouding. “i love you tony. i love you.” he swallows thickly and tony feels so dizzy he cannot feel his own feet.

“steve.” he says… pleads? he doesn’t know. is this really happening.

steve kisses him again. first shorter, then harder and deeper until tony’s mouth splits into a stupid grin and his suit clad arm circles around thick parka, pulling and pulling and he confesses with gasps and laugh tainted breaths that “i love you too, steve.”

#stevetony #stony #the proposal au #well i tried #the proposal vers

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startanewdream · 4 years ago

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The fawn and the stag

Summary: When six-years-old James Sirius has a crisis about never showing magic before, a familiar friend comes to help him.

For @prettyflores whose prompt was "Harry and/or James Sirius' first magic", and then it turned out in this family feels story.

Read on AO3 or below the cut:

_____________

The sounds of laughter and conversations were drowned away as James went around his house, leaving by the front gate; nobody noticed him. He was usually very good at avoiding being caught and even more so that day - all his parents' attention was on Al, little four-years-old Al who had just cast his first magic.

It was not a very impressive magic - Al was just upset because Lily didn’t stop crying and then he made some flowers levitate around her, distracting her. All grownups - Mom and Dad, Grandma Molly and Grandpa Arthur - had stopped to look and even Teddy seemed impressed with what he had seen. James didn’t think it was a big deal, but then everyone was applauding - Lily was giggling - and there was a light on Dad’s eyes that upset James more than anything.

His father had never looked at him like that.

Which was fair, because James had never shown any magic before.

He hadn’t been worried until then, but if his baby brother had performed magic, then so should James, right? He was older . And smarter - at least, Mom always said he was too smart for his own good.

So James had an idea and he had left them. It wasn’t like he could talk to anyone who had been there, there was no one who would understand him; he would usually come to Teddy for his questions, but Teddy had been unquestionably a wizard since birth, with that changing appearance of his. And he knew that Mom had been exploding things ever since she was younger than Lily (Uncle George always told this story with tears of joy in his eyes) and Dad… well, Dad was a hero. He didn’t know the full story because Mom told him he was still too young to understand, but he had seen Dad's Chocolate Frog Card and knew that his Dad had faced a Dark Wizard when he was just barely one-year-old.

It was only James that was lacking in the magic department in the family. Maybe there was something wrong with him.

‘There is nothing wrong with you’, he heard an amused voice say and he didn’t need to turn around to know his friend was there; James was already used to not noticing when he approached him, of not ever hearing his steps.

And James was already used too to how his friends sometimes seemed to read his mind.

‘I never did any magic’, James mumbled, annoyed, shame coming out of his voice at admitting it out loud.

‘Sure you did’.

‘How can you know?’, James asked. ‘No one ever saw me doing anything’.

His friend let out a small chuckle. When James turned to him, he was smiling gently.

‘Not every magic can be seen, Fawn’, he said.

James didn’t know what he meant by that, which was also normal. Sometimes his friend said things James couldn’t understand, like calling him Fawn, even though James had repeated a lot of times that his name was James.

‘Oh, I know’, his friend would say when James corrected him, and he sounded strangely sad about it, so James usually dropped the subject. He didn’t really mind being called Fawn.

It sounded affectionate, like something Mom or Dad would call him.

‘Where are you going?’, his friend asked, watching him with some concern as they got further away to James’ house.

‘The cliff’, James answered resolutely.

‘Hum’, his friend pressed his lips, his hand grabbing his own hair rather nervously. ‘That cliff where your dad told you not to go alone?’

James nodded. They would go down to the beach on weekends and there was a nice cliff where they could watch the sunset on a picnic sometimes. James had never thought much about it until a few weeks ago when he saw those teenagers jumping off the cliff in the sea beneath and that had seemed fun - and even more interesting when Dad had said it was too dangerous to jump like that and he shouldn’t do it.

But James never considered actually going there until now.

‘Fawn’, his friend sounded distressed now. ‘I know your expression very well. It speaks of trouble . What are you thinking of doing?’

‘Uncle Neville once told me a story about how he discovered he was a wizard’, James explained without stopping walking. He was near his objective. ‘His great uncle let him fall off a window and he bounced to the ground’.

‘And now you are thinking of jumping off a cliff? This is a terrible idea’, his friend declared, though James thought he sounded just a little impressed. ‘Wandless magic doesn’t work like that - and magic comes for everyone at their own time, Fawn. Go back home’.

‘I can’t!’, James cried, feeling his eyes burning with tears. ‘They are all gushing over Al and… I am older , I should have done magic already! What if - what if I can’t -’

‘Fawn’, his friend stopped in front of him, kneeling so their eyes could be at the same level. ‘I promise you are a wizard. But even if you weren’t, your parents would love you all the same -’

‘What do you know?’, James interrupted him, drying away the tears that insisted on dropping from his eyes, which only annoyed him more. Only Lily cried - and she could because she was a baby. ‘You don’t even exist!’

That made his friend blink, startled. James was breathing heavily; it seemed weird to accuse his friend of not existing, when James could see him clearly with that dark messy hair that reminded him of Dad and those hazel eyes that shined very brightly, a face so familiar that James thought he had known him since always; but James had heard Teddy talking about him.

Imaginary, Teddy had called him.

And James had realized how Albus always got confused when James mentioned his friend, even though he had been by James’ side on occasions that Al had to have seen him; even Mom and Dad, though they had never said anything about it, seemed amused when James mentioned his friend, sometimes accepting his presence only after James mentioned him, until James had finally accepted that his parents couldn’t see him at all.

A part of James had known what that meant, but he always ignored in favor of just accepting his company . He was the only one that James never shared with anyone; and he would play with James before Al grew up enough to join him, or when Teddy wasn’t near - and considering Teddy would be going to Hogwarts that year, James had wanted even more to keep the presence of a friend that never seemed to judge him; in fact, his friend seemed to approve most of the small misdeeds that James would do time from time.

He was always there when James needed him.

But now James had more pressing things to care about than the fact that his best friend was just on his own mind.

‘Let me go’, he asked, when his friend didn’t move. ‘I - I told you, you don’t exist. Go away!’

James knew how that worked. Sometimes when he was afraid of something under his bed or in his closet, his dad would come and show him that there was nothing there.

‘And let me tell you a secret, James’, his dad would say with a warm smile that calmed James more than anything in the world. ‘You are much more powerful than any fear. So you close your eyes and think very firmly “go away!”. When you open your eyes, there will be nothing there’.

But now it was not working with his friend, who was just staring at him with faint worry in his eyes. James supposed it only worked for things he was afraid of and, truth be told, his friend gave him the opposite of fear.

‘You always tells me to not give up’, James said then, sniffling. ‘Why are you not letting me go?’

‘Because it’s a silly idea, Fawn. Magic can show itself in moments of need, but not always. I don’t want you to be hurt’.

‘See? You don’t think I can do it’.

‘I think you are a kid who can’t control your own magic yet. Like… Teddy once was. He can change his hair, right?’ James nodded, thoughtful. ‘But he needed a lot of practice to learn. Like you will when you go to Hogwarts’.

‘I don’t know - what if I never get a letter - if I am not a Gryffindor like Mom and Dad -’

‘Fawn, I am telling you, your parents love you the way you are’. And when James opened his mouth, his friend touched the point of James’ nose. ‘I know what I’m talking about, I am a parent too’.

That made James pause. His friend never talked much about himself.

‘You are?’

‘Yes. And you know what? Every day I am proud of my son’.

‘You have a son? Do I know him?’

There was a smile on his friend’s face, one that suddenly reminded James of his own dad when he was talking to Teddy about Teddy’s father or when James had asked him where his dad’s parents were.

It was… wistful.

It made James feel sad for some reasons he couldn’t understand.

‘You do’, his friend said. ‘And he was older than you when made his first magic’.

‘Older?’

‘Yeah, he was seven. He didn’t know what he was doing, he didn’t know that he was a… anyway, he was going to the school and his… his aunt gave him a terrible haircut, really awful. And he made his hair grow back at night. He was sleeping when it just happened. His first magic’.

His friend sighed then; a heavy silence that reminded James of his parents when they were thinking about the war, of things that were lost and could never come back.

‘Did you think he wasn’t a wizard?’, James asked in a small voice. ‘Before?’

‘I never really thought about it’, he answered, and James could only hear the honesty in his voice.

‘Would you be upset if he wasn’t?’

‘I would be worried’, his friend said, again sighing. ‘But not because of what anyone would think, just because I knew his road ahead was difficult and it would be worse without magic. But never upset . The things he did that most made me happy and proud had nothing to do with his magic’.

James walked again, this time to sit on one of the benches in the small park they were. His friend sat next to him, his arms protectively around James’ shoulder.

‘What things?’, he asked curiously.

‘Well - lots of things. Once he went to face a very dangerous wizard and he did it because he knew he was the only one that could do it, even though he was just eleven. And, no, he didn’t cast a single spell for it. It was just him and his love that saved him’.

‘Love is the most powerful magic’, James recited. His dad always told him that.

His friend smiled.

‘Yes, but it’s not a wizarding magic, Fawn, Muggles love just as fiercely’, he said, and then he looked away at something James could not see. ‘I was proud of my son whenever he stood up to defend his friends. When he did the right thing no matter what. But I think the day I was the happiest was when he gave me my first grandson’.

‘You have a grandson?’, James asked, surprised. His friend looked even younger than his father, not all old like James’ grandparents or Teddy’s grandmother.

‘I look good for my age’, his friend assured him playfully, once more knowing exactly what was on James’ mind. ‘And I don’t have only one grandchild, but three. I love them all, but the first… was the first’. He threw James a furtive look. ‘He got named after me, so I may be a little biased. Don’t tell anyone’.

There was a mischief look on his face now, one that James recognized in the mirror every time he saw himself doing something he shouldn’t be doing.

He felt a sudden wave of warmth for his friend.

‘I am sorry I said you don’t exist’, he said sincerely. ‘I know you are real, even if no one else sees you’. James cocked his head to the side, a thought coming to him. ‘Why doesn't anyone else see you?’

‘You are thinking of the wrong question’, he answered cryptically. James tried to think what could be the right question, but nothing came to him. ‘And they may not see me, but your parents know me’.

‘They do?’

‘Oh, yeah. We’ve met before. I loved your father even before he was born. And your mother and I had a nice chat right before you were born, you know?’

‘That was ages ago’.

‘Six years mean nothing to me. Time flies by when…’

But his friend shook his head, not finishing his phrase. He looked away, past James, in the direction of his house.

‘Your parents are looking for you; they are rather worried’, he said, as if he could hear them calling, even though James thought it was too far. ‘Did you give up on your idea then?’

‘Yeah’. James shrugged, trying to pretend it was nothing much, though he knew his friend wouldn’t be deceived. He always seemed to know when James was lying. ‘It wouldn’t even be new. I would want my first magic to be far more exciting. Like Mom’s’.

His friend gave him a fond look.

‘I told you, Fawn, not every magic is a firework. Some are just as simple and quiet as crossing the barriers of life and allowing a grandparent a time with his grandson’.

James didn’t understand what he meant by that. But he thought that his friend was very nice and that he wished he had all the time in the world with the grandchildren he mentioned he had.

‘Your dad will find you soon’, his friend told him. ‘I think I will go - will you be okay?’

James nodded.

‘Tell him what’s bothering you. Your dad will always listen to you’, his friend said. ‘And Fawn… even if we don’t see each other, you know I will always be here when you need me, don't you?’

James smiled.

‘Thanks… what do I call you? I never knew’.

His friend gave James a lopsided grin that James had to share.

‘What do you want to call me?’

‘I don’t know’, James answered truthfully. It would be weird to call him Mister when James already thought of him too much as his friend and he didn’t look like one of his uncles. ‘What do your grandchildren call you?’

There was the most curious look on his friend’s face. James had never seen him so sad, almost crying.

‘I’d expect Grandpa’, he whispered.

‘Well, I could call you Grandpa then’, James said. He called Teddy’s grandmother as Grandma sometimes too; she didn’t seem to mind.

‘Yes, you could, James’, he said very softly, looking happy and melancholic at the same side, and James realized it was the first time he called him something other than Fawn.

He was going to note it when he heard someone calling him in the distance. He turned in time to see Dad coming in his direction, running, and James got up. When he looked back at the bench, there wasn’t anyone there anymore.

This was usual too. His friend would come and go without James ever noticing it.

‘James!’, his dad called him once more, and then he was giving James one of those bear-hugs that Dad always reserved for when he came home after a long mission for work. ‘I was so worried!’

‘You were?’, James asked, surprised, because he really thought no one would notice him gone.

‘Of course I was! Don’t ever disappear on us again, please!’

‘I am sorry’, James mumbled guiltily. ‘I just thought - you were so excited because of Al, I didn’t think -’

‘Oh, James’. Dad broke away a little to look at him. ‘Is that why you left?’

James bit his lips, not wanting to answer. Dad kneeled in front of him and James had a vision of his friend doing the same before; for the first time, he realized they actually look a lot like each other, though his friend didn’t use glasses and didn’t have any scar on his forehead.

‘James?’, his dad asked softly. James took a deep breath.

‘I was afraid of not being a wizard’, he whispered. ‘I never did what Al did’.

‘That was accidental wandless magic, James’, his father explained patiently, messing with James’ hair fondly. ‘It’s not controllable’.

‘But you looked so… proud of him and I wanted you to be proud of me too’.

‘I am proud of you’, his father assured him. ‘Al’s magic just reminded me of something I saw a long time ago. And you are my little mastermind genius, aren’t you? Or you think I don’t know who put those Canary Creams on your cousins’ cake last week?’

James grinned without controlling, not at all ashamed. It had been fun watching them all turn into little canaries and it was temporary, Uncle George had explained to him.

‘You are different from Al, just I am sure Lily will be different from both of you. And I love you all the same’.

‘Even if I happen not to be a wizard?’, James asked, the smile dying from his face as he stared intently at his father. His friend had assured him, but James needed to hear his dad saying it.

‘Even then’, his dad said and James looked in his eyes for any sign that he wasn’t speaking the truth, but there was none. He breathed easily, a huge weight coming out from his shoulders, and his father looked at him as if wondering if he should say something more. ‘I know you haven't shown anything yet, but... Strange things always happened around you, did you know?’

James shook his head. He never noticed anything.

‘I mean, even stranger for wizarding standards. Once we let you alone for five seconds, thinking you were safe inside your crib. It was magically protected to avoid any way of you getting out - only physical force would open. But you managed to open and then we found you coming in our direction, walking as if… as if someone was guiding you. We never understood what happened exactly’.

‘What do you think it was?’, James asked.

‘Maybe you have a guardian angel’, Dad answered, but James thought he was just joking.

‘Maybe it was Grandpa’, he said, shrugging. James didn’t remember since when he saw him, but he supposed he was there by his side ever since he was just a toddler.

‘Grandpa? No, Arthur wasn’t -’

‘No, Grandpa is… Never mind’.

James shook his head, giving up. His dad couldn’t see his friend anyway.

‘Okay… Well, what I meant, James, is that you have nothing to worry about. You know, I don’t think I’ve ever shown any magic until I was about seven. There is no age exactly’.

‘So it’s normal? I mean -’

‘Perfectly normal’. His dad raised, offering him his hand. ‘Let’s go back home? Your mother is worried too’.

‘I didn’t mean to upset you’.

‘I know. But next time you have any problem, you come to us, okay? We will always be here for you’.

James smiled more openly now.

‘What were you doing alone out here?’

‘I wasn’t alone ’, James answered, rolling his eyes because he knew his father wouldn’t understand this. ‘I just was… thinking’.

His dad threw him a look that told James he wasn’t falling for what James said, but he didn't insist. That look reminded James of his friend back ago; maybe it was a look that came with being a dad.

In any case, James considered that it was better for his dad to wonder than knowing for sure about that cliff-jumping idea.

‘What was it, Dad?’, he asked instead, to distract him. ‘Your first magic?’

‘Oh’, there was a faintly amused look on his face as if he thought the idea was laughable. ‘Something silly, I made my hair grow overnight… James?’

He’d noticed James had stopped walking and was looking at his father with a funny expression.

‘Was it because of a terrible haircut?’, he asked. His dad nodded slowly.

‘Yeah, how did you -’

‘Lucky guess’, James answered, walking again, biting his lips, his mind considering the possibilities. If what he was thinking was right… Mom had explained to him about ghosts and once Aunt Luna had said in that dreamy voice of her that people never really left their loved ones... ‘Dad, you are proud of me?’

‘Yes, like I told you’.

‘I think… I think your dad is proud of you too’.

Harry stopped at the front gate to look at James. There was that wistful smile on his face and James thought he could understand a little; he wanted his dad near him all the time and he couldn’t imagine growing up without him like it had happened with his dad.

‘It’s what I hope every day’, he whispered, then he sighed. ‘Now, go run to your mother, she is was concerned for you. If you ask nicely, I think she may even take you to a flight’.

James beamed and he ran to the backyard, allowing his mom to hug him; she was a little mad he’d been missing, but he could tell she was much happier he’d come back. Even Al and Lily seemed delighted he was back and James allowed himself to be a little pampered.

He looked over his mom’s shoulder to see his dad walking calmly towards them, and, for a brief second, James thought there was someone next to him, someone who had an uncanny resemblance to his dad, grinning at the scene. Then he blinked and, when he looked back, there was nothing there but his father, a smile on his face that James knew all too well.

#Family Feels #Harry Potter and James Potter #James Potter and James Sirius #James Sirius #James Potter dreamverse #sort of at least #More like James always comes in times of need #Harry Potter and James Sirius #I don't know how to write next gen #not really

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balmacedapascal-archive · 6 years ago

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THE ADVENTURES OF OLIVIA DELLAMONICA & VINNIE MALZAHN

Olivia Dellamonica first met Vinnie Malzahn when he came home with Ty after school one day. They were six and she was four. She’d started going to preschool at their church but she still wasn’t happy that Ty got to got to school and she couldn’t go with him. And she definitely wasn’t happy that he was bringing home some other kid bc Ty was her best friend and why did they need someone else? Especially someone who was loud and always bouncing around and eating the green popsicles that were supposed to be hers. He couldn’t stick around, he just couldn’t.

By the time Olivia was seven she’d resigned herself to the fact that there was no getting rid of Vinnie. Him and Ty had been stuck together like glue since kindergarten and there was no end in sight. She didn’t like it but she’d learned to put up with him. And by put up with, really it just meant she’d gotten big enough where she could shove him off their couch when she got really annoyed. The boys didn’t play with her much, something about girls having cooties and not wanting to play with dolls or do stupid girl stuff. Plus they were nine and didn’t want to do “baby stuff”. They’d still play with her every now and then when her mom would make them. And Jonathan would still play with her most of the time even if he wanted to chase after the older boys instead. She had the advantage there. They wouldn’t play with her because she was a girl but Jonathan was way littler than her so he definitely didn’t get to play with them.

By the time her 10th birthday comes, she doesn’t try to chase after Ty and Vinnie anymore. They’re in seventh grade now and it might as well be a different planet. Besides she has her own friends from school - Cassie, Hayley, Lauren - and she doesn’t need her big brother to be her best friend. But the boys are still at her party because it’s at the pool and her mom got an ice cream cake and of course Vinnie has to throw her into the pool cackling like an idiot. She gets him back and dumps a soda on him and then it’s war but that’s not new. She’s been fighting with Vinnie for years. But now her friends giggle and say how cute he is and that is definitely new and she doesn’t like it. She tells her mom Vinnie definitely doesn’t get to come next year

She’s eleven when she wakes up to the sound of their father yelling after midnight, sneaking downstairs to see Ty and Vinnie on the couch, looking more serious than she’s ever seen either of them. She doesn’t catch all of it - something about sneaking out and trespassing and the couple beers missing from the fridge - before her mom spots her and sends her back to bed but the next morning Ty’s grounded and Vinnie’s not allowed to come over for three weeks. It’s the quietest three weeks in their house that she can ever remember and it’s the first time since he started kindergarten that Ty spends his days willingly with her and Jonathan. She won’t say it but she’s glad when the punishment is over and Vinnie comes bursting back into their house like a hurricane of energy. She will deny it with every breath she has but she kinda sorta missed him.

The summer after eighth grade is kind of a big deal and she’s so excited to finally be starting high school and she’s gone up two cup sizes while all her friends are still waiting for the boob fairy to come and everything is great. Except now boys are noticing her and she’s noticing them and Ty’s noticing all the noticing and he is not okay with it. And normally she can handle that but this time he’s convinced Vinnie “never been serious a day in my life” Malzahn to back him up and she’s lucky she can talk to a boy without one of them scaring the poor guy off. There’s also the fact that sometime after 4th of July, when their parents let them have a big party and there were high schoolers there and Vinnie wound up getting hit with some water balloons and stripping off his shirt without a care in the world, she started having the occasional dream of pg-13 romance starring the boy in question. It’s only happened like twice (okay five times but whatever) but it makes being around his loud and obnoxious self a little awkward. So she does her best to avoid him and Ty, for multiple reasons and before school starts she finally manages to get her first kiss despite their efforts to keep her away from boys. It’s wet and sloppy and kind of disappointing but it still counts for something.

Freshman years comes and goes and it’s filled with the usual ups and down of being in high school. Most people start to identify her as Ty’s little sister which she isn’t too excited about but it could be worse. Despite being back in the same school building she doesn’t see a ton of the guys but every now and then they pop up. Ty usually swoops in when she doesn’t really want him to, protective big brother mode activating. Vinnie occasionally finds her during lunch, being loud and obnoxious and stealing food off her plate until she shoved him away and he just laughs and her friends all still think he’s cute which is honestly more annoying than it was four years ago. She goes to all their baseball games like she has been for years and Vinnie still insists on giving her gross sweaty hugs afterwards when he smells like BO and dirt and she still hates it which is probably why he still does it.

The one moment where she actually gets along with Vinnie is at the spring formal. She’s there with a sophomore named Tommy who’s on the basketball team and is super cute but winds up spending more time drinking spiked punch and joking around with his teammates and she’s only danced with her girlfriends until Vinnie shows up at their table during some slow 80s ballad and pulls her onto the dance floor before she can protest. He’d come stag after him and the girl he’d been dating broke up last month so she just assumes it’s a pity dance cuz he’s bored while Ty’s with his date. But it’s still nice and he smells like Old Spice and he’s actually pretty good at dancing which she’ll tease him about later and she tries not to blush when he spins her around and dips her and she doesn’t run away when the song ends and a new one starts. They wind up dancing together for four songs before he disappears to talk with Ty about something.

Jonathan hits his growth spurt when he turns thirteen and she’s suddenly the shortest one in the house. She spends the entire summer hearing every short person nickname in the book and by the time schools starting back up its a miracle she hasn’t murdered Vinnie.

It’s senior year for the boys and they’re a little too busy to really pop into her life at school but she still sees them. Sees Ty stressing about keeping his grades up and doing good when college scouts come and making sure the team dominates this season. He goes out of town one weekend with their parents for a college visit and it’s the first time she gets to stay home alone. Well not alone. Jonathan’s there (she refuses to call him Dells, even if all his friends think it’s cool) and Vinnie shows up halfway through Saturday, bored and looking for entertainment. It’s one of the only times she’s hung out with Vinnie without Ty there as a buffer. They watch a ton of movies and order pizza and eventually wind up getting ice cream before going back home and falling asleep on the couch halfway through Field of Dreams and wake up in the morning in a tangled mess of legs and arms and she can still smell his cologne (still Old Spice) six hours later when her parents get home and he’s gone back to his house. Neither of them ever mention it, not to each other and not to Ty but she doesn’t shove him away as often when he crowds her on family movie nights.

Her and her mom both cry at graduation along with Mrs. Malzahn and she says it’s because she’s just so relieved that Ty actually graduated and that it’s a miracle he didn’t get kicked out because of one of Vinnie’s hijinks but really she’s a little sad she won’t have them around anymore. Jonathan will be starting his freshman year in the fall and she’s excited to have him around and get to be the big sibling for a change. But she’s still gonna miss her idiots.

The boys leave for college and the house is just too quiet. Like unbearably quiet. Like she didn’t realize how much noise they made and how much she would hate the silence once they were gone. She gets more involved with extracurriculars at school, finding stuff to keep her busy and out of the house and away from all the quiet. She pretends not to be thrilled when they come home for a long weekend and drive her a little crazy with all their stories and antics and she hugs them both longer before they leave on Sunday

Throughout junior and senior year she dates a couple different guys and it’s nice. Just nice. Nobody gets her blood boiling, nobody gives her those big romcom feels, nobody drives her crazy. And it doesn’t have anything to do with the dumbass who comes home and steals her food and tells her stories about college life and flops on top of her when she’s on the couch. It definitely has nothing to do with Vinnie fucking Malzahn. Not at all.

Senior prom is a Big Deal™️ and she spends a couple weeks searching for the perfect dress with her girlfriends - the same girls who’ve stuck with her since sixth grade and they’re trying to just have fun and not think about them all going their separate ways in the fall. She just wants to have fun and dance and enjoy herself. And she’s got a date who’s one of the better looking guys in their grade and has been a friend for the last couple years. And it’s going to be great. Except then he calls up about twenty minutes before he’s supposed to pick her up with the news that his ex is back in town and they’ve been talking and they’re gonna give it another go and he hopes she understands that he has to cancel for prom. Which leaves her in a pretty blue prom dress and no date. Her mother says go anyways, have fun. Ty has to be talked down from going and taking a baseball bat to the guys front bumper. Vinnie disappears and she doesn’t even notice until she’s trying to figure out how to unpin her hair and suddenly she’s being told to stop what she’s doing and get her butt in the car and Vinnie’s back in a suit and has corsage and she doesn’t really understand what’s happening but her mom snaps a couple pictures of them in those classic prom poses before he all but drags her out to the car and heads to the dance

They argue in the parking lot once she finally finds her voice “Vinnie, I’m not walking in there with your dumb ass as a pity date!” “For the love of god it’s NOT a pity date, Liv!” “Yes it is” “Jesus woman why are you so damn stubborn?!” “Fuck off!” “Just get out of the car! We’re going in, we’re dancing, it’s going to be a grand fucking time and you will thank me one day” “no!” “Do not make me throw you over my shoulder woman! You know I can! I’ve done it before!” “I swear to god Vin, I will murder you”

They eventually get inside and she has to explain a couple times the change in plans and eventually she calms down and remembers how much fun she can have with Vinnie when he’s not picking on her and he dances with her on just about every single song for an hour straight until she’s out of breath and laughing and she tries not to think about how he actually looks good with his hair a little messy and his shirt unbuttoned and the sleeves rolled up, making her snort and laugh as he attempts to do the running man in some weird dance off between him and Cassie’s boyfriend. They stay until the very end when she’s ditched her heels and has lost a handful of bobby-pins from too much dancing and not enough hairspray.

They both just sit in the car when they finally get back to her house. The lights are off and she knows it’s only because she’s with Vinnie. If she’d actually gone with her original date both her dad and Ty would be waiting up for her like a couple of crazy people. She’s almost too tired to move, shoes somewhere on the floor and Vinnie’s suit jacket swallowing her smaller frame up. He kills the engine and they both just sit there and it’s quiet and she doesn’t know why because god knows he never shuts up

“Vin, why’d - why’d you go with me?” More silence as his fingers tap a random little tune against the steering wheel. “Vinnie?” “Did you have a good time?” “Wh-yeah… yeah it was great Vin. But -“ “you deserved a good time. Gotta go big for senior prom. You only got the one shot.” “You did it twice.” “Yeah well I didn’t get it right my first time” “Vin?” “You look really beautiful Liv…” she doesn’t know what to say because this is the sweetest he’s ever been to her, first time she’s gotten a compliment that didn’t have a teasing tone or a smart ass remark following and she just looks at him like she doesn’t know what’s happening

And then he kisses her like she started dreaming about when she was a kid and it’s all the fireworks she’d hoped for when she was 14 and then some and when he goes to pull back she chases him for more. They don’t leave the car for another hour.

Ty is furious. The one person he trusted to never touch his baby sister is now cuddled up with her on the couch during movie night, holding her hand and making flirty comments. Jonathan finds it a little weird and a little gross but for the most part he doesn’t care. Mrs. Dellamonica isn’t surprised in the slightest and just keeps adding an extra place setting at the family dinners like she’s been doing for Vinnie for years.

#undrafted #vinnie malzahn #jay hayden #ty dellamonica #undrafted fanfic #pls show up in the tags #this is kind of garbage bc i wrote it on my phone #but also it's just like 2500 words of love #i've had this idea since i first watched the movie #and heard the line about them being brothers in law #long post #text post

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blueboxesandtrafficcones · 6 years ago

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Second Chance at Forever - Chapter 13

Chapter 13 of this year’s entry for the @dwsecretsanta, my present to @wordsintimeandspace! Beta’d by the always-kind @stupidsatsuma. Thank you!

@doctorroseprompts and @timepetalscollective as an AU fic

General warnings for: alcohol use, cursing, discussions of sexual activities

Masterlist

AO3

Summary

Once upon a time, a boy and girl met at a bar and fell in love - until he ghosted her.

Five years later Rose Tyler’s best friend Mickey is getting married, and arranges a dinner for her to meet the groomsman she’ll be walking with - unaware that the two already know each other.

John Noble’s not sure how his friend and mentee managed to connive with the Universe to bring the One Who Got Away back into his life; all he knows it carefully built and maintained walls are crashing to the ground with no warning.

Rose sighed, hooking her leg higher on John’s thigh. Their simple goodbye kiss had once again turned into a full-on snog against the front door. The closer Martha and Mickey’s wedding drew, the harder it was for them to keep their hands to themselves. He was essentially moved in, though there were a few boxes still stacked in corners waiting to be unpacked.

“You’ve gotta go,” she mumbled, tilting her head to give him better access to her neck. He was due at a restaurant for Mickey’s stag night in twenty minutes, and the bridal party would be knocking at her door any moment.

“I’m good.” He sucked at her pulse point, making her hips jerk into the nice bulge he had going. “Why don’t we go back to bed instead?”

“Sto-op,” she grumbled, pushing futilely at his shoulders, both pleased and annoyed that he knew she wasn’t very serious. “One more week.”

After three continuous nights sleeping in the same bed they’d started cheating on the rules; by now the agreement had been revised to an ‘everything but’ technicality, with all else being fair game.

Ignoring her he skimmed his fingertips up her leg and between her thighs, finding her knickers just as a knock came from the other side of the door.

“Shit,” Rose whined, and this time when she pushed him away he took a step back, letting her leg drop. “Right, you need to go now.”

“Fine,” John grumbled, pecking her lips one last time before physically moving her out of the way and opening the door. “Good evening ladies, have a good time.” He stepped out, letting Tish, Martha, and Shonara in to find Rose still leaning against the wall, breathing deeply.

“Sorry to interrupt,” Martha snickered. “D’you want us to come back in an hour?”

Rose straightened up, fixing the skirt of her dress and shutting the door behind them. “No, no, come on in. It’s fine.” Shaking her head to clear it, she showed them where to leave their coats before guiding them into the sitting room where everything was ready. “Welcome to stage 1!”

The coffee table was covered in snacks, everything from mini quiche and pigs in blankets to pretzels and popcorn. Four of Rose’s largest wine glasses stood ready, a bottle of red next to them with a bottle of white in an ice bucket. “Sit, sit! What do we want to start?”

“Red,” Tish said firmly. “I don’t think we need all this food though; tonight is about drinking!”

Rose began pouring as the other women took plates and started sampling. “I have it on good authority that if you eat first, you can drink more.”

Martha nodded in agreement, accepting her wine with thanks. “It’s true. Getting some meat is a very important part of the drinking process.”

Over the previous six months Rose had gotten to know Martha as a charming, sweet, tough, brilliant, classy girl, which was why it took a moment for the double entendre to process. Choking on her own glass of wine, she almost fell off the couch in surprise.

“Martha!”

The woman burst out laughing, tears filling her eyes as she watched Rose flounder. “Sorry, sorry! I couldn’t resist,” she cracked up. “You walked right into that one.”

Tish and Shonara got it then, snickering into their own glasses. “So does that mean you’re no longer sexually vegan?” Tish teased, wagging her eyebrows.

Rose took a long sip of her wine to buy herself some time, unsure of how much to share.

“Your secrets are safe with us,” Martha promised, seemingly reading her mind. “It’s a hen do. If we can’t talk about our sex lives tonight, when can we?”

“We can all share,” Shonara offered with a wink. “For instance, Leo will just be having whiskey at dinner tonight; he’s already eaten.”

After a moment the four women all howled with laughter, Tish high-fiving her sister-in-law. “Very nice!”

“Your turn,” Martha prompted her sister, elbowing her.

Tish sighed dramatically. “All right, all right. I’m not ‘going steady’ with anyone at the moment, but… I’ve been having a lot of takeaway.”

Rose wolf whistled as they clapped, Tish bowing. “All right, I suppose I’ll go… um, okay-” she tried to think of the right analogy for what they’d been doing- “so, no longer ‘vegan’, I’ll admit that, but… we’re not ready to wrap the sausage just yet.”

“Get it, girl!” Shonara high-fived her as Rose blushed, the other two cheering. “Right, bride, your turn.”

Martha bit her lip, tucking hair out of her face. “Okay, um, cone of silence, right?” The other three nodded vigorously, drinking their wine as they waited. “So, keeping with the theme… starting with our wedding night, we will be… keeping the sausage unwrapped.”

The room was silent as they processed this. Rose stared at the blushing bride, mind whirling. “That’s awesome,” she finally choked. “Oh my God, that’s wonderful!” Tish and Shonara broke out of their stupor then, squealing as all three tackled the now-laughing woman of the night. They all squished onto the couch then, hugging and laughing.

“When was this decided?” Tish demanded, one arm wrapped around her sister’s neck.

“We had a scare right after we got engaged, and we were both surprised that we were disappointed when it wasn’t true. Started talking, and… with where my career is, now’s actually a really good time, so we’re going to go for it.” Martha beamed. “So, in some ways it is one of my last weeks of freedom. Between now and the end of our honeymoon is my last chance to pig out on lunch meat and sushi and coffee and alcohol – once we’re back we’re both going on a clean eating kick, try to get as healthy as possible. And Mickey’s so sweet, he’s already promised to give up everything I have to, suffer with me so to speak.”

“He’s going to be a wonderful dad,” Rose said sincerely, already picturing it. “Feel free to borrow Tony any time to practice.”

“And Keisha,” Shonara cut in. “Any time. Really. Please. I’m begging, actually.”

“Stop, you’ll scare her,” Rose scolded, whacking her arm. “Shush!”

Martha leaned forward to see Rose, smirking. “And, once baby Smith-Jones is here, you should feel free to borrow them at any time for ‘practice’.”

Rose scowled, instinctively shuddering. “Um, no. Babysit, yes, absolutely. But don’t- don’t even put that into the universe yet. Ugh.”

“Yeah, Martha, be nice,” Tish teased. “You’re not the only one getting some serious meat after your wedding.”

“Tish!”

John walked up to the restaurant perfectly on time, meeting the other three at the door as they approached from the other side.

“Hey,” he greeted them, returning their fist-bumps and just managing not to roll his eyes. He was easily twenty years older than all of them, and while that wasn’t an age difference he noticed with Rose, it was clear these three were still the in cocky invincible stage of young adulthood, a stage he wasn’t sure he’d ever even gone through.

“Thanks for coming man,” Mickey grinned, seeming genuine enough. Then he snickered. “Sorry the girls broke up… whatever it was.”

This time John did roll his eyes, hiding it by opening the door. “We don’t want to lose our reservation.”

“Uh huh,” Mickey smirked on his way past. “Whatever you say.”

Following them in, John prayed for patience.

They were seated quickly, and he took a moment to appreciate the restaurant. Mickey had wanted a nice steak and whiskey dinner followed by drinks at a bar, so they’d come to one of the better steakhouses in London. It had an old-time feel to it, dark colors and lots of wood and leather. It had been a gentleman’s club back in the day, but had been a restaurant now for more than thirty years. The clientele was still mostly skewed towards men, especially for business meetings over a meal.

John’s father and grandfather had brought him when he graduated first uni and then medical school, and he had fond memories of the place.

The conversation was, thankfully, of higher quality than he’d initially feared. A healthy debate on football teams took them through to the entrée, but John was the only one to notice when Mickey merely picked at the steak he’d been eagerly anticipating.

“Is it not right? For as expensive as it is, you should send it back if it’s not,” he murmured, not wanting to draw the attention of Leo and Jake.

“No, it’s good. Great,” Mickey replied lowly. “I’m just… it’s starting to feel real, now.”

John looked down at his perfect steak with regret, before sliding back from his chair. “Come with me.”

He led the younger man through the restaurant to the back patio. It was deserted, being early December, but it wasn’t too cold and gave them some privacy. “What’s going on? Are you having doubts?”

Mickey stared at his shoes, hands shoved deep in his pockets. “I’m from an Estate. The only reason I escaped that life was the Tylers took me and Gran with them, supported me going to school. Martha is… Martha is better. She’s a doctor, she does real good. She’s beautiful, smart, funny. Kind. She’s way out of my league.”

“Do you love her?” John asked, and Mickey’s smile at the thought said everything even before the words came out.

“More than anything.”

John nodded, crossing his arms and staring across the patio at the wall for a moment as he gathered his thoughts. “What do you know about Rose and I? As a couple, I mean.”

Mickey’s head jerked up, brow furrowing before he shrugged. “Not much. Martha knows more, I think, but she won’t tell me. ‘Cone of silence’, sort of thing, or so she said.”

“We met five and a half years ago,” he started slowly. “In a bar. It was… she was perfect. Everything I’d ever wanted in a partner, when I bothered to think of such a thing at all.”

“But?”

John snorted. “But I’m twenty years older than her. I’m her parents age. I realized I was falling in love, that I could genuinely see myself with this girl, this woman, forever.”

“What did you do?”

“Panicked. Ran like hell. Disappeared from her life overnight. I stood her up for a date, and didn’t see her again until that dinner we all had back at the start of summer.” Glancing down at the ground, he scuffed the toe of his shoe on a crack in the cement. “I knew she was too good for me, too young, that I was too old and damaged. That she’d wake up one morning and see the truth, and be horrified.”

“How’d that work out for you?” Mickey was staring at him intently, and he met his eye evenly.

“It was the worst mistake I ever made. I will never stop being grateful to get another chance, and stop mourning the five years we lost. I know it’s terrifying, but she chose you, Mickey. And I’ve had to listen to her- Martha, I mean- talk about you for the last three years, and she knows you. Warts and all. She thinks you’re worth it. At the end of the day, it’s her choice who she spends her life with, isn’t it? Who the fuck are you to choose for her? If you genuinely believe she’s that smart and wise, you need to trust her opinion. That’s the secret of women, Mickey, and you need to learn it sooner or later. She will always be smarter than you, in the ways that really matter. Just go with it.”

Mickey nodded slowly, a half-smile appearing briefly. “That’s… that’s exactly what Pete said,” he admitted. “The Tylers, they’re the only family I’ve got. That never bothered me, until I saw how close Martha’s family is. I’ve never had that, not really.”

John clapped his hand on Mickey’s shoulder, grinning. “You’re looking at this all wrong, son. You may never have had that before, but a week from today you’ll have it for the rest of your life. So long as you don’t let your fears overcome you.”

A weight had seemingly lifted off Mickey’s shoulders, and John turned to back inside before realizing he wasn’t being followed. “What?”

“Martha wants a baby,” he blurted. “I mean, I do too, but… she wants it now. Soon. Get pregnant immediately.”

“Okay.” John crossed his arms, just watching the other man begin to pace.

“What if I’m no good?” Mickey finally blurted after a dozen turns around the small space. “My dad left when I was a baby. All I’ve ever had is Pete. What if I screw the kid up? I’m not ready!”

“Listen to me, son,” John started, stopping him with his hands on his shoulders. “First, breathe. Second – it doesn’t matter.”

“Of course it matters!”

“No, listen to me,” John insisted. “What kids need, more than anything, is stability. They need love and attention. Right? Being there, day in and day out, teaching them, playing with them, just spending time with them, that’s enough. There’s always more, and some of it will come naturally, but that’s the biggest part. That, and loving their mother. I’ve seen you two together, for years, and I’ve heard even more stories. As long as you stay a team, you put your relationship first, you will- do a great job.” He almost said ‘kill it’, but given the topic it didn’t seem appropriate. “All right?”

Mickey sighed, nodding slowly. “Yeah. Yeah, okay.”

“Now, two more things then we’ll go back in if you’re ready. One – you will never be ready to be a parent. I’m done my fair share of time in the obstetrics ward, and I’ve met men becoming fathers for the third and fourth time who were still scared shitless. Just accept it.”

“Okay,” he said, though he didn’t look convinced. “What’s two?”

“Talk to Martha. Not today, or even tomorrow, but the sooner the better. Do it before the wedding, so you go in on the same page. What you decide doesn’t matter nearly as much as you deciding together. Got it?”

“Got it.”

John waited until Mickey moved towards the door, following him inside. When the other man turned towards the restrooms, John sought out their waiter, who happened to be standing nearby. “Hi,” he started, waiting for the man to acknowledge him, “had a bit of nervous-groom syndrome; can we get out steaks reheated?”

“Absolutely, sir.”

When Mickey returned he was his usual cheery self, talking and joking as they finished their meals. The bar offered whiskey sampler flights, and ever the teacher, John fell easily into lecture mode as he educated the younger men on the finer points.

Once the bill was settled they headed out onto the street, starting up the sidewalk with no particular destination in mind. “Right, what’s next?” demanded the groom, throwing his arm around Jake’s neck and pulling him down to give him a noogie.

“Well,” the best man drawled, fighting him off with a laugh, “I was thinking… strip club? Buy a shag?”

“No,” Mickey said firmly, stopping dead, “not a chance in hell. I do actually want to get married. I love Martha. I don’t need to see other women in their knickers.”

Leo and John nodded in agreement, the younger man adding, “Shonara would kill me.”

“Rose would help.”

“All right, all right, was just a suggestion,” Jake protested, holding his hands up in peace. “Don’t get your pants in a twist. What’s your idea?”

Mickey shook his head, raising his arm and stepping to the curb. “Taxi!”

As soon as they pulled up to the club John started laughing, shaking his head fondly as he climbed out of the cab.

“What?” Mickey asked, falling into step with him as Jake and Leo walked ahead, debating the cheapest way to get drunk.

“This is where Rose and I met,” he explained. “I haven’t been back since.”

“D’you want to go somewhere else?”

John shook his head, holding the door for him. They were there early enough the cover hadn’t started yet, and plenty of empty tables. “Nah, no problem. A year ago? Maybe. Besides, tonight’s about you.”

They claimed a table for six, John buying the first round of tequila shots. When they arrived they held the shot glasses up, and he gave a quick toast.

“To Mickey and Martha!”

The shots were thrown back, just as the DJ got started. The three younger men immediately jumped up, heading to the dance floor.

“Coming?” Mickey shouted, but John shook his head.

“I’ll hold the table!” It was a good enough excuse; it was hardly his type of music, and not his definition of dancing. He wouldn’t mind if Rose was there, but had no interest in basically dry-humping a stranger.

Mickey gave him a thumbs up before disappearing onto the floor. Leaning back in his seat John ordered a beer from the waitress, lingering over it as he watched the dancers writhe to the so-called music.

About an hour after they arrived all the hair on the back of his neck stood up, and he glanced towards the door to see Rose, Martha, Tish, and Shonara come in, laughing. An involuntary smile crossed his face at the sight, partially at Martha in her tiara and sash but mostly at Rose.

She must have sensed his gaze, because she scanned the club until their eyes met. A beaming smile spread across her face, drawing an identical from his own, and started his way. The other women pulled her back, talking, and he waited impatiently to see what she would do.

They stumbled into the club howling with laughter, linked together arm in arm. Shonara’s portion of the evening had been laser tag, and it was a smashing success. Rose had felt like a secret agent in a movie, dressed for clubbing in a tiny dress and sky-high heels, sneaking around shooting lasers at her friends. Martha had won as was only right, but they’d given her a fight for the title.

Tish’s suggestion was, naturally, drinking and dancing, though everyone was fully on board. Rose didn’t miss the irony of the selected venue being where she had originally met John, and no sooner had the thought crossed her mind that her skin prickled. Peering around the dark room, she spotted him sitting at a table by himself.

Grinning, she started in his direction before someone grabbed her arm, stopping her.

“Where are you going?” Tish shouted, and Rose leaned closer to be heard.

“The guys are here with a table. Let’s join them.”

Shonara shook her head. “No, no, no! We’re supposed to be celebrating! Dance with strangers, let them buy us drinks,” she protested.

Martha was eyeing the dance floor, face lighting. “Do what you want; I’m going to go dance with my fiancé.” And she disappeared into the crowd.

Rose looked at the two women before glancing over her shoulder at John. “Yeah… sorry.” Not sorry at all, she spun on her heel and sauntered towards where her boyfriend was sitting. “Hi!”

“Hey, babe,” he said in her ear, pulling her onto his lap instead of letting her take the seat next to him. “How’s your night going?”

“Great,” she enthused, playing with his tie, “better now.” She shifted, angling herself better across his thighs, and drawing out of him a ragged moan she heard over the eardrum-shattering volume of the club. “And what have you been up to?” Rose teased, refreshingly unworried about what had him aroused.

His arms were wrapped around her waist to support her, but he tightened them to bring her side closer into his chest. “Thinking about the last time I was here.”

“Something good then?”

Before he could answer Tish appeared, smiling. “Hi, lovebirds. I can hold the table for a bit if you want to go dance.”

“Yes,” Rose decided, sliding off his lap and heading for the dance floor, dragging him by the hand. “Thanks!”

She wormed her way through the crowd until they were in deep, none of their friends nearby. Turning her back to John she pulled him against her, settling his hands on her hips as she began to dance. It didn’t take long for his hips to fall into rhythm with hers as they grinded to the techno-pop. Rose lost herself in the beat, her senses overwhelmed by the crowd and the music but mostly the man behind her.

Despite her concerns he seemed to be enjoying himself, fingers rubbing circles in her skin through her dress as he pulled her tighter against him. As much as she loved feeling him against her bum she eventually shifted, wrapping her arms around his neck as they moved. He took advantage of the new position, capturing her lips in a searing kiss that left her breathless when they finally parted.

John’s arms kept them pressed together, palms blatantly cupping her bum, but in the dark club she doubted anyone would care if they could even see. Time seemed to flow strangely, both flying past and yet dragging. She was ready to crawl out of her skin and into his by the time she glanced at the table, only to see everyone else gathered around it talking.

Tapping his arm she nodded in the table’s direction, and his face soured before nodding. They maneuvered their way there, Rose biting her lip all the while to keep from smiling as he kept her carefully in front of him.

“Hey,” she greeted the rest of the party, noticing Leo held two coats. “You leaving?”

“Yeah, got to relieve grandma,” Shonara said apologetically, giving her a hug. “Tonight was a blast, though.”

“It really was!”

Rose eyed Martha and Mickey, who seemed lost in each other, and wasn’t surprised when Martha leaned in and whispered to him, only for her oldest friend to jump up like he’d been scalded. “Right! We should go, early morning with wedding… stuff, thanks for tonight, see you later!”

Mickey practically ran out of the club, Martha laughing as she paused to say goodbye.

“Have fun,” Rose snickered in her ear as they hugged, and the bride smiled widely.

“Oh, I will.”

She disappeared in a whirlwind, leaving Rose, John, Jake, and Tish to stand around.

“We paid the bill,” Tish said, “so… if you want to go-”

John firmly pressed his hips against her bum, his vote clear, and Rose didn’t hesitate to accept the exit strategy.

“I think we will, thanks. Tonight was a blast.”

He kept her close in front of him on the way out, and Rose managed to keep a lid on her laughter until they were settled in a cab.

“What’s so funny?” he asked, frowning, as his hand settled on her thigh and slipped just beneath the hem of her dress.

“You’re not as subtle as you think you are,” she teased, kissing his cheek. “I don’t think you were fooling anyone.” Her palm settled high on his thigh, making him jump.

John shrugged, and in the darkness of the cab she heard the fabric rustle more than saw the movement. “I don’t care, honestly. Pretty sure a couple near us on the dance floor were, uh, doing a bit more dancing than dancing.”

“Oh, they were,” Rose drawled, deliberately crossing her legs so the hem of her dress rode up even higher. “In case you were wondering, that’s too exhibitionist-y for me.”

“‘Too exhibitionist-y’?” he repeated, raising an eyebrow. “Implies you don’t mind a little.”

They pulled up at their flat then, and Rose opened the door before smiling at him over her shoulder. “Oh, you’ll see.”

She walked into the lift just as he caught up to her, and they slid closed as her laugh turned to a moan.

#bbatcfic #doctorroseprompts #timepetalscollective #ficandchips #dwsecretsanta #doctor who #Human!NinexRose #human!nine #rose tyler #au #second chance at forever #oohlala

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everlarkficexchange · 7 years ago

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Zero Hour

[Promt 88]:I love soulmates fics ! Anything with Everlark being soulmates and finding each other -finally :) thank you ! - anonymous

Written By: Mega-AuLover

A/N: this monstrosity you can thank @xerxia31 for. There were several Soulmate Prompts and the one I wanted was taken by another author, whom I personally stalk, but she was talking about a wedding and I thought a wedding no…soulless mindless Zombies..I think I made tea come out of Xerxia’s nose :) but seriously thank you for saving the life of this story. To my beta who I have a serious writers crush on @alliswell21 you and I both know how much awe I am in over your writing skillzzz.

Rated: T

PART ONE - ZERO HOUR:

They were known as the living dead. Zombies created by the Capitol who didn’t find their true love. Katniss Everdeen watched one of them from her window, walking slowly, a mask of indifference on its colorless face. He was followed by Darius, one of the nicer Peacekeepers.

She glanced down at her arm, the cause of such a creature, was the tracker embedded under the tattoo they had to get printed on their arm. It was a control measure put in by the Capitol after the war.

At the age of twelve, all children received a tattoo with their initials and age. It was the first step to show the ever presence and dominance of the Capitol. At 18, they were brought to the school yard to be outfitted with their trackers.

The tracker remained silent until they met their soulmate. When you met your soulmate, the tracker would glow showing their initials for exactly 8 hours, in which you had to connect with your mate and register with the local magistrate.

The magistrate were the only ones with the authority to remove the tracker.

If you missed the 8 hour window, the kill switch would activate. An electrical discharge was sent from the tracker directly to your brain, a sort of modern day lobotomy.

Everyone strived to find their life partner, afraid of becoming a poor soulless creature, just as her sister, Primrose, called them.

Primrose was right, the mateless walked the earth with no purpose other than to do the dangerous jobs the Capitol assigned them. They blew up the caverns in the mines, tested new machinery, the lucky few became slaves to a Capitolite or wealthy member of the society. They were kept far away from the regular folk and guarded by Peacekeepers.

“Hey Catnip,” Gale knocked on the window pane bringing her out of her thoughts.

Katniss smiled at her friend, hunting partner , and soon to be in-law. This morning both families were overjoyed about the nuptials She waved him inside. “Hey Gale.”

Gale was twenty six, tall and very good looking. There were rumors about his prowess in the bedroom, though she didn’t care much about the stories.

He entered the room, and filled it. He was a little over six feet tall, one of the tallest men in The Seam. “So Primrose finally got you to wear a dress.”

Katniss grimaced,”It’s like putting lipstick on a pig, Gale.”

Gale chuckled. “You should see my dad, he didn’t want to wear a suit, but you know my mom.”

Hazelle Hawthorne was a force to be reckoned with.

“Vick wanted me to give this to Prim.” Gale extended the package he held in his hand.

“Thanks,” she took the package from him. “I’m sure whatever Vick cooked up, Prim is going to love it.”

Everyone thought Katniss was going to be Gale’s soulmate, but it was never meant to be. Katniss was thankful that the odds were in her favor.

“I can’t believe my baby brother is getting hitched before me.”

When Vick turned eighteen the previous day, no one was surprised his tracker showed Prim’s initials. The entire Hawthorne clan came to the Everdeen home, to confirm Vick’s initials showed on Prim’s arm. Both families ran to the Seam magistrate to have the trackers deactivated and removed. Katniss had been so happy to see the darn devices removed from Prim and Vick’s arms.

Because they were from the Seam, they needed to fill out the wedding certificate at the Justice Building on the other side of the in the Merchant quarter.

“Me either. It’s insane that Prim’s all grown up.”

Gale laughed, “Yeah , Rory and I have been ribbing on Vick all day with the older woman bit. It’s just funny that even though Prim’s like two years older than him, she still manages to look younger.”

“You Hawthorne men look old, or have you forgotten that when we met in the woods, you were 14 but looked like you were 18. I mean right now you look like you can be someone’s grandfather. Now that we’re talking about it, you’ve looked like a grandpa since the day you turned 16.”

“Hardy, har, har,” Gale snickered, pointing to his tracker, it read 26. Gale had worn his tracker for the past 14 years. A constant reminder that the Capitol owned him.

“Well you can’t help it old man,” Katniss joked back.

“Old man? you’re practically an old lady yourself. How old are you? 24? that’s ancient by Seam standard’s.”

Gale was right, no one in the Seam waited this long. There was only two occasions where a person never found their soulmate.

“Maybe you and I are the new Goat Man and Ripper.”

“Well I do know my way around a distillery, and you do have a Goat.”

“Lady does not qualify as a goat, she’s more of a pet.”

“Remember when you bought Lady for Prim?”

“You mean with the money we got from the stag I got with my arrow, that you claimed you shot?” Katniss crossed her arms over her chest.

“I still say my arrow was the one that got him.”

“Gale you and I both know you’re no marksmith. You can’t shoot down a full grown bear standing 20 yards away.”

“Man those were great good old days.” Gale wistfully uttered, his days were now spent in the mines.

So much had changed since she was a child. She looked behind her to see the empty rocking chair. It reminded her of harder times.

According to many, becoming soulless was the worst fate someone in Panem could have. But Katniss had seen a different kid of desperation.

She had seen what happened to soulmate when their love was taken away. Her mother had found her soulmate in a man from District 12’s Seam side. Fate brought them together and for a long time they were happy, until he was taken away by illness.

“How is your dad feeling?”

“Good, if he could stay away from Haymitch and Ripper’s liquor. My maw says he drives her insane, he says she drives him to drink.”

“Your mom then says drive, what drive, we don’t even have a car.” They said together. It was an old joke between them.

Gale’s father had survived the great illness thanks to her mother. The Hawthorne’s were lucky. Many were not.

Katniss was eleven when the great epidemic filtered through District 12 and beyond. It affected the Seam the greatest especially those poor souls loveless creatures. When her father became infected, her mother, a healer, tried everything she knew to help save him but her father was too far gone. He died shortly after the diagnosis.

Her mother never fully recovered.

“Listen I’ve got to go. I’ll see you in less than twenty minutes. Who knew someday you’d be my sister.”

Katniss shook her head, “I guess somethings are meant to be Gale.”

She closed the door and from her vantage point she watched him flirt with Mrs. Andrews. She was glad they were not a match, she and Gale were too alike. They were more like siblings then lovers.

Her mind swirled with images from the past. The constant hunger, the near death, the death of her father, and the loss of the care of her mother.

It became very clear no one cared about dying children, or the sick people of The Seam. The Capitol was more concerned with its own plans. They tightened security around the wall that was erected after the great rebellion was neutralized. The wall cut through the land separating the privileged and the poor. The vendors lived in the Merchant Quarters and the workers and the poor lived in the ghettos.

In District 12 they called it the Seam. In District 2 Darius a Peacekeeper said the ghetto was known as the Dungeon.

“Katniss.”

Hearing her sisters words brought Katniss out of her thoughts. She turned around to see Prim dressed in white. “You look beautiful.”

“Never as pretty as you.”

“Oh here, Vick sent this to you.”

Prim blushed as she reached for the box. She opened it and gasped. “Bread! real bread for toasting!”

“Bread?” Katniss wondered where Vick had gotten it. There wasn’t a bakery in the Seam, it wasn’t allowed. But once a month. The Baker sold his goods outside of the gate door, but most of the time the bread was stale. Gale would trade with him, when they got a good haul. The last time she’d tasted fresh bread was when that boy had given her bread./

“It’s still warm Katniss,” Prim touched he bread reverently.

“Can I smell it, “ Katniss asked recalling smelling the scent of freshly baked bread. The smell of fresh crust and flaky interior had never left her.

“Sure, do you remember the last time we had fresh bread Katniss. It was a miracle. We were so hungry.”

Katniss recalled how empty their stomachs were on that hollow day.

Her last resort was to sneak into the Merchant side and rummage in trash cans for food. She found nothing and as she was giving up, a boy appeared by the window. He nodded at her then a few moments later a commotion from within the walls of the house.

She remembered hearing the painful cry of a child, before the door of the back yard opened. It had been the blond boy who’d seen her through the window. He had a welt on his face and his big blue eyes held unshed tears. But his chin didn’t tremble as he ran out and gave her two loaves of burnt bread.

Katniss had never been able to forget that boy. She’d never seen him again. However, no matter what the Capitol did to divide them, in her heart she could never forget that boy.

That single act of kindness gave her the strength to carry on. To remember her father’s generosity, his dexterity, and his abilities to hunt. Katniss looked down at her wrist, the glaring zeros poised to begin at any moment.

“It was a miracle, Prim. And today we have another one. Vick and the rest of the Hawthorne’s will be here at any moment. Why don’t you go get mother?”

“Don’t worry, Katniss, someday you’ll find your soulmate.”

Katniss hid her grimace. “Don’t worry about me little duck, today you’re going to sign the official paperwork, precisely at 1:00 in the afternoon and we’ll have a toasting afterwards.”

“I know! I’m so happy!” Her sister couldn’t contain her joy. She was as bright and as delicate as the yellow flowers she was named after.

“Katniss don’t forget your pass.”

“Don't’ worry. I will not forget.” Katniss put on the long sleeve jacket that went with the dress. Katniss was shorter than her mother so the sleeves reached the tip of her fingers, she didn’t mind, she was always cold. She was glad it had pockets.

PART TWO - RACE BEGINS:

Prim turned to their mother, “Isn’t it a great day for a wedding mom?”

Their mom slowly nodded. “Yes dear.”

It really was a breathtaking day, there wasn’t a rain cloud in the sky. It was warm, with a pleasant breeze. It was a the perfect day for a wedding.

“It’s really happening,” Prim squealed when she saw Vick arriving.

Tears gathered in her eyes, as she watched her sister take in Vick in his suit. He was handsome, as handsome as the rest of the Hawthornes. He was tall like his brother Gale, but his eyes were kinder. His smile softer, and unlike Gale who sported a beard and mustache, Vick always had a five o’clock shadow.

“You look amazing,” Vick softly said taking Primrose’s hands in his.

“Thank you for the bread.” She offered.

“Every bride should have fresh bread on her wedding day.”

“Okay, everyone time to get moving,” Hazelle, Gale’s mom interrupted the tender moment between Prim and Vick.

“Yeah some of us are hungry,” Rory shouted.

“When aren’t you hungry?” Gale muttered.

Katniss chuckled. She wondered how long Gale and Rory would go before one tried to hurt the other.

As they made their way through the Seam, many stepped outside to softly hum the bride’s song.

This was a special time in a young person’s life when the future seemed limitless.

Katniss was the curmudgeon trailing in the back with the full knowledge that life was filled with more hurt than good.

As they approached the wall, the streets became busier since it was the day the merchants sold their wares to the inhabitants of the Seam. Everywhere Katniss looked there were men, and she was filled with dread and panic as she saw two young people looking at their trackers as they time slowly ticked down.

The tracker would automatically start when she was near her mate. She took deep even breaths as she followed the wedding party.

When they arrived at the wall, the sun in the sky indicated it was noon. Katniss heard Rue’s song being of the giant clock-tower as it struck twelve. She’d never seen it but she heard it all of her life. On a cold winter’s day the bell could be hear in the Seam, it chimed on the hour.

They stood long in the long line waiting patiently to go up into the small wall border crossing outpost. They moved slowly until they reached where the gate was between the Merchant and the Seam. Katniss kept didn’t really look around but the smell of bread caught her attention.

The baker was at the wall, with a tall man with curly blond hair. They looked alike, Katniss assumed he was the baker’s son. He reminded her of the young boy who had given her the bread. When he looked in her direction, Katniss swiftly looked the other way.

“Peeta, please give the lady her bread,” his father admonished.

Katniss glanced at him once more when his attention was turned to the woman in front of him. He was broad shouldered, his arms were muscular, and his hands were large but they were careful enough to gently hand the woman her bread. His actions caused her to smile.

“Next,” the Peacekeeper called out.

“Come on Katniss,” Posey, Gale’s baby sister called.

Katniss joined the group as they were allowed in the building. Prim was ahead of them with Vick.

Her sister had her hand linked with Vick, as they spoke with the Peacekeeper. “State the nature of your visit.”

“We are getting married,” Vick’s deep voice boomed. “Our trackers were removed yesterday by the Seam Magistrate.”

The Peacekeeper checked their passes. “Congratulations on your nuptials, may the odds be in your favor.”

“Thank you,” Prim gushed.

One by one they went through the checkpoints. They were all in a festive mood as they entered past the checkpoints and headed toward the Justice Building. Katniss paused at the looming clocktower, it’s shadow cast the town square in darkness. When they arrived they discovered their appointment was set back a hour.

The small party waited in the lobby of the building waiting to be called to sign the paperwork. They had all of the time in the world.

“Only fifteen more minutes before we’re married,” Vick said quietly for Prim to hear, but Katniss overheard it.

Her sister gazed up at Vick and her pale blue eyes shined with happiness. Katniss swallowed as she recalled the harshness she had to experience. Their mother Lillian stood just feet away, a pale shadow of the woman she’d been.

Katniss shuddered the at the prospect of becoming someone like her mother. It was why she’d decided to not interact with men. She didn’t want to find her soul mate. Her mother Lillian, had slowly come back from her depression,but there were days she returned to the rocking chair.

In the beginning, her mother spent months in her rocking chair simply existing, without words, vacantly staring out into the void. Katniss barely got her to eat or bathe. At age eleven, Katniss had become an adult, taking on the responsibilities that were beyond her years. She tried, but with the illness no one opened their doors to orphaned children.

“Everdeen and Hawthorne,” a young woman called out with a clipboard.

“Yes?” Prim stood up.

“Thank you for your patience. As a reward, you’ve been selected to have a wedding ceremony by the Head Magistrate.”

Only a few received this honor. It was fitting that it should be Prim and Vick. “Thank you,” Prim whispered.

“This way, please.”

Everyone followed the woman into the Head Magistrate’s office.

The head magistrate was a woman with mile high pink hair and an outfit that had white doves all over it.

“Welcome, welcome.” The woman stood and she had the strangest shoes Katniss had ever seen. “I am Head Magistrate Effie Trinket.”

“A pleasure ma’am,” Vick nodded.

“Oh my, you are a tall one,” Effie said as she looked up at Vick. Her eyes scanned all four Hawthorne men. “You certain are a handsome lot.”

Gale grinned, and Katniss rolled her eyes.

“Are we ready for the ceremony?”

Prim eagerly nodded.

“Good you stand here my dear,” Effie instructed Prim and then turned her attention to Vick, “ and your beloved over here.”

All the attention was on Primrose and Vick as they solemnly stood before their families and the Head Magistrate.

“Dearly beloved we’ve come together to witness this woman, Primrose Everdeen join this man, Vick Hawthorne, in the sacred bond of marriage.” Addressing the groom and bride, she asked, “Are you ready to take the vows to uphold the laws of marriage as decreed in the statues of Panem?”

“We do,” Prim and Vic said united.

“Do you promise to keep the other in health and in sickness. To stand by the other in good times and harsh times?”

Katniss watched Gale’s parents exchange loving looks. Her mother turned pale. Katniss lowered her head and glanced down at her shoes, tucking her hands in her jacket’s pocket.

“We do,” Prim and Vick replied.

“The by the power vested in me, by our beloved President, Corilanius Snow, and the Country of Panem, I now pronounce you, husband and wife.” Effie Trinket joyfully exclaimed, “You may kiss the bride.!

Katniss looked away as Prim and Vick kissed.

“Now if you could please sign the certificate.”

Katniss watched as her sister wrote Primrose Everdeen for the last time. It was a bittersweet moment. She was losing her sister to someone else. Albeit it was to Vick, and he was moving in with them, but things were changing.

Maybe she should start thinking of it as gaining a brother, instead of losing his baby sister.

“Who are the two witnesses?” Effie Trinket asked.

Katniss stepped forward with Gale.

Gale signed first and handed the pen to her. Katniss took the pen, and pushed down her sleeves. Smiling she glanced up at her friends and family as she poised to sign her name. But everyone looked shocked and ashen. Katniss frowned.

Her first instinct was to search for Prim to make sure she was alright. Prim’s eyes were wide, her face pale. Her sister had clamped her hand over her mouth and was pointing to her arm. Katniss glanced down at herself, that’s when she noticed the timer on the tracker had begun it’s count down.

Everything in the room became still as it suddenly dawned on Katniss, her race had begun.

#Springtime Edition 2018 #mega aulover #prompt 88 #submission

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sightsoundrhythm · 6 years ago

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DALE CROVER

Dale Crover is a Los Angeles based musician best known for being the drummer in The Melvins. Since joining the band in 1984, The Melvins have released 21 albums to date, as well as numerous E.P.s, compilations and live recordings. Their most recent album, Pinkus Abortion Technician, is available now via Ipecac Recordings.

Dale's readily identifiable, bombastic, and creatively boundless style has remained an integral part of the band's sound throughout their 35 years together, helping to shape their unique output as well as influencing countless musicians and bands along the way.

In Addition to his work with The Melvins, Dale was also an early member of Nirvana, performing on their first demo as a band and appearing on three album releases, including their debut album Bleach on Sub Pop Records. He has also recorded and performed music with a multitude of different bands over the years including: Crystal Fairy, Hank Williams III and Shrinebuilder, to name a few, and he currently plays in Redd Kross, Altamont and leads the Dale Crover Band on vocals and guitar.

Pinkus Abortion Technician by Melvins

SIGHT/SOUND/RHYTHM spoke to Dale a few hours before a Melvins show at Leeds University, UK, to discuss his musical background, the past and present of The Melvins, and a few of the many musical projects that he's been involved in.

How's the tour been going so far?

Good, thanks. We have three shows left for this run after tonight.

You played here at Leeds University before, didn't you?

Yeah, we last played here about ten years ago.

Have you been next door to see where The Who's Live at Leeds was recorded?

Yeah, I just went over there to check it out. I'd seen it before when we were here last time but I had to go and take a picture of it. Buzz (Osbourne, Melvins frontman) was saying that he remembered seeing photos from Live at Leeds and that the stage was really shallow.

The Stones, Zeppelin, and tons of other bands played there, which is pretty impressive. I remember the last time we were here they had pictures up of The Who when they played there again in the mid '00s.

Whenever I'd listen to that record I always imagined that it was recorded in some really nice, pristine theatre, then I saw it and was like, this is where they recorded it? A crappy lunch room?! [laughs] It kind of makes sense I guess.

I was listening to Live at Leeds recently and I can hear some of that vocabulary in your playing – the way he played fills around the kit. Was Keith Moon a big influence on you?

Yeah, pretty big. I didn't really know The Who until I joined The Melvins. I heard them through Buzz, and he's a huge Who fan. They were, and probably still are, his favourite band. He always talked about how you can tell that Pete Townshend was writing with his drumming in mind on a lot of their material.

I met Jim Fox who drums in The James Gang not too long ago. Somebody had made him aware that we'd covered the song Stop on our new record, which they had done a cover of, too, so he came down to one of our shows.

They had done a bunch of shows with The Who in the U.S. during the seventies. Townsend really liked Joe Walsh's playing, so they invited them to come over here to the U.K. and tour. He said that the way that those guys toured was that they each had their own car and driver, so they got paired up together. So it'd be Joe Walsh with Pete Townshend, and Jim Fox got paired up with Keith Moon. Sometimes they'd ride with Roger (Daltrey) but they didn't like it because he drove his own car and they said that his driving was really crappy. [laughs]

I knew Jim would have a million Keith Moon stories, and he was like, 'Yeah... but he'd just pretty much pass out in the car for the whole day and then wake up at around 5pm'. Keith would be there asking, 'How was the show last night?' It was probably amazing, judging by how good Live at Leeds is.

What were you like as a kid?

I was kind of a goofy kid, glasses, but pretty normal. I heard music early on though. I had Beatles and Monkees records from when I was about six years old. I liked baseball, and still do. I didn't like it for a long time but now I like it again.

I grew up in a very small town with not a lot going on...

That's Aberdeen, Washington?

Yeah. I actually had parents that weren't divorced, unlike all of my other friends.

[Dale's phone vibrates]

Sorry, that's my friend Bob (Hannam). He's the guy who made our documentary. He's actually from Bradford.

[Laughs] Ah, ok. You and I actually met in Bradford in 1996 when you guys were touring Stag.

Oh, wow! Really?

Yeah, you'd just finished playing at a club called Rios. We hung out for a while afterwards and you, Buzz and Mark Deutrom were teaching me and my friend how to play Craps in the car park with some dice that you'd recently picked up in Las Vegas.

[Laughs] That's crazy!

I remember that tour. The Seattle thing was kind of over by that point and I remember our booking agent trying to talk us out of doing the whole tour in the U.K. He was saying, 'Look, it's going to be bad. London will be fine, but you just shouldn't do it'. We really wanted to do it though... but, on the whole, it was really under-attended.

Yeah, I think there were probably around 50 people there and you guys were doing three sets.

That's right, we did!

I remember you ending one of the sets with Cottonmouth...

Right! We were just talking about that the other day, about how I used to play guitar from behind the kit and sing that.

I gotta ask my friend really quick about this show. [Dale sends a text to Bob Hannam]

Melvins were playing three sets a night on that tour. How did you prepare yourself for that?

Practicing a lot, plus when you get on tour you get used to playing pretty quickly. I think by that point we had been on tour for a while. Prior to that we had already played shows before where we had done two or three sets. Once you get past the second set you're already warmed up and can do it without any problems.

I did it last year when we were playing over here in England with Melvins and Redd Kross, so I'd be doing a set with both bands, and by the Melvins set I'd be fully warmed up.

How old were you when you first started playing?

I guess officially I would've probably been about eleven or twelve.

I found out that my neighbour had a drum set in their basement that they didn't really play and I somehow talked him into letting me take it home, just to bang around on it. I also played guitar from when I was around eight years old, and I always liked both.

I remember being in a talent show in fifth or sixth grade and playing guitar. I taught my friend that lived across the alley from me how to play the drums for it.

Around that same time I had this older friend who lived a block away, who eventually went on to play in the band Metal Church, and he befriended me. By that point I was already into Kiss, who I had seen play when I was in sixth grade, but he turned me on to Zeppelin and stuff like that. He was even showing me how to play rock songs on the guitar, like Cat Scratch Fever by Ted Nugent, but then at some point he said, 'You know, you should get a drum set so we can jam!' So that's kind of how I started.

Did you have an immediate connection with the instrument?

Yeah, I think so. I mean, I was already really into it, even before that... especially with Kiss. That was the band that made me want to play music.

I don't even know if schools have much of a music program anymore, but starting in fourth grade back then you could play a stringed instrument, so I started playing cello. Then in fifth grade you could play a brass instrument, so I wanted to play the tuba [laughs], but then rock and roll basically took over and I switched in the following year and got a snare drum. I had a paper route and I delivered papers to buy my first drum set, and I had it by the seventh grade.

That first drum set was from the 60's and it got pretty thrashed. I used it when I was in The Melvins, too.

What was it like growing up somewhere that didn't have a music scene?

It was weird. Even then a lot of the music that I liked wasn't being played on the local radio, so I found out about stuff through my older friends. One of my friends got into a cover band and I used to go and watch them practice all the time.

I actually met a drummer who was pretty good from the neighbouring town, whose brother actually ended up marrying my sister. He had a Ludwig Octaplus drum set with double bass drums and eight toms. After a while I wasn't into Kiss anymore and I got into Rush, so I was really into Neil Peart.

You're going to need those toms!

[laughs] Exactly! I never got there though.

At one point, the drum set I had in The Melvins was a red sparkle kit which had two mismatched bass drums from different kits. They were the same colour but they didn't quite match.

So I had two bass drums, two rack toms, a floor tom, and then another big floor tom in the centre, so it was this kind of weird pyramid/diamond shape. It was held up by gravity and shitty stands and I couldn't afford cymbals. When I eventually could, I remember buying one and bringing it to practice and those guys taking it from me and hiding it. I could only use it when we played shows because I just used to break them, you know.

Did the geographical isolation of Aberdeen help you guys as a band?

Definitely. I mean, all we did was practice when we started, but really we made most of our music away from there. It inspired us to play because there was really nothing else to do, besides smoke weed and drink.

Do you still have family there?

No, not anymore. Both of my parents have passed away. My mom had actually already moved out of there when she retired and so she went to Olympia. There was a lot more going on there, and when The Melvins first started out that's where we would go and play. I mean, there was no place to play in Aberdeen at all, and nobody would've liked it anyway.

How supportive were they when you first started playing?

They were really supportive. I remember the day that Buzz and Matt came over to talk to me about playing in The Melvins. My mom had just been saying to me, 'You know, you've got to find a band that's really going to do something', because the stuff I was doing at the time really wasn't going anywhere.

I already knew who they were from seeing them open for Metal Church in Aberdeen, and nobody liked them. That was the one gig that happened there ever, besides some school dances.

I'd actually seen them already because this cover band that I played in had done a benefit for a live radio show which was happening at Christmas time at Elk's Lodge, which The Melvins were also playing. They were the only band around who were playing original material, which I thought was kind of cool. I didn't know anything about punk rock then besides what I'd read, and I'd never heard it because you couldn't find any of those records. I'd seen the film Rock & Roll High School, and the only thing I could relate it to was that they kind of sounded like The Ramones and also like Motorhead, so I liked it. My other band mates thought it sucked, probably because it was competition for them.

Before all of that my bands were practicing at our house. We had a little four bedroom house and my older brothers had already moved out and gone to college, so I had command of three bedrooms. The one at the back of the house was where we would practice. When I first joined the Melvins we practiced for about a month before our first show.

Where was that first show?

In Olympia.

Do you remember much about it?

It was us opening for D.O.A., and I think it went well.

There was another one a week later that was with Green River and a band called The He-Sluts at the Tropicana in Olympia. The U-Men were supposed to play, who were a pretty popular Seattle band, but for whatever reason they didn't show up. There is a recording of that show available.

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[Dale receives a text from Bob Hannam]

Bob said about that Bradford show: “Yeah, you did three sets. My friend left half way through because he couldn't stand it.” [laughs]

What were the things that were important to you when you first started playing and how have they changed over time?

Good question. Well, it's not so important for me to play fast anymore. [laughs]

Things have changed and grown so much that it's really hard to say. Even from our first recordings to now, they're far different, but I guess that comes with experience. We still practice a lot, so some things haven't changed. We have our own studio now and we're able to record whenever we want to. I think that's helped us musically.

When we did our first record, we'd rehearse those songs so much before we ever got to record them, and we probably beat some of them into the ground and ruined what the original feeling was.

Did you record the first album with a label in mind to release it?

No, not with the first record. There are probably a chunk of songs that never got recorded because we didn't have the means to do it. We'd play them live a few times and then get sick of them and write new songs that we liked more, so there were probably at least a full album's worth of songs that we never even recorded, which we've probably since forgotten about, too.

They might be on some cassette tape somewhere. When we can't play anymore we'll dig up all the stuff from the archives, kind of like the Bob Dylan Bootleg Series.

Similar to The Mangled Demos?

Yeah. That stuff was all with Mike Dillard who was the original drummer.

How long was Mike playing in The Melvins before you joined?

Probably for about a year. The band started in 1983 and I think that once Buzz started to write songs that were a little more complicated, Mike wasn't quite comprehending it. We're all still good friends and we did the Melvins 1983 record with him on drums.

It's cool because he still feels like a part of the band, and whenever we hang out with him it's like we're back in eighth grade again. [laughs] He and Buzz used to cause a lot of trouble when they were teenagers.

It's nice that you still have that connection. Were there any things in particular that you remember trying to master when you first started?

Oh, gosh. Well, I remember playing to Kiss records.

I'm sure that there were triplet fills which incorporated the bass drum and stuff like that, or just trying to figure how drummers did certain things.

I remember even before I started taking lessons that the Bay City Rollers had a Saturday morning variety show in the States and they were huge. I wasn't really a fan of those guys but I could watch the drummer on the show and I could see how he played certain things.

I mean, I had a pretty good time figuring stuff out, and it wasn't too difficult.

How long were you taking lessons for?

Probably about three or four years, and that started because there was a school band when I was in Junior High School, which had a lot of drummers, probably more than most school bands would have. Most schools would have one or two and we had up to eight.

There was a professor at the junior college who was a jazz drummer and he offered lessons for 50 cents per kid if we'd go in on Saturdays. So there were drummers there who were older than me who had seniority and they were first chair, but none of them showed up. So it was me and one other kid, who couldn't play very well.

The next week came and only I showed up and the drum teacher said, 'I was hoping that this was going to go a little better and that more people would show up, but I can't really give you lessons for just fifty cents [laughs], but if you want to take private lessons with me I can do it for six bucks an hour'. So that's where I started learning rudiments as well as working on proper technique, which I still practice now.

A lot of players who hit as hard as you do aren't always that aware of their own technique but this seems to be something that you're definitely aware of.

Yeah, these days there's less movement in my drumming. I realised this recently that I use my fingers when I'm playing a lot more now. When I was younger I didn't really sit around and practice all of that stuff too much – I just wanted to play rock songs, but now I do a lot more of that stuff. Also, I still feel like I'm still learning. I'll go on Youtube and figure stuff out and look at how other people play, which is great.

It's a process that never ends.

Yeah!

Have you had any physical problems from playing at all?

I pinched a nerve in my shoulder when we were playing with Jello Biafra. We were practicing a lot and I moved my arm in a weird way and that was it. It took a long time to heal. It was... it was fucked, [laughs] but I still had to play and get through it.

How are your ears holding up?

I'm hard of hearing and they're going for sure. I've actually got hearing aids but I don't wear them all of the time. When I'm around my kids I have a hard time hearing them, so it was something that I'd thought about for a long time and I finally got them.

You've always struck me as a very ego-less player in a lot of ways. I can't imagine many drummers being completely willing to include a second drummer into a band, or switching to bass for an entire record and letting another drummer take over.

Likewise with your playing itself. I remember first hearing the intro to the song 'Queen' from Stoner Witch and being impressed at how simple the opening part was, which I found to be equally as impressive as some of your more complex playing. I feel that a lot of drummers wouldn't dare to play something so simplistic like that.

Do you have a particular philosophy towards drumming that informs how you play?

No, not necessarily. It all depends on the song.

With regards to being ego-less, there are a lot of drummers who wouldn't like it if a guitar player said, 'I want you to play it like this'. But, for me, it's like: well, he wrote the song!

Sometimes I might not know what exactly to play and Buzz might have an idea for what he's already hearing. This gets back to how someone like Pete Townshend wrote for Keith Moon, and a lot of the time Buzz writes with me in mind. That isn't always the case. Sometimes he might not know what needs to be played and then I'll come up with something.

How does Buzz dictate some of those ideas to you?

A lot of it is just him telling me where he hears certain ideas, and sometimes some of that is hard to learn in order to get it right, but he's got great ideas.

The band has gone through many line up changes over the course of 35 years. Most bands wouldn't have lasted as long under the same circumstances. Do you think that this has worked to your advantage as a band?

Yeah, it's certainly kept it fresh. We never wanted to part ways with anybody in particular, it just always came down to personal problems. After we had Kevin Rutmanis playing bass – that was a really hard break up because we really liked him but he had troubles that were affecting the band.

After that we went back into it not wanting to have anyone that we would consider permanent anymore. We want to have an open relationship basically [laughs], and that's worked great!

This current line up of The Melvins features two bass players (Jeff Pinkus and Steve McDonald). Has playing in this configuration forced you to alter your approach at all?

I don't think so.

Does it help to create more musical opportunities?

Yeah. I try to play with them both, so I'm not really following one or the other. They've both come up with their own parts for the whole thing.

What were the musical challenges for you when including Cody Willis from Big Business into the band as a second drummer? I know that you had talked in the past about including Dave Grohl as a second drummer in the mid nineties so I'm guessing that this was something you'd been interested in doing for a while.

Yeah, after Nirvana broke up we actually asked him if he'd like to come and join us. It was an open invitation to come and do whatever, whether that would have been recording or playing a show. We heard that he was into it, and we saw his old band mates in Scream who said that Dave had even drawn up some plans for building one large drum set that we would both play, but it never went any further. Soon after he formed Foo Fighters and that was that.

So, yeah, it was something that we had been thinking about for a while, and we kind of did it with the Melvins/Fantomas Big Band with Dave Lombardo, so we knew that it would work. There was another guy that we asked who was in a band called Hovercraft but he didn't want to do it. We had toured with them and he would keep his drum set out and then come out and play the song 'Amazon' with us, so we knew that it was an idea that would work.

After Kevin left the band my wife actually suggested that we ask Jared, who plays bass in Big Business alongside Cody, to join the band, because she'd been friends with him, and we'd played shows with them before. So I mentioned that to Buzz and he said, 'Why don't we just ask both of them to do it?'

I thought it'd be cool. Cody plays left handed so we were able to put the two sets together and share certain parts of the kit.

We just asked them to come down and play, not to try out for the band, just to see what they thought, and it happened right away. We worked really hard on everything. Funnily enough, they were already thinking about moving down to L.A. to begin with.

You played on some really early Nirvana recordings, including tracks that ended up on the album Bleach. What are some of the standout memories you have from recording those sessions with Jack Endino at Reciprocal?

They wanted to do a demo so that they could get a permanent drummer, basically, and I worked it all out with those guys. We drove over to Reciprocal Recording and did ten songs, which were done really quickly. Whenever I listen to some of those songs now I'm reminded that we were drinking coffee and eating chocolate covered espresso beans, so you can hear some of those songs speed up, but we weren't really too worried about because it was just a demo. They ended up going back later to remix and use some of those songs. That night after recording we went and played our first show, then the next day we shot a video at Radio Shack in Aberdeen.

We had a friend who was the manager there and the video is just us miming along to one of the songs [laughs]. We were sort of messing around. It was fun!

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Among the many projects that you've been involved with, you and Buzz played with Omar and Teri in Crystal Fairy not so long ago. What was it like doing that project? Will you be doing anything more with it?

Unfortunately I don't know that any more will happen with it but we really liked writing songs with Teri. We just got in a room to figure out what kind of songs we wanted to write, and both Buzz and Teri had a few ideas. Within the first day of getting together we had written and recorded three songs that were damn near done. She's really quick at writing and comes up with amazing lyrics. I'd never played with a singer who could just come up with melody and good lyrics right off the top of their head like that. It's crazy.

Yeah, it was cool hearing her in a different context to what I had heard her in before. It's a great record.

Yeah! I'm involved in it of course but I think she was doing things that she'd never done before with that record. It was one of my favourite things that I've been involved in at that point, so I was really bummed that it fell apart and that we didn't get to play any shows.

Buzz and I were really committed to it. We were going to put The Melvins on hold because we thought that it was something that was really special. So that was a tough loss.

Your musical relationship with Buzz is now into its third decade. What is it that makes the relationship between the two of you work so well?

I don't know. We were in a working relationship before we were really friends, which is probably different from most bands.

I think just keeping our heads together and being realistic about everything, and really wanting it to work. Bands usually break up for stupid reasons but, for whatever reason, we never wanted to quit. I'm really happy about it. We've never really gotten into fights or anything like that. We get along well.

When we're at home we sometimes hang out and go to a baseball game together, or maybe the movies or go play golf. We don't live in the same neighbourhood, so we aren't over at each other's houses much, maybe once or twice a year, but we see each other all of the time elsewhere anyway.

How does being a dad fit in with being a touring musician at this point? What do your kids make of what you do?

I think they like it. Sometimes kids at their school even know who the band is. They've come to see us play and have pretty much grown up with it but it is hard for them, especially when I first leave. It's hard for me, too.

Before we even had kids, me and my wife would have long talks about how it would work. I mean, I have to keep doing this because this is how I make money, so it's going to be hard but we just have to deal with it the best we can. It's a strange life. Not everybody has that. The one thing I could maybe relate it to would be like someone being in the military, but then those people are sometimes gone for longer.

I relate things to baseball a lot, too, [laughs] but baseball players will play a hundred and sixty two games a year and half of those are away. The only thing that's probably easier for them is that they aren't in one place for a single night, so they'll play at a place for three or four nights. I wish we could do that. That'd be great! [laughs]

What are the things you spend the most amount of time thinking about these days?

You mean besides baseball? [laughs] I honestly don't know. I try to live in the moment.

What are some of the things that are currently challenging you?

Trying to schedule everything in my life, because there's so much going on.

Melvins is always a solid schedule, but when I get home I also have a solo band now and I also play with Redd Kross, then there will be more Melvins shows. So just trying to get everything to fit in and still have time for family.

I'm trying to do all of these things and not feel like I've got too much on my plate and still be able to get everything done.

It's a hard balance.

Yeah, it is.

Well, thanks for taking the time to do this, Dale. It's massively appreciated.

Thank you!

Interview by Dave Jones.

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artificialqueens · 7 years ago

Text

Here I Go Again! (Group Fic) - Epilogue - pureCAMP

A/N - important notice!! there is some smutty smutty smut smut in this, but i didnt write it!! plz send ur love to citrus aka @pianowired bc she wrote it and its absolutely excellent. plz enjoy! (and let me know if a part 2 is needed! <3)

Raja had seen a lot of action, in her time, both for her friends and for herself. She remembered her first was skinny and scrawny as most fifteen year olds are, and he hadn’t impressed her. He was too excited to actually be inside a girl, and barely lasted two minutes. Of course, she’d told her girls all about it, how it wasn’t really worth the hype, but still worth trying.

Then was her second, around her sixteenth birthday, and if she remembered correctly, Jinkx had gotten laid that night too. Her ginger friend had admitted that she could barely look the nameless girl in the eye when she awoke, but had enjoyed it nevertheless. In the meantime, they teased Sharon about her chastity, despite it not being her choice. The poor girl was convinced her religious mother had eyes everywhere, and she wasn’t too far from the truth. Whenever the three got up to no good, there always seemed to be someone to report back to Sharon’s mother and get her into trouble.

For the next two years, Raja lived her life as a hoe and was thoroughly enjoying it. Her experiences ranged from poor to… satisfactory, at best, and she detailed each one to her girls, occasionally expressing her sympathy for Sharon. It wasn’t from lack of interest or trying, bless her, but her mother’s insistence on wearing that damn cross around her neck every day tended to keep boys away. Which was, of course, what the religious old trout wanted it to do.

Both herself and Jinkx applauded Sharon when she dropped out of high school, all three of them knowing she’d fail regardless, and started to rebel a little more. Their music group was the perfect opportunity to do that - to dress up fashionably, ditch all religious memorabilia and dance away from her mother’s prying eyes. The island a little way off the mainland was their solace, and a great place to pick up boys.

Around the summer, things changed. Their performances began to bring in more customers to the little tavern, resulting in more ‘fans’ and more guys and girls for Raja and Jinkx to have fun with. One night, she remembered seeing a young guy in the crowd, around their age, watching the show. Normally, Raja would’ve jumped him as soon as the set was over, but his eyes were on Sharon, and Sharon’s eyes were on him, and if this was her friend’s chance to get laid before she turned eighteen, then she’d have to let it happen.

It was so much more than that in the end. Sharon, now glowing with this new life, detailed all of her experiences to them with her eyes shining. She didn’t retell the stories like Raja did, mentioning the rough movements and emotional detachment from the whole thing. It seemed as though she loved him. Of course, she told them all about going rough and hard and fast, but it always seemed to end with cuddling, with kisses, with romantic walks on the beach as the sun set around them.

So now all three of them were living the hoe life. It was fun, but it didn’t last.

After Justin left, Sharon became solitary. She was never around in the daytime like she normally would be, to laugh with Raja and Jinkx and listen to stories and just have fun. Raja shared with Jinkx and Jinkx shared with Raja, and they only saw her when they were performing and a few times in between. She seemed distant.

Looking back, Raja knew now that it was because her sly dog of a once religious virgin friend had in fact been sneaking off to have rebound flings with two other guys in order to cope with her heartbreak. Back then, they’d just assumed she wanted to be alone.

So, to cut a long story short, the last of their group to lose her virginity, and the first of the group to ever be in love with someone she’d had sex with, had fallen pregnant. For a good year after the news was revealed to them - through a skin-tight costume that wouldn’t zip up and a tummy that seemed just a little too round to be puppy fat - the hoe life died down. Raja didn’t feel like she could just run off to find a guy and fuck him when her best friend was miserable, heartbroken, hormonal and alone. Call her selfish, but she also didn’t want to be caught in the same predicament.

With one of her best friends then busy with a newborn, Raja got back out into the dating pool, so to speak. At twenty one, she met her first husband. He was okay-looking, really, tanned with black hair and piercing eyes. Her father paid for the wedding, and he paid for Raja’s surgeries to enhance her bust, and he didn’t fuck too badly, but his lips were larger and faker than her own, and it started to put her off a little. One and a half years later, she divorced him.

“You paying him back for those?” Sharon had joked, tickling her then-five-year-old Trixie with one hand as she gestured at Raja’s chest with the other.

“Oh, please.” Raja had responded. “He paid for these and they’re still not as big as yours.”

Husband number two was a little better, but not much. He owned an international cruise line, so combining Raja’s family wealth with his was pretty luxurious. For a couple of years, she hardly saw her friends, communicating mostly through letters from wherever the cruise ship took them. It was a time of expensive face creams that contained flakes of gold, designer shoes, and world tours to places she’d never even dreamed of seeing.

But he was boring. Rich, handsome, and oh-so-boring. His every word was a drag, he was a complete drip, and he had the personality of wet toilet paper. He had to go, and two years later he was gone.

“Gold flakes…” Jinkx had mocked. “And what else? Donkey testicles? Mashed up goats liver? None of my girlfriends have ever cared if I look a little strange.”

Raja had shrugged and laughed. “If I want to day drink all year round, it’s the price I have to pay.”

“God, I haven’t day drank in forever. I haven’t night drank in forever. I’m busy being an adult whilst you guys go off and single-handedly date the entire planet.”

Husband three had taken a while to propose, which was getting on Raja’s nerves, but other than that minor flaw he was perfect. Handsome, well-off, and just the right amount of emotionally involved. He wouldn’t cling, he wouldn’t ignore her, it was just as close to perfect as she could get. That was her happiest wedding day, even if her father had drawn the line and refused to pay for it.

It really seemed like this one would stand the tests of time and Raja’s ever-changing nature.

“So you’ve finally found the one?” Sharon had asked, flipping through Raja’s years of wedding photos. In each picture from each wedding, Raja had a different husband and Jinkx had a different lady-friend (she wasn’t very into commitment), but Sharon had the same plus one - her daughter. It was no secret that her days of dating and sex seemed to be over already. She never expressed the feeling, but Raja could tell that it hurt her a little.

“I hope so. You think your man is waiting for you somewhere?” Raja had replied.

Sharon laughed mirthlessly. “Yeah, he’s out there.” She’d said bitterly. “With someone else, telling her she’s his soulmate.”

It really did last. Eleven years they were married, and Raja was pretty content. But it seemed that all good things came to an end, whether she wanted them to or not.

Truthfully, it was her fault. He was kind and sweet and he wanted to be a father. Raja, having intimately witnessed a pregnancy, the birth and watched the child grow up, didn’t want to be a mother. Of course it was magical for Sharon, and she’d never bash her friend for her decision - not after so fiercely defending her to people, even all these years later. Besides, she knew it would be different for her than it had been for Sharon, considering she was thirty six, twice the age that Sharon had been, but she was still put off. She’d never wanted children anyway, and the whole process freaked her out. For others, she was supportive. For herself, she was an inch away from disgusted.

It was just one of those differences that tears people apart. Their arrangement was no longer working, not really.

The divorce was a painful one. As she sobbed into Sharon’s chest, Jinkx awkwardly rubbing her back, it seemed to hit her at once that her friend was something of a superhero. Now that she was experiencing heartbreak, she finally understood what Sharon had been through and how hard it must’ve been to carry on. Yet the way she so expertly comforted her showed just how incredible of a mother she’d been, and how she’d relaxed into the role and learned exactly what to do.

Last time Raja had checked, even though she swore she wasn’t going to, his new wife - blonde, pretty, the works - was six months pregnant. Fine, that was fine. He’d moved on. Raja moved on too.

Her tricks were getting younger, truth be told. In recent years, the younger men had become even more open about their admiration for older ladies, and whilst Raja was in no way old, she appreciated the attention. With a little bit of Botox, she was pretty much the young man’s dream.

Still, hooking up with one of Sharon’s hotel slaves, as she so affectionately had nicknamed them, felt a little strange. Karl had told her that he was twenty one, so at the very least he was older than Trixie.

Admittedly, he was one of the better ones. He wasn’t disgustingly hairy, like some men who tried to approach her, but he also wasn’t pre-pubescent and hairless. Clean shaven, the way she liked it. He was fairly muscular, Filipino, and had a strange streak of blonde in his dark hair. Whether that was a fashion of the youth or not, she didn’t care. Raja still tugged on it in bed with him after the hen party had been infiltrated by the stag do.

He was skilled enough that, the next morning when Raja crept away so that she didn’t have to sleep besides him any longer, she simply went to beach and lay out in the sun to relax. Her energy was somewhat spent and she needed the ache to subside before she got ready for the wedding.

“Hey, babe.”

Raja didn’t even bother opening her eyes. “Babe?”

Karl lay down next to her, getting sand on the beach towel. “You heard me. I called you babe.”

“Oh, lord.” Raja scoffed. “Babe indeed. I could be your mother, near enough. Speaking of, where is she? Does she know you’re out?”

Karl rolled his eyes. “You can’t ignore the chemistry between us, Raj. I know you feel it. I know you felt it last night.”

He smiled, blindingly white teeth flashing in her direction. Raja hadn’t seen teeth that white since she’d flown out to the clinic to pay for a whitening herself.

“You’re so cute,” She teased, watching how he tried and failed to compose himself. “I know what you want, sweetcheeks. But you’re playing with fire, and your fingers are gonna get burnt.”

Karl seemed unfazed. “What if I’d walk through fire for you? What if I’m fireproof?”

Raja laughed, surprised at his persistence. “I like your style, kid. Just make sure you let your mother know that you’re out, honey.”

In one smooth motion, Karl rolled over so he was positioned above Raja, kissing along the marked spots on her neck and collarbone. He might’ve been young, but he smelled like sea-salt and he tasted like honey and he sent waves of fire rolling through her body. In all honesty, he was the first to actually make Raja feel young again. Like any minute now she’d be caught, messing around in the sand with a guy she knew almost nothing about. It was thrilling, but she couldn’t exactly let him win.

“Nice try,” Raja breathed, flipping him over. “Take it easy, slow down. That’s no way to go, now is it?”

Pinned underneath her, Karl smiled wickedly. “I don’t suppose you wanna show me how it should be done, then?”

Raja considered it. She could teach him a few new tricks, that would be fun. Combining the young man’s stamina with the older woman’s expertise would definitely, definitely be fun. But on the other hand, they had all the time in the world. It wasn’t like Raja had a stuffy old husband to go home to anymore - she didn’t have anyone waiting for her. Right now, the only person who wanted her attention was Karl, and he seemed happy to wait.

Besides; she had a wedding to get ready for. She’d wasted enough precious time fooling around in the sand. If she was going to look suitable for this wedding, she needed to start getting ready early. Plus, Sharon would throw an absolute fit if she knew that Raja was distracting one of her hotel slaves.

“Meet me after the wedding reception.” Raja told him, extending a long, tan leg close to his face. “Maybe then I’ll dance with you.”

—

Night had fallen by the time Trixie was changed, packed, and down at the docks ready to leave. Sharon had been rushing around in a flurry to ensure her daughter had everything she’d need, and then some. Call her over-protective and paranoid, but her little girl was leaving home for the first time, going out into the world to find adventures and experiences. It would be nerve-wracking for any mother.

Around the four of them, a chilly sea breeze blew. The sky was inky, the sea like molten silver as the moonlight glittered off the surface. Everything was still and silent, besides the bobbing of the little boat that would be taking Trixie and Brian to the mainland. Stars twinkled high above.

“You sure you’ve got everything?” Sharon worried, shivering on the deck. She rubbed her arms to try and warm them, and only moments later, Justin’s suit jacket had been placed over her shoulders.

Trixie smiled, humouring her. “Yes, mom. I was sure the first time, long before you triple-checked it all.”

Brian and Justin shared a laugh, their matching grins widening as Sharon playfully shoved them both.

“Alright, alright. Sorry. It’s a mom thing, I guess. Worrying so much.”

Shaking his head, Brian smiled. “Sharon, I’ll take good care of her, not that she needs it.”

Justin chuckled. “I’m sure after being raised by you, she could take on anything.”

“You’re probably right.” Sharon grinned. “Well. Don’t let me keep you waiting.”

Her tone changed; quieter, a little more forlorn. It had been the most perfect day ever, and there was no denying that, but goodbyes were always difficult. Sharon’s last goodbye had been tinged with heartbreak, and this one just felt like letting go. She’d always known, really, that the tiny baby who was lulled to sleep by her heartbeat and the gentle rocking of the chair would one day have to leave home. She herself had done it, albeit under different circumstances. Even so, as a mom, she wanted to keep Trixie wrapped up in swaddling blankets forever.

Trixie threw her arms around her in a hug, squeezing tight the way she always did. Sharon blinked back her tears when she pulled away, offering a weak smile and leaning forwards to hug Brian, too. Her heart skipped a few beats when she noticed Trixie hugging Justin, planting a kiss on his cheek and whispering her goodbyes.

It was like they were a real family.

“Go, go on already!” Sharon half-joked, pushing the two lovers towards their boat and trying to ignore how choked up she felt. “God, you kids… Driving me crazy, I tell you. Go on, go and see the world.”

Justin kissed the top of Sharon’s head and began to help Trixie and Brian loading their bags onto the boat. Before long they were waving goodbye, growing smaller and smaller in the horizon. Sharon didn’t stop waving until they were a mere dot in the distance, not visible against the night sky nor with Sharon’s rapidly-blurring vision.

“Hey, hey… It’s okay. I’m here.” Justin’s voice was gentle, calming. He pulled Sharon against his chest, sparing her the embarrassment of crying in front of him, and soothingly rubbed her back.

“My daughter just left home.” Sharon sniffed, muffled against his shirt. “I feel like the definition of not okay.”

He leant down and kissed the tip of her nose, making her giggle. “I know. But she said she’ll write, and she’s so excited for this. She’s like how we used to be.”

Justin began to walk away from the docks, one hand in Sharon’s, heading towards the taverna. “Remember? Life was so exciting. The world was this brand new place and we’d get to discover it all.”

Sharon snorted in spite of herself. “Of course I do. But don’t you think we’re a little old for that now?”

“Old? You make us sound like pensioners.” Justin laughed. “Babe, we’re both thirty eight. Not even forty yet. That’s not old. Some people call it the prime years.”

He nudged his wife suggestively, to which she burst out laughing. “Uh huh, sure. You really think we’re better now than we were twenty years ago? I’m saggier, fatter, wrinklier… the list goes on.”

“You’re so stupid. I don’t see any of that.” Justin defended her, squeezing her hand. “You’re curvy, you’re beautiful… you still have those slutty lips that I love.”

Sharon gasped and covered her mouth with her hand, acting scandalized. “Slutty lips?! And you call yourself a gentleman?!”

Justin shrugged. “So you’re saying that when we fuck, it won’t be as good as it used to be? You’re not slutty anymore?”

“No! I’m not saying that!”

“You sure?”

“Yes!”

“I don’t know, it sounds like that’s what you’re saying.”

“It won’t be worse! It’ll be better!”

“Prove it.”

The challenging gleam in Justin’s eyes sent waves of heat rolling through Sharon’s body. Fuck, she’d missed him. The taunts, the teasing, the dirty talk and the mischievous behaviour. It was ridiculous that she could still feel like she was eighteen even now, just being in his presence. He hadn’t changed a bit, and he was making her run wild.

“We’re not going to make it to my house, are we?” Sharon asked, half-joking, half-sultry and narrow-eyed.

Justin’s face was a picture of bliss. “Mmm… I don’t think so. But hey, I see our cabin is still standing. Maybe we should re-acquaint ourselves.”

Sharon shook her head, laughing. “You… you’re the reason I’m so bad. Cabin it is, before I fucking explode.”

The two of them all but ran to the cabin, Justin’s arms flying to Sharon’s waist as she kicked the door closed. As soon as they were alone he kissed her, and it was everything and nothing like she remembered. It was the same passion, the same fire, but his soft lips were accompanied by scratchy stubble and his arms were stronger and more defined than they’d been twenty years ago.

“Bed,” Sharon demanded as she broke the kiss, pulling Justin across the cabin and into the small, doorless bedroom. The bed was decently sized, fitted with clean white sheets that told Justin that Sharon had been taking care of the cabin even after all this time. He kissed her again, laying her down on the bed and slotting a leg between her thighs as her tongue dipped into his mouth.

“Told you I love these slutty lips,” he mumbled against her mouth, hands pushing her skirt up her hips. Sharon chuckled, unbuttoning Justin’s shirt and shoving it off his shoulders before trailing a hand down his chest. He was softer than he’d been before, no longer skinny and gangly, and he shivered under her touch after twenty years of deprivation.

“You’ve certainly aged better than I have,” Sharon grinned as he tossed his hair in mock vanity.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about, babe, you don’t look a day over twenty-five.”

Sharon scoffed. “Sure.”

“I mean it,” he insisted, moving the top of her dress down too so that the garment was bunched around her waist. “You’re gorgeous no matter how you look. Also, no bra? Really? It’s like you planned this.”

Sharon laughed and shrugged, her giggle turning into a low moan as Justin rolled her nipples between his thumb and forefinger. “You’ll be happy to know I decided against going commando while we sent our daughter and her boyfriend off to travel the world.”

Justin smiled, snapping the elastic of her underwear against her hip and grinning wider when she yelped in surprise. “You’re so beautiful.”

Sharon rolled her eyes, pulling him in for another kiss.

“Can you cut the crap and fuck me already?” she mumbled against his lips, pulling his hands down to rest on her thighs and placing her own hands on his hips. He laughed as she cupped his growing erection through his trousers, squeezing lightly and making him groan.

“So needy, always so needy,” he teased, shucking off his trousers while Sharon freed herself completely from her dress. She let out a low moan as his long, slender fingers teased her through the fabric of her panties, feeling her beginning to get wet from his touch. “Shh, patience, love. I’m gonna make you feel so good. Just like old times, eh?”

“I’d say a bit different. I’m not the skinny little slip of a thing I used to be.”

“Sharon Needles, can you stop putting yourself down for a moment and let me worship you the way you deserve? God, you’re still so stubborn.” Sharon nearly protested, but then Justin’s fingers were pushing her underwear aside and grazing over her folds, and she could only let out a soft moan. “That shut you up, huh?”

“Shut up and fuck me,” Sharon demanded, pushing his hand away and her panties down with it. Justin shot her one of those stupidly adorable grins of his as he slid out of his own underwear and kissed at her jaw and neck again. “Jesus, babe, age made you slow.”

“If you want to get fucked, you’ll stop complaining,” Justin growled softly, one hand squeezing lightly at the sides of her throat. Sharon felt another rush of heat pass through her body; she’d always been a sucker for Justin showing dominance, and it seemed as though nothing much had changed in the two decades they’d been apart. His hand moved to rest at the base of her throat, barely even touching her, and she raised an eyebrow.

“You’ve still got it,” she said appreciatively. “Thought you might.”

“Course I do,” Justin replied, sliding his hand down her body to spread her open and press a finger into her, making her whine. “You drive me crazy, Sharon.”

“More, Justin,” she complained, arching up into his touch as he added a second finger and his thumb found her sensitive bud. “Christ, fuck me. I’ve waited long enough.”

“We both have,” Justin agreed as he drew his fingers out of her and lined up with her entrance. “You sure you don’t wanna change positions?”

“It’s not gonna do my back any favors,” she answered. “Told you I wasn’t the kid I used to be.”

“Shush,” Justin bade her, running his thumb across her lower lip and gazing into her eyes with so much love she thought she might melt. She hadn’t seen him look at her like that in all their years apart, and if she was telling the truth, no one could ever fill the gap Justin had left in her life. But he was here now, his hands on her thighs, his lips on her lips, and oh, how Sharon had missed him. He was hot and hard against her, and when he pressed just past her entrance she sighed.

“More, baby,” she encouraged, pulling him down by the shoulders to kiss the corner of his mouth.

“You sure, love? It’s been a long time and I-”

“I’m sure,” Sharon promised, all but a whisper against his skin. He pushed a little further, and Sharon’s back arched to take him deeper into her warmth, kissing him deep and hard. She didn’t stop until his hips were flush against hers and he was buried inside her completely, and he panted against her neck as they both adjusted to the sensations wracking their bodies.

“You… oh, Sharon, you feel so good,” Justin groaned, gasping when she clenched around him with a smirk. When he rolled his hips, she whimpered loudly, kissing him desperately.

“I’ve been desperate to have your cock inside me for the last twenty years,” she mumbled roughly, “Memories are never as good as the real thing. I’ve never- fuck– I’ve never been this full.”

“No one else,” Justin promised as he withdrew a few inches before pushing back in, making Sharon gasp. “No one else can do it like you, babe. No one else can take it like you.”

“Please, baby,” she begged as he began to increase the pace and depth of his thrusts, his grip on her hips so tight she was sure there would be bruises later. “Fuck, J-Justin…” Justin was perfection, he always had been; he filled her so completely and took her apart effortlessly, making her feel like she was coming apart at the seams and melting into the mattress. She didn’t know his history after he’d left the island– there would be time for that later –but there was no doubt that he’d only grown more skilled with age. It was like he could see right through her and into the place where she kept her deepest desires; every single thrust was perfect, his steady rhythm sending waves of pleasure through her body unlike anything she’d experienced since their last time together. He knew exactly what she wanted, what she needed, and he kissed her with all the passion and sweetness of a first love that had never really faded.

Desire coursed through Sharon like a wildfire, igniting every nerve in her body and setting her alight with pleasure. She could tell Justin was nearing the edge from the way that his hips began to stutter slightly, but he was doing an astounding job of keeping his steady pace. Sharon pulled her legs to her chest, changing the angle and allowing him to move even deeper inside her, speeding up and fucking her harder and faster. The bed rocked against the wall of the cabin as Justin lost his controlled rhythm and gave into his body, letting Sharon pull him down for a kiss as his hips slammed against her soft thighs.

Sharon came first, a hoarse shout of ecstasy leaving her lips as every single thrust of Justin’s hips allowed him to ram against the spot deep inside her that made her see stars. Her nails raked down his back as she threw her head back and sobbed with the sheer pleasure of it all, drawing a hiss from Justin and resulting in him planting sloppy kisses all over her mouth like a teenager with poor aim. He finished with a rough cry of “Sharon,” and a final snap of his hips, coming deep and hard inside her and all but collapsing on her chest. The two of them lay like that for several moments, completely spent and trying to catch their breath, and Sharon’s lips lingered against Justin’s cheek, her fingers running over the angry red marks she’d created on his skin.

“I’m sorry about that,” she chuckled, “I guess you really do make me feel young again.” Justin let out a breathless laugh at that, carefully pulling out of her and moving to collapse on the bed beside her. She nestled herself into his arms, slotting her thigh between his legs.

“Just like old times, mm?”

“Just like the good old days,” Sharon agreed teasingly. “I have to admit, I didn’t think you’d be able to do better than we used to. I’m impressed.”

Justin smiled lazily, shifting slightly and kissing Sharon’s cheek. “Wanna know what pushed me over the edge?”

“Sure,” she laughed, “But proceed with caution.”

“I was thinking about how beautiful you looked under me, and then I just had the thought pop into my head that wow, that’s my wife. You’re my wife.”

Sharon let out an airy laugh, snuggling into his chest as he wrapped his arms around her. “Mhmm,” she hummed contentedly, “Never thought I’d see the day.”

“…Sharon?”

“Hm?”

“I love you.”

“I love you too, baby.”

—

Justin wasn’t an idiot.

For his first move after the wedding, he’d told Sharon in no uncertain terms that she needed a break. After all, he’d witnessed how frantic she was for the few days that he’d been on the island. He could’ve sworn that she didn’t sleep, eat or relax at any point, just work work work. She needed a break, some time off.

Of course, time had slightly altered his memories of just how stubborn she was. There was no way she was going to be leaving her hotel, not a chance in Heaven or Hell. She’d put her foot down and that was it, decision made.

Only Justin wasn’t that much of a pushover, and so began their at-home honeymoon. The young men, guided by Raja and Jinkx, were in charge of the hotel for a while, whilst Sharon and Justin roamed around the island, enjoying their time together.

It was nice to watch her relax, really. In the sunlight, with her hair cascading down her back rather than tied up, and her face smooth rather than pinched with stress, she could’ve passed for eighteen again. He’d forgotten just how captivating her eyes were, a deeper blue than any expanse of ocean they could see. He’d forgotten how funny her laugh was, the utter cackle that came out of her. He’d forgotten the beauty in her smile.

Really, he could spend all day listing off the beautiful things that he started to remember during their at-home honeymoon, but Sharon wouldn’t give him the chance. She was as needy and desperate as the day they’d met, and he certainly wasn’t complaining.

It wasn’t all sex, though. Sometimes they both needed a break, and they had twenty one years of talking to do.

“Jinkx took this, about two hours after I gave birth. Look at her tiny little fist around my finger.” Sharon held up the photo so Justin could see. Heart squeezing, he wrapped his arms around his wife even tighter.

“I can’t believe I never knew about all this.” He replied, refusing to take his eyes off his then-newborn daughter. “She looks so much like you.”

Sharon chuckled. “She always did. I miss her so much.”

That day, Sharon had taken Justin on her proper tour of her tiny home. He already knew what the rooms looked like, having stayed there since the wedding, but she took him around to the lumps and bumps and chips and cracks, naming each one as incidents that had happened when Trixie was little - all the parts of their lives that he’d missed. Now, he saw the house in a whole new light, full of life and memories and little remnants of the past.

“This one is sweet.” Justin picked up another of the photos spread across Sharon’s - their - bed. “How old is she here?”

The photo showed Trixie, cheesing at the camera from her perch on Sharon’s shoulders. Her blonde hair was in two plaits, with a pink cowboy hat on her head and a blue princess dress. Sharon was giggling up at her daughter, seemingly unaware that the photo was being taken, in a summer dress that matched Trixie’s.

Sharon studied it, smiling faintly, then flipped it over. On the back, almost illegible writing read ‘Princess Trixabelle Parton (3) and Mama Sharon (21) go on an adventure to the marketplace to find some lunch (MS) and defeat some evil (PTP).’

“Those were the days.” She murmured, biting her lip. “I used to wonder how different my life would be without having Trixie, but she made everything better. I’m sure drinking at twenty one is fun, but playing with Princess Trixabelle Parton was fun too. There’s no comparison.”

Justin kissed her forehead. “God, you’re fucking magical, you know that?”

Sharon’s eyes were bright with unshed tears, which she dabbed at in an unsuccessful attempt to prevent them from falling. In spite of herself, she giggled a little.

“I can’t believe she’s all gr-grown up, I still worry about her so much. She better send me another letter soon.” She paused. “I really miss these days.”

Unable to stand the sight of her tears, Justin pulled Sharon closer and closer until her face was buried in his chest yet again. Once he could feel her sobs gently deteriorating into laughter, he pulled her away and tucked the photo into his pocket.

“I’ll tell you what. We should go on our own market adventure today. Let’s buy something weird and make a day of it. We could even take a boat to the mainland and see if Trixie’s sent anything for us. I asked the guy on the boat when he gave you the letter last week, and he said that he’s happy to pass on letters but we’ll have to collect any parcels for ourselves.”

Sharon considered him. “You know what… that sounds nice! I’ll get dressed, hold on.”

In a matter of moments, she’d removed her pyjama top with an extravagant flourish, causing Justin to burst into laughter.

“I swear I’ve put weight on, this is your fault.” She balled the shirt up and threw it at Justin’s head, childishly blowing raspberries at him when he ducked and missed it. “Look at me!”

She poked her stomach, puffing her cheeks out. Rolling his eyes, Justin threw her shirt back.

“Yeah, yeah, whatever. Put some clothes on, nympho.”

Sharon laughed appreciatively. “Fair, fair. Do you think we could skip the market, though? Recently the smell of all the fish has been making me really nauseous, and I don’t wanna throw up on you in that shirt. You look good in that shirt.”

It wasn’t long after their day out that Justin started to suspect. Of course, he’d never blindly say a thing out loud, for fear of castration via kitchen knives, but he was definitely beginning to notice a few telling changes, even if Sharon wasn’t. The nausea, for example. The breath-taking way she’d started to fill her clothes.

In fact, he tried to mention it to her once. She was having none of it.

“Nope. Where did you get that from?”

“I just thought maybe-”

“You’re crazy, Justin. I love you, but you’re crazy.”

“I mean, we have been-”

“It’s just not realistic, babe!”

“It’s possible, I guess I just-”

“Possible? At my age?”

“You’re not old! In fact, you’re perfectly-”

“You’re off your head, babe. I think the sea salt is getting to your brain.”

“But don’t you think-”

“Nah, it can’t be. Justin, I’m not pregnant.”

So they dropped the subject. She wasn’t, because Justin was clearly crazy and seeing things that weren’t there. She continued to deny it even when he hadn’t brought it up, which made him laugh. Justin knew Sharon wasn’t exactly… bright. Eventually she’d catch on.

‘Eventually’ turned out to be a week from their debate. Justin was sprawled across the bed, half-asleep in sweatpants and a face-mask that she’d insisted they both try. He was forced awake as the bathroom door slammed open, revealing a distressed Sharon with a mouthful of toothpaste foam, a toothbrush in one hand and a pregnancy test in the other.

“‘Ow did thi’ ‘appen?” She managed to say, leaning into the sink to spit and then returning. “How?!”

Justin shrugged. “I guess someone decided that the best way to clean your teeth is with a little brush on the end of a stick, so you can really get in there and scrub.”

Sharon dropped the toothbrush. “Not that, doofus. This!”

“Did… Did you forget that we’ve been having like… a lot of sex?” Justin tried.

She shook her head. “Well, of course not.”

“And the fact that we ran out of condoms within a week?”

“No.”

“And that when I told you, you said it didn’t matter and we didn’t need any more?”

“No.”

“Well… that’ll be why.”

Justin watched Sharon’s face, trying to gauge her feelings. She was almost impossible to read sometimes, what with years of hiding her feelings under her belt. He decided to tread carefully, pushing down the rising excitement that he felt inside him.

“But… we’re old!” She protested. “I really didn’t think this could happen, if I’m honest.”

Smiling gently, Justin beckoned her to come and lay on the bed with him. The sun was just starting to set, and as she nestled into his arms, golden sunlight filtered through the window and made patterns on the wall. Sharon kept staring at the test in her hand, encompassed by Justin’s warmth.

“How do you feel about this?” He whispered.

Sharon swallowed. “It’s… unexpected. How… how do you feel?”

“I feel amazing.” He admitted quietly, his heart softening as Sharon smiled. “I can be here for you this time, every step of the way.”

He placed his hand on top of Sharon’s, both of them on her stomach. For a few, peaceful moments, they lay there in silence.

Sharon was first to break it. “God, I can’t believe those bitches were right. It’s like Raja and Jinkx can predict the fucking future.”

Justin laughed. “Well. As I’m sure you’ll remember, I’m in if you’re in.”

The nostalgia registered on Sharon’s face instantly. The first time they’d met - all those years ago - the two of them said it a lot. When faced with a freezing cold plunge pool and no clothes, Justin simply shrugged “I’m in if you’re in.” When coming up with a plan to cause some minor havoc, the two of them in pain from laughing so hard, Sharon managed “I’m in if you’re in!”

It had been years since either of them had said or even heard those words.

“I’m in.”

#purecamp #here i go again #trixya #shalaska #rajila #smut #sharon needles #alaska thunderfuck #raja gemini #manila luzon #trixie mattel #katya zamolodchikova #rpdr fanfiction #submission #m/f au #mamma mia au

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