#those songs came from that family computer

[grison-in-space]

I remember this happening. I was fourteen and living in Georgia, and I was pretty sure I was queer and equally pretty sure that no one was ever going to leave me alone about it. There's a great song about the moment by Vienna Teng, I hope someone has linked it for OP by now.

The moments I remember are a decade later: having spent a year of graduate school tied to Texas admitting to myself that I was unhappy with the idea that my relationships were going to have to stay online only until I graduated with the PhD and could leave Texas again, because hell would freeze over before Texas did shit for us. Didn't matter I was living in Austin, one of the first cities in the nation to legalize the civil union shit back in the 90s; I was always going to be a second class citizen that way. Immigration wasn't an option.

And then, while I was working in the field in Costa Rica, Windsor came down. Suddenly immigration from Canada was an option. Suddenly we could talk about it. So we did. And we started scrambling to take advantage before it got taken away, because it probably would, but we had learned from y'all that even if it got taken away later, the having was important. Once you were legally in the country, deportation would have been harder, right?

I was one of the second wave of people with transnational relationships taking advantage of immigration in the post-DOMA world. (Defense of Marriage Act, children: ol' Bill Clinton signed that into law in 1996, so that we filthy queers couldn't ever touch the protections afforded by a federally recognized marriage.) It was a hell of a ride. We had to travel to Boston to get married because T thought an American certificate would carry more weight with immigration than a Canadian one. We couldn't actually afford to live together without both of us working, so we had to decide whether it was worth trying on the strength of one delighted October week long visit, get married and then put our petition through. We stayed on my friend @queenieofaces 's floor for the week of my spring break in 2014 and she married us to save money, which was not exactly something we had a lot of at the time or since. Then we both went home to our own countries for a year while we assembled the legal packets, petitioned the federal government, and started trying to navigate the immigration system.

Almost everyone I met outside our families was excited for me, sometimes to an extent that felt ridiculous. We were getting married because it was a shot at getting to live together, but we were both acutely aware of the possibility of failure, of just how much we were sacrificing for a shot at a relationship. The kinds of decade long affairs where marriage was just the legal affirmation of the households that already existed were inspirational, but not us: we were taking a risk and leaping for one another, but it was a leap, not an embrace quite yet. We talked earnestly about pre nuptial agreements before discovering, slightly shame-faced, that those are really designed for people with assets greater than a single subcompact hatchback and a laptop. computer.

(A decade later, and we've nevder had the stability to put through T's citizenship paperwork. That's changing now, slowly.)

My apartment had burned down that summer of 2013, and my car got totaled that winter, and I had to deal with a lot of insurance paperwork. Sometimes the paperwork required additional in person signatures for spouses and I would have to ask: "ah, uh: what law requires the paperwork?" See, I spent a year and change married for the purpose of federal law, single for the purposes of state law, and married again for purposes of municipal law. No one ever writes down what law they use to generate a policy, but no one wanted to mail documents to Toronto and back for signatures, either. So no one was quite sure what I should do on the paperwork.

It was chaos. T spent the entire entrance interview trying to convince the confused man at the consulate that it was actually fine to immigrate to Texas on a Massachusetts wedding license even though Texas would not recognize the marriage. We got approved and moved and I went to put T on my insurance. Then I discovered that Texas outright banned any of its state employees (|ike me!) from extending benefits to partners unless their marriage was recognized by the state of Texas. I had about a week to start panicking about that and then Obergefell hit the ground.

We just left work and went down to the Capitol and everyone was cheering and hugging each other and crying. All the bars and the liberal churches were open. We listened to speeches and stories and went dancing. It was beautiful.

Twenty years ago, February 15th, 2004, I got married for the first time.

It was twenty years earlier than I ever expected to.

To celebrate/comemorate the date, I'm sitting down to write out everything I remember as I remember it. No checking all the pictures I took or all the times I've written about this before. I'm not going to turn to my husband (of twenty years, how the f'ing hell) to remember a detail for me.

This is not a 100% accurate recounting of that first wild weekend in San Francisco. But it -is- a 100% accurate recounting of how I remember it today, twenty years after the fact.

Join me below, if you would.

2004 was an election year, and much like conservatives are whipping up anti-trans hysteria and anti-trans bills and propositions to drive out the vote today, in 2004 it was all anti-gay stuff. Specifically, preventing the evil scourge of same-sex marriage from destroying everything good and decent in the world.

Enter Gavin Newstrom. At the time, he was the newly elected mayor of San Francisco. Despite living next door to the city all my life, I hadn’t even heard of the man until Valentines Day 2004 when he announced that gay marriage was legal in San Francisco and started marrying people at city hall.

It was a political stunt. It was very obviously a political stunt. That shit was illegal, after all. But it was a very sweet political stunt. I still remember the front page photo of two ancient women hugging each other forehead to forehead and crying happy tears.

But it was only going to last for as long as it took for the California legal system to come in and make them knock it off.

The next day, we’re on the phone with an acquaintance, and she casually mentions that she’s surprised the two of us aren’t up at San Francisco getting married with everyone else.

“Everyone else?” Goes I, “I thought they would’ve shut that down already?”

“Oh no!” goes she, “The courts aren’t open until Tuesday. Presidents Day on Monday and all. They’re doing them all weekend long!”

We didn’t know because social media wasn’t a thing yet. I only knew as much about it as I’d read on CNN, and most of the blogs I was following were more focused on what bullshit President George W Bush was up to that day.

"Well shit", me and my man go, "do you wanna?" I mean, it’s a political stunt, it wont really mean anything, but we’re not going to get another chance like this for at least 20 years. Why not?

The next day, Sunday, we get up early. We drive north to the southern-most BART station. We load onto Bay Area Rapid Transit, and rattle back and forth all the way to the San Francisco City Hall stop.

We had slightly miscalculated.

Apparently, demand for marriages was far outstripping the staff they had on hand to process them. Who knew. Everyone who’d gotten turned away Saturday had been given tickets with times to show up Sunday to get their marriages done. My babe and I, we could either wait to see if there was a space that opened up, or come back the next day, Monday.

“Isn’t City Hall closed on Monday?” I asked. “It’s a holiday”

“Oh sure,” they reply, “but people are allowed to volunteer their time to come in and work on stuff anyways. And we have a lot of people who want to volunteer their time to have the marriage licensing offices open tomorrow.”

“Oh cool,” we go, “Backup.”

“Make sure you’re here if you do,” they say, “because the California Supreme Court is back in session Tuesday, and will be reviewing the motion that got filed to shut us down.”

And all this shit is super not-legal, so they’ll totally be shutting us down goes unsaid.

00000

We don’t get in Saturday. We wind up hanging out most of the day, though.

It’s… incredible. I can say, without hyperbole, that I have never experienced so much concentrated joy and happiness and celebration of others’ joy and happiness in all my life before or since. My face literally ached from grinning. Every other minute, a new couple was coming out of City Hall, waving their paperwork to the crowd and cheering and leaping and skipping. Two glorious Latina women in full Mariachi band outfits came out, one in the arms of another. A pair of Jewish boys with their families and Rabbi. One couple managed to get a Just Married convertible arranged complete with tin-cans tied to the bumper to drive off in. More than once I was giving some rice to throw at whoever was coming out next.

At some point in the mid-afternoon, there was a sudden wave of extra cheering from the several hundred of us gathered at the steps, even though no one was coming out. There was a group going up the steps to head inside, with some generic black-haired shiny guy at the front. My not-yet-husband nudged me, “That’s Newsom.” He said, because he knew I was hopeless about matching names and people.

Ooooooh, I go. That explains it. Then I joined in the cheers. He waved and ducked inside.

So dusk is starting to fall. It’s February, so it’s only six or so, but it’s getting dark.

“Should we just try getting in line for tomorrow -now-?” we ask.

“Yeah, I’m afraid that’s not going to be possible.” One of the volunteers tells us. “We’re not allowed to have people hang out overnight like this unless there are facilities for them and security. We’d need Porta-Poties for a thousand people and police patrols and the whole lot, and no one had time to get all that organized. Your best bet is to get home, sleep, and then catch the first BART train up at 5am and keep your fingers crossed.

Monday is the last day to do this, after all.

00000

So we go home. We crash out early. We wake up at 4:00. We drive an hour to hit the BART station. We get the first train up. We arrive at City Hall at 6:30AM.

The line stretches around the entirety of San Francisco City Hall. You could toss a can of Coke from the end of the line to the people who’re up to be first through the doors and not have to worry about cracking it open after.

“Uh.” We go. “What the fuck is -this-?”

So.

Remember why they weren’t going to be able to have people hang out overnight?

Turns out, enough SF cops were willing to volunteer unpaid time to do patrols to cover security. And some anonymous person delivered over a dozen Porta-Poties that’d gotten dropped off around 8 the night before.

It’s 6:30 am, there are almost a thousand people in front of us in line to get this literal once in a lifetime marriage, the last chance we expect to have for at least 15 more years (it was 2004, gay rights were getting shoved back on every front. It was not looking good. We were just happy we lived in California were we at least weren’t likely to loose job protections any time soon.).

Then it starts to rain.

We had not dressed for rain.

00000

Here is how the next six hours go.

We’re in line. Once the doors open at 7am, it will creep forward at a slow crawl. It’s around 7 when someone shows up with garbage bags for everyone. Cut holes for the head and arms and you’ve got a makeshift raincoat! So you’ve got hundreds of gays and lesbians decked out in the nicest shit they could get on short notice wearing trashbags over it.

Everyone is so happy.

Everyone is so nervous/scared/frantic that we wont be able to get through the doors before they close for the day.

People online start making delivery orders.

Coffee and bagels are ordered in bulk and delivered to City Hall for whoever needs it. We get pizza. We get roses. Random people come by who just want to give hugs to people in line because they’re just so happy for us. The tour busses make detours to go past the lines. Chinese tourists lean out with their cameras and shout GOOD LUCK while car horns honk.

A single sad man holding a Bible tries to talk people out of doing this, tells us all we’re sinning and to please don’t. He gives up after an hour. A nun replaces him with a small sign about how this is against God’s will. She leaves after it disintegrates in the rain.

The day before, when it was sunny, there had been a lot of protestors. Including a large Muslim group with their signs about how “Not even DOGS do such things!” Which… Yes they do.

A lot of snide words are said (by me) about how the fact that we’re willing to come out in the rain to do this while they’re not willing to come out in the rain to protest it proves who actually gives an actual shit about the topic.

Time passes. I measure it based on which side of City Hall we’re on. The doors face East. We start on Northside. Coffee and trashbags are delivered when we’re on the North Side. Pizza first starts showing up when we’re on Westside, which is also where I see Bible Man and Nun. Roses are delivered on Southside. And so forth.

00000

We have Line Neighbors.

Ahead of us are a gay couple a decade or two older than us. They’ve been together for eight years. The older one is a school teacher. He has his coat collar up and turns away from any news cameras that come near while we reposition ourselves between the lenses and him. He’s worried about the parents of one of his students seeing him on the news and getting him fired. The younger one will step away to get interviewed on his own later on. They drove down for the weekend once they heard what was going on. They’d started around the same time we did, coming from the Northeast, and are parked in a nearby garage.

The most perky energetic joyful woman I’ve ever met shows up right after we turned the corner to Southside to tackle the younger of the two into a hug. She’s their local friend who’d just gotten their message about what they’re doing and she will NOT be missing this. She is -so- happy for them. Her friends cry on her shoulders at her unconditional joy.

Behind us are a lesbian couple who’d been up in San Francisco to celebrate their 12th anniversary together. “We met here Valentines Day weekend! We live down in San Diego, now, but we like to come up for the weekend because it’s our first love city.”

“Then they announced -this-,” the other one says, “and we can’t leave until we get married. I called work Sunday and told them I calling in sick until Wednesday.”

“I told them why,” her partner says, “I don’t care if they want to give me trouble for it. This is worth it. Fuck them.”

My husband-to-be and I look at each other. We’ve been together for not even two years at this point. Less than two years. Is it right for us to be here? We’re potentially taking a spot from another couple that’d been together longer, who needed it more, who deserved it more.”

“Don’t you fucking dare.” Says the 40-something gay couple in front of us.

“This is as much for you as it is for us!” says the lesbian couple who’ve been together for over a decade behind us.

“You kids are too cute together,” says the gay couple’s friend. “you -have- to. Someday -you’re- going to be the old gay couple that’s been together for years and years, and you deserve to have been married by then.”

We stay in line.

It’s while we’re on the Southside of City Hall, just about to turn the corner to Eastside at long last that we pick up our own companions. A white woman who reminds me an awful lot of my aunt with a four year old black boy riding on her shoulders. “Can we say we’re with you? His uncles are already inside and they’re not letting anyone in who isn’t with a couple right there.” “Of course!” we say.

The kid is so very confused about what all the big deal is, but there’s free pizza and the busses keep driving by and honking, so he’s having a great time.

We pass by a statue of Lincoln with ‘Marriage for All!’ and "Gay Rights are Human Rights!" flags tucked in the crooks of his arms and hanging off his hat.

It’s about noon, noon-thirty when we finally make it through the doors and out of the rain.

They’ve promised that anyone who’s inside when the doors shut will get married. We made it. We’re safe.

We still have a -long- way to go.

00000

They’re trying to fit as many people into City Hall as possible. Partially to get people out of the rain, mostly to get as many people indoors as possible. The line now stretches down into the basement and up side stairs and through hallways I’m not entirely sure the public should ever be given access to. We crawl along slowly but surely.

It’s after we’ve gone through the low-ceiling basement hallways past offices and storage and back up another set of staircases and are going through a back hallway of low-ranked functionary offices that someone comes along handing out the paperwork. “It’s an hour or so until you hit the office, but take the time to fill these out so you don’t have to do it there!”

We spend our time filling out the paperwork against walls, against backs, on stone floors, on books.

We enter one of the public areas, filled with displays and photos of City Hall Demonstrations of years past.

I take pictures of the big black and white photo of the Abraham Lincoln statue holding banners and signs against segregation and for civil rights.

The four year old boy we helped get inside runs past us around this time, chased by a blond haired girl about his own age, both perused by an exhausted looking teenager helplessly begging them to stop running.

Everyone is wet and exhausted and vibrating with anticipation and the building-wide aura of happiness that infuses everything.

The line goes into the marriage office. A dozen people are at the desk, shoulder to shoulder, far more than it was built to have working it at once.

A Sister of Perpetual Indulgence is directing people to city officials the moment they open up. She’s done up in her nun getup with all her makeup on and her beard is fluffed and be-glittered and on point. “Oh, I was here yesterday getting married myself, but today I’m acting as your guide. Number 4 sweeties, and -Congradulatiooooons!-“

The guy behind the counter has been there since six. It’s now 1:30. He’s still giddy with joy. He counts our money. He takes our paperwork, reviews it, stamps it, sends off the parts he needs to, and hands the rest back to us. “Alright, go to the Rotunda, they’ll direct you to someone who’ll do the ceremony. Then, if you want the certificate, they’ll direct you to -that- line.” “Can’t you just mail it to us?” “Normally, yeah, but the moment the courts shut us down, we’re not going to be allowed to.”

We take our paperwork and join the line to the Rotunda.

If you’ve seen James Bond: A View to a Kill, you’ve seen the San Francisco City Hall Rotunda. There are literally a dozen spots set up along the balconies that overlook the open area where marriage officials and witnesses are gathered and are just processing people through as fast as they can.

That’s for the people who didn’t bring their own wedding officials.

There’s a Catholic-adjacent couple there who seem to have brought their entire families -and- the priest on the main steps. They’re doing the whole damn thing. There’s at least one more Rabbi at work, I can’t remember what else. Just that there was a -lot-.

We get directed to the second story, northside. The San Francisco City Treasurer is one of our two witnesses. Our marriage officient is some other elected official I cannot remember for the life of me (and I'm only writing down what I can actively remember, so I can't turn to my husband next to me and ask, but he'll have remembered because that's what he does.)

I have a wilting lily flower tucked into my shirt pocket. My pants have water stains up to the knees. My hair is still wet from the rain, I am blubbering, and I can’t get the ring on my husband’s finger. The picture is a treat, I tell you.

There really isn’t a word for the mix of emotions I had at that time. Complete disbelief that this was reality and was happening. Relief that we’d made it. Awe at how many dozens of people had personally cheered for us along the way and the hundreds to thousands who’d cheered for us generally.

Then we're married.

Then we get in line to get our license.

It’s another hour. This time, the line goes through the higher stories. Then snakes around and goes past the doorway to the mayor’s office.

Mayor Newsom is not in today. And will be having trouble getting into his office on Tuesday because of the absolute barricade of letters and flowers and folded up notes and stuffed animals and City Hall maps with black marked “THANK YOU!”s that have been piled up against it.

We make it to the marriage records office.

I take a picture of my now husband standing in front of a case of the marriage records for 1902-1912. Numerous kids are curled up in corners sleeping. My own memory is spotty. I just know we got the papers, and then we’re done with lines. We get out, we head to the front entrance, and we walk out onto the City Hall steps.

It's almost 3PM.

00000

There are cheers, there’s rice thrown at us, there are hundreds of people celebrating us with unconditional love and joy and I had never before felt the goodness that exists in humanity to such an extent. It’s no longer raining, just a light sprinkle, but there are still no protestors. There’s barely even any news vans.

We make our way through the gauntlet, we get hands shaked, people with signs reading ”Congratulations!” jump up and down for us. We hit the sidewalks, and we begin to limp our way back to the BART station.

I’m at the BART station, we’re waiting for our train back south, and I’m sitting on the ground leaning against a pillar and in danger of falling asleep when a nondescript young man stops in front of me and shuffles his feet nervously. “Hey. I just- I saw you guys, down at City Hall, and I just… I’m so happy for you. I’m so proud of what you could do. I’m- I’m just really glad, glad you could get to do this.”

He shakes my hand, clasps it with both of his and shakes it. I thank him and he smiles and then hurries away as fast as he can without running.

Our train arrives and the trip south passes in a semilucid blur.

We get back to our car and climb in.

It’s 4:30 and we are starving.

There’s a Carls Jr near the station that we stop off at and have our first official meal as a married couple. We sit by the window and watch people walking past and pick out others who are returning from San Francisco. We're all easy to pick out, what with the combination of giddiness and water damage.

We get home about 6-7. We take the dog out for a good long walk after being left alone for two days in a row. We shower. We bundle ourselves up. We bury ourselves in blankets and curl up and just sort of sit adrift in the surrealness of what we’d just done.

We wake up the next day, Tuesday, to read that the California State Supreme Court has rejected the petition to shut down the San Francisco weddings because the paperwork had a misplaced comma that made the meaning of one phrase unclear.

The State Supreme Court would proceed to play similar bureaucratic tricks to drag the process out for nearly a full month before they have nothing left and finally shut down Mayor Newsom’s marriages.

My parents had been out of state at the time at a convention. They were flying into SFO about the same moment we were walking out of City Hall. I apologized to them later for not waiting and my mom all but shook me by the shoulders. “No! No one knew that they’d go on for so long! You did what you needed to do! I’ll just be there for the next one!”

00000

It was just a piece of paper. Legally, it didn’t even hold any weight thirty days later. My philosophy at the time was “marriage really isn’t that important, aside from the legal benefits. It’s just confirming what you already have.”

But maybe it’s just societal weight, or ingrained culture, or something, but it was different after. The way I described it at the time, and I’ve never really come up with a better metaphor is, “It’s like we were both holding onto each other in the middle of the ocean in the middle of a storm. We were keeping each other above water, we were each other’s support. But then we got this piece of paper. And it was like the ground rose up to meet our feet. We were still in an ocean, still in the middle of a storm, but there was a solid foundation beneath our feet. We still supported each other, but there was this other thing that was also keeping our heads above the water.

It was different. It was better. It made things more solid and real.

I am forever grateful for all the forces and all the people who came together to make it possible. It’s been twenty years and we’re still together and still married.

We did a domestic partnership a year later to get the legal paperwork. We’d done a private ceremony with proper rings (not just ones grabbed out of the husband’s collection hours before) before then. And in 2008, we did a legal marriage again.

Rushed. In a hurry. Because there was Proposition 13 to be voted on which would make them all illegal again if it passed.

It did, but we were already married at that point, and they couldn’t negate it that time.

Another few years after that, the Supreme Court finally threw up their hands and said "Fine! It's been legal in places and nothing's caught on fire or been devoured by locusts. It's legal everywhere. Shut up about it!"

And that was that.

00000

When I was in highschool, in the late 90s, I didn’t expect to see legal gay marriage until I was in my 50s. I just couldn’t see how the American public as it was would ever be okay with it.

I never expected to be getting married within five years. I never expected it to be legal nationwide before I’d barely started by 30s. I never thought I’d be in my 40s and it’d be such a non-issue that the conservative rabble rousers would’ve had to move onto other wedge issues altogether.

I never thought that I could introduce another man as my husband and absolutely no one involved would so much as blink.

I never thought I’d live in this world.

And it’s twenty years later today. I wonder how our line buddies are doing. Those babies who were running around the wide open rooms playing tag will have graduated college by now. The kids whose parents the one line-buddy was worried would see him are probably married too now. Some of them to others of the same gender.

I don’t have some greater message to make with all this. Other then, culture can shift suddenly in ways you can’t predict. For good or ill. Mainly this is just me remembering the craziest fucking 36 hours of my life twenty years after the fact and sharing them with all of you.

The future we’re resigned to doesn’t have to be the one we live in. Society can shift faster than you think. The unimaginable of twenty years ago is the baseline reality of today.

And always remember that the people who want to get married will show up by the thousands in rain that none of those who’re against it will brave.

[brltpop]

Guys, girls, goths and gays please pray for me or wish me good luck because I'm about to EXPLODE

[imababblekat]

Simon sees you sitting curled up in a chair, eyes peering lost at the sketchbook and computer before. He knows that look. It’s a look you often get when the team finally gets some time off, but you brain is stuck in this void of being unable to commit to any hobbies you once enjoyed. You told him about it once, it was offhandedly and you hadn’t delved much into it with due to still being fairly new and not wanting to bother the apparent cold stone lieutenant. Simon paid attention though, and this detail about yourself had been added to his mentail folder of his teammates.

A deep breath huffed out your nose, head drooping into your folded arms, when your ears picked up on the sound of light footsteps entering the kitchen area you resided.

“The usual?”, came Simons gruff voice, large hands reaching into the cabinet for your and his mugs.

“The usual.”, you mumbled in reply, staring at your phone and resisting the urge to start doom scrolling.

It was a battle you lost as you reached out to open an app and scroll mindlessly through its feed, the light clinking of Simon making you both tea behind you. You’re not sure how long he had taken, too lost in the endless information of peoples lives and other nonsensical things scrolling past your dulled eyes, not registering a thing you watched or read. At some point though, your phone had been snatched from your hands, replaced by a warm cup of your favorite tea, Simon pulling out the chair beside you to sit with his own.

You couldn’t even bother the smallest fuss at the large soldier for taking your phone, simpling taking a sip and then blindly staring into the liquid void.

“That bad today?”

You nod with a groan, putting your cup down to splay your hands out at the objects you once enjoyed before you.

“I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I thought maybe I was bogged down by knowing I had chores to take care of, but even after finishing those I still can’t get myself to do any of my hobbies!”

Simon sipped his tea, dark eyes glancing up at your downtrodden expression. You thought nothing of his silence, having known him for a while now that his silence was him listening. If he truly wasn’t interested, he would have left, hell he wouldn’t have even bothered to make you a drink.

“I just. . .”, you hold your head in your hands, “I don’t feel myself. I finally get a break, and I can’t do anything I wanted to do. What’s the point of having hobbies if every time I try one of them, I immediately become disinterested?”

The Brit beside you stares down into his own mug now, thinking on your words, a silence filling in besides the muffled sound of Johnny bellowing songs in the shower upstairs. Before, he wouldn’t give two shits about something like this, leaving you to figure it out or not all on your own. Of course, being apart of the 141 it was only a matter of time before you became apart of this oddly dangerous family of sorts, and Simon found himself caring for you just as much as he did for the other three, even if he ever expressed it.

“Maybe doing nothin’, is what you’re suppos’d do.”

You quirked a brow at him.

“You? Telling me to do nothing?”

Simon rolled his eyes, sitting back against the creaking old dinning chair.

“Yeah, shocker I know, but trust me, after years of doing this shit, sometimes you jus’ gotta kick ya feet up and do fuck all.”

You look back to your tea before taking another sip, thinking on his words. He had a point though. As frustrating as it was, wanting to engage in activities that would normally bring you joy, it was only natural to not always be motivated to do them, especially with the grueling type of work you all did.

“Welp,” you shrug, closing your lap top shut and throwing your sketchbook atop it, “guess I’m doing fuck all today.”

A light, deep chuckle came from Simon, him always finding it kind of funny when outlandish vocabulary came from your lips. You never came off as the type to say such words, but then again you also didn’t exactly fit into the picture of the intimidating guys you were so close to.

“Good. Relax, ya earned it.”

You smile up at Simon, your eyes crinkling in the corners something that brought him some warmth.

“We earned it, Simon.”

[asumofwords]

Smoke, Fire and Ash - EPILOGUE

Warnings: This fic includes noncon, dubcon, manipulation, violence, death, forced marriage, and inc3st. Tags will be added as the fic goes on. Mentions of grief, war, blood, loss.

This is a dark!fic. 18+ only. Read at your own discretion. Please read the warnings before continuing.

Summary: You are the eldest daughter of Rhaenyra and Daemon Targaryen. You are forced to navigate the difficult surroundings of your upbringing and the eventual disintegration between your family and the Hightower's relationship. What will happen when your older and estranged uncle suddenly takes a more sinister interest in you? (Dark!Aemond x Reader)

Masterlist

Characters: Aemond Targaryen X Reader, Cregan Stark X Reader

Note: Whelp... Here we are.... This is it. This is the end. The end of Smoke, Fire and Ash. We are ending with this Epilogue in a five year time jump. And oh boy.... I can't believe it. I really hope that you enjoy how I finish this era lmao, with over 370k words.... someone needs to take my computer away from me. Again, I can't even begin to express my love and gratitude to you all, I just hope that you have enjoyed reading this as much as I have enjoyed writing it! <3 So as always.... ENJOY!

EPILOGUE : His Song of Ice and Fire

Time jump: 5 years into the future. 

There was a chill that had come early to Kings Landing that season, all those years ago. A chill that had swept across the stones of the Keep, cool air creeping into your bones through your gown.

But now, as you stood where you had many moons ago, there was no crisp breeze that sent goosebumps rising on your arms, nor was there a bite to it that came as a subtle and precursory warning for what was to come.

The courtyard of the Godswood was warmed by streams of glowing sunlight that blanketed over the cobblestones and grass.

A soft breeze rolled through as you walked forward towards the tree, having missed being in its presence over the years passed, mostly spent on Dragonstone.

It had been five years since your mother was seated upon the Iron Throne. Five years since you had been named her successor. Five years since Lords, Ladies and Heads of Houses pledged themselves to you and the Queen. 

Five years since the death of Aegon and all those responsible for the usurpation. 

Since you commanded dracarys and watched as Alicent was devoured by flames. Since Larys laid on the flagstones, blood seeping from his stomach.

Five years since your father had gone to Storms End and slayed Borros Baratheon for his play in it. 

Five years since Baela and Rhaena flew to Oldtown and rounded up all the Hightower's who had shown support for Otto and his kin. 

And five years since his death.

Five years ago, in these very walls of the Red Keep, you had plunged a dagger into your husbands neck. Your uncles neck. Your childhood companion. The man you had loved.

And not one day that had gone by did you not think of it. Did you not dream of it. Did you not see him in the corners of your eyes, or in the shadows of your chambers on Dragonstone.

Did you not see the blood that stained your hands when you would wake, or witness with bouts of anxiety.

In your hand, the old and worn cover of your favourite book, ‘Ten Thousand Ships'. A novel in which you had read under these very branches of the Godswood. On the grass your mother had sat with you, or your brothers, or your uncles and aunt. 

You watched as a small head of silver raced ahead of you, shoulder length hair billowing behind him, with two tidy braids holding the sides behind his head.

“Careful, Lucerys.” You called out gently, watching as your son climbed atop the roots and settled right into your favourite spot. His black and red robes crinkling as he leant back against the root of the Weirwood tree. 

The smile on your face stretched widely as you moved to sit beside him, the small boy crawling into your lap as you brushed his hair back behind his ears. Little hands reached out to play with the necklace at your neck.

Aemond’s sapphire.

Ever since Lucerys was born, he had always longed to touch or hold it, violet eyes always finding it with ease against your neck, fingers outstretched to play with it or caress it. He tapped it up and down upon his finger as he looked at it with content.

There was so much of Aemond in him, it was hard for all not to see. It was especially true with his eyes. Eyes that you had loved since you were a child, reflected on your own sons face.

His were, much like Aemond's, a way to read him almost immediately, showing so much emotion and character in them as he thought, or played, or argued. Long silver lashes blinked up at you, and you could not help the tug of your heart as you bent your head to kiss his forehead.  

The young boy scrunched his nose at you in mock disgust before grabbing the book from your hand to hold it open in his lap, finding the page that you had been up to not just the day before.

The bridge of his nose was dusted with light freckles, and there was such a boyish charm to his rosy cheeks, whenever he smiled his teeth would show, bar the one he had recently just lost. 

Little Lucerys was as Aemond had been as a young boy. Inquisitive, soft spoken, kind and daring. He had a longing for knowledge, and sought it out whenever he could in Dragonstone's library or by picking your brain with a continuous stream of questions and consciousness.

But then there was so much of you in him too. His nose, his sure fire temper when things did not go his way, and his utter refusal to back down, even when it brought him to tears.

You read to your son beneath the tree as you reminisced on your days before. On how you had sought solace beneath the branches many times. How your mother had read to you here. How your brothers and Helaena would sometimes join you or play. And how Aemond would sit behind the trunk and listen to you read aloud, your voice carrying enough for him to hear, but not loud enough to let him know that you knew he was there.

And as you read, you felt his presence, there on the other side of the Godswood, where he would sit as a boy, listening as you read to his son. Watching as he always did. There as he always was.

Always and forever more, would the ghost of Aemond haunt you. 

You read louder, just so you could be confident that Aemond could hear, just as you had when you were young, even though you knew he was not truly there. But it felt right. It felt the way it should have been. What could have been.

Familiar. 

That is where your mother found you, nestled where she used to, reading a book she had once read to you to your son, and loud as though you wished for your voice to carry to some unknown spectator.

You felt the eyes of the Queen and lifted your head, pausing your reading if only for a moment, and Lucerys, being as perceptive as he was, looked up and spotted his Grandmother, leaping from your lap all elbows and knees and ran towards her. 

The Queen opened her arms widely as she chuckled, bending down slightly to catch the young boy who launched himself into her arms, crown unmoving from the top of her head.

“Grandmother Nyra!” He had cried as she lifted him into the air, sitting him atop her hip as you dusted your skirts down and made your way over.

“It feels right to see you there. I can remember how eager you used to be.” She smiled, turning her head to look at the boy in her arms, “Did you know your mother had me read to her there too?”

The boy nodded his head, silver hair bouncing atop his shoulders, “Uh huh. And father too!”

Rhaenyra’s smile softened as she looked at the boy and back to you, “She did. Your father loved her reading.”

A small smile tugged at your lips as you leaned in to kiss your mothers cheeks, son still in her arms as he played with the crown at her head.

“Are you ready for this evenings feast?” Rhaenyra asked, swaying the boy gently as she pressed another kiss to the top of his head, once, twice, three times, exaggerating the noise as she sucked air through her pursed lips.

“Of course,” You adjusted the necklace at your throat in nervous habit, “We flew all this way for this evening, didn’t we?”

“Vermithor is grumpy, Grandmother. But he lets me on his back!” 

Rhaenyra opened her mouth and raised her brows, “Does he? Why, you must be the youngest rider ever!”

Lucerys beamed.

“Muña has been taking me to see Vhagar! She flies with us sometimes.” Mother.

The smile on Rhaenyra’s lips twitched, if only for a moment, before she regained her composure.

“Does she now? Vhagar must know that you’re your fathers son.”

Little Luc nodded his head, “I’m going to claim her. Muña said I shouldn’t because she is too old and grumpy and dangerous, but I know father wants me too.”

You cleared your throat, “That’s enough of that. Grandsire will have a new clutch soon, and you will have your own egg.”

“But I-“

“-Hush, my sweet.”

Turning back to you, Queen Rhaenyra lowered the boy back on to the ground, letting him run circles around the courtyard as you spoke, “Is he still having dreams?”

You bit your lip anxiously, before nodding, “He knows things he shouldn’t. He is much like Helaena in that respect.”

Your mother gave you a reassuring smile, “A gift from the Gods no doubt. A most precious one.”

You nodded in agreement, but in some ways you didn’t agree at all.

Was it really a gift if it aided in driving Helaena to madness?

Rhaenyra held one of your hands, brushing her thumb up and over your knuckles soothingly. You didn’t dare look down, knowing that they would be bloodied, “There will be allies from all the realm tonight. I cannot believe little Rhaegar is to have his first name day already.”

Rhaegar was a small boy of silver hair and tanned skin, one violet eye, and one brown. The third son of Jacaerys and Baela, with yet another on the way. Baela had told you in secret that she wished for a girl this time around, but had been surprised when the small boy had been born. 

None were more surprised however, than when he had opened his eyes to peer up at your brother, besotted by his son already, staring down at the violet and brown eyes that looked back up at him.

Aelor, the eldest, was but a few moons older than your Lucerys, and the two got on more fiercely than even you and Aemond possessed. It was a beautiful bond the two boys had, full of love and loyalty. 

The middle child of Jacaerys and Baela was a sweet and quiet boy named Rhaelor. He had the most beautiful of curls like his mother, who braided it closely to his scalp with clips of gold and silver dangling from each. 

"I cannot believe it either.” You agreed, casting a quick glance at your son, “They grow so quickly.”

Rhaenyra took your other hand in hers and squeezed them, “You grew the fastest of all. You shot up far before your brothers. I feel like I blinked and then there you were, a woman grown.”

Chuckling, you squeezed her hand back, “Will Rhaena be joining us this evening?”

Rhaenyra turned to lead you away from the Godswood, Lucerys running up beside you to hold your other hand, “Rhaena sent word that she senses the babe to be with us any day now. It is too far to travel from the Vale to Kings Landing in her condition, but has told us we must all be ready to come see the babe once it is born.”

Rhaena, upon the death of Lucerys, had refused to wed for years. She had stayed loyal and adamant that she would not be betrothed to another, but then she had met Ser Corwyn Corbray, a knight of House Corbray one evening at a feast.

They had immediately connected, an older man with flowing black hair and deep brown eyes that almost looked black. Corwyn was a kind man, if not fierce and skilled as a swordsman, wielding an ancestral longsword of Valyrian steel named Lady Forlorn. 

“A shame that I will not see my half-sister again, but I’m delighted to hear the babe should be born any day now. We shall be having many name day celebrations close together.” You smiled.

As you left the cobblestones of the courtyard, you turned your head back to gaze upon the ruby red leaves of the tree. They shimmered in the light of the sun and rustled softly with the breeze.

And there, sat beneath its branches, was Aemond.

His head was leant back against its trunk as he watched you, sapphire missing from the empty socket of his lost eye.

He had not left you.

He did not speak as Helaena and Lucerys had. Not in full sentences anyway. Not anything but the familiar name of endearment that he had called you.

Zaldrītsos.

It was whispered to you in the dead of night, or in the darkest of rooms when your hair would stand on end. Or at times, whispered to you when you were with Lucerys.

It was never malicious.

Or at least, thats what you liked to tell yourself. Though it never felt like he was there with bad intentions. It felt neutral. And you liked to tell yourself that he was there to watch and keep you safe. To keep you company. That a piece of your mind had made him up so that he could live a life with you, and watch your son grow.

There would always be a part of Aemond with you no matter where you went. Whether in your son, or in your visions, or upon your neck and scarred skin.

Your heart ached at the thought.

Rhaenyra walked you back to your chambers, entering as your four maids bowed and began to get preparations in order to ready you for the feast. The chamber doors opened as they left, held open as the tall and built body of your father entered.

“Grandsire!” Lucerys screeched, and you winced as the sound sent fear racing down you spine.

Your heart jolted, the echoes of screaming in your ears as you plastered a smile on your face, eyes twitching, watching as Daemon lifted him high into the air, throwing him up once and catching him to hold him tight against his chest.

Loud noises sometimes did that to you. Threw you back to your time in the Keep before your parents had arrived. Sparking fear into your very core, to the point where sometimes you could not breathe, as though your brain stopped functioning and you were gasping for air, clawing at your throat.

In those moments, Aemond would whisper to you.

It had been especially hard when Lucerys was first born. His cries would wake you and send you into a fit panic, racing to grab the dagger beside your bed as you would check the chamber for danger, wide eyed.

It took several months to learn to live with it, with his presence there, and you would be lying if you didn't say that looking down at Lucerys in his crib as a babe made you feel a guilt that you could not fight away with common sense. A melancholy that ate away at you viciously.

You had fallen into a state of depression, and in your confusion you had sent a letter to your mother and father via raven asking for star fruit. Your mind was so confused, so lost. You barely slept, or ate, and were in a perpetual state of fear.

Daemon came at once, and ended up spending almost an entire year on Dragonstone with you to help, before he finally convinced you to come back to Kings Landing with him so that your mother could help too.

It was months of screaming through the night, months of support, months of pacing your chambers, wondering if it was all worth it. Wondering if it was worth living, worth staying another day in such Hell.

The same thoughts had replayed in your mind over and over.

My son will hate me for what I have done.

I took his father from him.

He will never love me.

He will resent me for my sins.

The thought of climbing out the window as Helaena had done became an almost daily occurrence. And it was hard. Hard to not give in to it.

But you couldn't do it. Cowardice be damned, you could not leave you son alone. You would not abandon him. You would not do it.

So after months of the turmoil that chipped away at you day by day, you told them the truth of it, the whole truth of it, and by that time, after voicing such things aloud, little by little, you felt a bit more of yourself.

Lucerys had had his second name day when you were ready to go back to Dragonstone.

“Se skorkydoso iksis ñuha byka Dārilaros?” And how is my little Prince? Daemon grinned, leaning down to press a kiss against your cheek as your son wriggled in his arms.

“Merbugon!” Hungry!

Daemon plastered mock shock upon his face, something that he would do often to you as a child, "Arlī? Yn ao sepār iprattan.” Again? But you just ate.

“Kesan ipradagon ao!” I’ll eat you! Lucerys growled, fake biting at his Grandsire’s arm.

The young boys High Valyrian was good, but nowhere near perfect. 

Daemon and Rhaenyra spent ample time teaching him, as did his uncles Jacaerys and Joffrey when you'd come to visit, or them you. His other uncles, Little Viserys and Aegon the Younger were not too many years older, similar to the age gap you and your uncles had had. They often played with him and Aelor.

Daemon dropped the boy onto the floor, messing his hair with a rough hand before pushing him away to go play with his toys, Saria and Aella sitting with him on the floor. Your fathers lavender eyes landed on you and he smirked.

“Tala.” Daughter, He greeted you, voice almost playful, “Do you look forward to tonights feast?” He pried, mischief twinkling in his eyes.

“I look forward to spending time with all of you, of course.”

“Kostilus kessa ao ūndegon iā arlie valzȳrys.” Perhaps will you see a new husband, He smirked. 

Rolling your eyes, you sighed, “Kepa.” Father, “Kostilus, daor bisa arlī." Please, not this again.

It was a conversation that had begun to come up more often than not. You knew the reasoning behind it. You were heir. And you would be expected to wed again, and soon. But all the Lords in Kings Landing you had met had not once sparked any sort of interest for you. And Rhaenyra had vowed to let you marry whom you wanted, when you wanted.

She had kept true to her word thus far.

Rhaenyra sighed, tilting her head up at her husband as she looked at him in exacerbation, “Henujagon zirȳla sagon.” Leave her be.

Daemon held his palms up in surrender, looking over you before he brushed your cheek with his knuckle quickly, “Ao jurnegon gevie hae va moriot. Hae aōha muña.” You look beautiful as always. Like your mother.

You smirked, “Don’t try and get in my good graces now.”

Rhaenyra grabbed Daemons hand, “We shall leave you to get ready, and see you at the feast.”

You watched as they left your chambers, Rhaenyra whispering to Daemon in your mother tongue.

You were readied by your maids, the two who had been in service for you for many years, and the two who had been your saving grace in the Keep for all those long and trying months. The four sworn to you, and almost never leaving your sight.

They dressed you in a style you were more familiar with, a style you had worn prior to the war. Tight bodice with dripping cleavage, short sleeves and dragons embroidered all over. Your hair was left in waves down your back, with braids nestled amongst them. Against your neck, the same necklace as you wore everyday. 

Lucerys joined the feast for a time, eating with the other young children, Maelor and little Jaehaera included, before they were taken back to their chambers by maids.

The ale flowed heavily in the Hall, and all wore smiles on their faces, the frowns and wrinkles caused by the tension of war having been smoothed from their skin.

You sat beside your mother, Jacaerys and Baela to your other side. 

Baela was glowing, stomach round with the new child and cheeks rosy from smiling. Jacaerys cheeks were rosy from ale, but parenthood suited him all the same. He had matured, that much was obvious, but his love and devotion to his family and wife had only gotten stronger. 

“Little Aelor is growing so quickly.” You smiled, bringing your wine to your lips to sip as you felt nothing but joy to be where you were. To be where you always should had been. The room aglow with your mothers supporters and love. All around you joyous and bright.

“Little Aelor,” Baela leant towards you, “Is a little shit. Not once did I ever behave such a way. He bit Rhaelor this morning because he wouldn’t play with him.”

Jacaerys chuckled and Baela elbowed him in the arm.

“It's all Jacaerys, I’m afraid. He used to bite me too.” You grinned.

“I did not! Not once did I bite you.” 

"You did too. I have scars to prove it. Even ask the Septa, she's the one who tore you from me like a rabid dog.”

Jacaerys turned to his wife for support, who only bit her lip to try and hide the smile that broke on her cheeks, “My sister condemns me with these lies. Do you hear her?”

Baela smirked, sipping her wine, “I believe her. You were terribly wild. I seem to recall you have bitten me on more than one occasion.”

Jacaerys blushed, tongue in cheek as he looked at his wife.

You made a teasing face of disgust, "Incorrigible, the both of you."

All three of you watched on as Lords and Ladies danced in the middle of the Hall, loud music bouncing off of the walls by the band that played in the corner, and all laughed and clapped with joy as they watched.

“It is good to be home.” Jacaerys grinned, watching the celebrations, “Driftmark, though close, feels miles away.”

“You’re both always welcome to visit me and Lucerys at Dragonstone again, perhaps a longer stay? I am sure he would love to have you and the boys more often.”

Jacaerys nodded, “We will come promptly then. If the heir beckons, we shall come.” He teased.

“You have been summoned then." You put on your most pious voice you could manage, bursting into laughter at the ridiculousness of it all.

As your eyes looked into the sea of people, a familiar face came into view. 

Jacaerys and Baela, also noticing, turned to face you.

“You know,” Jacaerys began, leaning towards you, “He only comes to these things for you.” He whispered, watching the way a soft blush creeped on your cheeks. 

“He comes for you, brother. You are friends after all.” You breathed, feeling your heart race in your throat as the man got closer.

“Kessa, yn ziry umbagon syt ao.” Yes, but he stays for you, Baela snickered.

“You are both as bad as each other.” You griped, finishing the rest of your wine quickly, hoping to distract yourself by pouring another. 

As you reached for the goblet, the tall figure of Cregan Stark stood before you at the table, donned in brown and black leather robes, his long dark hair tied back away from his face, and stubble casting a shadow across his defined cheeks and chin. 

His stormy grey eyes bored into yours, and the soft and yet polite smile of Cregan Stark greeted you.

“My Lady.” He bowed his head politely, “Jacaerys. Lady Baela.”

“Cregan.” They nodded.

Jacaerys and Baela turned their heads away, conversing with themselves in an attempt to give you mock privacy.

Though you knew they were listening.

“Cregan Stark. You have journeyed far for such an occasion.” You gazed up at him, watching as his eyes flicked downwards and then back to you.

“Of course, My Lady. It is not every day my good friend’s son has his first name day.”

“You could not have missed it, I would have never forgiven you.” Jacaerys chimed in, cheeky smirk on his lips.

Cregan chuckled, deep and heartily, “You’d burn me alive if I did not come. I think those were your words that you sent via raven.”

“Good memory, Stark.”

You smiled, loving the banter the two men had, “But to travel all the way from the North, it must be a tiresome journey, is it not?”

Cregan’s broad chest expanded as he pulled his shoulders back, hands held behind him, “Aye, a tiresome journey if on the backs of horses, and not dragons. Though I am gladdened to know I shall be well rested before my return. His Grace has offered for me to stay at the Red Keep for the month.”

You turned your head towards your father, who’s eyes were already on you, smirk on his face. Your gaze told him you would have a word with him later.

A stern word. 

Turning back to Cregan you gave him a smile, "That is wonderful news that you will be here with us in Kings Landing for longer than expected. I had not imagined you to be here at all.”

“Apologies if my arrival has offended you, My lady.” Cregan jested, and you felt a blush creep across your chest.

“Please, Cregan, enough with the formalities. You may call me Y/n. I think we are well acquainted enough by now.”

Cregan smiled, showing a line of white teeth, “Y/n.” He tested the name on his tongue, as though it was the first time he had spoken it.

He stood for what felt like an eternity as you looked at him, neither of you sure of how to continue this conversation. 

Jacaerys, being the meddlesome man that he was, decided that his false conversation about the weather with his wife had ended with perfect timing, looking up at his old friend with a shit eating grin.

“My sister here has been approached by many men this evening, all who call her the Beauty of the Realm. Do you find my sister to be beautiful?” He smirked.

Cregan blanched, but answered almost immediately after, “Aye. It would only be a fool who could not see it.”

You blushed, drinking half of your wine in one gulp.

“Then will you continue to do her the dishonour of not asking her to dance?” Jacaerys blinked at his friend from atop the rim of his cup, hiding his grin behind the silver.

Cregan looked as though he was ready to chastise the Prince, perhaps even hit him, but instead turned to you, bowing his head, “Might I ask for a dance, Your Grace?”

You looked at the tall man before you, dark hair that curled lightly in waves, with eyes as stormy as winter. 

“If only you call me by my name, Lord Cregan.” You pushed from your seat, turning to give your brother and half-sister a furious glare that the Stark could not see as you turned away from the table, moving towards Cregan who waited diligently for you, hand held out, palm up. 

Cregan was much taller than Aemond had been, broader, and when your hand slid into his, you felt your chest come alight. A rush that you had not felt in a long, long time. A sense of butterflies that fluttered about behind your ribs like a makeshift cage. 

Cregan led you down to the sea of people, feeling the eyes of your family upon your back. When finally amongst the crowd you turned to face each other, dancing with the rest as your hands intermittently connected. 

“I must apologise, Your Grace-”

“-Y/n.” You corrected him.

“Y/n.” He smiled, “It is not often that I dance in the North. I fear I may be a terrible partner.”

“You are yet to step on my toes. I think you are doing perfectly well, if not a little clunky.” You smirked at the tall man, watching as he looked away bashfully.

“There is still time for that I suppose.”

Each brush of his hands atop your body caused warmth to spread through you, tiny little tendrils winding their way up your flesh wherever his skin would make contact with yours. Your hands, arms, shoulders, waist. It was almost overwhelming, and the only time you had ever felt it before, was many years ago.

Five years ago, to be exact.

“Ao jurnegon gevie.” You look beautiful.

Your legs got tangled with themselves as you came to a halt, looking up at the grey eyed man who looked down at you wistfully.

“What did you say?” You breathed, uncertain if you had heard him right, or if it was your mind playing tricks upon you.

“I said you looked beautiful.” Cregan’s eyes roamed your face, brows beginning to furrow, “I apologise, Your-“

“-No.” You shook your head, “Ao ȳdragon Valyrio Eglie?” You speak High Valyrian?

A warm chuckle erupted from his chest, “No, My Lady. Just that and some other small things. Your brother has been a great teacher thus far.”

You tilted your head, trying to get your feet to unstick from the floor, blurs of people moving around you, but in that moment it felt as though they had all disappeared, and you were left alone with the man before you.

“He is a good teacher because I have taught him.”

“Then perhaps I must ask of you to teach me instead.” Cregan gazed at you hopefully.

You hummed, “Do you have need to learn it? I did not think the North had any speakers of my mother tongue.”

Cregan opened his arm towards the side, weaving you through the crowd to the edge of the table, grasping a goblet of ale and procuring a goblet of wine for yourself.

You sipped on the wine, eyed widening.

Dornish wine.

Of all the wine on the table from this realm, to the Redwyne's vineyards, from Essos, to Dorne. Cregan had given you the one wine you liked the most.

How did he...

“We do not." He replied, "The North has no need for tongues of fire, our breath is ice.”

“Indeed. I am not too fond of the cold, I am afraid.” You teased.

Cregan’s large hand moved to swipe at his chin with a thumb, stumble rubbing beneath it in thought as he looked at you, “And have you been to the North? It is far more than just ice. Winterfell has a garden that may rival the one in the Red Keep.”

The spiced Dornish wine was sharp on your tongue, “So I have heard. I have not had the Gods graces to witness it for myself. I have however, been gifted a Winter Rose.”

Dark brows pulled together as the Stark looked at you in confusion. Brown hair cascaded over his shoulder as he tilted his head at you, the earthy smell of oakmoss, ginger and pine surrounding you.

Oakmoss, ginger, pine. 

Not at all, smoke, leather, and sandalwood.

It was earthy, warm despite his origins, and gentle. Like a breath of fresh air. Like a scent of safety and calm.

“Winter Roses do not grow in Kings Landing. How were you gifted one?”

You swallowed, looking away momentarily. 

The energy around you shifted.

“My husband- late husband, had a knack for gifting me rare things in atonement for his temper.” The words came out sharp, crinkled on the edges, and tasted of iron.

Cregan nodded solemnly, “I am sorry for your loss.”

You blinked.

Not once, had a man or woman or any person who you had spoken to over the past five years, ever said they were sorry for Aemond. Not once had anyone offered condolences, except the silent stares of your family. In fact, most times, people congratulated you for your bravery, your strength, your ability to drive that dagger into his throat. 

People congratulated you for killing the man you loved. 

But not him. 

Not Cregan.

And it intrigued you.

You finished the last of your wine, “I have not had the chance to thank you for supporting my mother after all these years.” You began, taking a glance to look up at her, as she gazed lovingly at your father in small conversation. 

“Thank me not. A Stark never forgets their oath, and we made one to your mother.”

A smile wound its way on your lips, “And how cold does it get in the North, Lord Stark? How does one not freeze in the walls of Winterfell?”

Another warm chuckle floated from his chest, “There is much to be frozen in the North, but Winterfell was built atop hot springs. Brandon the Builder built it amongst giants. The hot water flows through the walls to keep us warm.”

“I thought I had read as much in a book once.” You smirked, feeling warm from the wine, “But I had never imagined such a thing to be true. Giants?” A cheeky laugh fell through your lips.

Cregan smirked down at you, goblet close to his mouth. It wasn’t a smirk that set you ablaze, nor did it create anger or contempt or suspicion. It wasn't a smirk to provoke you. Instead, it made warmth spread steadily through you, like the hot springs in Winterfell. 

“Aye,” He laughed, “What is hard to believe about giants? Your blood rides upon dragons, do you not?”

“I suppose you are right. I do ride upon a dragon, a large one to be sure. I wonder if it would marvel at the size of your giants.”

“We shall never know. Perhaps you might ride upon the great beasts back to Winterfell?”

Your heart began to beat quickly in your chest, fingers tapping on the side of your cup, “My great beast would swallow you whole for calling him such a thing.” Jest on the tip of your tongue.

“It would be an honour to be devoured by a dragon.” Cregan shamelessly flirted. 

Devoured.

I want to devour you, zaldrītsos.

You swallowed thickly, “And what would Lady Stark think of three dragons coming to Winterfell? My son has not seen snow or ice, I have little question if he would enjoy it.”

Cregan placed his ale upon the table, “There is no Lady Stark, unless you are referring to my Lady Mother. Winterfell would welcome you and your son with open arms, and furs to warm you.”

You felt heat in your cheeks, “Why would I need furs if Winterfell is as perfectly insulated by hot springs, as you say it is?”

Cregan Stark pushed his tongue into the side of his cheek as you gazed up at him, quick witted response ready to be fired back instantly.

“For all its warmth, there can be a biting chill that occasionally drifts through the cracks. Or if you are to be outside, say in the Godswood, you would need furs.”

“You have a Godswood?” Interest peaked.

“Aye. The Old Gods have not been replaced by the New in the North.”

“Good, I should hope so. The New Gods are an abomination in the eyes of the Old.” You paused, watching as grey eyes flitted down to your lips, if only for a moment, “And what of Dragonstone. Have the Kings of the North ventured as far?”

Cregan huffed a laugh through his nose, “No, I can say we have not.”

“Then perhaps you should see the great Dragonstone Keep. Its walls are the last of Old Valyrian stonemasonry. Fire and magic created it. Dragons live in the Dragonmont, and I am sure they would welcome the Wolf of Winterfell with open arms, and there would be no need for furs to warm you.”

“The Dragonmont sounds like the perfect place to be eaten by the dragons that live there. I may ask to be pardoned from venturing inside, a bite from a dragon would surely be the end of me.” Cregan’s eyebrows were raised, goblet to his lips again, smile peeking over the top.

There was something about this man. Something that drew you to him. Something that made you feel safe, wanted, unafraid. Like an invisible string was pulling you to him from the centre of your chest, the need to be closer to him, the want to be closer to him amplifying with each second spent in his presence. 

In all your five years past, you had not wished to be in the presence of any man again, said for acquaintances and family. 

But Cregan?

It was different.

It was the same pull you had felt in the throne room when he had sworn himself to you.

And that was why the next words that left your lips were playful, light, alluring. You wanted to draw him in. You wanted to taste him. You wanted to get to know the man who had helped to change the tide. The man who had stayed loyal to his oath. And a man who had travelled across the realm, just to kneel before you and swear his House to you, despite him not needing to do so.

“I will only bite if you ask me nicely.” You purred.

A blush crept across the mans face, and you felt your heart soar. 

He cleared his throat, adjusting his posture, his eyes half lidded, “I will come to Dragonstone when you beckon. But I fear a wolfs bite may rival that of a dragons.”

Grinning you tilted your head, looking up to the table, to find all eyes on you both again, a large smirk on Jacaerys’ lips. 

“I do not like to make commands, but I shall beckon you. If,” Your hand came to graze his arm gently, sliding down, before your finger traced along his that held the goblet of ale, “You show me these hot springs in Winterfell, and that you have furs for me and my son to be kept warm. I make no illusion to thinking there would be furs enough for Vermithor.”

Cregan’s finger twitched beneath yours as you dropped your hand back to your sides, sliding them together behind your back.

He bowed his head, “Of course, Your Grace. But there may not need to be a use of furs to keep you warm. Your blood is of fire, and I have a strange inclination that you would wish to be warmed in another manner.” Your cheeks grew hot, warmth sliding down to settle in your gut.

Cregan wet his lips with the tip of his tongue, “I will await your invitation, Princess.”

You smirked, “And I, yours. Though, you are to be here until the next turn of the moon. I am sure we will see each other more often than not in these walls.”

“I should hope that I would have the privilege of your company whenever you would wish for mine.”

“That you will, and that I do.”

With a nod of your head, you turned, walking back up to your table, spring in your step, and heart pounding against your ribs. You could feel the warmth of Cregan’s gaze on your back with each step you took to the table. Jacaerys, Daemon and Baela all watching you with knowing eyes as you moved to sit back down once again, cheeks ablaze. 

You ignored them all, reaching to grasp your goblet and sipping the wine as your eyes instinctually found the pair of icy grey ones that watched you from across the room. He lifted his goblet to his own mouth, mimicking your action as you sipped in tandem. 

The sound of laughter and chattering surrounded you, and it was hard to not get yourself lost in the excitement of it all. 

How things had changed.

Jaehaera and Maelor, Helaena’s children, had been taken in by your mother immediately, and at first, had been terrified, and quiet, and reserved. But now they had now grown into beautiful, soft and sweet children who doted on their nephews with care and familial excitement. 

Jaehaera was so much her mother, and often was woken in the night by terrors of her twin being slain before her eyes. But as time went on, the nightmares lessoned with age, but her visions grew stronger.

There was no denying that the little girl had the same gift as her mother, the same brilliance, the same intuition. And your Lucerys and Jaehaera often understood each other on level that others didn’t, an almost instant connection sparking between the two, and you watched as Jaehaera doted on your son with fierce devotion and loyalty. 

Maelor, was very much like Aegon.

Loud, boisterous, terribly cheeky at times, but kind. Something that he was allowed to grow into with the nurturing of your family, the nurturing of your mother. Something that he would continue to be. Maelor was a whisper of what could have been for Aegon, if he had not been raised with the vile whisperings of the Hightower’s in his ear since birth. 

He had the same round face as his father, the same round face that Alicent had. But there was no sadness in his lavender eyes, no hollowness that settled behind them. And for that, you were most thankful. 

They both especially got along with Lucerys, and that gave you a greater joy like no other, and often stayed with the two of you on Dragonstone.

If you were to say that you had gotten used to being surrounded by so many people, you would be lying. But there was no doubt in your mind, that as the years went by, you would eventually find yourself again, or at least the fragments of her that had survived. 

You had changed. 

But so had they.

And there were some things that would never change. 

Some things that would always stick.

And the visions of your brother, your aunt, and your uncle, would remain forever more. 

Or at least, you hoped they would.

As a reminder.

As a punishment for your deeds.

As a comfort.

Whilst the Lords and Ladies in the court danced, and drank, and sang, and cheered, three familiar faces watched from within the crowd, unmoving, unblinking as they were. 

Observing, watching, with two smiling softly.

The third face however, had not smiled in years, and would never smile again. He watched you, from across the room, hidden behind dancing bodies, long silver hair cascading down his back, an eye of violet, and a shadowed socket peering up at you. 

He never left. 

He was always there.

Watching.

Waiting.

Your hand came to play with the sapphire that sat heavily against your chest.

“What did you and Cregan speak about?” Jacaerys inquired, leaning towards you, breaking you from your stare at a man you missed most terribly.

“Hm?” You turned your head blinking at your brother.

“Cregan, what did he say?”

Baela leant an elbow on the table as she watched, a hand rubbing her swollen stomach in soft, gentle circles, soothing the babe inside.

“Merely asked how I have been, how I have been faring. Pleasantries is all.”

Jacaerys’ brown eyes danced with delight, “Pleasantries? Spoke of pleasures did you? You know, I wouldn’t let him speak to you if he was not a good man. He is a Stark. Dutiful, full of honour, kind, and a skilled swordsman.”

“And I have a dragon. Swordsmanship does little against fire.”

Baela snickered, “And why would he be near dragon flame? Have you promised him a ride upon Vermithor?”

A blush settled across your cheeks, “He wouldn’t.” You argued, feeling exacerbated by their prying, “I was just saying, swordsmanship does not warrant a marriage.”

“Who said anything about marriage?” Jacaerys smirked, and you felt your mouth go dry. 

You gripped your goblet and tossed the rest of its contents greedily down your throat, shivering at the heat that settled in your bones, most of which not caused by the alcohol, but instead the memory of his warmth, eyes, and touch.

Sighing, you looked at the pair beside you, “You have been all but pushing us together for the past five years.”

Jacaerys snorted, “I have not. But there is no denying the pull you two have to each other. You’re allowed to be happy, sister.”

And Jacaerys was right. 

There was a pull. 

And no matter how hard you tried to avoid it, brush it off of you like water, close eye and look the other way, it was there, and it pulled at you. 

“I am happy.” You argued, but it felt wrong. False.

Jacaerys had his chin on his fist as he gazed at you, curled brown hair looking a mess as many a hand had brushed through it. His cheeks were rosy, and pink lips plump from smiling or biting at them to keep his mouth shut. It was clear that the ale had gotten to him, but Jacaerys was never one to lie to you, especially about someone he considered a good friend.

And Cregan was his closest companion.

“It’s a perfect match,” He began, and you groaned loudly, rolling your eyes, “You being hot headed-“

“-I am not hot headed-“

“-And him being cool and patient. Blood of the North and Valyria. Perzys se Suvion.”

Fire and Ice.

A strum of recognition tickled in the back of your mind as Jacaerys continued.

“Opposites attract, even you out, and all the other nonsense some love sick fool would tell you. You would be good together, Y/n. He would calm you, and you would warm him.” Jacaerys teased.

“Don’t tell me you’re in love with Cregan, brother.” You teased back, watching as Jacaerys narrowed his eyes, “All this talk of opposites being perfect for each other, why do you not take him as your second wife? I am sure Baela would not mind sharing.”

Baela smirked, rubbing her stomach, “I wouldn’t mind a break. And Cregan looks good in-“

“-Keligon bona.” Stop that, Jacaerys chastised his wife, turning his attention back to you, “Think on it. He would be good for you.”

“I don’t need a man to make me whole or 'be good for me'. I will be Queen one day, and a husband will do naught but hold me back.”

“You will have to marry again someday, you know this as well as I do. And he would help you forward, if only you let him.”

You huffed, looking back out at the sea of people again, eyes immediately falling on him.

He was talking to a Lord, who’s gold and yellow robes shimmered in the light of the chambers. But as though he felt your gaze upon him, Cregan turned his head, and his eyes immediately met yours.

Instinct.

That pull.

“He invited me and Lucerys to Winterfell.” You told the two of them, seeing Jacaerys and Baela give each other excited looks in your periphery, as a soft smile found its way on Cregan’s as he looked at you, your own stretching your cheeks.

“Will you go?” Jacaerys’ voice hopeful.

As you watched Cregan, his gaze still on you, man beside him still talking, not having noticed his companions attention had been taken away, you felt the pull again. A sharp tug in your chest, the string having wrapped itself around a rib thrice, just below where your heart would sit.

It tugged again, and your hands curled into fists in your lap, desperate to keep yourself seated as you looked at him. Desperate to fight the urge that made you wish to go to him, stand by him, be close to him.

Your tongue darted out to wet your lips as you watched him, your brother and half-sister staring at you from your periphery as you feigned thought. 

But you knew your answer already. 

You knew it before he had even asked, before Cregan had even spoken to you. 

Instinct.

“Yes.”

Hen ñuha ānogar māzigon Kivio Dārilaros, se zȳhon kessa sagon Vāedar Suvio Perzo.

From my blood come the Prince that was promised, and his will be the song of Ice and Fire.

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[goldsbitch]

I gave so many signs

summary: First unrequited love is not the one to ever leave your mind. Y/N looks back at her missed connection with Charles Leclerc from the time they were just teenagers and regrets having him slip away.

song fic (disclaimer: rights belong to the respectable owners)

exile - Taylor Swift Lie to me - 5 Seconds of Summer (feat. Julia Michaels) Worst of you - Maisie Peters

warning: Present time, the past

Coming back home to Monaco always brought a sour smile to her face. She loved growing up in this strange small town where everyone knew each other and celebrities came to show off and then went back to wherever, to tell stories of Monte Carlo.

They say that you get to experience three very different real loves in your lifetime - and only if you're lucky, it would be with the same person. Her first love was Charles Leclerc.

I saw you lookin' brand new overnight I caught you lookin' too, but you didn't look twice

Visiting family was the reason why she always came back, but going out with the few girls from high school who stayed there was a treat she dared not to miss. There is just something about hanging out with those people who helped one buy the first eyeshadow and with whom she pregamed at one of their step dad's dermatology office before going on trying to get into any club that would allow minors in. So there she was once again, at the old time spot, having a harder time to hold her alcohol since she'd passed the magic non hangover years. And to her luck, he walked in only a bare half an hour later than her.

Whenever she saw him, even after those years, it was like everyone else had dissapeared from the room. He seemed to age like wine.

It's 3 AM and the moonlight's testing me I know that you've been holding on to someone else And now I can't sleep

"Come here to me," she teased, moving closer to him. He tried to stop her and playfully pushed himself the furthest away possible the couch would allow. "Charlie, let me see!" she insisted and sat on top of him. She had to act quickly, there would be no way for her to keep the upper hand. He was just turning eighteen soon and the time in gym was starting to bring back results. "I do not have any hairline, Y/N," he gasped, annoyed. His tone changed. Back then she interpreted it as just him being done with her shit. Looking at it now, there probably was a different reason why he became more stiff. She sat on him, going through his hair and taking few photos, blissfully unaware. "I'll show this to you in a few years and we'll see! Ha!" Charles eyes were shooting arrows in her direction. She looked back at him, curious and not grasping the moment in the same way as he did. "What?" she asked simply. "Nothing..."

I can see you standing, honey With his arms around your body Laughin', but the joke's not funny at all

She laughed a bit at that memory as she sipped her drink and tried her best to avoid keeping looking back at him as he sat with his current friends and an absolute gorgeous girl laughing at his joke. She knew who she was. Sometimes she peaked at his socials and then blocked him again right away. She certainly knew he had her blocked.

They went to different schools and Charles had his racing activities anyway. So they'd spent a lot of time texting. A lot.

It was just one of the horrifically long school days where she doubted the point of her existence. Life had to be more than sitting in a pointless computer science class. She wanted to be a big lawyer girl boss one day, so why would she ever care about programming. There she was, staring at the assignment from the teacher who was stuck in 20th century anyway, having little to no clue what to do. As she'd usually do, she texted Charles. Bombed him with twenty texts demanding attention, before he finally responded. "OMG i thought someone had died" "i am dying charles" "no your not" "*you're" "i can go back to my race simulator if you keep being a little shit" "nooo, please dont go. you're my only hope. sorry, your. i get it, you got out of the school too early." "that's it, i'm gone" "noo, please stay, I'll be nice and say nice things about you" "i'm staying, go on" "you are absolutely gorgeous" "yes, agree. more" "you are soo funny, amazing, future heart breaker and your passion for racing is so inspiring" "i like this. more"

Second, third, and hundredth chances Balancin' on breaking branches Those eyes add insult to injury

They were inseparable, yet nobody knew. Always meeting alone, because they did not need anyone and their social circles didn't really meet together. Whenever he was back in town, the two of them would hit up their favorite café or hang out at his house and then go for a walk. The two of them walked around Monte Carlo as if they were suppose to be the cartographers creating the first map of that area ever. Those were the good old days that came to end very unexpectedly.

We always walked a very thin line You didn't even hear me out (Didn't even hear me out) You never gave a warning sign (I gave so many signs)

His hands were shaking when he sent the email. But he just could not take it anymore. He was over the moon in love with her and didn't know how to contain it.

"there is no easy way to say this. i love you. sorry. i'm stupid and i know we're just friends. but i basically live only for racing and seeing you. i'm terrified of seeing you with someone else. if there is at least a cell in your body that feels the same, please let's meet up and talk about it. if not, do not reply and i will never mention this again and deal with it. i love you."

She was seventeen when she got his message out of the blue. A scared little girl who was petrified of feelings and anything relationship related. So she never replied to his email.

All this time I never learned to read your mind I couldn't turn things around (I couldn't turn things around) 'Cause you never gave a warning sign (You never gave a warning sign)

Charles had a very little hope that she'd feel the same - why would she, such an amazing person, kind, fun and totally glorified in his eyes, so he could not even imagine him being worthy of her. But what if? What if he was enough? With every day when she did not respond to his email, his heart sank lower. Still, the pain of the first rejection is a hard one to take, because it's usually from a scared unexperienced heart to another and the clumsiness causes great deal of accidental collateral damage one remembers until the end of their life.

You're not my homeland anymore So what am I defending now? You were my town, now I'm in exile, seein' you out

She texted him from school few days after that - a normal text, as if nothing happened. Both of them were too chicken to address the situation openly. So he opted for buring his feeling and she for playing like she had no idea. Deep down, she always knew, even before he emailed her. They texted, continued to meet up. But it was never the same again.

Flashing back to New York City I was done, but you undid me Classic me to run when it feels right

It was hard to get closure for her. After all that had happened and the mess the two made for each other was a hard lesson she remembered vividly. She glanced at your first love again - and finally she met his look, after almost two years of managing to missing each other while they were both back in Monaco. She'd daydreamed about bumping into him, the two chatting and smiling again. The world stopped again for few moments. He shot her an unsure quick half smile that said it all. She knew him too well for that.

And now I wish we never met 'Cause you're too hard to forget While I'm cleaning up your mess I know he's taking off your dress

It was her prom night and she could not be more excited. All her friends were here, family, even Charles managed to get in town to watch her dance and drink all night. She had the night of her life, perfect end to end this chapter of life. The excitement her eyes held was contagious. She spent the first half of her evening with the family and Charles, sharing few dances and laughs. If felt like the good old days. But one shot of tequila led to another and there she was, drunk as pirate and unhinged like a teenage girl. Charles did his best to keep her parents at bay, keep them occupied while he got one of his friends to take care of her. He was worried she might do something stupid, like walk up to the stage and fall down breaking all of her bones. Finally, her parents decided to leave without having to saying goodbye to her after Charles spent a good half an hour convincing them she was just in the back stage and that he'd get her home safe. When they were gone, he began to search for her, only to finally find her sitting on the stairs, making out with the friend he assigned to keep an eye on her.

So take me to every party and just talk to your friends Why don't you let me down, I'll let you do it again Go on and walk all over me, just don't walk away Give me the worst of you 'Cause I want you anyway

It was like being cut open alive and having people watch. There was nothing even remotely graceful about her actions, she was literally sitting on the floor having a battle of tongues with another drunk teenager while people had to walk pass her. It was embarrassing. Charles didn't know what to do. He wanted to run away and never come back, but he couldn't leave her there alone. He couldn't bring himself to stop the two of his friends, because he was just too sad and heartbroken to do so. He just stayed nearby and kept an eye on them. It was one of the longest nights in his life.

She couldn't remember the second half of her prom night and Charles would never speak of it, even though she begged him many times. He always became stiff and started to leave the room. She only kept asking, because it marked one of the biggest shifts in their friendships. He became cold, unresponsive and after few weeks, he stopped communicating completely.

You were my town, now I'm in exile, seein' you out I think I've seen this film before

Funny how people's faces change with years, but the eyes stay the same. The eyes and the look. Charles looked at her the second time this evening. It was like staring back at the eighteen year old boy who was drowning in his feeling.

It was one of her last nights in Monaco before leaving for university. Finally, her dreams were coming true. She was more than ready to get our to show the world she was a force to be reckoned with. She sent Charles countless messages before her final departure, at that moment, she was sure she'll never ever get back to Monaco and wanted to at least understand why he became distant. One evening, he finally agreed to meet up and talk. She was over the moon. Knowing that she could always turn Charles over, she left feeling confident - he was one the very few people she was sure shared the same soul as her. It was as if they'd never stopped talking. Jokes flying everywhere, the two of them strolling around, having no idea this would be the last time (and maybe, that was better for her at the time). There was so much to share, the two kept talking over each other for hours. Charles was happy when she finally stopped to take a breath for a moment. She looked him in the eye and saw a look she'd seen countless of times on his face. There was a shift in her mind and out of nowhere, she was kissing the boy she'd been unknowingly in love for years. She'd realize that she loved him only once she started dating a random guy from her college, expecting the same feeling Charles gave her. But it never came. Had she known, she'd have stayed with him. He tried to convince her to start dating him. Almost begged her to try it with him long distance. But there was a whole world for you to discover, places to be and versions of her that needed discovering. She had kissed only once. But it was a kiss of a lifetime. He blocked her on all socials after she rejected him again.

I never learned to read your mind (Never learned to read my mind) I couldn't turn things around (You never turned things around) 'Cause you never gave a warning sign (I gave so many signs) So many signs, so many signs You didn't even see the signs

The girls were laughing at some joke she missed while digging in her memory for traces of her first love. Charles Leclerc. He was sitting few tables away from her. This time, her heart sank as he kissed his girlfriend on the cheek as they walked away from the bar. She wanted to run to him, to talk to him again after all those years. To tell him the same thing he once emailed her. To explain that she was just too young to notice she had the love of her life right next to you. But she knew all too well what his answer would be. And just like he had back then, she never wanted to hear it out loud.

And I know that you don't, but if I ask you if you love me I hope you lie, lie, lie, lie, lie to me

part 2

[cialovesklopp]

prologue

❪ masterlist — ❫

summary — it's no secret anymore to anyone that follows f1 that mercedes is doing bad. something just isn't going the way it should. the silver arrows are going through a rough phase which leads toto to become a bit more creative about recrutement.

song — mercedes [ brent faiyaz ]

warnings — light mention of death and toxic environments

word counts — 5k

cia’s quick rambles — so sorry for the long wait, exams came up and i couldn't find enough time to edit this over. i'm so excited for this and hope i can make it justice to all the other good max stories.

— july 2023

there was always a certain sense of belonging that people attributed to specific persons or locations. often it was due to certain attachments and feelings people had grown for those persons or places that created this invisible bond. but it had never been like that for aaliyah. 

she failed to form connections, to embrace attachments to people or things. like a program glitch in a computer, she couldn't fulfill the command despite the correct codes. she never truly felt rooted in any place — she never belonged somewhere.

she was too smart to be here, to sit in a back with other people that attended this class of university. yet the fear of her own intellect hindered her from leaving it. going to university was like going to school again — one schedule and one job. nothing else to worry about for the moment. she was relieved of the concern for something else. 

going to university eased the pain of knowing that she felt like she would never belong somewhere. 

after her father died, all she had received for giving ao much love was rejection. as if an unspoken rule had been set up, that stated that aaliyah had been the cause for it. and it certainly screwed up the rest of the life she had lived till now. 

aaliyah had been destined to do great things — she remembered the way her middle school teachers told her that she would be the one to cure cancer. she had always been intelligent, not just smart — but terrifyingly intelligent. 

they would laugh if they saw her now and where she was. wasting her potential away at a simple university in munich. 

sometimes she looked out of the window and the resentment towards her family, especially her mother, burned hot in her stomach. getting lost in her thoughts meant her mind wandering off to far and opening boxes that were meant to stay closed. memories being replayed that contained secrets she wanted to take to her grave with her. 

she may be closed off towards others but it was an efficient way to live. to protect her heart from disappointment again. she did not have the space to let a lot of people in again. 

her heart had built a thick stone wall around itself after the accident. an accident, she would always blame herself for. everything was different from now: she was left with nothing but the void created by the loss of the only thing that held any meaning in her life.

now she felt like an empty shell of her former self, with no purpose or path to follow. the man who had said, a man with no purpose is no man knew what he was talking about. 

aaliyah was walking on an endless journey that seemed to have no finishing line, a particular hopelessness gripping her tighter with each step she took. and it felt like an invisible string was always pulling her back. 

tugging at her harshly till she fell back to where she started. it was a vicious circle, a haunting loop of pain — one that seemed to take no end. aaliyah was simply lost and no amount of therapy sessions could cure the inner pain she wandered around with. 

“just one more day,” aaliyah murmured to herself. it was her typical mantra she told herself everyday to calm herself down, to reassure her that she was not caught in her past life anymore. 

there were always the easier days and the harder days that needed assurance. days she passed on ease were often spent with eva. harder days however had her shivering in her bed, her entire body shaking and freezing. 

she sat down on her usual spot in her physics and thermodynamics that were part of her engineering degree, her mind shutting down again while her eyes travelled around the room. it felt good to be able to think of something else when your brain was working twenty-four seven. when thousands of thoughts travelled through her brain every second and seemed to over analyze every information too quickly. 

but something felt weirdly off today. the room was busy, full with more people than usual. this wasn’t a class for just anybody — people in here were ready to get their degrees in engineering. this class could compare to a harvard’s law class in terms of difficulty and intelligence. not everyone was able and allowed to take it and yet today the room was bustling with more people than usually. 

aaliyah noticed the long queue outside the door, filled plenty with faces that she had seen on campus but all unfamiliar to her. she was not one to usually look for socialisation when it wasn’t exactly necessary. in addition to that there was also a feeling of anticipation, lingering lightly in the air. she was curious what all the turmoil was about but at the same time, she was reminded of caution towards it. the less she knew, the less were the chances to be entangled in it. 

she smiled when her professor — who was her favorite — walked in and aaliyah instantly remarked that even he seemed excited about something. so she had definitely missed an important detail. but what exactly?

just like in every class, the professor began with reading out the attendance list, aaliyah lifting her hand to confirm her presence. she was surprised however when her professor then sent everyone else, that had not been named, out of the class. 

“everyone whose name i have not called for the attendance of my class may leave now. i’m sure you all have your classes where you’re supposed to be today,” said her professor loudly, so that even in the back it was clear who was welcomed and who was not. aaliyah turned around and was surprised by the large number of men who all walked out disappointedly.

the rest exchanged excited whispers, all giddy about something but she couldn’t care less. it wasn’t like she had any friends in her class anyway. she wasn’t the only girl that took this class but she was one of the few that seemed to excel in it. and for some universal reason, women found it easier to be jealous than to work together. 

their class started just like always, with one of them presenting their work about the mechanical piece they had been assigned to design as homework. the professor went on with his class, and aaliyah felt herself drifting off, her eyelids becoming heavier and heavier with every minute that passed. another impact of her insomnia that plagued her in the night. even running on several cups of coffee wasn’t doing it for her anymore, so that she resorted to sugar to stay awake. 

she flinched, jolting awake when there was a knock on their door. she watched the way her professor’s lips turned upwards, forming into a smirk as he turned towards the door. “come in,” he said and in walked a man, tall and formally dressed in a white shirt with the sleeves rolled up and black pants. he oozed a certain air of authority that had everyone quieten. 

the atmosphere in the room changed instantly, aaliyah noticing her seat neighbour’s eyes widening but all she could observe was that he definitely did not belong here. he was definitely overdressed in comparison to her loose grey sweatpants that she had matched with a sweater that had yale university printed on. the irony of it. 

her professor greeted the man like an old friend, making it clear to aaliyah that the two knew each other and it wasn’t a mandatory visit like the others they had gotten. however to her she did not know of his significance, completely left in the dark. 

“so for today we have a special guest some of you may already know,” he interrupted them from their work, everyone stopping what they were currently doing to listen to him. “he is an old friend of mine and owed me a favor. but i’m going to let him present himself.” 

the instant the guest began to speak, aaliyah could immediately make his austrian accent out. she was sure to have seen the man somewhere before but her brain, that was usually running at one-eighty, was failing her tragically. 

“some of you may know me from racing, others just from motosport — but for the rest who do not: i am toto wolff and i’m the team chef of the mercedes-amg formula one team as well as the ceo of mercedes-benz motorsport.”

— so apparently, they had a celebrity in the room with them. explains the queue outside, aaliyah thought to herself. 

“for those who do not follow motorsport as much: formula one is the elite of what concerns motosport. it’s the best against the best that compete there and the world of f1 is constantly changing due to this. as eighth time constructor’s champions we know that and what is expected of us. but for you, who are the future of engineering, i think it’s important that you get a realistic insight into what that actually contains.”

aaliyah now understood what all the turmoil really was about. they didn’t just have anybody in front of them — they were speaking to engineering royalty. not in the sense of wolff actually working in engineering but he was the reason the best worked with the best. because they absolutely needed to excel. 

standing in front of them with their professor sitting down at his desk, he began to speak and tell them about the world of motorsport and the constant changing requirements they had to adapt to. he instantly had all of them hanging onto every of his words, captivating them with the way he spoke about the subject.

the main point of his entire talk was of course mercedes amg and its evolution; however he also highlighted the complexity of the entire motorsport business and how the industry actually worked. something that reality was hiding from them. it was a big field that covered all kinds of sections. aaliyah listened closely even though she didn’t see herself ever working in that kind of environment. 

who would even hire her?

when the talk ended and students were allowed to ask questions, she found herself drifting off again and started to sketch mindlessly into her college block. it wasn’t that she shied away or conceived her fellow students as annoying; she just found socialisation exhausting and it wasn’t like they were going out of her way to speak with her. 

her existence was only acknowledged by them when they required something from her, leaving her to always sit all alone in her row. her presence faded there into the loneliness and solitude she felt comfortable with. now she wouldn’t want to change it anymore. 

after the whole questioning round, toto challenged the class to design a specific piece for a car to apply what they had learned the entire semester long. something that aaliyah was able to do in her sleep now. it was one of the rare occasions where she liked to let her brain run crazy to overanalyze every detail. to say that aaliyah was a perfectionist would be a clear understatement. 

it was the curse of a mind that raced ahead of the rest, interpreting sometimes more than what was needed and leaving behind a lonely trail that she herself couldn’t always understand. 

it was no surprise to her that she finished her sketch earlier than the others. however instead of just leaving it like that and calling toto over to see if she had gotten it right — which she had of course — she continued to develop her idea, letting her mind do its own work. 

it wasn’t really refining that aaliyah was doing. the perfectionist in herself would call it stepping outside of comfort zones — and as long as it worked, no one cared anymore that there had been one. it was something her mother had taught her.

gloria, aaliyah’s mother was no saint. and she had enforced the lifestyle to aaliyah of finding loopholes in the system whenever she could. last time aaliyah had spoken to her had been two years ago, shortly before the accident. 

possessing the knowledge that her own mother did not come by to see how her daughter was doing who was fighting between life or death — that had done it for aaliyah. cutting her mother off had probably been one of the easiest and yet also things she had accomplished. it wasn’t exactly a secret but it also wasn’t something she just shared with anyone in order to let the deep-etched wound in her heart heal. 

the whole trauma-dumping aspect and all that.

caught up in her mind, aaliyah didn’t notice toto going around and looking at what the students had produced. his eyes stopped once they fell on aaliyah’s drawing and a slight look of surprise appeared on his face when he saw her drawing.

it was more like the astonishment and impression that appeared on his face when his eyes caught her sketch — he had given the same task to all the classes, especially those at harvard, and while they had all completed the task no one had ever thought further than the solution. 

just like math they had solved the equation; found the x and that was it. they did not think about the correlation in which the answer might be related with the task or how they could give it more depth.

toto walked back down to the front where the professor sat and pointed discreetly at aaliyah who still seemed caught up in her thoughts. 

“who is she?”

a mishevous twinkle lit up in the professor’s eyes. “ahh, that would be one of my students,” he retorted playfully. 

“i’m serious.” he replied with a dry chuckle.

the professor looked at aaliyah, studying her in an interesting way, trying to take her all in again. “the student you’re so interested in is aaliyah prince. she’s one of my top student.”

toto nodded, his brain processing the information. “she’s smart. you’re teaching them well.” 

“i can assure you she’s more than smart. it’s all her brain.” he had seen where toto wanted to go. one did not have to be an idiot or live behind the moon to know that mercedes was doing badly at the moment. 

and he would be lying if he denied his soft spot he had grown for the black student. especially after find out out what she had all gone through. 

the professor stood up, leaving toto with a perplexed expression. he cut the working phase in order for them to compare their results. aaliyah looked up and secretly took her airpods out to listen what they had to say.

she did not need any confirmation to know that her exercise was done correctly — it wasn’t really to sound (überheblich) but she had designed the same thing a hundred times before for exam preparation. so she only listened half-mindedly to what the others had to present. who were trying their best to impress the f1 team chef.

a small smile made its way onto her lips when she saw the message her best friend had sent her. with eva studying psychology and ethics, she often had more time than aaliyah and usually finished class earlier than her. and the two girls had started the habit to always get lunch together when possible — it was often the one thing aaliyah looked most forward to during the day. 

class finally ended and she was one of the first persons to pack her things together and leave however her professor had other plans. 

“frau prince, könnte ich kurz mit ihnen sprechen?” he asked her and aaliyah slowly trodded back into the room. she suppressed the growl her stomach let out and waited patiently for what her professor had to say. — could i speak to you quickly

her professor pointed to toto, who was still mustering her with a skeptical yet curious glance. “he is the one who would like to talk to you.”

“me?” she asked perplexed.

toto nodded. “your drawing was very impressive. you thought ahead of the task and developed it to make it more than just a simple design. that’s exactly what we need.”

“for what?”

“a job,” toto replied in a short way. “we need someone like you and you do seem to fill out all the requirements.”

aaliyah looked at him confusingly. “excuse me sir, i don’t want to be rude but do you usually give out jobs to students after giving a lecture?”

toto let out a small-wholehearted laugh. “no, i actually do not. you’re a special case i guess.”

was zum himmelswillen, aaliyah thought in her mind as she looked at the man in front of her. and people told her she was crazy sometimes. 

she pinched herself, just to make sure that she was not dreaming this and still in class and stared at toto with wide eyes. she was no one special, she did not come from huge money and she had a huge past that she would prefer if it stayed hidden. 

aaliyah couldn’t leave, even if she wanted to. all roads led back here anyway. 

“and this job… where and what would it be?” she inquired carefully. 

“i want you to become your new chief technical engineer. well not officially but i want you to fill someone’s position while they’re on personal vacation.”

her professor smirked at her whereas aaliyah’s face scrunched up in confusion. 

“i thought you needed the best of the best? i’m sure there are thousands of people who probably meet the requirements you have and have the actual experience. i know nothing about formula 1 and racing cars.”

“maybe but i think a fresh pair of eyes would do us some good. and i’ve been told you have a degree in physics which is incredible at her age.” he reached for his bag and pulled out a small green card. “think about it and then give me a call.”

“why me? if it’s because of the task, everyone finished it and got it correct.”

“but they didn’t think further than the basic task which you did. you thought ahead, developed your starting idea and that’s exactly what we need right now. innovation. someone to think outside of the box.”

he bid goodbye to her professor, waved one last time to aaliyah with a small smile and then left the room. her eyes did not leave the door, even after he had left the room as she stared into the distance. she had already forgotten eva and their planned lunch date. 

she looked at the card in front of her and turned it around to inspect it more. it was probably the weirdest thing to have happened to her in the past two years. 

the thought of leaving, as nice as it sounded, also terrified her deeply. petrified her mind when she wondered whether she could. she had rebuilt a life here, created a new identity that was not instantly connected with the pain and trauma she had to go through. 

she wasn’t aaliyah, the stupid girl from back home anymore. who had mistaken attachment for love and fallen deeply into a trap that could be described as the demise of her life. the peripety if her life story was ever made into a movie. 

“i can see the wheels turning in your head from here,” her professor tore her out of her thoughts and aaliyah turned. 

she let out a small chuckle, staring at the card in front of her. “this is probably the weirdest thing that has happened to me since i started here.”

“could also be seen as the best thing,” her professor replied. 

“i don’t know how smart it is to start something else when i haven’t finished this. finished here.”

“aaliyah, you’ve always dreamed of doing this, getting out of here. and somebody just handed you your way out of here on a golden plate.”

aaliyah put the card into her bag. “not everything that shines is usually gold. this could hurt me in many ways if it backfires. and what about my degree?”

her professor waved dismissively. “i’ll simply write this down as a project. we’ll admit it as your fourth semester internship that you would have to do anyway.” 

it seemed easy, way too easy for aaliyah. it couldn’t be as simple as this. 

she grabbed her bag and was about to walk away when her professor called her back again. 

“aaliyah, please think about this. i know you probably think you do not deserve this but you do. let some happiness into your life again.”

“i’ll think about it.”

she nodded and exited the class. at least this time she would have something to tell eva in her class. she would rather drink acid than listen eva rant about her crazy sex escapades from last night.

the two girls were sitting on aaliyah’s bed in her bedroom, adorned with the soft rays of light as it took its descent and a bottle of wine between them with two glasses in front. they were sipping on the bordeaux liquid while she recounted what had happened to her today, the wine making aaliyah pour all her feelings out. 

the blonde sat across from her, listening patiently as she tried to console the black woman. too often the two found each other in this position, with eva either bringing the best wine or the cheapest vodka she could find. 

aaliyah always found a certain sort of solace and calm within her best friend. the two had met at a stupid frat party aaliyah had been forced to go by her roommate and had been inseparable since then. and over that time, eva had stayed by her side when she had gone through the endless trauma of her mother and had helped her get out of her toxic environment. 

they were connected through more than friendship at this point with the amount of shit the two had already gone through. 

“i have no idea what i’m going to do,” she sighed, swinging her glass absentmindedly. “it’s a good job offer — like i  want to do this but i can’t leave everything just here.”

“girl, the only thing i see is you sabotaging yourself again. i mean, what are you leaving here? your annoying class of misogynistic assholes? that sorry excuse of a woman that calls yourself your mother? i’m sorry honey but the only thing you would be leaving behind is me and i can take the family jet anytime if i wanna visit you.”

aaliyah threw a pillow at her best friend. “hey, they’re not all bad. we are five girls in my class.”

“and four of them choose to be jealous, racist bitches towards you,” eva replied sassily. “look, i get it. change can be scary as fuck and speaking as a philo-major, we humans don’t like stepping out of our comfort zones. but staying won’t make you any happier.”

she chewed on her bottom lip, taking in eva’s advise. “but you know how much they sacrificed for me, to come here and start over. how much it meant to him for me to do this.”

eva threw her arm around aaliyah, pulling her back  with the sudden force and making her nearly lose her drop her glass. "oh love, i can assure you the last your father probably wanted was for you to stick and waste your entire potential here. clinging to familiarity is never going to change things and it’s not gonna be the salvation you’re seeking so much.”

deep down aaliyah knew that eva was spot on with her analysis of her. but behind the truth hid so much more. aaliyah wasn’t looking for happiness and forgiveness anymore, she had accepted that she could never deserve his pardon. she had tried to forgive herself, to move on but she always stayed in the same spot. the huge amount of guilt that paralyzed her from moving on would never allow her to thrive and live. because she was the reason someone else couldn’t. 

and that person deserved it so much more than she did. 

eva grabbed aaliyah’s hand. “i don’t want you to stay here because i know you’re not happy. this entire city will always remind you of them. and you’ll never get over it if you stay here. you deserve to thrive and let’s be honest, that’s not gonna happen here.”

“but even if — this job is just a lot. working there would mean constantly traveling and not settling down.”

“wasn’t it your dream to travel the world just like your dad? taking this job would make it ten times easier. it’s practically your ticket to do this.”

“so you really think i should take this leap?”

eva snorted. “i would be lying to you if i said i want this completely because you’re my best friend and i hate you leaving. but for you, yes. take this job and be happy. it’s not only what your dad would have wanted for you — micah would have wished for you to do the same.”

she nodded, disregarding the pang in her heart at the sound of his name. her presence here, away from the turmoil she'd created, stemmed from the cascade of events that led to his demise. a single misstep initiated the unraveling, each consequence toppling like dominoes until the crash. it all lead back to her.

when the last drops of bordeaux had been consumed by the two students, the blonde stood up and bid her goodbyes to aaliyah, announcing that she had an early morning tomorrow. eva hugged her once more and pressed a soft kiss on her cheek — a habit they had developed. 

“please promise me that you’ll think about it,” eva had murmured into her ear and aaliyah had nodded, which seemed enough to satisfy her. her best friend had left then and she found herself all alone again. 

taking this job seemed to be so easy, everyone she had talked to seemed to push her towards it. but it was almost too easy which frightened aaliyah so much. 

she was qualified enough for the job in terms of intelligence. the job was not completely out of world for her but she could not imagine herself leaving. her mind had twisted everything to the beautiful life she lived in that in the end was just an illusion -- but an illusion so ideal and perfect that she didn’t want to leave it. 

it was like knowing that one was wearing rose-colored glasses and deliberately leaving them on, with no regard for all the consequences it could cost. 

taking this job was a risk for her, she knew that much already. but eva was right, micah would have wanted this for her. and she owed it to him to at least try. no matter how big the impact of her fall would be. it was the least she could honor him with after destroying everything. 

accepting this position posed a gamble for her, she knew that much already. but eva was right. micah would've wanted this for her. she felt indebted to him, compelled to make the attempt, regardless of how big her potential downfall could be. it seemed the minimum homage she could offer after dismantling everything.

it was way past eleven when aaliyah grabbed the card toto had given her earlier and her phone and tipped in his number. she was anxiously tipping her foot as she waited for the caller to take the call and was surprised when it only had to ring three times. 

it was now or never. 

“hello?” a hoarse voice asked on the telephone and aaliyah innerly groaned. people were sleeping at this hour, of course it was the wrong timing. 

“this is aaliyah, the girl you offered a job today sir,” she said nervously. 

toto gave a small laugh. “yeah, i remember and you really don’t have to call me sir.”

she nodded even though he couldn’t see her. “okay, understood. i just -- well, i wanted to inform you that i’m taking it. the job as interim chief technical engineer.”

“i’m very happy to know that you’re accepting my offer.”

there was no going back now, aaliyah realized. she had taken the first step towards a vast mountain that had no way to return back. there was only one path and she had just sealed her fate by taking it. 

“yeah, i just hope i won’t regret it.”

“i have no doubts that you’re going to excel. but remember: formula one is ruthless and you’re competing with the best now.”

if she had known before, how far people were willing to go to win, she definitely wouldn't have taken the position.

[suugarbabe]

Sweater weather fic! Oh my gosh it’s finally fall season I was wondering if you could possibly write a FIC abt Theodore Nott x reader smut based off the song? I LOVE UR WORK SM PLS DONT OVERWORK URSELF BABE

so sorry this took me so longggg, i really truly struggle with lyric fics so if it's shite don't come for me!

warning: there is some smut, couldn't help meself, sooooory

And all I am is a man I want the world in my hands I hate the beach But I stand in California with my toes in the sand Use the sleeves of my sweater Let's have an adventure Head in the clouds but my gravity centered Touch my neck and I'll touch yours You in those little high waisted shorts, oh

Theo had known you basically his whole life. Your dad and uncle ‘worked’ closely with his father, so he had seen you at your cousin’s house near constantly, then every summer and holiday since you all started attending Hogwarts. 

Your cousin being Lorenzo Berkshire, or as everyone called him, Enzo. Your family had always referred to you and Enzo as ‘the twins’ despite you being only cousins because you were both born on the same day and both had similar features. Your parents were so close that you even had a room at Enzo's house for when you stayed over. Theo attributes this fact as to the reason he had been so dismissive of you being a girl while growing up. 

The first time Theo remembers really seeing you, like noticing you noticing you was near the end of fifth year. Now it was the second half of summer and his new infatuation had only grown tenfold. He wasn’t sure what had happened during the first half of summer while he was away in Italy with his father, but something happened to you. 

When you came down from the house that night in a slouchy jumper and short high waisted shorts he thought he might pass out. He looked around the bonfire that was happening and noticed the only open space was on the bench next to him and he thanked Merlin and the stars above for aligning so perfectly. 

As you sat down next to him, you left little space between you two. He hoped the darkness around helped disguise the way his eyes raked over your form from everyone else at the fire. He couldn’t help but practically drool at the thickness of your thighs and how desperately he wanted to feel the heat of them around his head.

Oh, she knows what I think about And what I think about One love, two mouths One love, one house No shirt, no blouse Just us, you find out Nothing that I wouldn't wanna tell you about, no 'Cause it's too cold For you here And now, so let me hold Both your hands in the holes of my sweater

His breath seemed to catch in his throat when you hooked your pinky over his resting on the bench. He looked up to your face to see if you had done it on purpose only to be met with a quick glance and a wink from you before you turned back to your conversation with Pansy on the other side of you. 

Theo’s mind was racing at just the small action, not being able to compute in his brain that you may be thinking the same about him as he was about you. Before he could come up with some sort of explanation you subtly moved closer to him so that your thigh was squished against his. 

If that wasn’t enough, you then placed your hand on his thigh. Now…now, he thought he might die, might pass out even as he glanced around the fire. Somehow, thankfully, no one took notice of the small and simple movement; most importantly, Enzo didn’t notice, too heavily engaged in conversation with Blaise. 

When he looked back over your eyes were on him, amused smirk on your face. He laughed out rather bashfully, scratching the back of his neck like a nervous tick. When you leaned towards him he held his breath, afraid he might burst on the spot. When your lips were next to his ear, your breath on his skin, he swore he was going to be fully aroused right then, right there in front of everyone. 

“Wait five minutes, then meet me in my room. It’s the one across from Enzo’s in case you forgot,” with a quick squeeze to his thigh, you got up, telling Pansy you had to use the restroom as you walked away. 

Theo sat nervously on the bench, his leg on fire where your hand had just been while his other bounced nervously. He wasn’t sure how long it had been, but he needed you, now. So he spouted something about getting another drink, waving off the calls from other’s to grab them one as well, he trudged up to the house in pursuit of you.

And if I may just take your breath away I don't mind if there's not much to say Sometimes the silence guides a mind To move to a place so far away The goosebumps start to raise The minute that my left hand meets your waist And then I watch your face Put my finger on your tongue 'cause you love to taste, yeah These hearts adore, everyone the other beats hardest for Inside this place is warm Outside it starts to pour

Your mouth was on Theo’s before he could even say anything, fisting the material of his jumper to pull him impossibly closer. You tugged on the material and Theo quickly shed himself of the layer, taking his shirt along with it. You took the opportunity to pull your jumper off as well, leaving Theo nearly breathless at the sight of you in just your bra and shorts.

His mouth was on your skin as his hands found your waist, gripping the soft skin as his name fell from your lips. Goosebumps raised in the trail of his fingertips of one hand as it lightly glided against and explored your body while the other slid under the waistband of your shorts.

Your hands trailed over his abs, feeling the divots and ridges of his muscles as he popped the button to your shorts, pulling down the zipper. His fingers teased the band of your panties, pausing briefly to look you in the eyes, silently asking permission to continue. 

As you nodded your head his hand slipped further, fingers dipping between your folds and gathering your slick before rubbing tight circles against your bundle of nerves. Your nails dug into Theo’s shoulders as he swallowed your moans. Pushing two fingers deep into your cunt causing your back arched off the wall and further into Theo's chest. 

He was in heaven having you fall apart at his touch. As he pressed against the spongy part inside of you your eyes rolled into the back of your head, thighs trembling as he repeated the action. As he curled his fingers once more there was a knock at the door, causing his hand to still inside you. 

“I know you’re in there, Theodore,” Draco’s tone was teasing. As Theo slipped his fingers from inside you, you grabbed his wrist, guiding his fingers to your tongue and licking them clean of your juices. 

Theo couldn’t suppress the soft whimper that left his lips at the sight of your tongue wrapped around his digits, barely noticing the door being opened and a smirking Draco standing in the doorway. “If you two are done being pervs with each other, we’re all in the living room now, it started raining.” 

Theo looked from Draco to you, cheeks aflame and mouth agape trying to find a proper response. You gave him another quick wink before placing a chaste kiss to his cheek and following Draco down the hall to meet the others, Theo close on your tail.

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

Aita for lieing to my mom for 6 years about a guy I dated?

🤐🇮🇪 <- so I notice me. This sounds bad but all things considered, i think I'm justified at least.

Tw for domestic abuse, physical abuse, fighting and non-explicit mentions of many other forms of abuse.

So in 7th grade grade I (12/13f at the time) was dating a guy named Jay(13/14m at the time)(not his real name and we were in the same grade) for about three months. I had a crush on him for years before we dated so I was ecstatic when he finally asked me out. Looking back now at 22, I can see he pitied me as i was very unpopular and no one wanted to be around me due to the fact I was very nerdy and very autisitc(I have a mental disability). He used me for sexual things and it wasn't super healthy but I was just happy to be getting attention as neither my school nor home life was safe from abuse/bullying.

Towards the end of those three months, an incident occured. Me and Jay were working on a mutural computer lab project that should of only tooken a week but the day we were set to start, jay had iss (in-school suspension. I don't know why). I needed his choice for a song because the project couldn't start without choosing it and he wasn't texting me and was being petty and whiny about it. Finally he picked some pop 2010s song and I got started. He was in the suspension for half the week so I was the one who did a majority of the project.

When he finally came back, he was being demanding and a jerk and I said fine, I'll do my own project and you can do yours, I wanted to do firework by katy perry anyway. He then demanded my part of the project since I wasn't doing that song anymore and I told him no and when he demanded it again, I deleted it infornt of him. Typical preteen arguments right? Well he slapped me. In front of all of his laughing friends. He'd never done that before and even though I had previous experience with physical abuse(a few instances with my dad but my mom didn't see it till much later after this incident. This is important.), never from a partner.

I don't remember too much as I saw red and reacted before I could think but I do remember ripping him out of his chair, throwing him on the floor and punching him in the chest and face a few times while his friends cheered me on in surprise. I was an average height but underweight and he was both taller than me and almost 300 lbs but it felt so easy. Once I was done I got up, told the teacher I was doing it on my own, aced the project while he failed and none of my bullies ever tried to physically fight me again. I went from nerdy shy weird pushover girl to scary strong weird girl and I'm ok with that. He hit first.

Even though we eventually broke up, we made up and it was something we joked about together as i didn't realize how serious that was at the time. But my mom did realize how serious it was and tried to explain to me how bad that was, that I should never let a partner hit me and she never wanted to see me talking to him again. She was being responsible but I was 13 and riding off the excitement of showing a guy I liked what for that we dated again not a month after we broke up. Except this time I wasn't dating Jay Lastname, I was dating "Sean mcduffin" or at least that's what i called him around family and because my mom never saw or met jay, she didnt recognize sean.

Our second time around only lasted another three months before we broke up and we're friends all through the rest of our school years, never more, but my mom still called him Sean because we'll.. I told her that was Sean and I couldn't back out now. I'm gonna shift gears for a second so stick with me.

I had gone through two extremely abusive relationships back to back from one in sophomore year (sexual and emotional abuse) and one in senior year (sexual, physical, religious and emotional abuse) and my mom didn't learn until a year later after I graduated. After my mom learned about it and the extent of the abuse with my father, she helped me heal and eventually started asking questions about the relationships and my dad and I answered her as were the closest weve ever been. She off handedly compared the one in senior year to the incident with Jay and then said how happy i seemed with Sean right after made her relax and hope i wouldnt be in another abusive relationship and it hadn't hurt me too badly.

I then realized I had never explicitly told her Jay and Sean were the same person and I had lied to her when I said they weren't (she had suspicions but never proof and trusted me). So I told her they were the same person and she got this very defeated look on her face. I apologized as I realized that was kinda shitty of me because my mom was just trying to protect me but I can also see why a 13 yr old who grew up in parental abuse wouldn't nessesarily take domestic abuse seriously. She just signed and said she wishes I was honest and I shouldn't of lied about it because it was serious. I explained my side but we eventually just moved on to talk further into our initial topic and she's not brought it up since.

I can see where I was the little 13 yr old asshole but I can also see why I wouldn't of taken the lie as seriously as I should due to my history. He never hit or hurt me again and I never heard of him doing it again so I guess i desuaded him from a life of abuse. Idk. Was I the asshole? Me and him don't talk anymore and since getting therapy, I've realized what a shitty person he was to me before, during and after our small relationship.

(small context: we were school friends only, he never really came over to my house or met my family more than once the second time we dated and I didn't talk about him as much after the second break up due to my focus on friends shifting from school friends to my girl scout troop. We were inseparable in school but outside of it, we rarely spoke.)

What are these acronyms?

[ultimate-marysue]

I really like the idea of Catatonic Jason taking care of baby Damian. Like, yes, he's traumatized beyond belief. He's being trained to kill, and yet there's this softness in him. Talia recognizes the instinct to protect the innocent, allowing Jason to care for her son. She hopes it will ground him and in a way it does. It's almost natural to him. But then he's resurrected by the pit.

This new Jason is confused, half mad from the process. Most importantly he doesn't remember anything. His body does, all of his training coming through well practiced moves. But this boy is too angry and volatile, and Talia will not risk his baby with him. No matter how much her heart wants to believe he would remember holding him too.

Jason leaves. Talia and Damian follow his progress watching him progressively calm down. The effects of the pit can be combated, and Talia was relieved her initial assumption had been right: Jason Todd was still in there. It was harder on Damian. It's one thing to rationally understand why his brother couldn't remember him, and another thing entirely to accept it.

Once he moved to the manor, the absence felt even greater. Everything was so backwards, and the only person he could have found some sense of comradely with didn't remember him. What's more, he didn't even seem all that interested in reconnecting with his family at first.

Damian watched him struggle from afar, dealing with grief, anger and guilt on his own. He watched seething with jealousy as Jason tried to mend his relationship with Tim. "He's only nice to you because he feels guilty about punching a kid", he pettily thought. It wasn't fair at all, so he stuck to calling him Todd instead of Jason.

Richard was the only saving grace in the whole family, and thus the only one capable of making him feel included. It took a while, especially when his father and Drake came back, derailing their lovely routine. He wasn't going to complain about having another chance to prove himself to father, but he missed Richard.

Live continued, and slowly he felt more and more like he truly belonged. The feeling not coming from a single cathartic experience but a myriad of small domestic moments. It is one of those moments when it happens.

He has hurt his leg fighting Killer Croc, and Jason had offered to help him to his room since Bruce still needed to finish something on the computer. It was getting less and less rare to see Red Hood in the cave or Jason Todd upstairs. Everyone still treated him like a loud noise would spook him and Damian wondered if that's how they'd seen him once.

Jason jokes around when he grabs him in bridal carry and Damian threatens the safety of his reproductive organs. It's an old song and dance, and they quickly go back to ignoring each other. It is Jason who breaks the meditative silence again, starting to hum a familiar melody halfway through the stairs.

Damian can't place it at first, and Jason doesn't seem to realize he's doing it. He's walking down the corridor when he actually starts whispering the lyrics, almost in a trance. Damian tenses, recognizing the nursery rhyme Jason used to sing to him back when he was a kid.

The movement seems to snap Jason out of his reverie, standing completely still for a moment. Damian watches enraptured as the realization dawns on him, his brother's head snapping back to him. His eyes are wide open and slightly shiny as he regards Damian like it's the first time he's truly seeing him.

"Habibi?" Jason asks, still sounding far away.

Damian contorts himself to hug him, the pressure on his chest finally releasing as his brother finally comes back to him.

It takes him a while to recover his memories of their time together, but for the first time Jason actually wants to remember. He's had to wade through enough green-tinged half memories, filled with grief and shame. Damian's memories are different. They're from a time when he barely existed, reduced to pure instinct. And yet, that version of himself had the instinct to care for this child. To love him.

Maybe there was hope for him.

[gallapiech]

🍰Weekly Tag Wednesday!

Thank you @deedala @suzy-queued @spookygingerr @burninface @thepupperino

@lingy910y @mybrainismelted for tagging me! AND HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO THE BIRTHDAY QUEEN @energievie ✨I hope you have a fantastic day ♥

When is yours? March 28

Where were you born? between my moms legs

How do you feel about your legal name? Are you using it online and/or IRL? DESPIIIIISED my name while growing up, I used to be very short when I was younger so my entire family nicknamed me Fransie, which I preferred WAY more! But now that I'm one of the tallest ones they feel strange calling me that, however they often slip up hehehe. I used to be open about my first name and middle name but secretive about my last name online. I love my other names though ♥ Although people always assume I'm Italian because of it lol.

How about your sign? Do you feel it "fits"? I'm so bad with astrology stuff, I'm an Aries ♈So if you think it fits then I'll believe you. LOL

What's your earliest memory related to your birthday? I think either 5 or 6? It's either when I accidentally scraped my entire face while playing outside right before my birthday, or when I got my ears pierced. I don't know which came first 🫣

What's one of the best gifts you've ever received? oh my mind is blanking I feel bad... I love it whenever my friends make me things for my birthday though ♥ Which is a little ironic because I feel like a cheapskate when I do it 🤣

How about one of the best you've given yourself? MMMmmm I believe the computer I bought for myself when I was a teen? A whole new world opened...

What's your favourite cake flavour? THOSE UHH GREEN SPONGE CAKES U KNOW THE ONES I MEAN? whenever my family has those on birthdays I get a little excited.

How about your favourite flowers? I prefer succulents & cacti I must confess.

Have your ever thrown a birthday party? If yes, tell us about your favourite one. no. lol.

What's the ultimate birthday song? THE BIRTHDAY SONG FROM THE BARNYARD I ONLY KNOW THE DUTCH LYRICS THOUGH. JE BENT JARIG, JARIG JOBJE, JE BENT JARIG, NEEM EEN DROPJE. JE BENT JARIG EN JE BENT EEN HÈÈÈÈLD! JE BENT JARIG, GEEF ONS GELD!

And last but not least, pick a celebrity with whom you share your birthday. lady gagita

@jrooc @roryonic @creepkinginc @transmurderbug @transmickey

@vintagelacerosette @sleepyheadgallavich @matt404b @lee-ow @deathclassic

@spacerockwriting @ian-galagher @celestialmickey @bawlbrayker @doshiart

@blue-disco-lights @heymrspatel @sam-loves-seb @michellemisfit & everyone else!

[jeankluv]

Snow on the beach || Trafalgar Law x fem!reader

Words: 3.2k

Warnings: fluff, doflamingo, angst but light and fluff

Note: thank you to everyone who is starting to read this story and the rest of my one shots, I truly appreciate your sweet comments. By the way if anyone wants me to tag them when I post this story please let me know and I will start tagging you. Now enjoy this chapter.

Previous chapter || Materialist || Next chapter

Chapter VI: You are my safe place

Law huffed at his office table. He had arrived earlier than his schedule, but all in order to avoid you. It wasn't that he didn't want to see you, he really wanted to see you and share moments with you, even if they were those in the car where you were singing a Taylor Swift song at the top of your lungs. But since last week when he had to go out of town to see the person he hated most in the world and meet him, he knew that having you around wasn't safe for you. He knew that you were stubborn and that you probably wouldn't give up so easily and would return home sooner or later, so leaving the house before you had been the best option he had seen to avoid talking to you again.

He had an idea of ​​who the person had been who had warned him, not for nothing did he try to get information from you the only time you met. Law leaned back in his seat and rubbed his temple. Years ago he and Corazon had distanced themselves from the family, they had gone to a quiet town, away from everything, away from him. But once again Doflamingo, he had to annoy them.

When Law talked to him on the phone, he actually considered telling Corazon the truth, telling him that his brother had called and that he was up to no good. But instead Law decided to tell him that Penguin and Shachi had been in an accident and he was going to see them for a week.

So yes, he went to meet Doflamingo to see what he wanted. The meeting was really short and unpleasant for Law but the worst thing was knowing that Doflamingo knew about you and that you lived next door. His skin crawled when your name came out of Doflamingo's lips, at that moment he felt like beating him up right there. Doflamingo began to talk about how they both seemed very happy in that town, that Law was paid well and how Corazon seemed very happy as a police officer, all this with the most cynical smile on his face. It was when Doflamingo finally told him what he wanted, money, as always. He said that if he didn’t get the amount he was asking him he would take action on the matter. Law agreed to give him, he wanted to keep both of you saved. But he knew he should be cautious since Monet knew who you were and she was on constant communication with him. He needed to find a way to fire her.

He sighed heavily and hit the table, couldn't he just leave them alone for once? Two knocks were heard on the door, Law wrinkled his eyebrows, it was still early for any patient to arrive for consultation.

“C’mon in.” He said sitting properly and putting on glasses. “What are you doing here?” He said once he saw who was the one knocking.

“Law…” You said swallowing. “I came here because…”

“I told you already that I didn’t want to see you again, didn’t I?” Law said and turned to look at his computer.

“You actually said you weren’t going to take me from the restaurant to my house, nothing about not seeing each other.” You said sitting on the chair.

“Y/n I’m not joking here, leave.”

You shook your head. “No.” He gave you a withering look and you just smiled at him. “Actually… I feel a bit sick. You’re a doctor so… please doctor could you check me?”

“Y/n… you know I can tell when you lie right?”

“Ah!” You cried out, you ain’t leaving that room until you were able to talk properly with Law. “Doctor please.” You pouted.

He sighed. “Where does it hurt?”

You smiled. “Here.” You pointed to your left knee.

He stood up and kneel in front of you. “Can you put your pants up so I can check your knee better?” He said while looking at you out of the corner of his eye.

“I…”

Shit y/n. You couldn’t really put them up, they were too tight, but when I asked you where it hurt, you only thought of saying the knee because it was true that it had been hurting for a few weeks.

“I don’t think I can do that.” You told him.

“Well then take them off.” Your whole face turned red in that instant.

“Wait… what?”

“Is for the examination y/n.”

“Of course, sure, yeah, hahaha” You laughed nervously.

“Listen, if you don’t feel comfortable, I can get something for you to cover up.” He said standing back up.

“Yeah… that would be okay.”

He nodded and left the room, leaving you there waiting. After your talk with Nami the day before, you had decided that you were going to get an explanation for Law's behavior. And you knew Law was doing his best to ignore you and not see you. You took off your jacket, waited there looking around at his office. You noticed a picture of him with Bepo on the wall, you smiled noticing how Bepo was still a puppy in that picture.

“Law you back?” You said turning around when you heard the door opening. But it was not Law who was in the door, it was the nurse from the other day, the one with the green hair. “Oh hello.”

“Where is Dr. Trafalgar?” She spoke.

“He went to…”

“Honestly I don’t care.” She replied. “I’m here to talk with you.” She sat next to you. “You should stay away from him, you know? Or the boss will have a good reason to make Law his little puppet again. And you probably don’t want that, right?”

“Excuse me… I don’t know what you are talking about…”

“It’s okay you will probably meet him if you keep yourself around him. This is from one girl to another, stay away from him.” You looked away, she was scaring you. Who the fuck was the boss and what did she mean with Law being a puppet?

She left without saying anything else. You were left there without knowing what to say or what to do. You don’t know how much time passed or when the door was once again open but when you came back, Law was in front of you, looking at you with an intense and worried look.

“You okay?” He said. “You are pale…” He said and touched your face. You knew he was probably checking your temperature but that didn’t stop you from turning red and moving your face away from his hand.

“Actually… I think I will leave.” You said standing and turning around to grab your things. “I have to go to work or else Zeff will get mad.” You tried to joke.

“Y/n, something happened right?” He said standing in front of you. “Did someone come here?”

“No.” You said, maybe a little too fast.

He examined your face, he knew you were lying and you knew he knew. “I already told you, you can lie but I will know.”

You looked down trying to avoid his gaze and thinking how to ask the question that was on the tip of your tongue. “Law…” You paused for a moment. “Are you… in danger?” You finally said.

You couldn’t see his face but you saw how his hands closed when you asked that question.

“Don’t worry about me… okay?”

You frowned and looked at him. “How could I not? You can not pretend like I don’t care about you, like I can ignore that someone is threatening you.”

“I have been dealing with this shit all my life, you don’t have to worry but I want you to stay away from me.”

“I can’t do that…”

“Y/n…”

“No Law, you can not ask me that. I want to help you.” You swallowed. “Corazon could help you, he is a police officer, I’m pretty sure he can…”

“Don’t… please y/n stay away from this, from me.”

“I’m not.”

“You’re so fucking stubborn aren’t you?”

“You know I am. And I’m not going to let you deal with this on your own.”

“I told you I have been dealing with…”

“Doesn’t mean you have to keep dealing with it alone.” You cut him off, never once leaving his gaze.

He huffed and leaned against the wall behind him, his eyes closed. He massaged his temple, you really were stubborn and seemed to not care about anything he told you, you were willing to continue with him.

“Why y/n? Why do you want to risk yourself for me?” He said looking at you out of the corner of his eye.

“Because…” You thought of the reason, deep inside of you, you knew why you were doing that, but would you be able to put it out? “I… I care about you and you make me feel like I’m myself again whenever I’m with you, it's like I don’t have to pretend to be someone else when I’m by your side. You are… you are my safe space.” You let everything out, in a rush but it was out. “And I don’t want to lose that.” You added looking at him.

You watched him breathe heavily, but without saying any words. His mouth was slightly open and his eyes moved around looking at your entire face. He opened and closed his mouth repeatedly, trying to say something but saying nothing. You didn't think that your confession would leave him speechless and a part of you was regretting having said it. Law swallowed hard, you could see how his Adam's apple moved.

“Y/n…”

“Oi Trafalgar.” The door opened completely, revealing a blonde man with glasses and dressed just like Law. “Oh! I’m interrupting something?” He looked at you both.

“Marco…” Law moved to place him near the man, whose name now you knew it was Marco. “Nothing to worry about, my patient was already going home.”

You nodded. “Yeah, I’m leaving.” You said and walked to the door. “Thank you for looking at my knee doctor. I will take care of it.” You lied and turned around saying goodbye to both of them.

You quickly left the place, out of the corner of your eye you could see the same girl who had come in to tell you that about Law. You didn't want to stop being with Law, you wanted to continue sharing your trips in the forest, bother him with jokes, make him let you sing at the top of your lungs, see the stars with him again. And yes, with him you felt like you were back to being that girl that you thought had disappeared a long time ago. With the rest of the band you also felt good but with Law it was different. As you felt the cold air hit your face, you blew on your hands to warm up. You really wanted to be able to support Law, in some way. But like that girl, Zoro had also told you to be careful with Law, with the people around him. Was that “boss” so dangerous? So much so that you had to get away from him and Law couldn't do anything about it?

On the other hand, Law was reading the report that Marco had brought him. He was really trying to concentrate but he couldn't stop thinking about you, your words and the strange feeling you had caused in him.

“Earth calling to Law, come back to us please.” He heard Marco’s voice.

“Eh… I think it’s…”

“I think you’re somewhere else.” Marco smiled. “That girl, is the new girl that came here some weeks ago right?”

“Yeah, she is.”

Marco smirked. “You seemed to have an interesting conversation going on.”

“What…? We were… we were discussing some medical stuff, that’s it.” Law shook his head, trying not to seem nervous.

Marco laughed. “Please Law, I have known you long enough to see that what you were having wasn’t a patient doctor conversation.”

“Shut up.” Law rolled his eyes.

“Whatever you say lover boy.” Marco stood up and walked to the door, leaving Law alone.

Law leaned back in his chair, thinking again about your words and what he could do to fix this shit. Because one thing that he was clear about was that he did not want you to end up in this mess in any way, for Donflamingo to get close to you. But what could he do? That man pulled the strings in the underworld, he had contacts with the police, who looked the other way when he wanted to do some of his shit.

When he and Corazon came to live here thirteen years ago, everything had been normal. Corazon got a good job as a police officer in the town and he started going to school and making friends. Everything was phenomenal, until Law left to study medicine, that was when he met Donflamingo again and from then on Donflamingo would occasionally ask him for money, with the condition of leaving Corazon alone and letting him live his life in a peaceful way.

Law took off his glasses and growled frustrated with the whole situation, no matter where he looked at it it was a maze with no exit. He got up from his chair and left his office. He didn't have any patients for another hour so he could go talk to Monet and tell her to leave you alone already. He saw her at the reception, with her glasses on, reading.

“Monet.” He called her.

She looked up and gave him a fake smile. “Good morning, Dr. Trafalgar. You came earlier today.”

“Cut that shit Monet.” Law cut her. “Listen, I know what you are up to and you better stay away from y/n. She has nothing to do with any of the shit you and the whole gang are in. So leave her alone and don’t approach her.”

Monet rolled his eyes. “My goodness Law, are you so taken with her? You already know that I only inform the boss about how you are, he cares about you.” Law snorted. “And it's good that the boss knows that you have a crush on a girl from the town, maybe one day he will even come and pay you a visit. “At the end of the day I miss her little brother.”

“The brother he tried to kill? Yeah don’t make me laugh, that man doesn’t care for anything other than money and power.”

“He deserved it, he betrayed the family.” Law narrowed his eyes. “It’s frustrating isn’t it? You can not do anything to get rid of me and besides Law, you will always be part of his family, no matter how much you try to get away or how much you try to protect Corazon. He will always find a way to find you.”

Law turned away from the counter in frustration and without saying anything returned to his office. And it was true, no matter how much he and Corazon tried to escape from that family, they would always find them and if they wanted to harm or harm them, Doflamingo would not hesitate to do so. During the rest of the day he dedicated himself to seeing patients, in the office and on the phone. When he realized it, the sun had already set and the streetlights were illuminating the streets. He stretched out in his chair and picked up everything to leave. He wanted to go home and rest his mind, even if it was just for a few hours.

He said goodbye to Marco and the nurses there and got into his car. He started the car and prepared to go home, but he didn't. For some reason, one that he knew very well, he parked in front of the restaurant. He sighed and looked out the window, there you were. You were wearing a high ponytail, but some of your locks fell in front of your face, and you had a smile on your face as you served the few clients you had that day. He grabbed his phone and connected it to the car, he opened Spotify, an app that for him was practically non-existent before you appeared in his life. He didn't listen to music so he didn't need a music app, right? And to no one's surprise, Taylor Swift was the artist who appeared to continue listening. He pressed play and smiled unconsciously when he remembered how excited she was to sing each lyric of the songs when he took you home.

An hour passed as he watched you say goodbye to Zeff and Sanji. Law got out of the car and leaned against it, waiting for you. He really was a hypocrite, after treating you terribly a few days ago, telling you on more than one occasion that you shouldn't be close, there he was.

When you walked down the small stairs at the entrance and looked up, you felt your heart skip a beat. He was standing there, looking at you and not looking away from you for a second. Waiting for you after work and looking at you with eyes that you couldn't describe or decipher. You approached him, shivering, was it because of the cold or because of what happened that morning? You had practically confessed to him and now you were seeing each other again after that.

“Law… What are you doing here?” You stood in front of him.

“I… I came for you.” He said and you nodded.

“About this morning…” You started to talk but he cut you out.

“Get in the car, you’re trembling.” He said and opened the door for you. You thanked him and got in the car. “You need to buy new clothes, warmer clothes.”

“Yeah… you told me that, remember?” He nodded and started driving back home. “Law about what I said this morning…”

“Once we arrive, let me check your knee.” He once again cut you off, was he evading the topic?

“Are you evading the conversation we had this morning?”

He shook his head. “I’m not, but… I told you, it’s complicated and… I don’t want to put you through something you don’t deserve.”

“I understand… but I want you to know that you have me.” He nodded and you saw the small smile on his face. “And about you being my safe place, listen, you can igno…”

“You also make me want to be myself when I’m with you y/n.” A small oh escaped your lips and you could feel your cheeks redden. “You’re cute peachie.” He whispered.

“Shut up Law.” You turned around, covering yourself. This was embarrassing.

“Oh…” You heard Law say.

“What?” You looked at him.

“It seems like it’s starting to snow.”

You looked ahead and could see how small snowflakes fell on the car window. You smiled. “It really is.” You whispered.

Law smiled when he realized how dazzling your eyes were just seeing the small snowflakes on the window. He was so hooked for you and there was no going back.

Tag list: @phsycochan {comment below if you want to be added to the tag list}

[rispwr]

still with you - JK - SPECIAL - CH. 3

pairings : ex!jk x ex!reader, barista/producer!yoongi x reader

genre : fluff, angst

context : after finally leaving all of those memories behind and make new ones, your current partner yoongi still holds a grunge against your ex for everything he put you through. "if karma won't hit him, i will."

will jungkook get what he finally deserves?

word count:1k+ words

warnings/contents : yelling, ruining a family, cheating, exposing, rape, domestic violence, jungkook here is really mean, adultry

songs : house of balloons, swim, into it, goodluck, babe, so high, bloodline

Jungkook's POV

“We can’t just throw everything away, Jungkook. Think about our daughter!” Ae-ri’s voice was desperate as she pleaded with me, her eyes brimming with tears. She stood in front of me, hands clasped together as if begging for mercy.

I stared at her coldly, my heart hardened by the lies she had spun. “She’s not my daughter,” I spat, the words laced with venom. 

“You made sure of that when you kept this secret from me.”

“She needs both of us,” Ae-ri insisted, stepping closer as if proximity could change my mind. “We can still be a family, for her sake.”

I shook my head, the anger inside me simmering just beneath the surface. 

“No. I’m done with you, Ae-ri. I want a divorce. And as for the child… I’ll fight for custody. I’m not letting you drag her down with your lies.”

Ae-ri’s face crumpled, tears spilling over as she tried to reach out to me. “Jungkook, please… Don’t do this. 

We can fix this. 

I’ll do anything.

 Please, don’t take her away from me.”

But her pleas only fueled my resolve. The betrayal was too deep, too unforgivable. “It’s over, Ae-ri,” I said firmly, stepping back from her grasp.

 “I’ll see you in court.”

at the court

The courtroom was tense, the air thick with the weight of what was at stake.

 Ae-ri sat across from me, her face pale and drawn, while I remained stoic, determined to sever the ties that bound us. 

The proceedings were bitter, each of us fighting for custody of the child we had both come to love, though under false pretenses.

But in the end, the judge saw through the façade.

 The lies, the deceit, the toxic environment we had created were no place for an innocent child. The ruling came down like a hammer, final and unyielding.

“The court has decided that it is in the best interest of the child to be placed under the care of a child shelter center,” the judge declared, her voice firm and impartial. 

“Neither party will retain custody.”

The words echoed in the silent courtroom, the finality of it sinking in.

 Ae-ri gasped, her hand flying to her mouth as she realized what this meant. 

I felt a hollow ache in my chest, the reality of the situation crashing down on me.

As we left the courtroom, I couldn’t bring myself to look at her. This wasn’t how I had imagined things would end. But there was no turning back now.

 The child we both loved was now out of our reach, lost to the consequences of our actions.

The weight of what had happened settled heavily on my shoulders.

 I had wanted revenge, but instead, I had lost everything. The lies and betrayal had torn apart not just our lives, but the life of an innocent child who was now caught in the crossfire of our mistakes.

As I walked away from the courthouse, I couldn’t shake the image of that small, innocent face, now destined to grow up without either of the people who had once claimed to love her. 

The guilt gnawed at me, but it was too late to change anything now. Karma had come full circle, leaving behind nothing but regret and sorrow.

Eun-ha was determined as he walked into the child shelter center, holding tightly onto the documents Yoongi had given him.

 His heart raced, knowing that this was his only chance to reclaim his child and make up for the lost time.

 The sterile smell of the center greeted him as he approached the front desk, where a woman with a kind but tired expression sat behind a computer.

“Good afternoon,” Eun-ha said, trying to keep his voice steady. “I’m here about a child- my child.”

The woman looked up from her computer, her gaze softening as she noted the seriousness in his tone. “What’s the name of the child?”

“Her name is jeon bo-ra,” Eun-ha replied, his heart clenching at the mention of her name. “I have documents here proving that I’m her biological father.”

He handed over the papers, and the woman took them, her eyes scanning the information carefully. She glanced up at Eun-ha, her expression now a mixture of understanding and concern.

“I see,” she said, her voice gentle. “It’s not often we have a parent come forward like this, especially after a custody case has been decided.”

Eun-ha nodded, swallowing hard. “I didn’t know about her until recently. Her mother kept it from me. But I’m here now, and I want to take responsibility for her. She’s my daughter, and I want to make sure she’s safe and loved.”

The woman studied him for a moment, sensing the sincerity in his words.

 “I understand this is important to you, Mr. Eun. However, there are legal procedures we need to follow. I’ll need to verify these documents and speak with the appropriate authorities.”

“Please, do whatever you need to,” Eun-ha said quickly. “I just want to make sure she’s okay. And… I need to ask that Jungkook and Ae-ri aren’t informed about this. They’ve caused enough pain already.”

The woman nodded, understanding the delicate nature of the situation. 

“I’ll make sure your request is noted. We’ll do everything we can to protect the child’s well-being and respect your wishes.”

Eun-ha let out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding. “Thank you. That means a lot to me.”

She offered a reassuring smile. “We’ll take care of it. I’ll have someone bring bo-ra to you once we’ve verified everything.”

As Eun-ha waited, he felt a mix of anxiety and hope. He had missed so much of his daughter’s life, but now he had the chance to be the father she needed. He thought of Yoongi and how much this discovery had changed everything. For bo-ra's sake, he was willing to do whatever it took to ensure she had a loving and stable home.

After what felt like an eternity, a staff member appeared, holding the hand of a small girl with big, curious eyes. Eun-ha’s heart swelled with emotion as he knelt down to her level, tears threatening to spill over.

“Hi, bo-ra,” he said softly, his voice trembling with emotion. “I’m your dad.”

“I’m here to take you home,” Eun-ha continued, his voice thick with emotion. “you’ll be safe with me, I promise.”

The staff member gently gave bo-ra to go to him, and after a moment’s hesitation, Eun-ha opened his arms, and to his overwhelming relief, letting him hold her close.

As he hugged his daughter for the first time, Eun-ha felt the weight of the past few months lift off his shoulders. This was what mattered...the chance to be the father she needed, to give her the love and care she deserved.

“Thank you,” Eun-ha whispered to the woman in charge, his voice breaking with gratitude. “Thank you for giving me this chance.”

She smiled warmly, understanding the significance of the moment. “You’re welcome, Mr. ha. Take good care of her.”

Eun-ha nodded, holding his daughter tightly as they left the center together, ready to start a new chapter of their lives, one filled with love and the promise of a better future.

[surrogate-fawn]

Quartz and Sea Glass

((Drabble/Short story based on the backstory a rp with @mittysins of Fawn's first step into the world of surrogacy.))

{This drabble is a sequel to "The First Goodbye" and is Part Two of a planned series based on the rp between Mitty and I. This drabble will not make sense without the context of Part One.}

TW: Mentioned miscarriage/stillbirth, infertility, family abandonment.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Don't put me on a pedestal for what I decided to do with my life. I ain't a saint.

I'll fully admit that I became a surrogate for selfish reasons. When I discovered there was a market out there of couples who needed a healthy body to carry their baby, I did not give a single shit about helping them -- all I cared about was the money.

I was twenty years old and homeless, still living off minimum wage. Can 'ya really blame me?

Lord only knows how that little worm of an idea got into my brain. Maybe it was during a mindless re-watch of season four of Friends. Maybe it was seeing something on the news. Or maybe it was during one of those three-in-the-morning anxiety attacks -- the ones that had me scribbling down as many outlandish solutions to my life as could fit on a napkin.

Not a lot of good ideas came about that way.

However it got there, one day I found myself seated at a library computer searching up as much information as I could find about surrogacy. As soon as I saw the rates some of these couples were willing to pay, I was sold. Fifty to sixty grand -- paid over the span of months. That sure as hell beat $7.25 an hour! The fact I could be eligible for certain state benefits on top of that money didn't hurt, either.

Best part? The one obstacle that could've been in my way had been crashed down a year ago: at least one healthy and successful prior pregnancy.

This was it. This was my way out!

But I hesitated.

As I sat there, staring at the Google search results that led me down the rabbit hole, I wondered if I was really capable of going through it all again. Not so much the physical symptoms, those all passed as soon as the pregnancy was over.

I was wondering if I could handle saying goodbye again.

My son's first birthday had just passed. I'd put a candle in a cupcake and blown it out for him the day of, alone in my room and still in my UDF uniform after work. I'd wished I'd known what name they gave him. The "Happy Birthday" song is a 'lil hard to sing without a name. I'd just called him "my baby" in the song. At least it fit. He would always be my baby, wherever he was and whatever he was called.

I blinked at the blue-tinted monitor. The screen was getting fuzzy and my eyes were stinging. I force-closed the dozens of tabs I had open, shut the computer off, and began my walk back to the women's shelter.

No, I couldn't. Money or no money, I couldn't go through it again. I never...never wanted to go through it again.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A week later, I made another trip to the library to borrow some time at the computer. I couldn't afford a laptop or smartphone, so it was a trip I usually made every other day; but work had been leaving me too tired to swing by.

I found an email waiting for me in my inbox, from a surrogate agency site I remembered looking up. In my mad scrolling, I must have signed up for their mailing list without thinking about it. It was from the highest-rated site I'd found, so at least I didn't have to worry about it being a phishing scam or tied to some baby black market or whatever.

I almost deleted it out of reflex, but the subject line read: "The Basics of Surrogacy, Free Information Guide". A brochure? Not an ad pressuring me to join so they could start taking a cut of my pay? Sure, I'd take a brochure.

So, that was the moment I made the best decision of my life: I opened that email.

I'll spare you the business side of things, but once I got in touch with the agency it all started falling into place. The whole process was much more voluntary than I realized. I spoke with several surrogate mothers who had been matched with clients through the site, and they all stood firm that nothing was done unless both the surrogate and the parents agreed to it. I would have a say in who I matched with. I would have a say in how much I was to be paid. I would even have a say in what the birthing experience would be like!

What finally sealed the deal for me, though, was the fact this company only dealt with what I learned were called "gestational surrogacies" -- meaning none of their surrogates were the biological parents of the babies they carried. I'd have someone else's egg inside me -- I would essentially be a walking incubator. That sounds kinda weird when you think about it, but it solved the biggest issue I had with tapping into this gold mine.

Not my baby? Not my DNA? Fine by me. I decided I'd gladly get paid fifty grand to sit around and grow someone else's kid. Sounded like the easiest job in the world.

I sent my application in two days later.

Two months, a psychiatric assessment, and dozens of medical tests later, I was in.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The Tariqs weren't the first couple who asked to meet with me. There were two other couples I had a first meeting with, but neither of them clicked with me the way Ray and Tess did.

We met for the first time at a park situated alongside the Tennessee River, bundled in jackets to keep out the early-autumn chill. There just so happened to be a food truck parked by the entrance we agreed to meet at, and Tess declared we should get to know each other over lunch. Seeing as I had skipped breakfast to make it to work on time, I didn't mind the idea.

I was standing off to the side while the Tariqs ordered from the truck, counting out the amount of cash I had on me, when suddenly I heard Tess call me over.

"Which one 'ya want, shug?" she asked, pointing to the menu plastered on the truck's side.

They bought me a chicken panini and a hot hazelnut macchiato, insisting it was their treat. If it were up to me, I wouldn't have needed the rest of that interview -- I had already chosen to be their surrogate in my head.

Buying me food is a fantastic way to get to get me to like you.

We sat at a picnic table beneath the golden oak trees and got to talking. Raymond (or Ray, as he preferred to be called) was a second-generation Indian immigrant and Tess, his wife, was a born-and-bred Knoxville gal. They lived on the rural side of Knoxville, just barely inside the city limits, in a 1960's farmhouse they'd refurbished themselves. Both were in their mid-thirties by the time they sought out surrogacy; up until that point, they'd been though quite a battle with infertility:

They'd been trying throughout their four years of marriage, but Tess could never carry to term. The few times her pregnancy tests would come up positive, she'd bleed a few weeks later. Although they weren't opposed to modern medicine, they'd preferred to try more "natural" methods to solve their fertility issue before going to a doctor. Such methods included the Kama Sutra, meditation, crystals, herbal blends and -- of course -- prayer.

Just the year prior, it seemed their home remedies had worked when Tess finally made it into the second trimester with a baby boy.

They'd lost him in a stillbirth days before the third trimester milestone.

Piled onto that tragedy, the hospital discovered Tess had a defective uterus -- it was physically impossible for her to carry to term. So, that's where I came in.

As I told them about myself, they were delighted to know I came from a household that had rather New Age ideas about life. I didn't mention that I no longer lived by those ideas -- it would've opened too many questions.

However, I certainly understood the good home remedies could do! I was more than happy to trade my recipes for salves for Ray's tips on where to buy the best beeswax in Knoxville. So happy, in fact, that I got carried away.

"My mom makes beeswax candles," I said, hurrying to swallow the bite of panini I had in my mouth. "She used to scent 'em with oils from her flowers, but the oil would seep right outta the wax once it got warm." I chuckled, feeling my nose crinkle in the embarrassing way it does when I laugh. "Sometimes, at dinner, we'd light one of her candles at the table. We'd blink and suddenly there'd be a puddle of rose oil dripping onto the beans and cornbread!"

"Maybe I can help her out with that," Ray said with a grin. He took a quick sip of his coffee. "My grandparents keep bees over in India. My family has a lot of tips on how to melt and mix the wax."

I almost choked on my food when I realized I'd brought up my family. Shit...now I had to be careful.

"Maybe," I said with a causal shrug. "She's back home in West Viginia with everyone else. It's a little hard to make time to see 'em."

"Oh, I'm sure," Tess nodded. "It's the same with my daddy's side of the family. We're just so far apart we forget 'ta check up on each other as often as we should." She finished off the last of her bagel. "And with you, Fawn, you work full time with a little 'un at home. I'm sure 'ya family understands."

I didn't blink for a while. I just stared at the river until the cold breeze dried my eyes out. "Oh, well..." I cleared my throat, "I don't have a little one at home."

Tess looked confused. Ray looked mortified.

"But it says on 'ya file you were pregnant last year?" Tess half-asked, half-stated. I could tell from her tone that there was no malice in her. She'd clearly read my profile and made assumptions.

I smiled, maybe showing a little too much teeth. "Yeah, I was. Very healthy pregnancy, very healthy baby boy, but I don't have a little one at home."

Ray put his hand over his wife's wrist, his sea glass bracelet quietly clattering on the wooden table. Tess went pale and her look of confusion faded into a silent scream.

"Oh. I'm...I'm sorry," she stammered. "I didn't mean 'ta-."

"No, no! I don't mind bringing him up!" I said, a nervous laugh jittering my lungs. "I never get the chance to talk about my son, but I think about him all the time!"

I surprised myself when the expected sorrow didn't come. Instead, excitement filled its place -- an odd sense of relief that I could let out some of the thoughts that had been haunting me.

I proceeded to word-vomit about how wonderful it was to be pregnant with my son, and how angelic his parents were to me, and how I knew he would be okay -- even if I missed him -- and so forth and so on. I honestly don't think I stopped for breath.

I saw Ray and Tess glance at each other from the corners of their eyes as I rambled, a pair of knowing grins on their faces.

I'm no mind reader, but I think that's when the Tariqs made their final decision.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Tess was with me for the embryo transfer, her ring-laden hand resting on my arm as everything was prepped. I was bloated as a water balloon from the multiple fertility drugs I'd been plunging into my veins -- every day, might I add -- for the past month. I sure was hoping those suckers worked, because being in a permanent state of PMS was ass. Total ass.

I reclined on the exam table, legs up in those familiar stirrups and my hips covered by a thin sheet of paper. I inhaled through my nose as the doctor inserted a long, thin tube of plastic through the ring of my cervix -- the end of which was attached to a syringe full of clear fluid. Somewhere in that syringe, three little embryos floated around -- and one of them was hopefully about to nestle into its new home.

I watched the fuzzy grey blurs on the ultrasound screen as the doctor angled the wand to see what he was doing. As I watched each of the three tiny balls leave the tube...I just hoped those fertility drugs didn't work too well.

Tess grinned down at me once it was over, her blonde braid falling over her shoulder. "We got three good un's in there," she said. I noticed she was clutching the quartz pendant around her neck like a string of prayer beads. "I'm sure one of 'em will like 'ya enough 'ta stick around."

I think she was just as worried as I was. Tess's egg retrieval, the test tube fertilization, the freezing, and my daily injections all combined into almost three months of prep work just for this ten-minute procedure.

And if it failed, we'd have to do it all over again. And if that failed, we'd do it again. And again.

"Yeah," I sighed, lowering my legs from the stirrups, "I hope you're right, Tess. 'Cause if not, I swear to God I'm gonna have-."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"A girl!" Tess screeched to the high heavens, throwing herself against Ray in an attack hug. She jumped for joy while hanging from his neck, almost pulling the poor man to the floor. "It's a girl, Ray! We're havin' a girl!"

Ray laughed, backing up from the table so his wife didn't mule kick the ultrasound technician. "I don't know, Fawn," he said, looking my way with a huge smile and a raised eyebrow. "Do you think it's a girl?"

"Not sure," I said, my nose crinkling in a snicker, "but I think Tess said something about it being a girl."

"Shuddup you two," Tess giggled, sniffling as tears began falling down her cheeks.

Ray held his wife's face in his hands and gave her a kiss deep enough to explore the sea floor. The technician and I decided to focus on the ultrasound images to give the couple some privacy.

I craned my neck to look up at the screen. What had been a microscopic ball four months ago was now an apple-sized baby girl with wiggling arms and legs, and -- thank God -- there was only her in there. The other two embryos had never taken, but this rowdy little girl had held tight. I smiled as I watched the rapid flutter of her heart beating, amazed at the sight. I remembered being just as amazed by my son's heartbeat, what few times I'd gotten to see it.

"Look how active she is!" the technician said, pointing to the baby's constant wiggling. "You should be feeling those little dance moves of hers very soon."

Ray and Tess returned to admire the fuzzy images on the screen. Tess was drying her eyes on her sleeves, and Ray's smile may as well have been glowing. He had his arm around Tess's shoulders as they watched the miniature dance party going on inside me. The sea glass bracelet rattled as his hand came to rest over his heart.

"That's our daughter, Tess," he said. His voice broke a bit as he repeated: "That's our daughter."

"Yep," Tess sniffled, hugging her husband's torso and resting her head on his shoulder, "that's her."

I watched them hold each other like that until the technician turned off the wand and wiped the gel from my slightly rounded belly.

The Tariqs had already begun the steady payment plan we'd agreed to. Even after the agency took its cut each month, it was still more than I'd ever made in my life. That had been why I'd agreed to do this for them, after all.

That ultrasound appointment is what changed my outlook on what I was doing.

These two people. These two amazing people, so overcome with joy because I was carrying the baby that they could not.

I wasn't an incubator anymore. I felt more like a nanny, protecting their baby for them until she was strong enough to come out. They'd wanted this baby for so, so long -- and I was the one making that dream of theirs come true.

I knew what it was like to desperately want to hold a baby you were unable to have. I may not have been able to heal my own hurt, but here I was...healing theirs.

I wasn't doing it for the money after that.

I never did it for the money again.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Five days after my twenty-first birthday, I woke up to a rather nasty surprise at one in the morning. I'd gotten kicked in the bladder, and my bedsheets and pajama bottoms were damp and sticking to my skin in the humid July air. Fantastic. Not again.

With a groan, I rolled out of bed and started shuffling my way to my door. I held the weight of my belly in my arms as I made my way to the upstairs communal bathroom, hoping to take the pressure off my hips.

I blinked against the harsh florescent light as it sputtered to life over the toilet. With a gruff sigh, I shut and locked the door.

"Suri, you gotta stop doing this," I slurred, my mouth too tired to move. "I'm letting you use my uterus as a bed and breakfast. The least you could do is not try to pop my bladder every night."

Surinder. Her name was Surinder, but we'd been calling her Suri for short. Ray picked it out. He liked it because it was based on the name of a Hindu god and also sounded like the word 'surrender' in English. Tess had fallen in love with the name. Me? I would've just stuck with 'Suri'. I knew exactly what kind of teasing she was in for at school with a name like 'Surinder'.

You can't exactly walk into public school with a name like 'Fawn' and not get laughed into oblivion.

At least the nickname gave her an extra name to fall back on. If that didn't work, she also had her middle name to use: Elora. I would've done the same back in high school -- I did have three to pick from -- but 'Aspen', 'Coriander', and 'Medulla' wouldn't have made the teasing any better.

I'd gone in at age eighteen and erased two of those names. It was just "Fawn Coriander Sequioa" now. Still not a normal name by any means. I often thought about going back into the records and legally changing my last name, just like my parents had done when they'd joined the commune before I was born.

I didn't need my last name. My family didn't want me anymore.

Alexander may have opened up a whole new world for me, but he made sure I burned every bridge behind me as I crossed it. I was already beginning to question my parents' worldview by the time I started dating him, but he took that little spark of doubt -- a spark that, if left alone, would've grown into a steady burn-away of my old ideals -- and fanned those embers into an uncontrollable hatred.

"They're a cult, babe," he'd told me. "Why can't you see that? I can take you away from that bullshit that says you gotta fuck other guys to be happy. I only want what's best for you, and for us."

After months of letting my teenaged angst and frustration boil over, it happened. An argument started between Mom and I over something asinine, and the geyser fucking exploded.

I parroted everything Alexander had been telling me. I told my parents they were nothing but sexual perverts who wanted me to be a whore all my life. I told them how their "woo-woo" medicine got kids killed all over the country, and that blood was on their hands. I told them how much they'd fucked up in raising me.

I told them I hated them.

I told Dad I hoped the next woman who sucked his dick bit it off.

I told Mom that if it was her, I hoped she died choking on it.

The last time I saw Dad, he was throwing everything I owned out of my bedroom window until I was on the sidewalk surrounded by broken furniture and muddy clothes.

The last time I saw Mom, she was sobbing face-down on the couch and refusing to look at me.

Even now, I would be willing sell my soul -- to lay down and die -- just to undo what I did that day.

I didn't give a shit at the time, though. I picked up what I could carry off the front lawn and walked to the nearest payphone to call Alex. I had to tell him I was finally free.

Free.

Right.

What a fucking joke.

I splashed some cold water on my face to wash off the nighttime sweat. Suri rolled one of her feet against the top of my belly, causing a little moving bump that I playfully poked with my finger.

"I'm going to bill you for all those crazy dance parties you're having in there, missy," I said with a grin, a lot less frustrated with her than I was a second ago.

I grabbed a washcloth to start cleaning myself off, but the realization dawned on me and I stopped cold. That was her foot. Her foot was at the top of my belly...which meant her head was angled down...which meant there was no way she'd kicked my bladder.

As I stood at the sink trying to solve that puzzle, I found the missing piece. My belly clamped down hard enough to pitch me forward. I grabbed onto the sides of the sink with a small gasp, feeling the muscles of my torso all tighten and shrink in the direction of my uterus. As it did, a little more dampness spread across my pajama pants.

Oh fuck.

Oh, holy fuck!

I left the bathroom in as much of a jog as I could manage, rushing back into my room and to the brand-new cell phone charging by the window. I had no idea how to save numbers on that thing, so I manually dialed Ray's number. His was the only one I could remember.

The other side of the call rang for a solid thirty seconds before Ray's sleep-drunk voice picked up:

"Hello?" he grumbled. "Who is this?"

Oh, right. He probably didn't have my new number saved, either.

"Ray, it's Fawn," I said, noticing too late that my voice was trembling. "You and Tess need to come pick me up...like right now!"

I heard a rustle on the other end, and suddenly Ray sounded very much awake. "Fawn? Fawn, what's wrong?!" I thought I heard Tess say something nearby, probably on the other side of their bed. "Why do you need us to get you?! Suri isn't due for another two weeks!"

"She...she had other plans," I said, taking a deep breath to steel my nerves. "My water just broke."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Ray's face was illuminated by the highway streetlights as he glanced back at Tess and I in the backseat of the car. "How's it going back there?" he asked, flicking his gaze between us and the road.

"Aughh!" I groaned in response as a contraction stole my ability to speak. I tried to lift my hips off the leather seat as more fluid leaked from me, but the seatbelt held me down. I was already sitting in a small puddle of it, and I was worried I was ruining their upholstery. I was still dressed in my pajamas, but I considered them a lost cause.

"We're doin' fine," Tess said, slipping her hand into mine so I could squeeze it -- which I did. "Focus on the road, Ray."

Tess had buckled herself into the middle seat of the minivan, giving her enough room to tend to me while I was strapped in the window seat. I sat with my legs as far apart as the seatbelt would allow. I could already feel the baby pressing through my cervix, and I recognized the pounding pressure that came with it.

The contraction lasted about forty seconds, and it left me reeling and panting. I had no idea when to expect the next one. "Why is this happening so fast?!" I asked, my voice shrill with anxiety. "I was in labor for over a day last time!"

"It's probably not happenin' as fast as 'ya think, doll," Tess assured me, giving my hand a pat. "You could'a slept through most of early labor. Second baby always comes faster than the first, 'ya know."

No. No, I did not know!

"Tessie, how close did the doula say she was?" Ray asked, obeying his wife and not taking his eyes off the road that time.

Tess's face was bathed in white light as she quickly checked her phone. "Ten minutes," she said. "She'll be waiting outside the house when we get there."

Just before she put her phone away, I saw her clutching the quartz pendant again.

Just as promised, the doula was parked outside the Tariqs' farmhouse when we got there. She climbed out of her car as soon as our headlights lit up the gravel driveway. Ray parked the minivan with a lurch and jumped out to start helping her carry things into the house.

Tess helped me out of the car, letting me use her as a crutch as we hobbled up the front steps.

"You ready 'ta do this, Fawn?" she asked.

"Are you ready to do this?" I rebutted.

Tess paused for a second, and then rubbed my lower back as we reached the porch. "Not really," she said, "but no one ever is."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Turns out, I wasn't as deep into active labor as I thought I was. In fact, I'd barely started it. The doula told me I was six centimeters dilated, and that I'd likely been in labor for close to twelve hours at that point.

"No, that's not possible," I protested from my reclined position on the sofa. "I wasn't having contractions until now."

"Trust me, you were," the doula grinned from her place between my knees. She slipped off her blue latex gloves and tossed them in the trash as she stood up. "I'm willing to bet they were just really mild up until you started leaking."

It was a relief to know my water breaking didn't mean I was going to deliver right there and then; but it also sucked knowing I was still in for a long ride.

I spent the rest of that night laboring around the farmhouse. It was so nice to not be stuck in a hospital room that time. I was free to do as I pleased, which Ray and Tess were sure to make clear.

Ray opened a few of the windows to let the sounds of crickets and frogs in, as well as the sweet-smelling breeze of the countryside. Meanwhile, Tess made it her life's mission to make me as cozy as possible -- no matter where I ended up. Thanks to her, pillows followed me from the sofa to the floor, from the floor to the recliner, and then back to the sofa.

Eventually, I got too restless to sit still and I needed to be upright. I was on my feet for the rest of active labor, hanging from the edges of furniture or leaning on either Tess or Ray for support during the contractions. Neither of them minded a bit.

It didn't hurt any less than the first time I went into labor. At times, I was so overcome by the increasing horrible sensations that I began screaming. Each time that happened, either Tess or Ray (whichever I was currently clinging to) would wrap their arms around me and the other would redirect my focus.

"Look at me, doll," Tess said, taking my face in her hands while Ray held me upright.

I was hyperventilating and sobbing my way through a nasty contraction and had forgotten how to use my legs.

"Look at me," she repeated gently. "Focus on my face. See my eyes? My nose? My mouth?" she pointed to each feature as she listed them. "Just think about what'cha see. Think about every detail 'ya can."

It was a technique that sounded stupid on paper, but in practice it was very effective at keeping me grounded. If I counted each of Tess's eyelashes or tried to trace the shape of her mouth in my mind's eye, then I didn't focus on the pain.

I could do it. I knew I could. I'd done this whole song and dance before without painkillers. I could do it again.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

At ten in the morning, eight hours after arriving at the house, I finally felt the shift that told me I was almost done with this.

I was kneeling on the hardwood floor of the living room, my thighs supported by the shallow birthing stool the doula had brought. Beneath me was an absorbent blue pad. Based on the design of the packaging it was pulled it from, it was supposed to be for potty training puppies. Weird...but if it worked, it worked -- and it was certainly needed. The head was descending quicky, and a few bloody strands of cervical mucus were dripping from me as the last of it gave way.

I'd shed the damp pajamas I came in, but the sweat rolling down my back made me shiver each time an outdoor breeze came through. Tess draped a thin blanket over my shoulders and stayed at my back, her hands never leaving my upper arms as I bowed my head and wailed through a transition contraction.

Ray knelt a few feet in front of me, the doula at his side. He looked a strange mixture of nauseous and excited -- we had decided he would be the one to catch the baby, and the doula was talking him through the process ahead of time. I noticed he was holding a hand to his heart as he listened to her, the sea glass bracelet hanging from his wrist.

We all knew it was about to happen.

When the head finally lodged itself into my birth canal, I said nothing. I just acted. I gripped the front edges of the foot-tall birthing stool and let out a feral growl as I started to push. A chorus of encouragement came from the people around me:

"That's it, doll! C'mon!"

"Go with the urge, Fawn. You've got this!"

"Very good, that's what we like to see."

Having gravity on my side this time made pushing feel much less like a chore. I could feel Suri working her way down each push I gave, and she usually stayed where she was once I let up. Kneeling on the stool seemed to be easing her down exactly where she needed to go.

I let out a yelp -- of surprise more than pain -- as I suddenly felt her head pressing against the skin of my perineum. The pressure opened my lips up like a flower, and the doula shined a flashlight underneath me to confirm her head was visible just inside the bulge of my lips, sitting there ready to crown with the next push.

And holy fuck, did she crown! The burn started the second her scalp met the outside air.

"Oww! God-fucking-damn it!" I white-knuckled the wooden stool, a strangled scream leaving my throat as I felt the head bulge out further, peeling my vagina apart like some demented fruit.

Ray scooted closer, rubbing alcohol up and down his arms in preparation to catch. With the doula watching over his shoulder and aiming a flashlight down so he could see, Ray slipped his hands beneath me. I felt his fingers prodding the skin around the head.

"Just like that, yes," the doula told him. "Help her open, this baby seems to be eager."

"No shit!" I roared, my arms trembling as another push sent the head rushing downward. "Fuck!"

I felt Ray's fingers trace the circumference of his daughter's head as more of it emerged, heard the quiet squelching of the afterbirth coating his fingers. When I no longer had the contraction to help me, I let up. Ray kept trying to massage my vagina open, even as I was trying to rest.

"Stop!" I snapped, and he withdrew.

Tess was hiding behind me, her hands on my shoulders the only reminder she was there. She peeked over my shoulder at her husband during the brief lull in my screaming.

"How far is she out?" she asked, unable to see for herself.

The doula craned her neck. "Almost fully crowned."

"She has so much hair," Ray said with a breathy laugh.

"She does," the doula agreed with a grin. "Her daddy's hair, too. Very dark."

I tilted my head to the side, panting heavily but morbidly curious. "Can...can I feel?" I asked.

The doula took my hand and lead it below my belly. I gasped in awe when I touched the hot, gooey ball of hair sticking out from my body.

"Woah..." I muttered, not sure what to else to say.

My fingertips wandered between my legs for a few seconds, and it was both fascinating and horrifying how my anatomy felt nothing like my own body. Everything was stretched and moved around, and it didn't feel like I was touching anything resembling a human body part -- save for the head sitting where a head shouldn't be. Frightened, I pulled my hand back just in time to bear down against a new contraction.

"Hands out, Ray," the doula gently encouraged. "Here she comes."

I felt Tess press her forehead into my upper back. I think she was feeling faint.

"Ah!" A sharp cry, almost a bark, shot from me as the head reached a full crown for a few terrible seconds. Then, with a wet slip, her whole head came free.

"Holy Mother Gaia..." Ray marveled in a half-whisper. His hands cupped the head hanging under me with the most attentive care in the world.

He didn't have much time to admire the view, I wasn't done pushing. I screamed through closed lips as I felt the ring of flesh just behind my skin get stretched wider than it had ever been. I knew something was wrong as soon as that stabbing, tearing burn began. Suri was two weeks early, but she suddenly felt bigger than my son had been.

"Pull her out!" I begged, remembering what the doctor had done. "Just pull her out!"

"Can't," the doula said. "Her hands are up by her ears, there's nowhere for us to grab."

"Take it slow, Fawn," Ray offered. "I've got her, there's no reason to rush."

I took a few quick pants and rested, hoping the stabbing burn would lessen if I let myself stretch out. It's no wonder it hurt so bad delivering her shoulders, she was making this part more difficult than it needed to be.

Tess's hands lightly squeezed my arms and I felt her hiding her face in the blanket draped over my back. Yeah, she was definitely on the verge of passing out.

Gravity was pulling on Suri even as I was trying to let myself stretch, and the shifting pressure triggered me to push without the aid of a contraction.

"Aughh, Suri come on!" I begged, pushing so hard my vision was going double.

Maybe saying her name was intimidating enough to get her to move, because with that push I felt her arms pop free. Ray gasped, and I felt his hands shift to support her upper body as the rest of her slipped out of me. I heard fluid splash and splatter onto the puppy pad, and just a second later, Ray lifted a small blue baby up from under me.

"Get her breathing," the doula urgently instructed. "Turn her over and rub her back. Support her head."

Ray obeyed, gently flipping Suri over on his lap and rubbing his large hand over her back. Her head hung disturbingly limp on her neck as he jostled her around, but I knew that's what it was supposed to be like. It still looked scary.

Suri splayed her arms out, as if she's been surprised, and let out a gurgling wail as her first breath.

"There she is," Ray sighed with releif, turning her back over to hold her in his arms. The doula whipped out a small towel and draped it over her body to keep her warm.

Tess came back to life and rushed to be beside her husband the instant she heard the baby cry. The moment she saw Suri in her daddy's hands, she dropped to her knees and covered her mouth. Her eyes spilled over, tears flowing down her cheeks.

"Oh, Ray!" she cried, her voice shaky and breaking. She reached out and pet her daughter's wet mop of black hair. "Ray, she's beautiful!"

Ray couldn't answer, he was too choked on tears of his own. Both parents held their daughter between their bodies, too joyful for words to express. Their tears and shared kisses told the story, though.

As for me, I wasn't too sure what to make of the situation. She was out, she was healthy, and her parents would be taking it from here. My job was done; but it did feel a bit...abrupt.

"Fawn," Tess turned to me, uselessly trying to dry her eyes, "do you want to hold her?"

I didn't think, I just spoke: "Yes. I've never held a baby before."

Ray and Tess lifted Suri up to me. Ray adjusted my hold so I could support the places that needed it, and Tess made sure the bloodied towel was in place so Suri wouldn't get cold. Within seconds, there I was with a minute-old baby in my arms, sitting against my bare chest.

I stared down silently at the tiny person who had been living inside me the last nine months. She was screaming her head off, but her lungs were sounding clearer each time her mouth opened. Her pink, toothless gums reminded me of a fish's mouth.

"Hey, Suri," I said, my voice sounding far away. "Must feel better out here, huh?" Suri wailed again, unhappily flailing her arms and legs around. "Or not."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I rested on the sofa, extra puppy pads beneath me, as the doula and the parents did the 'lotus ceremony' on the other side of the room. I'd had to sit on that stool for an extra twenty minutes until the placenta passed -- Ray and Tess wanted to have a lotus birth, where the cord was burned through only after the afterbirth was delivered.

I didn't want to know what they planned to do with the placenta itself.

Ray had offered to drive back to the women's shelter later that day to grab my duffel bag for me. In my panic, I'd completely forgotten the overnight bag I'd packed. So, for the time being, I was naked and covered only by the thin blanket Tess had given me.

The lotus ceremony finished up, and Ray and Tess pulled up some chairs to sit beside me. Tess had gone topless and had laid a sleeping Suri carefully across her chest, doing skin-to-skin so they could establish the proper mother-baby bond. Her eyes were red and raw, and fresh tears were falling from them.

"Fawn," she began, "you'll never know how much this means 'ta us."

"You're welcome," I said, offering the couple a tired smile. "She was a rowdy tenant, but I'd gladly do it again to give you guys the family you want. You'll be an amazing mom, Tess."

Tess let out a small sob that turned into a chuckle. "Thank 'ya."

Ray rubbed his wife's back, his own fresh tears falling. "We have something very special to give you, Fawn. It's...the closest thing we have to fully repaying you."

Tess nodded. "Money ain't enough. It would never be enough."

In sync, both couples removed the pieces of jewelry I'd never seen them without: Tess, her quartz pendant; Ray, his sea glass bracelet. Without a word, both new parents bestowed the items on me as if it were a coronation. Tess slipped the pendant around my neck and flipped my hair out from under the chain it hung on. Ray carefully slid the band of clattering sea-green beads over my hand until it came to rest softly on my wrist.

I looked at the new gifts with a grateful smile. "Something to remember you guys by?"

The couple gave each other one of their classic knowing grins.

"No," Tess said. "We chose these items months ago. They were always intended for who our surrogate would be."

I tilted my head to the side like a confused dog -- I guess the puppy pads were appropriate after all. "What?"

"From the day we met you, we've been praying over them," Ray explained, repeating the hand-over-heart motion I'd frequently seen him do with the hand that had worn the bracelet. "Each milestone we reached, we made sure our joy in the moment was stored in the crystals."

"Quartz is best to channel the energy of a mother, for Mother Gaia," Tess explained. "Glass shaped by the sea is best for a father's energy, for all life was fathered by the sea."

We were silent for a while, just staring at each other. The only sound was the soft cooing Surinder made in her sleep.

"We want you 'ta be a part of this family, Fawn," Tess said. "We've put a part of our essence into these crystals. Our joy, our love, our gratitude. So, whenever 'ya wear 'em, we'll be with 'ya."

Now I was crying. I opened my jaw to say something, but nothing came.

"We've talked about it, and..." Ray said with a smile. "...if you would like to, we'd be more than happy to have you stay here with us until you get back on your feet."

"Livin' out here has been much less of a headache than in the city," Tess continued. "We could help you find a nice 'lil place of your own sometime soon, a home where you can make a life for 'yaself."

There was another pause. I let tears fall silently down my bewildered face.

"You don't talk much about 'ya family," Tess said. "You don't owe us no explanation, but...Ray and I figured...you might need someone in 'ya corner."

That was it. That was the killing blow.

I jumped forward and threw my arms over Ray, collapsing into sobs I hadn't experienced in months. I would've grabbed both of them, but Tess had the baby. I didn't actually say anything to them, but I think they got the message.

Maybe there was something to those New Age ideas of theirs. As I sat there sobbing, I swear I could feel the warmth of Tess and Ray's love seeping into my skin through those minerals.

It seeped through my blood and sinew, and even though bone. It settled into the bleeding wound in my soul that refused to heal, the one that had been torn open the first time I called my family after the fallout:

My own mother, the one who promised to love me no matter what life threw, plunged the knife in and twisted it. The last words she ever spoke to me...were a threat to kill me if I ever tried to come back home.

The warmth of Ray and Tess's gift poured into that wound like warm honey -- not healing it, but soothing it for the first time in three years.

Maybe I was overthinking it. Maybe the heat in the jewelry was just from their body heat.

But I was sure about one thing:

I wasn't alone anymore.

~ END ~

[evidencd]

  //   (  hunter schafer  .  trans woman  .  she/her  )  .    ⸻  iris  carney  ,  an  twenty  - four  year  old  ,  has  survived  another  day  in  red  creek  where  they  have  lived  for  fourteen  years  .  the  wayward sheep  is  known  for  being  waggish  and  blunt  and  is  often  associated  with  purple bags underneath her eyes ( and the glitter intended to distract from them ), flattery that doesn't work like she thought it would, and a pampered pet cat  .  in  a  small  town  where  they  work  as  vocalist at redstone bar & party princess for hire  word  travels  fast  .  it’s  hard  to  keep  a  secret  ,  and  it  looks  like  the  boogeyman  knows  that  redacted .  (  lola  ,  21  ,  pst  ,  she/her  ,  body horror  )  . * jacob thorne's niece

quick stats

full name. iris carney

age + dob. twenty - four + 3 november 2000

zodiac big three. scoprio sun, leo moon, aquarius rising

sexual orientation. pansexual

residence. probably an apartment at the cheapest complex she can find in town, shared with two to three roommates (WC!!! WC!!!)

pet(s). an orange cat named scratch

education. bachelor's in computer science

inspiration(s). molly gunn (uptown girls), maddie (no hard feelings), olive penderghast (easy a), daisy jones (daisy jones & the six)

distinguishing feature(s). chesire cat grin first and foremost .. then her hair that's always looks like some sort of shade of cotton candy ... then her height ... then her piercings! a million on her ears. septum, nose, labret, and her smiley. has too many color tattoos of silly little creatures. and a tramp stamp of that fleetwood mac song ... 'time cast a spell on you but you won't forget me' JDSJND-- also in colorful letters.

aesthetic(s). A WEE PINBOARD!!

history

iris issss jacob thorne's niece!!! her mama was jacob thorne's younger sister, who happened to be in the same class as heather visser so you can imagine how that went down. anywho, she got the hell out of dodge, her high school sweetheart (and baby daddy because yeah he knocked her up!!!) following close behind. the two shacked up in a southern town hundreds of miles away, only a few thousand bigger than DEAD creek but much more fit for a little family.

[ TW TRANSPHOBIA ] and a little family did they make!! first came iris' older brother then iris herself. they became something of the quintessential southern family: hardworking dad-- uber patriarch, stay-at-home mom who dominated PTA meetings and got off on gossiping about other moms at sunday service (kids too, should they be scandalized enough!! ur not safe!!!), and their two dutiful kids. but iris always knew she was different! those feelings surfaced at 8, when she first told her parents she's trans. while her father was understanding, her mother just simply didn't wanna hear it. couldn't stomach being the talk of the town after what happened to her brother, she said. it only added to the slew of problems the two had been having in their marriage and eventually landed in them getting a divorce when iris was 10.

in the divorce, iris and her brother split ways. he stayed with their mom while iris moved away with her father. they moved back to red creek to stay with iris' paternal grandma. having lived through the 1999 murders and the subsequent destruction of the thorne family name, they opted to home school iris for a couple years. they let her pick a new name for herself, after the goo goo dolls song, taught her piano (namely her grandma's effort, but still!), and fostered a love for performing that she didn't know she had until she was clumsily performing britney's womanizer for her grandma in the kitchen. at 14, she was begging her family to let her start actually going to school. and they eventually let up. high school came and went in a flurry of school plays and marching band meetings. she was something of a goody-two-shoes, straight As and all.

snagged a full-ride to a university in the neighboring city after graduating!! halfway through the first semester a friend asked her to play keyboard for their band and she obliged. it got her foot into the local music scene and got her lotsssss of experience bluffing her way into gigs. she started filling in for the lead vocalist too, when they were sick or out of town or just couldn't.

[ TW DRUGS ] when the band got into a good rhythm re: gigs, she kinda fell into a bad crowd. started doing bumps in the bathroom before a show because it "just made her play better." then a joint after the show to take the edge off. then took mushrooms on different occasions because 'all her friends were doing it', of course. then molly too, just because. the coke was the worst though, cause she started indulging in that even outside of that environment alongside a friend of hers in the band, matty. matty and iris coasted through college like this till their senior year, when iris found him slumped over in his bathroom cause he overdosed. that, and visiting matty in the hospital after was enough to shake her into sobriety.

so, iris moved back home. came clean to her dad and her grandma about everything. they pulled her out of school and got her into rehab and an intensive outpatient and and and-- just extensive measures to make sure she'd never fall back into it. even when she was ready to go back to school at 21 for her final semester, her grandma basically said the only way she'd pay for it was if iris took it online and where she could keep a close eye on her granddaughter.

well, graduation came and went and there iris was, getting settled into a job in IT with good benefits. it only lasted half a year before she found it completely insufferable, before she was itching to start performing again. she started singing as lead vocalist for the redstone bar's house band as a side gig, but she enjoyed it so much she up and quit her job. does a shit ton of side gigs now to make up for the loss of income, but her main ones are uber and her party princess services.

personality

iris is a goooooood time, bubbly and extroverted. kinda has the demeanor of an overly friendly midwestern dad who somehow knows everyone (if they were incredibly vulgar and had a madcap sense of humor). she's quick with a comeback and a joke and a weird pop culture reference that makes you feel seen

she has a very strong sense of self and this bravado about her, but that quickly turns into crass insensitivity when she's agitated. very very very blunt and snarky with a sharp tongue and little concern for approval

has a very loose moral code and a chronic inability to commit to anything. people, places, hair colors, the list goes on. but she's got a death grip on what she has made up her mind on-- music, her family, her friends, etc

there's a heart of gold there, somewhere beneath the nice conversation and memes and deadpan humor and bullying (with love!!!)

gonna tag this onto here but her label's the wayward sheep because she has always seen herself as very alien to everyone else. just different, very much "maddy knew who she was at an early age", another person who thinks they're too big for such a small town. just always wandering away from the flock, in any way she can. i think she's probably grown a little obsessed with it or maybe that's just the aqaurius rising in her talking. and her last name's carney ... LIKE A CARNIE ... get it ... SNJSSKK yeah i thought i was so smart for that bye. but the sentiment's true, she's a performer at heart. every piece of her is a performance even tho she acts like she doesn't gaf what people think of her!! very mirrorball by taylor swift of her.

headcanons

has an OLD youtube channel that has basically chronicled her growing up. she's posted everything from those dramatic sims 3 stories NJDDFJNS to her own music videos filmed on a camera she stole from her dad, then like covers she probably recorded on a small, shitty iphone and skits whenever she got friends JNDKD.

literally dreams of being an influencer just getting paid to look pretty. has every social media and is somehow active on all of them? iris can be spotted setting her phone up on the nearest windowsill to record a tiktok dance or an ootd!!! always using her own songs as the sound so she can be the next chappell roan

i imagine the music she makes on her lonesome (if u were to peruse her soundcloud) to be very grimes/caroline polachek/imogen heap coded yeah ... less than 3 ... lotsa stuff just messin w her vocals ... mayhaps even magdalena bay.

very diy crafty queen. that scene of molly gunn in uptown girls taking the cover off her candle then bobby pinning it to her hair like it's a hair piece ... YA that's so iris

is straight edge nowadays so she dyes her hair a different color every other month to scratch that itch. and just keeps getting more piercings and tattoos. it never ends

wanted connections

her roommates! two? or three? idk i should send in a wc for this probably. i feel like she'd be a very messy roomie though no lie; is always making/buying little trinkets for the apartment though like little mini photo frames for the fridge or those little poem magnet sets

her fellow band members who work at the redstone bar!!! other ppl who work there and have to see iris on a regular basis!!! regulars who hate her. regulars who love her.

people she knows from her hometown before she moved? anyone from the south would suffice i kept the location unnamed for this very reason :3

people who she went to high school with, so any muse between like the ages of 23 - 28. her friends! people who bullied her! bonus points if they mention jacob thorne #vintage! her first kiss through a school play they were both in! fellow band nerds! people who she let copy off of her! people who she made star in her youtube videos who now star in her tiktoks! i love small town rps because i feel like u could genuinely take this anywhere

friends from college! who knew her as iris who blacks out once a week.

her sponsor!!! she was made to attend NA meetings after rehab so that'd be neat

clients!!! for her party princess bidness!! open to parents only obvs

maybe someone who's mom is dating her dad and now they see each other at family gatherings just cause i think that'd be funny. maybe they hate each other

people she knows from her grandma? or her dad? could be cool to to have connections based off ppl who knew her parents when they were younger actually. they would've been 17/18 when heather visser was murdered

maybe she drove them for uber once and it was a long ride and traffic was rly bad that day and they both just completely overshared about their life cause they didn't think they'd see each other again and then suddenly!!! oh!!!

the run of the mill wcs always apply: flings, exes, fwbs, ride or die, best friends, confidants, partner in crime, enemies, general annoyance, sibling-like relationship, MOTHER-DAUGHTER ESQUE RELATIONSHIPS PLEATHEE bonus points if they're also her sponsor, um um um idk give me everything.

[tangibletechnomancy]

The problem with AI and the entertainment industry in particular is that...okay, fine, technology marches on. Digital art made physical ink-on-cels animation into mostly a hobbyist novelty (though boy howdy did it ever make it an impressive one). Photography turned portrait painting into a luxury, rather than something everyone who could afford it saved to do at least once for every family member because it was the only way to keep their likenesses alive. Photo editing has gone through so many changes that it's almost unrecognizable compared to what it looked like as recently as the 80s and 90s, and the older methods are, again, super impressive hobbyist passion projects now. Digital painting made physical painting less viable in an economy of scale, but way more impressive as an art form. These kinds of changes always really fucking suck for some people, but you can't really prevent them without stifling human development in general.

But.

The entertainment industry wants to make it suck way more than it has to for everyone but their executives and shareholders. They want to have their cake and eat it too. They want to take advantage of the inherent marketing power of celebrity culture without ACTUALLY involving, let alone paying, the people whose names and likenesses they're using. That, I hope we can all agree, is vile.

Now, the logical endpoint of this is that we push back against that, and as an alternative we get more fictional celebrities in the near-ish future, and as a Vocaloid fan, theoretically, I dont see much of a problem with that. Theoretically, at least. In the best case scenario, I think it could be a lot of fun! But the problem is, well...

See, in the early days, Vocaloid producers tended to take a very backstage role. Very few people were fans of specific producers; they were fans of Miku or any other character. Eventually, though, producers just kind of came more into the spotlight on their own because everyone has their own style and taste. We still love the characters, but we all started to notice when half our favorite songs by Miku were produced by the same person, well, perhaps we were fans of that producer as well!

But in American-born entertainment culture...

You may notice that CGI was conspicuously absent from my Technology Marches On breakdown. That's because while, yes, it has made for an interesting highlight of practical effects, with love for the work and nostalgia for their jank the same way other new art media has shone a spotlight on its predecessors, it hasn't actually gotten to be recognized as an art form the way the others listed have. We've barely moved on from the attitude that got Tron disqualified from the Academy Awards for SFX because "the computer did those effects, not you" (in 1982). In fact, I'm strongly of the belief that if Disney were a halfway decent company, they would be bragging about how they're pioneering photorealistic animation, rather than trying to pass off 90+% CGI animated films, usually (but not always; see: The Lion King remake) with live celebrity actors' faces composited in, as "live-action". Instead, they treat the VFX department as mindless dancing monkeys, and perpetuate the idea that VFX is just "select material, press button, get polished scene" - because to brag about it as its own art form might imply that the people doing it are skilled artists who deserve to be paid fairly and treated like human beings, and oh, we can't have THAT, now can we?

VFX labor is all hidden; very few people have a favorite VFX artist or director, instead we treat the artists, who put the time and effort into wrangling code and semiconductors and routines and layers into creating a professional-looking end product, as just part of the machine themselves, to save the companies some money - and culturally, I fear we're well on the way to regarding AI exactly the same way but worse.

As such, I fear that we wouldn't have the same effect with any digital idols produced by Silicon Valley.

Now, I don't fear virtual celebrities being able to fully replace human ones. Half of the draw of celebrity culture is the illusion of human connection. As much as the word "parasociality" has grown to be associated with only the negative effects of this, in reality, it's also the driving mechanism behind why representation matters. It's fun to be able to feel a connection to a fictional celebrity, but it doesn't replace the feeling of knowing that your fave is a human being with a real life - ...whether you use that knowledge for better or worse.

What I do fear is the fight against using AI to replicate real humans without their input, or with their manufactured consent, being long and drawn-out and doing a lot of harm before we can fully put a lock on it, and virtual celebrities being used to hide the work that the human directors and producers put into them for the sake of saving a parent company a buck.

[corrodedhawkins]

Delicate

Pairing: Steve Harrington x Eddie Munson

Content warnings: 18+ in later chapters(minors DNI) language and drug use.

Authors note: I posted this on AO3 months ago and never finished it. Maybe if people like it I’ll write the last two chapters. Yes this was inspired by Taylor Swift I’m so sorry.

This ain't for the best

My reputation's never been worse, so

You must like me for me

After everything–after Chrissy, Eddie hides. Before he’d get heckled on the street every so often, called a 'freak' and a 'satan worshiper', but it wasn’t anything he couldn’t shrug off with a laugh, throwing up devil horns with a smirk as he went on about his day. It’s different now. He can’t go out in daylight without a small crowd forming, bottles and insults being hurled at him.

He becomes a recluse during the day, puttering around the trailer writing songs on his guitar no one but Wayne will ever hear. Corroded Coffin played one last show after everything, The Hideout nearly being burned down when the town found out they were playing. The owner made it clear they were no longer welcome, and that was that. So he hides away, selling weed to the handful of people who don’t care where they buy it from, as long as it’s a good price.

At night he can move around more freely, stopping by to visit Gareth or Dustin, who keep trying to convince him to come back to school, but he can’t, he can’t even get through a game of D&D anymore without getting too distracted, so he stops playing. The notebook on his bedside table is filled with campaigns he’ll never play.

Tonight, like most nights, he stops by Family Video, this time under the guise of returning The Good, The Bad, and The Ugly for Wayne. If he’s honest with himself, he’s really there to see Steve. Steve, who he’s had a crush on since freshman year, who hadn’t said two words to him until the Upside Down. Steve who’s shown him how wrong he’d been about him, the fake ‘King Steve’ persona having fallen away to reveal a kind, gentle soul. Steve, who he’s grown so close to since Spring Break. They’ve shared countless nights on Steve’s couch, watching movies while they pass a joint back and forth, talking about nothing and everything at the same time.

Eddie slams the door of his van shut, pulling his jacket closed against the chilly fall air, the zipper having broken months ago. The bell rings as he enters the store, his cheeks heating as he watches Steve’s head jerk up from the computer screen, a smile spreading across his face when he spots him. Robin tries to give them some privacy, moving to the other side of the store to shelve VHS tapes, biting her lip to suppress a laugh as she overhears them flirting.

“So, cowboys do it for you, Munson?” Steve teases as he scans the VHS tape back into the system. ‘I’ll have to keep that in mind”, he winks, making Eddie giggle.

Here’s the thing, Eddie isn’t sure what to call them. Friends went out the window a few weeks ago when Steve turned to him halfway through Back to the Future (obviously Steve’s choice) and gently cradled Eddie’s face in his hands before placing the softest, sweetest kiss on his lips.

Since then they’ve been inseparable, spending countless hours on the phone when they’re not hanging out at Steve’s. Eddie doesn’t have a phone in his room, so he pulls up a chair to the phone hanging on the kitchen wall, twisting the cord around his finger as he listens to Steve. Listening to him ramble on about something Dustin’s done or the rude customer who came in the night before is the highlight of his day.

Wayne always gives him a knowing look during those calls, waiting for him to hang up before announcing, “That boy better be treating you right”. Every time Eddie ducks his head and blushes. “It’s not like that”, he mutters before scurrying down the hallway to his room.

Tonight the plan is to go back to Steve’s place, a movie picked out they both know they won’t even put in the VCR. Eddie insists on leaving his van at Family Video, riding with Steve in his Beamer to his house. He doesn’t want someone to spot his van in his driveway, the possibility of his reputation reflecting badly on Steve is too much for him. Steve fights him on it at first but gives up once he sees how much it means to Eddie. He doesn’t mind driving him back to Family Video to pick up his van, as long as he gets to spend time with him.

Thankfully, Vickie picks Robin up once they lock up for the night so Steve doesn't have to drop her off. He still hasn't said anything but Robin knows. Steve knows that she knows, can hear her snicker when they're flirting at work, but he's waiting for the right time. They haven't put a label on it yet, and he doesn't want to jinx anything by talking about it. Since Robin isn't there, there's nothing stopping Steve from resting a hand on Eddie's thigh as he slides into the passenger seat with a quiet, "hi".

"Hi", Eddie shoots him a shy smile, scanning the empty parking lot before pecking a quick kiss on Steve's lips.

Steve pouts, pulling Eddie back in for a longer, more passionate kiss. Eddie smiles into it, shifting so he can bring one hand to rest at the back of his neck, the other sliding up his thigh. The VHS in his lap clatters to the floor as he shifts, causing them both to pull away with a laugh.

"Why did we even bother renting something?"

"No fucking clue."