#that my grandparents my aunts my uncles my cousins every one of us

[brainjuicey]

for someone that finds it so difficult to connect with peers, its a cruel circumstance to be deprived of any productive familial relationship

[threebea]

I have started to think of the Jedi being blamed for the Fall of the Republic like blaming firefighters for wildfires.

They have been fighting fires (corruption) for years, but the fire is getting bigger and hotter and spreading farther. They're doing their best but there aren't enough of them to go everywhere there are fires. The Senate points them to where really big fires are, but sometimes it turns out they just want their property saved and there weren't that many people in the building. The Jedi still save lives but they have to look at the bigger picture and hope volunteers will put out the little fires because they simply don't have the people for every little fire even though they wish they did. The Senate starts restricting their use of water. Then an arsonist, Palpatine, is made mayor and takes control of their budget.

Dooku and the CIS start lighting fires on purpose. Palpatine let's Dooku know where the most flammable places are.

And the firefighters (Jedi) keep fighting the fire. They can't not fight the fire. People will die if they don't fight the fire. Then the government is like: there are not enough firefighters to fight the fire, but here is a large population of people we will force to fight the fire with you. You shouldn't have qualms, apparently an individual that used to work for you is the one that paid for their training so really they're your responsibility. You'll be in charge of them on the field and get to watch them die, but we control their lives and have decided they're not people so we don't have to pay them. Good deal. We are good at fighting fires.

And the Jedi can't say no because they need to stop the fire and they can't do it alone at this point. Many of the Jedi are killed in their attempts to stop the gasoline fire Dooku lights and it shows how badly they need these new people.

Luckily, the people drafted to fight with them, the clones are also good at fighting fires! It's dangerous many clones will die, but despite having no choice they stand beside the Jedi bravely. The Jedi do everything in their power to protect them. They fight alongside them and try to minimize loss.

There are a few Jedi that get overwhelmed by anger or trauma. They become arsonists themselves, but the number of those that do can be counted on one hand compared to the thousands of Jedi that continue to fight fires.

Sadly, the clones have explosives inside them that Palpatine, the mayor, has the trigger for. Just when it feels like the fire is under control and the people lighting the fires have been stopped, Palpatine sets them off.

Most of the clones are never the same. They think the Jedi had to have set off the bombs inside them, even though they would have never thought them capable of it before. Most never learn the truth. They hate the Jedi for being traitors.

Most of the firefighters die. And their families too. Their children and uncles and aunts and grandparents, and cousins even if they weren't capable of fighting fires they all get burned to death.

The mayor declares it was the firefighters lighting fires and outlaws being a firefighter.

Some of the Jedi survive. Some of them can't bring themselves to fight fires anymore. Some of them keep doing it because it's what they were trained to do. A lot of them are novices who didn't know all the best techniques, but they find their own methods to put out fires and teach others how to do it as well.

And the rebellion begins because when you see fire the logical thing to do is put it out, but all the firefighters are dead or in hiding and being a firefighter is illegal. There's no one to call so the town's people start doing it themselves, inspired by the Jedi.

This becomes extremely important when the mayor makes a device that can light entire cities on fire at the push of a button.

Anyway that's my metaphor and maybe explains my point of view when it comes to the Jedi.

[puckinghischier]

Choices

Jack Hughes x fem!reader

summary: jack proves that he will always choose reader, no matter what anyone has to say

notes: so, the first part of this is literally my favorite thing i’ve ever written. the ending? meh. i don’t hate it, but i definitely think it could have been done better, i just struggle so hard with endings 😭. i also lowkey don’t like the title, but literally couldn’t think of a different one. anyways, i hope you enjoy!! happy reading! 🫶🏼

can be read as a part 2 to this fic, but can also be read by itself

request: Could you write something with Jack getting defensive/choosing her? Maybe he gets cornered by an ex flame or someone about what makes reader so special to get him to commit to a serious relationship when he didn't with her

[6.7k]

“Are you sure I don’t need to dress up tonight? I know you said they’re just some old family friends, but I want to make a good impression,” you question Jack, standing in front of the full-length mirror propped against the wall.

You’re wearing a pale, yellow sundress with daisies imprinted all across the fabric. Jack insisted the Lawsons were just old friends of the family, having owned the house down the street since he was just a kid.

Since meeting Jack’s family last year, you’ve been his plus one to every single trip he’s made home. At thanksgiving he brought you home for a quick, two day trip to meet his grandparents and a few pairs of aunts and uncles, before having to fly out again because of his game schedule. Around Christmas the two of you split your time, spending the actual holiday with your family, then flying to meet Jack’s family for New Year’s activities, where you met several cousins and old school friends of Jack’s.

This year, you’re celebrating the Fourth of July in Michigan, finally getting to experience the infamous Hughes lake house. Jack was able to convince you to spend an entire month here at the large house, telling you the trip was for the Fourth festivities, but suggesting you leave a few weeks beforehand, wanting you to get the full lake house experience.

You had spent your days switching between joining his family on the large pontoon boat sitting at the end of their dock and going out on adventures with Jack alone on the pair of Jet skis Quinn had bought after his first paycheck came in during his rookie year. A few nights a week, Jack would tell you to put on something nice, showing you around the small town a few miles away from the house, taking you to each of his favorite childhood spots for dinner.

One night he had told you to put on the nicest dress you brought, then proceeded to take you to an old, beach themed bar. He sat across from you at the high top table in a collared shirt and khakis, the rest of the patrons around you in their bathing suit cover ups or shorts and t-shirts.

You scolded him, telling him you two looked like fools in there, all dressed up to eat fried seafood. He laughed, telling you the only fool in the room was him, because he was “foolishly and wholly in love with you.” You rolled your eyes at his mushy-ness, a blush making its way to your cheeks at the same time.

That memory, however, is the reason you no longer trust Jack when he tells you to either dress up or dress down for dinners. Including tonight.

“I promise, you don’t have to dress up. You could wear your bathing suit for all I care,” he calls out from the bathroom where he’s ‘fixing’ his hair, which usually means brushing it and then ruffling it around with his hands. “I mean, mom might not be too happy if you’re sitting at the dinner table in just a bikini, but I’d sure enjoy the show.”

You scoff at his words, turning to go and stand in the doorway of the ensuite, crossing your arms.

“I’m being serious, J. I want to make a good impression on these people. They’re really good friends of your parents. Your mom was telling me how you all used to spend almost the entire summer together, constantly over at one another’s houses for dinner and fire talks,” you remember how excited Ellen was to be having her friends over for dinner tonight, claiming she hadn’t seen them in years because of how busy their lives had gotten.

Ellen also mentioned they had a daughter around your and Jack’s age who was in with her parents for the summer. Her name is Sarah and she’s a department director of some big advertisement company in New York. She stopped coming around as often around the same time Jack got drafted to the Devils, according to Ellen. Her job being too demanding for her to make the trip every summer.

You were excited to meet yet another person that knew Jack as a kid. You were hoping to rope a few stories out of her over the course of dinner, wanting to know as much as you can about Jack’s childhood from those around him. Sometimes you really hate the fact that you haven’t known Jack his whole life. You count yourself one of the luckiest people alive to be able to share his life with him now, but you’re always picturing him growing up, wanting to know every detail of what makes Jack, Jack.

Quinn and Luke are always eager to tell you anything you want to know about Jack, from the time he wanted to be “TP man” for Halloween and proceeded to wrap his entire body in toilet paper, wearing the empty rolls on his hands, to the time he wanted to ask his eighth-grade crush out on a date, but instead blurted out that he had to go home to massage their dad’s feet.

You always enjoyed hearing stories about him from people that weren’t his mischievous brothers, though. Like when his grandma told you about the time she got home to see that Jack had rearranged her kitchen cabinets, placing everything he saw her use on a regular basis closer to where she could reach it after watching her drop her favorite mug while trying to put it away on the second highest shelf that morning. Or when his best friend from high school told you about the time Jack gave him a ride home from practice, stopping in to say hello to his parents when Jack heard his little sister crying in her room because she couldn’t figure out her math homework. Jack stayed over for nearly two hours to help the little girl with her multiplication table and gave her words of encouragement the entire time.

You knew Jack was someone special, his calming energy easing your nerves from the first time you ever spoke to him. Hearing the stories that confirm he’s been this way his whole life, from the people that have known him far longer than you, though, makes you burst with so much love for the man you think your heart might actually explode one day.

“And I’m being serious, Sunshine, what you’re wearing is fine and won’t change the fact that they’re going to absolutely love you, just like everyone else does,” Jack walks over to stand in front of you.

You uncross your arms, letting them fall to your sides. Jack reaches down and takes each one of your hands into his, stepping forward slightly.

“I just…I care about how the people that know you view me. It’s important to me that the people important to you know that I love you, not that I’m just trying to ride on the back of some hot shot hockey player,” you whisper, referencing a blog post you were sent by one of your coworkers back in Jersey, asking if the girl in the picture was, in fact, you sitting on Jack’s lap in a crowded bar you went to for a post-game celebration.

The post talked about how you had been seen with Jack at a few games and were seen leaving several bars with him over the course of a few weeks early into your relationship. The blog site was a silly, hockey gossip blog, more concerned about who the players were sleeping with than any of the games themselves, but the accusation made your heart sink nonetheless. You knew you were with Jack for no reason other than you love him and he makes you feel safe, comfortable, and loved. Jack knows you’re not with him for his money, and anyone close to him knows you’re not with him for his money or fame.

He could quit hockey tomorrow and it wouldn’t change even an ounce of your feelings towards him. With or without hockey, he’s still your Jack. The Jack that makes you honey lavender tea every night because he knows it helps you sleep. The Jack that somehow manages to bring you flowers after every home game, no matter how late it is. The Jack that insisted you move in with him after your lease ended because his apartment is closer to your new job, but really because he was tired of not coming home to you every night. The Jack that showed up to your graduation this spring, bringing nearly his whole team and his family, the group cheering so loud when you walked across the stage everyone in attendance laughed, the person handing you your diploma commenting “sounds like you have a few fans out there.”

Even though you know that Jack knows, and his family knows, each time you meet someone new from his life, you feel the need to prove yourself. It’s part of the reason you were so anxious to meet his parents all those months ago. You worry that each person you meet has seen or read an article like the one you were sent. You worry they’ll think you’re not right for Jack, or that you’re only with him to get a taste of the popularity and lifestyle that comes along with his job. All you want is to show them how much you love him for him, and how you never want to leave his side.

Jack looks down at you, bringing your joined hands up to his mouth, pulling them together and kissing your knuckles.

“I promise you, no one here thinks that,” he starts, his words oozing with sincerity. “There is not a single person that matters to me in my life more than you. And absolutely no one’s opinion of you matters to me other than your own. Do you think you’re with me for the wrong reasons?” He asks you, waiting for you to answer him.

You shake your head no, breaking his eye contact.

“Hey, look at me,” he squeezes your hands that are still resting near his mouth, bringing your eyes back to his. “Then absolutely nothing else matters, okay? I know who you are, and you know who you are. Last time I checked, we’re the only two in this relationship, so that’s the only two people I’ll ever be looking to for opinions concerning my choices in this relationship, got it?”

You nod, a little embarrassed you were ever worried in the first place after his small speech, but still needing the hear his words nonetheless.

You’re still looking up at him, opening your mouth to tell him how much you love him when your stomach growls between the two of you, loud enough you nearly jump back.

Jack’s eyes flicker down to your stomach and back up to your eyes, the amusement in them making the blue shade shine even brighter.

“On that note, let’s go get you something to eat,” he chuckles, kissing your forehead before dropping one of your hands, the other still intwined with yours, pulling you out of the room behind him.

Jack led you down to the kitchen, digging around in the fridge to sneak you a snack before everyone sat down for dinner, knowing the meal wouldn’t be ready for at least another hour.

After he was satisfied that you weren’t going to starve, thanks to the small bowl of fruit he found, the two of you walked out to the back deck, joining everyone else.

The Lawsons had already arrived, Jim and Ellen standing on the other side of the large deck, conversing with Mr. and Mrs. Lawson separately.

Mrs. Lawson is a short, slim woman. Her hair is flawlessly styled into a ‘looks lazy but really took an hour’ up do, wearing a light purple, short sleeve pleated dress that fell just above her ankles, a simple pair of sandals on her feet.

Her husband is a tall man with salt and pepper hair, wearing a matching polo shirt and khaki shorts, a pair of Hey Dude brand shoes on his feet.

As soon as the two of you walked out onto the porch, Ellen was immediately halting her conversation to introduce you to the guests.

“Oh! There they are! Aren’t they just dolls? Look at them!” she gushed, walking over to greet the two of you.

You smile warmly at her, your relationship with Jack’s mom almost as dear to you as your relationship with your own. The two of you were able to sit and talk with one another during the hockey game her and Jim had come into town for the first time you met them. You both were invested in the game itself, considering all three Hughes boys were on the ice that night, but the intermissions were full of conversations and stories. You left the rink that night feeling like you had gained another mother, exchanging numbers with Ellen and promising to keep in touch. You now have weekly phone calls with Ellen, her interest in your life and well being matching that of her interest in her son’s.

“Mom, we literally saw you an hour ago on the boat, calm down,” Jack tells her, earning soft smack to his chest from you.

“Don’t be a grump, Jack. She’s telling us how good we look and you choose now to suddenly act like you don’t love being told you look pretty,” you scold.

Jack looks down at you with his mouth slightly open, putting on his best fake offended face.

“See, I told you she keeps him in check for me. Now I don’t have to carry the burden all by myself anymore,” Ellen tells Mrs. Lawson, earning a laugh from the woman standing just behind her.

You and Jack continue to have a small stare down until he conceded, choosing to flash a smile at you instead, sticking his tongue out like a child and earning a small giggle from you.

“Y/N, this is Deborah, but we all call her Deb. Deb, this is Y/N, my new baby girl,” Ellen breaks up yours and Jack’s moment, introducing you to Mrs. Lawson.

“Hi, it’s so nice to meet you Mrs. Lawson,” you say, removing your hand from Jack’s so you could step forward and give a small, greeting hug to the woman in front of you.

“Oh honey, Mrs. Lawson was my mother-in-law, please, call me Deb,” she tells you as she pulls back from the hug.

“Okay, Deb is it,” you laugh, stepping back beside Jack.

“C’mere, I need a hug from you too, Jack,” she motions Jack over to her, your boyfriend walking over to give her a slightly longer hug than you shared with her. “My, you’ve grown up, haven’t you? Last time I saw you, you were just getting ready to declare yourself draft eligible. Now look at you, the real deal.”

Jack blushes as he steps back towards you, knowing how shy he gets when complimented.

He may be cocky on the ice and in interviews, but you’ve learned that when it comes to the people that are close to him, Jack is extremely humble. He turns a light shade of pink any time you compliment how well he played after a game, or when his mom calls to tell him she watched his game on tv and cheered so loud she woke their cat up anytime he scored a goal.

“Just enjoy playing the game, is all,” he slips his hand back into yours. You give it a light squeeze.

“Ron, quit talking golf and get over here! Come say hi to Jack and his girlfriend!” Deb turns and shouts to her husband behind her. Both Mr. Lawson and Jim leave their spot by the heating grill and walk over to join your small group.

“Jack, how are ya, boy?” Mr. Lawson walks up, pulling Jack from your hold, bringing him in by his arm for what you call a ‘guy’ hug, each having one arm slug over the other’s shoulders, their clasped hands trapped between their chests.

“Getting by alright. Happy to have a bit of a break. Couldn’t wait to show Y/N here the ways of the lake house,” Jack motions to where you stand slightly behind him.

“Oh gosh, where are my manners. Hi, sweetheart, I’m Ron,” Mr. Lawson sticks his hand out towards you, shaking it softly.

“Hi, Jack’s told me a lot about you two. It’s nice to meet you, Mr. Lawson” you reference both of the Lawsons, repeating part of your greeting to Deb.

“Oh, no, Mr. Lawson is my father, I’m just Ron, dear,” he mirrors his wife’s earlier statement, stepping over to place his arm around her waist.

You chat with the couple a bit longer, noticing after a few minutes that Quinn and Luke are nowhere to be found. Neither was their daughter Ellen had mentioned earlier.

“Not to interrupt, but where are Quinn and Luke?” you ask just as Ellen finishes telling Ron and Deb about a recent cruise her and Jim had been on.

“Oh, they took Sarah out for a spin on the boat before dinner. She said she missed the water, so away they went,” Deb explains, looking over to Jack. “She’s so excited to see you again, Jack. She always talks about wanting to get across the bridge to see a game, but you know her, a workaholic and all.”

You sense a slight rigidness in Jack’s body language at the mention of Sarah. He responds with a simple “Yeah, that’s a shame,” not offering any other words about the mystery girl.

You were confused. You had thought Ellen said the boys were friends with Sarah growing up. Why did Jack tense up when she was mentioned? Had there been some sort of falling out? Was he not excited to see her? He hadn’t mentioned anything when you brought her up earlier, causing you to assume he just didn’t know much about her, having lost contact after they both were busy and didn’t have as much time to spend at the lake anymore.

As soon as Jack had finished speaking, you heard loud laughter coming from the long deck at the end of the house’s yard, seeing three figures quickly approaching the porch you were standing on.

“See, told you I could still beat you, just like when I was a kid!” you hear an unfamiliar voice call out, footsteps coming up the wooden stairs leading to the porch.

“Not fair, you didn’t tell me it was a race until you were already at the end of the deck,” you recognize the voice this time, Luke uttering his words between fast breaths.

As you look towards the stairs, you see one of the most beautiful women you’ve ever seen in your life step onto the porch.

She had jet black hair that fell to her mid back, perfectly pin straight. She had the greenest eyes you think you’d ever seen, and her tan skin was a shade that people usually had to be photoshopped to achieve. She was wearing a sundress similar to yours, but hers was a baby blue color, complementing her skin tone and hair perfectly. It fell right at her mid-thigh, and had a floral print running across the fabric.

“Hey, everyone. Hope we didn’t miss dinner,” she said, waltzing over to the wet bar to grab a bottle of water as Luke and Quinn make their way up the stairs, coming to stand a few feet from you and Jack.

“Oh, not even close, honey. You’re just in time. Your dad and Jim were just about to put the chicken on the grill,” Deb tells her daughter, beaming at her.

She walks over to join everyone, not stopping until she’s stood right in front of Jack.

“Oh, Jacky! I’ve missed you so much! It’s been so long!” she wraps him in a hug. His arms stay pinned to his sides, his body going rigid with discomfort. You notice the looks from Quinn and Luke, confused at their wide eyes.

He coughs, causing her to detach herself from his body, but not removing her hand from his shoulders.

“Well, that hockey training sure has been good to you, hasn’t it Jacky,” she continues, squeezing his biceps with a smirk before dropping her hands, completely ignoring you.

The second her hands leave his body, Jack is stepping back over to you, placing his hand on your waist.

“Uhh, Sarah, this is Y/N, my girlfriend. Y/N, Sarah,” Jack says, squeezing you to his side.

“Oh! You’re the new girlfriend my mom was telling me about. How sweet!” she coos, placing her hand on her chest. “Jack, she’s so pretty. But, what happened to Macey? You know, the one with the pretty blonde hair? Oh, and the absolute insane body. Seriously, I need her personal trainer’s number,” she asks, looking around at everyone.

You think about your brunette hair and know exactly what she’s trying to do.

“Not in the picture anymore. Didn’t really like the fact that she kept sticking her tongue down some Philly player’s throat when she came to visit me during an away game,” Jack spat out, grinding his teeth.

“What a shame. I liked her,” Sarah waved it off, making a small pout with her lips. “But, I’m sure you’re great too!” she added as an after thought, flashing the fakest smile you’ve ever seen.

You feel a presence step up behind you, Quinn slyly whispering “ex-girlfriend” in your ear, suddenly making Jack’s body language and her backhanded warmth towards you make sense.

“Okay, well, time to go get the food on the grill. Food will be ready in around thirty,” Jim claps his hands together, sensing the need to break up the awkward moment.

“Oh great, I’m absolutely starving,” Sarah exaggerates her last word, turning and walking towards the sliding glass door leading to the kitchen.

You stand there, not knowing how to process what just happened, Jack’s grip on you as tight as ever. You look over to Ellen, who gives you a sympathetic look.

“Oh, my sweet girl,” Deb sighs and shakes her head in amusement, completely oblivious to her daughter’s fake niceness and obvious flirting with Jack. “She’s something else, isn’t she? Such a little firecracker,” she reflects, nothing but adoration in her tone and on her face.

“Yeah, one that backfires into the innocent bystanders,” Quinn mumbles under his breath, earning a snort from Luke. Ellen shoots them a glare, darting her eyes towards Deb to see if she heard, but the older woman was still staring adoringly at her daughter in the kitchen through the glass doors.

Thirty minutes later, just like Jim announced, everyone was sat at the large outdoor table, food covering the large surface.

The food was amazing, the bowl of fruit from earlier long gone as you sat down to fill your plate, wanting seconds of almost everything.

“Jack, will you hand me the potato salad, I swear, I can’t get enough of it,” you ask your boyfriend who’s sitting to your right.

He reaches over and grabs the bowl, scooping a spoonful on to your plate for you. “That good? Or you want more?”

“No, that’s good. Gotta save room for dessert,” you tell him, picking up your fork to dig in.

Jack places his hand on your thigh, smiling over at the little happy dance you do when you scoop the potato salad into your mouth.

“Oh, I’m so full,” you hear Sarah say, raising her voice to make sure the whole table hears her. “I wish I could be like you, Y/N, I’d love to have seconds, but I just cannot hold another bite, I’m already so bloated as it is,” she places her hands over her stomach to emphasize. “You’re so lucky you’ve already snagged a man and don’t have to worry about watching what you eat anymore.”

You stop mid-chew, her words sinking in.

You look around the table, everyone looking at you. Deb and Ron are smiling at you, not at all reacting to their daughter’s words, likely not even understanding the connotation of what she just said. Ellen and Jim are looking at Sarah, their eyebrows raised in shock. Quinn is glaring at her while Luke’s mouth is dropped open.

Jack’s hand is digging into your thigh, his other hand closed, clenches in a tight fist on the tablet next to his glass of water.

You finish chewing your food and swallow thickly, placing your fork down and sliding your plate away from you.

“Oh, no, don’t stop on my account. I’d kill to be able to be as comfortable as you are. Not having to worry about impressing anyone anymore, just being able to know you’re loved, no matter what you look like,” she continues, taking a sip of her water to hide her smirk.

You bow your head, your face a shade of red you can physically feel, refusing to meet anyone’s eye.

Luke coughs, a faint “bitch” heard by your ears.

“Okay, I think it’s time we clear the table for dessert, shall we,” Ellen pipes up, her own smile strained.

“Great idea, let me help you,” Deb, either still oblivious or intentionally ignoring the hurtful nature of her daughter’s words, starts to stand.

“No, I got it,” Jack surprises you by standing, taking everyone’s plates and quickly stomping off of the porch.

You could feel the anger radiating off of him when Sarah was talking, probably choosing to leave the area before he said something he would regret.

“Here, let me help, too,” Sarah stands, taking a few food dishes in her hands and stepping inside behind Jack before anyone could protest.

The table is silent after she leaves. You sit there, debating on just sliding out of your seat and under the table, wanting to hide. Luke, who was sitting next to you, brings his hand over to rest on your shoulder, trying to provide some comfort.

You look over at him to see a concerned look as he mouths a silent “You okay?”, nodding your head yes, despite the heavy feeling in your stomach.

You look up again, straight at Sarah’s parents, wondering how they can be so ignorant about their daughter’s malicious words.

You meet Ellen’s eye, seeing a sad, pleading look, begging you to forgive her with her expression. You give her a small smile, shaking your head to tell her it’s alright.

Ron is the one to finally break the silence, looking around at everyone with a genuine smile, once again proving your suspicion they’re unaware of the shift in atmosphere.

“Ellen, please tell me you made your famous cheesecake. It’s been too long since I’ve had a slice,” he speaks, unable to read the room.

Ellen partakes in empty small talk with Deb and Ron about how she makes her cheesecake when you decided you need to go check on Jack.

“I’ll be right back. I’m gonna go help Jack,” you say flatly, standing from your seat and all but running inside, the urge to walk over and shake the Lawsons while shouting “your daughter’s a bitch!” in their face your cue to leave the table.

You enter the kitchen, seeing the dishes both Sarah and Jack brought in littering the counter, but neither one of them was to be found in the spacious area.

You walk through the house, calling out Jack’s name softly as you pass the stairs, making your way to the small sitting room at the front of the house.

“Jack, I don’t get it. What does she have that I don’t? What about her makes her any better than me?” you hear the sound of Sarah’s voice coming from the foyer.

“What the hell do you mean? Everything! She has everything you don’t!” you hear Jack exclaim, stopping in your tracks.

Were they talking about you?

“Jack, we were good together! We had fun. I don’t understand why you ended things between us. Hell, I took a job in New York because you said you were probably going to New Jersey to play. We could have been the new it couple of New Jersey!” it was Sarah’s turn to raise her voice.

Jack shakes his head, a dry laugh making its way out of his mouth. “What part of I didn’t want to don’t you understand?” Jack spits out. “You had fun. You chose to move to New York. You thought were good together. There was never any we in any of that.”

You can practically see the veins popping out on Jack’s forehead through his tone, even though they were out of view.

“All you ever cared about when we were together was the fact that I was about to play professional hockey. You didn’t care about me, you just cared about what I could offer you!” he shouts again. “The fact you just admitted you cared more about being the “it” couple more than you cared about wanting to be with me proves it.”

“Well, sue me for wanting to live the life of the rich and famous,” Sarah says, scoffing.

“See, that’s what I’m talking about,” Jack huffs out. “Y/N doesn’t care about living the life of the rich and famous. She just wants me. She wants Jack, not ‘Jack Hughes, star forward, number one overall draft pick’,” he puts on his announcer voice.

“All my life, people have only ever cared about how well I played hockey. Every coach, every teammate, every girl. They all saw me as a hockey player. They wanted me on their team, or in their bed, because they wanted what came with me: attention and popularity,” Your heart breaks at Jack’s voice, never having heard him sound so deflated before.

“Hell, you introduced me to people as a future professional hockey player before you ever introduced me to them as your boyfriend,” he continues. “With Y/N, that’s far from the most interesting thing about me. When she first introduced me to her family, she told them I was her best friend’s brother,” he refers back to the first time you took him home to meet your family, the subject of hockey not coming up until your dad asked if he liked sports, only to berate him for not being a football player. Later that night he asked him how hockey worked. Your dad has never missed a Devils game since, either in person or on tv.

“Her favorite fun fact to tell people about me isn’t a stat, or how many hat tricks I’ve scored,” he keeps going. “It’s that I love to sing Shakira when I’m in the shower. Or that I’m the only other person other than her dad that has ever made her laugh so hard water has come out of her nose,” Jack lightly laughs.

“Hey, Y/N, everything okay-“ you hear Quinn’s voice rounding the corner.

Cutting him off with a “shhh” you place your finger on your mouth to tell him, and Luke who trails behind him, to be quiet, pointing to the sitting room where Jack and Sarah are arguing.

“So, yeah, I would say I’m sorry you didn’t get what you wanted out of me, but I’m not. I’m not sorry that I broke things off with you. I’m not sorry that I found someone that actually loves me for who I am. And I’m not sorry that I brought the woman that I plan on marrying here with me, and you just so happened to be here too,” Jack tells her, his voice still holding a slight trace of anger.

“I am sorry that I never told my parents what really went down between us, telling them we just agreed it would be too hard and we needed to go back to being friends, because maybe they wouldn’t have invited you over tonight. I am sorry that I didn’t take Y/N out for dinner, trying to avoid what’s happening right now. I am sorry that you can’t begin to fathom someone can see through your forced smiles and backhanded comments, seeing how cold and rotten you really are on the inside. And I am sorry that your poor, sweet parents were given such a malicious bitch as a daughter,” He finishes.

“You know, my mom said Ellen told her you showed her a ring, but I thought it was just a gift. You’re really going to propose to her?” Sarah asks, annoyance clear in her voice, spitting out her last word with unmistakeable disgust.

“Of course it’s true. Bought the ring months ago, been carrying it around with me every since. Showed mom the night she met her, told her I was serious about her and that she’s the one. I think part of me knew that from the moment I met her,” you hear Jack say, hearing the tenderness in his voice when the subject turns to you.

Your head whips over to Luke and Quinn, your eyes wide and your mouth handing open. The panicked look on their faces is all the confirmation you need to know that you heard Jack right. He bought you a ring. He bought you a ring and showed his mom. He bought you a ring and showed his mom and was going to propose to you.

Before you know what you’re doing, your body is leading you to the entryway where your boyfriend is arguing with his ex-girlfriend.

“Y/N, no, wait,” Quinn tries to stop you, but it’s too late.

“You bought me a ring?” you ask as you enter the room, seeing Jack and Sarah standing several feet apart from each other.

“Oh, great, the woman of the hour,” Sarah rolls her eyes at you, throwing her arms up and letting them fall to her side.

You shoot her a glare, not at all concerned about her comments from earlier anymore.

You turn your head to Jack, who’s face looked as panicked at Luke and Quinn’s.

“Jack, you said you bought me a ring. Is that true?” you ask him, begging him to answer you.

Jack gulps, nodding his head yes.

“Right…” is all you can say, trying to digest what’s happening.

You look back and forth between Jack and Sarah, your gaze finally landing on the unimpressed one of Sarah.

“Listen, I don’t care what happened between you and Jack however many years ago, but I don’t appreciate you coming to his family’s house and acting like a nasty bitch to me because you got dumped and I’m the one getting the ring,” you tell her, earning a shocked scoff from her. “So, if you don’t mind, I’d appreciate it if you took your nasty attitude and sad insecurities out of this house and elsewhere. I have something I need to discuss with the man that chose me .”

You hear the faint snorts of Quinn and Luke behind you, while Jack’s face moves from panicked to shocked as he looks between the two of you.

“God, you don’t have to ask me twice. All of this melodrama is giving me a headache. You’re not worth this. I can get any guy from the Knicks roster, I don’t need to waste my time on hockey players anymore,” Sarah says before she storms out of the room.

You watch her go, giving her a sweet smile and a wave on her way out.

“That was…the hottest thing I’ve ever seen you do,” Jack tells you, walking over to where you stood.

You roll your eyes at him, hitting him in the chest once he gets close enough to you.

“Ow! What was that for?” Jack asks you, rubbing where you thumped him

“For not telling me that Sarah was your ex-girlfriend when I was telling you how excited I was to meet her earlier” you exclaim while looking up at him, poking him in the chest with each word

“I didn’t want you to feel like you had anything to be worried about and get even more in your head about this dinner,” he tells you, grabbing your finger and pushing your hand down to your side.

“Yeah, well a lot of good that did,” you roll your eyes, bringing your hand up to softly smack his chest again.

“God, woman, stop hitting me!” Jack yelps again. “What the hell was that one for?”

“For buying me a ring only a few months into our relationship! And then for not telling me you were going to propose, you idiot!” you exclaim, throwing your arms around.

“Well, I don’t know if you know this or not, but most proposals are usually a surprise,” he tells you, grabbing your arms and holding them apart, preventing you from hitting him again.

“Still. Why would you buy it so soon into us dating, Jack? What if you ended up hating me once we hit six months, or you found out I snored and decided you didn’t want to share a bed with me for the rest of your life?” you ask him, earning a laugh from your boyfriend.

“I knew that you were it from the moment I met you. There’s absolutely no chance of me ever getting sick of you, or hating you,” Jack tells you honestly, the intensity behind his eyes causing you to believe his words. “Also, you do snore, and I think it’s cute, don’t worry.”

You try to hit his chest again, but your arms are still being held by his hands.

“So, is this a good time for me to say I never really liked Sarah,” Luke chimes in, reminding you that him and Quinn are standing in the entrance of the room.

“Luke, you’re such an idiot,” Quinn tells him, flicking him on the back of his curly head.

“What? It’s true. I liked Y/N the second I met her, but Sarah was always just a bitch,” Luke rubs the back of his head as he speaks. “Why do you think Quinn and I took one for the team and took the wicked witch out on the boat so we could keep her out of your hair for as long as possible?”

“Thanks, Luke,” you chuckle, shaking your head.

“Well, I guess it’s time to tell mom that she knows you’re proposing,” Quinn says, looking towards Jack.

“Oh, no, no one is going to know that she knows. I had this whole thing planned out, and I’m not letting Y/N ruin her own proposal,” Jack says, finally letting go of your hands.

“Do I at least get to see the ring?” you ask him, hopeful.

“Nope,” Jack shakes his head, popping the ‘p’.

You huff, crossing your arms and looking at him with a pout, until you remember his words from a few minutes before.

“Wait, you told Sarah you carry the ring with you everywhere, does that mean it’s here? In this house?” Jack’s face falls, eyes looking anywhere but your own.

“No…”

Your face lights up, looking towards the stairs before back at Jack, turning and making a run for your room.

“Oh no, you don’t!” he runs after you, catching up to you in no time.

He grabs you by your torso and swings you around, sitting you back at the bottom of the stairs as he guards them.

“Not fair, your stupid hockey speed and reflexes can shove it,” you pout again.

As you stand at the bottom of the stairs, Quinn and Luke watch the two of you, admiring how perfect the two of you are for each other.

Luke thinks back to when he decided to introduce you to his older brother, knowing he made the right decision, the two of you bringing out the best versions of the other.

And when he stands, hidden with his family as he watches his brother get down on one knee, proposing to the girl that stood at the bottom of the stairs, demanding to see her ring, he knew sneaking into Jack’s room and moving the ring to his own room was the right move, the shock on your face worth the two week long silent treatment you gave him when you found out what he had done.

[magics-neptunes-things]

Snowball and Jealousy

Hello everyone!

As chosen in the survey, here is a Christmas story with Leah Williamson! I hope you like it:) I imagined it in the same world as Fire and Ice 1 and 2.

Also it's longer than I first thought.

Happy reading!

TW: Still none.

You started dating Leah a little over a year ago, a few weeks before Christmas. Both felt it was too early to officially introduce yourself to your respective families, so you flew to Norway, your home country, to reunite with your family and spend the holidays with them. That didn’t stop you from thinking about Leah about every secondm and you had to refrain from harassing her with messages. You know very well how much the blonde cares about her family and how much she cherishes the moments spent with them.

This year, though, you’re going to spend Christmas with the Williamsons. You have already met Leah’s parents, brother and grandparents, but it’s true that you have not yet met everyone officially. I mean, that was before you walked into the huge house of one of her aunts, with almost all of the Williamsons. Hearing the noise, you instinctively take back a few steps, despite your hand tenderly entwined in Leah’s. She laughed at you and your sister-in-law patted you on the shoulder.

"Don’t worry, you’ll get used to it" she told you before Leah laid a kiss on your cheek.

"Let’s go find my grandmother" Leah says, and you agree.

It was a long way to get to her. You probably had time to greet everyone in the room before you got to her. You don’t have a large family on your side, your parents have made the choice to have three children because they themselves were only children. So you don’t have any cousins, while Leah has so many that you can’t remember all their names.

"Oh, my favorite, finally!" said the old woman, joyfully, holding out her arms in your direction.

You smile at her and willingly give her a hug letting go of Leah’s hand for the first time since you arrived.

"Well hello to you too Nan" says Leah sarcastically before kissing her grandmother.

You exchange a few words with her, which you appreciate very much. You miss your family when you are in England and she quickly took the role of the grandmother of heart. Which Leah seems to enjoy immensely, despite her teasing.

"Let’s go find our place" Leah said after a few minutes, when her aunt asked everyone to sit down.

You follow her closely and you have no trouble locating your seats, next to Jacob, Leah’s brother and his girlfriend. There you meet new cousins of Leah and you find yourself quickly to be part of their conversation. After the second entrance, you noticed that a girl around you and Leah’ age look in your direction very often. The first times your eyes crossed you thought it must be a coincidence, but with the passing of time you are not so sure.

"Who is it?" you discreetly ask Leah, leaning in her direction.

Leah’s gaze briefly flies in the direction you show her before she rolls with her eyes.

"Hailey, a cousin. We never got along, we only see each other at Christmas"

The answer makes you gently frown, you thought Leah loved every member of her family deeply. Seeing your look, Leah smiles at you and kisses your cheek, whispering that she will explain to you later. You nod again, putting your hand on her leg.

"Christmas games!" Leah’s uncle happily screams after everyone’s entries are over.

A big smile appears on Leah’s face, a smile you know well. The same as when someone offered a game of Fifa, the same one she has before a game of Uno. The one who announces that she will take the competition to heart and who amuses you a lot. Leah’s competitive spirit is known to everyone, as is her bad losing side. It amuses you a lot, especially when you have to cover her with hugs and kisses to cheer her up when she lose.

You smile a little less that said when the draw separates you from her. Luckily you find yourself with Jacob’s girlfriend, Joanna, as well as Hailey. You have unfortunately forgotten the names of other people, except James who is one of the children of his cousins.

"So you’re Leah’s new girlfriend?" Hailey says as you watch Leah’s team thrown into a game of Piccionnary.

"They’ve been together for a year and a half, I wouldn’t use the term new" laughs Joanna, sitting on the other side of you.

You nod and just smile, not taking your blonde out of your eyes. You smile as you see her little dance of joy and you find yourself letting your eyes slide over a particular part of her anatomy when she leans over to take a pen. Of course, this is the time she chooses to look back at you. Her amused smile and arched eyebrow make you understand that she perfectly understood what you were doing. You smile back and shrug, who can blame you for ogling your girlfriend?

"You’re from Norway, right?" asks Hailey

You turn your attention to her to answer her, also answering the questions she asks you about your native country. You could talk about it for hours. You’ve taken Leah twice already there and you can’t wait to leave for a whole week with her at least in January. You have to admit that you get a little lost in your conversation and you wonder why Leah and she don’t get along. She looks pretty nice. You don’t notice that says Leah’s upset look at you from a distance.

When the game is over, Leah quickly makes her way to you and puts her two hands on the armrests of your chair to lean over you.

"Come breathe some fresh air with me?"

"With pleasure" you smile

Leah doesn’t back down when you get up even if she gets up when you do. Your lips ghost hers, causing electric currents throughout your body. Your smile expands and you let her willingly put a kiss on your lips, before grabbing your hand to train you in the snowy garden. All of that, ignoring her cousin with perfection.

Children, dressed from head to toe, run and play, shouting joyfully. A soft smile appears on your face this time, the memories of your winters in Norway coming to mind. Since there are fewer people, you allow yourself to put your two arms around Leah’s waist and let yourself go against her. A year and a half has passed and you still find it frustrating not being able to touch her as much as you would like. But Leah is more of the kind to be discreet without being secret and you obviously respect her choices. On the other hand, you don’t see yourself going into an intense kissing session in public.

Leah puts her arms around you and puts several kisses on your face.

"Great victory" you do mischievously.

"As if it was going to happen otherwise" Leah replies with a goofy grin.

"I’m disappointed though, I won’t need to give you dozens of kisses to make you forget your defeat."

Leah laughs and you look up at her with a smile on her face. You love her laughter and being the reason of it.

"So, what’s the deal with Hailey?" you ask after a few minutes.

"Nothing special except she spent her teenage years flirting with my girlfriends or crushes and trying to steal them from me." sighs Leah, frowning. "It worked one time"

"Oh" you mumble while playing with her sweater. "She even tried with Jordan?"

"She never met Jordan. The first time she was in Australia and then Jordan was in her family. I didn’t really want them to meet, to be honest."

"Why?" you ask while frowning.

"I didn’t particularly want to see my girlfriend get picked up by my cousin."

The answer is logical, but your question involved something else. Leah has always been very honest with you about her relationship with Jordan. But you have to admit that to see that some people always seem to regret their relationship while you don’t hide yours… It’s painful. It obviously has nothing to do with a confidence you wouldn’t have in Leah, quite the contrary. You have complete and complete confidence in her. But your mind doesn’t wait à second to play with you. Are you less important on Leah’s life than Jordan was?

"Why am I here then?" you whisper after a moment of silence, trying to ignore the strange sensation in the pit of your belly.

"I thought she would have changed over time" sighed Leah "I was wrong."

Your insecurities give way to misunderstanding this time. You rise your eyes again, so that you can observe her at best.

"What are you talking about?" you ask while frowning.

"Oh please Babe, don’t tell me you didn’t notice her little game"

"We were just talking about Norway?"

You are lost and you look at Leah without understanding what she means. The pretty blonde looks at you a few seconds before smiling and rolling her eyes, realizing you aren't playing with her.

"It’s true that you have trouble realizing when someone is interested in you, I practically had to jump on you in a hospital bed for you to realize it"

You pout, even if your memories of that moment are intact in your memory. Like your first kiss, for that matter.

"When someone talks to you looking into your eyes, leaning in your direction with a hand on your arm or your knee, it’s an seduction attempt, Y/N."

"Oh."

Leah rolls her eyes again and smile before biting the corner of your jaw with a playful air on her face. You shove her elbow playfully, trying to escape her hold. You finally succeed, running away. Your feet slide on the snow trampled by others before you, but you manage to get away from Leah, passing the corner of the house. Knowing that you will not be able to walk away for a very long time, you take advantage of the few seconds that you have to take a handful of snow and turn it into a ball.

When Leah appears at the corner of the building, you send her the snowball, aiming a little too well since it arrives in full head. Fortunately, you didn’t squeeze the ball too much and the snow spread quickly in all directions and doesn't hurt her. It doesn’t seem to soften Leah, who stops dead and looks you right in the eyes.

"You’re so dead, Darling."

You swallow. You're so dead.

"I’m sorry?"

She resumes her race to catch you and you try to keep her in distance but she managed to catch you after a few meters, tackling you in the snow. The cold and humidity make you squeek, but it doesn’t stop Leah straddling your waist.

"I thought the Norwegians weren’t afraid of the cold?" said Leah maliciously, leaning over you.

"I never said anything about the snow getting in my clothes"

Leah laughs and throws you a handful of snow in the face to make a good figure and not show how much she has a soft spot for you. She has a reputation to uphold after all. But that doesn’t stop her from helping you rise up and take you back against her right after. You sigh at ease while putting yourself against her, your face in the hollow of her neck.

"I’m glad you’re here" said Leah after a few seconds, her lips in your hair.

"Yeah?"

"Mhm" she hums softly. "Just remind me to make sure to keep you away from Hailey next time."

"Will I really need to remind you?"

Your request is made with a small laugh and you lift yourself from her to look at her with amusement. Jealousy is a trait that you didn’t prepare for in her. But since you consider it a proof of love, it’s far from disturbing you. She’s jealous, but not so possessive. The difference is important to you.

"No, certainly not" Leah laughs before kissing your lips. "You’re mine."

"Yours"

You barely have time to exchange a new kiss that a cry of child sounds near you, making you both turn. Covered in snow from head to toe, James seems satisfied to find Leah.

"Lee! Jacob said the Arsenal players suck and then he threw me in the snow!"

"What?! I’m coming!"

Without hesitation, Leah hurries to join James and the Arsenal defenders in the snowball battle that began outside the house. When you come back with Leah’s coat, she’s already soaked, but she accepts it with pleasure. Her gloves too. And since you’re here, she takes the opportunity to steal a kiss from you before training you in battle. After all, it’s also your duty to defend Arsenal, right?

[mysunshinetemptress]

Heart Eyes

Leah Williamson x Reader

Warnings: none

You had been dying to meet Leah’s family from the minute she first started talking about them “there is loads of us and when we get together we are just big and loud and the atmosphere is always amazing and I just love spending that time with them.” You loved it anytime she talked about them it’s what you had always wanted yourself coming from a big loud family yourself, but the want of staying just the pair of you in your nice little bubble had stopped you from meeting her family on numerous occasions until today.

You had been watching the Euros since they kicked off in Manchester at the start of the month but now you where finally here about to enter Wembley and hopefully watch your girlfriend lead her country to a victory they so desperately deserved. You had talked every night about how they had played what they could improve on who you where taking to the next match, mostly going with your friends before she asked you one night in Brighton “if we make, no change that when we make it and we get to play the final in Wembley, my entire family is going to be there aunts uncles cousins grandparents Mum,Dad and Jacob.” You nodded along listening to her intently “I want you with them for it not sat separate like you have been, I want you with my family if we win this thing Y/n because one it’s about time you guys met finally bringing my world together and two because I want all the people I love in the one place.” You smiled at the phone letting it slip that she had just hinted at loving you before speaking up “when you win it darling.” Leah nodded smiling like the Cheshire Cat down the phone at you.

That led you to this moment of walking around the food stalls as the back of the seats looking for your stand before feeling your breath catch in your throat at the sight before you, Wembley Stadium was almost full with still an hour before kick off, it was a sight every person who worked in women’s sport would kill to see, it showed that they had made it through the countless hard times of trying to get people to take them seriously to believe they where just as good as the boys and it was Leah who had helped get them there leading England to it’s dream win “teared up the first time I saw it as well.” You turned looking at the captain of the Swiss team “even if it wasn’t for my team this shows that we are a lot closer to what we wanted then we thought no.” You nodded pulling Lia into a hug “I’m so proud of you Wally you where amazing really.” Lia smiled giving you a squeeze “would haven been better if I had you talking numbers in my ear but I get it girlfriends before everyone else.” You laughed pulling away “it’s easier to read when it doesn’t come to you in three different forms to be translated.” You both laughed Lia understanding that her sending you stats to read in Swiss German, Italian and French was not easy to break down however many times you tried for her. “Who are you waiting on.” You shook your head you had introduced all of the Arsenal girls who had attend the matches to all of your friends you had dragged along to watch and couldn’t help watch their reactions with a smile at the introductions “no one I’m eh.” Lia looked at you confused “well then where are you sotting I can’t believe you came by yourself to the final of all matches.” You shook your head laughing “I’m not going to be alone Wally don’t worry I’m meeting Leah’s family.” Lia looked at you shocked before a smile took over “oh my god today of all days she wants you to meet them I swear she doesn’t think sometimes how do you feel about it.” You smiled “nervous but I can’t wait I’ve wanted to meet them since she first told me about them.” You both stoped talking as a voice interrupted “we have wanted to meet you too since the minute she mentioned your name.” You turned taking in the three people in front of you and the gang that stood behind them realising it was in fact Leah’s family. “Oh your just as gorgeous in person.” You couldn’t help but feel your cheeks begin to redden as you looked at Lia who smiled at the family in front of you both “hi.” You held your hand out to shake “it’s lovely to meet you Mrs Williamson.” Leah’s mum shook her head pulling you into a hug “please call me Amanda darling.” You gave her a squeeze before letting her go and nodding before she turned “this is Jacob Leah’s younger brother.” You went to shake his hand before he pulled you into a hug as well “we finally get to meet instead of over the phone.” You laughed letting him go remembering all of the times he annoyed Leah robbing her phone and talking to you for a few minutes before handing it back. “Yeah finally get to meet my favourite Williamson it’s taken to long.” He laughed before stepping to the side as you looked at Leah’s dad “Y/n.” You let out a shaky breath before reaching out to shake his hand “Mr Williamson, it’s really great to meet you.” You looked at Lia nervously as the older man looked at your hand before breaking out into a smile and pulling you into another hug “it’s nice to finally meet you.” You smiled before stepping back and turning back to the family in front “how are you feeling about today.” You nodded “nervous but excited I’m so proud of her.” Amanda shook her head “no not about the match love about meeting the crazy lot behind us.” You smiled at the group behind Jacobs head “no better time like the present.” You smiled as Amanda grabbed your hand leading you over to crowd of people you spent the 20 minutes getting to know.

Leah sighed entering the pitch getting ready to warm up for the most imp match of her international career, looking around in aww she could have sworn her heart stopped as she watched you laugh with her family her mums arms wrapped around you pulling you into her as everyone looked so relaxed. Her smile seemed to widen as she took in her England jersey Williamson plastered on the back you were right where you belong where she wanted you to be most “oh skipper get your heart eyes out of the stands and on to the pitch.” Leah shoved Mary laughing as they ran a few drills her heart happy at what she saw.

Leah’s cousin Jordan had recently had a baby and wanting to experience this family moment altogether brought her daughter clad in an English jersey and shorts with bright pink ear mufflers to block out the noise. Ellie had been quite content sitting beside you on her Mims lap laughing as you talked to her babble nonsense as well as allowing her to play with your ring and bracelets as you talked to the adults around her. What she didn’t like was the noise or how her sleep was being snatched away by the fierce battle happening on the pitch. You had been on your feet screaming with everyone else when Ella had chipped in a gorgeous goal as well as cheering on Jill as she went after a German player for knocking her down. You had taken Ellie into your arms at the the time the penalty was being checked for a potential handball by none other then your girlfriend, Ellie had been trying to grab your attention placing her hands on your cheeks and babbling “hold on darling I’m watching Le I’ll give you all my attention in a second.” Amanda beamed beside you feeling herself get slightly emotional at the way you had fitted in so well with them all and how you spoke so kindly to Ellie. The match had been tied and was plunged into extra time as you hoped they wouldn’t have to do penalties as the anxiety they cause you just from watching on the couch most definitely would crash into you ten fold but you had been sat quietly praying that the girls scored once more to bring it home cursing yourself quietly as you looked down at the sleeping baby in your arms realising you wouldn’t be able to jump up when it happened, Jordan had offered to take her multiple times but the young girl had cried every time she was taken out of your arms. You regretted the decision when Chloe Kelly had put the ball in the back of the net in over time and had taken off down the pitch jersey seining behind her that didn’t matter when you looked down at Ellie and how content she was just lying there asleep. You slowly raised from the seat hugging Amanda’s side as you all slowly realised this could be it England could win euros with only five minutes left on the clock.

You didn’t jump when the final whistle blew you just bowed your head closing your eyes in relief they had done it the lionesses who had been banned from playing football 50 years ago had done what the boys had been trying to do since Bobby Charlton in 66 only they had never been told they weren’t allowed they had brought it home a major trophy with Englands name on it forever immortalised in history. You sniffed trying not to cry but when you turned looking at Amanda, Jacob and David hugging celebrating Leah the way she deserved you couldn’t help it trying to do it quietly as possible to not wake Ellie “oh Y/n they’ve done it.” You nodded resting your head on Amanda’s shoulder as she pulled you into her side “thank you for coming.” You shook your head “I would have missed this for the world but I’m so happy we got to meet today because I couldn’t imagine celebrating her with anyone else.” Jordan squeezed your shoulder grabbing your attention before you turned looking to the pitch to see Leah approaching you shifted Ellie slightly in order to wave at your girlfriend as she turned to look at you blowing a kiss before you noticed her eyes softening. “I’m going to marry her.” Georgia turned looking at Leah smiling immediately “yeah Le your heart eyes sort of give that away.” Leah shook her head ignoring Georgia “I told her I loved her by mistake I wanted to do it romantically but it sort of just spilled out when we where talking about stats on the phone the other night.” Georgia looked at Leah surprised “but now ready i mean look at her G.” Georgia smiled looking at you before waving beaming happily when you waved back “can I officiate the wedding.” Leah laughed nodding her head before blowing one last kiss to you and walking off to collect her medal.

You had all waited patiently in one of the boxes with the rest of the lionesses families for the girls to come in before you would all head off to celebrate. Jordan had taken Ellie back who was still napping quietly. You had mingled with Leah’s family before spotting Viv and going over and chatting about the season ahead and the short holidays planned before getting back to training. Standing with your back to the door you explained your job and ultimately how you and Leah met to her family “I’m a Statistics analyst for Arsenal.” They all looked at you so confused with what maths had to do with a sport like football “anyone know the movie moneyball.” David piped up clapping his hands together “yeah the one with Brad pit and Chris Pratt.” You nodded your head “basically that movie is a true story on how the Athletics created a baseball team using statistics so they looked at statistics like how fast they through the ball how hard they hit it to see who they wanted to sign from current teams as well as future prospects, my role is kind of the same I look at our current players our academy players and players who are benched that can do more for our team then they are doing sitting on a bench for 90 mins.” They all smiled impressed in your role “so how did that lead to you meeting Leah.” You smiled at the memory “she went wandering around London colony one of the days with Lia Walti who’s stats I was reviewing and discussing with her after her injury they ended up outside my office. Every morning after that she was stood outside every morning with a hot chocolate and that slowly changed to her waiting for me after training and then on the last day of Summer break last season she finally asked me out.” You jumped before relaxing feeling arms wrapping around your waist “and the rest is history darling.” You smiled at her nodding her head before moving forward as you knew her family would want to congratulate her on such a win.

Leah had been making her way around her family talking mostly about the win or you before she stopped watching you sat with her Nan playing with Ellie “oh Le.” Leah turned looking at her mum “hmm.” “She’s absolutely perfect in every way she adores you.” Leah smiled “not as much as I do her.” Amanda smiled squeezing Leah’s shoulder “I think you might have to fight her on being Ellie’s favourite.” Leah laughed “as long as it’s not the other way round and I have to fight Ellie.” Leah turned to her mum gully now “it’s her.” Amanda looked at her eyes softening “I’m going to marry her.” Amanda nodded “I know Bubba.” Leah looked at her mum confused “how.” Amanda laughed turning to look at you interact with the family “your heart eyes love.”

[batboyblog]

hey thanks for not being super doomer over these anti-trans bills. i kept on seeing so many people being defeated over them and it messed up my mental health for a while, like nothing could be done. but you did bring up some good points and shed some light onto people who are actively fighting for us so i thank you again

The queer movement, in the US any ways, has always been cyclical, we make big gains and push forward, then there's a super scary backlash. We're right now at the hight of a really scary backlash thats focused on trans people in particular but is anti-queer more generally. It's intense but its important to remember these backlashes don't generally last very long, they are scary, but each time they've happened, the mid to late 1970s, the 1980s, the early 2000s, the tide has gone out and gay rights, LGBT rights, and society's acceptance of LGBT people has been farther along than before they have never ever managed to turn us back in the years since Stonewall.

And as intense and scary as this is in some ways it's better than last time, when I was a gay teenager. in those days... in 2004 and 2008 the Democrats running for President were uniformly against gay marriage (the big issue of that time) they were trying to get us to settle for the not marriage alternative of civil unions. Only a handful of Congresspeople (some of them gay themselves) in DEEP! blue districts dared to support gay marriage outright. Today the Democratic Party is the most pro-LGBT major political party in the world, you had the President and every Democrat of any note making statements for TDOV a few days ago and you're not seeing even red state Democrats back down and agree to be "a little transphobic" for votes. It felt a lot more lonely last time when it was us and a handful of allies fighting the backlash with most of the Democratic Party on the side lines handwringing and saying "well can't you wait?"

any ways this movement is and will always be a struggle, the rights we've won, the acceptance we've received has never just been given, it's been won, through hard work. Everyone has to dedicate themselves to work in their corner of the earth to the best of their abilities and to push themselves past what they think they can do. That means hooking up with LGBT rights groups on the ground to protest, to rally, to try to support and comfort those queer people who are down and out in whatever way right now, it means digging deep and having hard and awkward conversations with the people in your life, if you're gay or trans or whatever and you got that one aunt/uncle/cousin/whoever in your life that loves you to bits but you know still votes Republican and you just don't bring it up because you don't want to hurt the relationship... have the talk keep having the talk as many times as you need to. Tell your grandparents if they don't know, tell your parents (if its safe or if you don't need their money any more) tell co-workers who don't know etc, they vote for us 2 to 1 if they know they know one of us. Finally register to vote, make sure all your friends particularly if you're young are registered and vote, vote in every election. Trust me it's AMAZINGLY easy to find the email of candidates for school board or city council and it's amazingly easy to ask questions. Last election I emailed every school board candidate about Holocaust education, and the state rep candidate about trans rights, she wrote me back a lovely note and mailed be a sticker she'd picked up from a trans rights group. It's amazingly easy to get involved, I volunteered with my local democrats for one election and they offered me the #3 spot in their local party, I have the phone numbers of my state rep and state senator without trying really, you can get in the room with these people, with candidates for governor, congress, I have my picture with 3 US Presidents? its not hard to do, and you can use chances like that to talk to them and show them your humanity and leave an impression that really matters in the long run.

sorry to RAMBLE but it's important that everyone do their part, pick a little something, a project to push this thing forward, people doom scrolling, particularly posting about how its hopeless does not help, posting in general doesn't help much even if its not doomerism, I think in the years after the anti-gay marriage Bush backlash we got very online and we got very "progress just happens" and a lot of people fell out of the habit or came of age without the habit of protest and without a local queer community or local progressive community and its very important in the face of this to find or build those and also understand in some places its gonna be years of work to get where we want to go, but we will and it'll be worth all the work.

[madschiavelique]

˖𓍯. 𝐌𝐞𝐫𝐫𝐲 𝐂𝐫𝐢𝐬𝐢𝐬. ★. ₊ ⭑

⟢﹒ pairing : matt murdock x audhd!reader x frank castle

⟢﹒ summary : your family is an ordeal to endure, full of disparaging remarks that make for a horrible evening. fortunately, Matt and Frank come to keep you company during the family diner and take you home to look after you.

⟢﹒ content warnings : hurt/comfort, extremely self-indulgent, reader's family are degrading, audhd reader close to breaking down, reader having sensory issues, reader getting overstimulated, the guys in this are so lovable and sweet boyfriends, afab!reader, no use of Y/N

⟢﹒ word count : 9,3k

⟢﹒ note : had quite a shitty christmas ngl, so i thought writing this piece of comfort would be helpful ! if you only want to read the comfort part, i'll place a separation by using a black divider between the hurt and comfort part. a huge thank you to my bestie @sunflowersandsapphires who proofread this <3. have a good read lovelies!

You passed a q-tip close to your eyes in the hope of correcting the curve of your make-up, trying with that scatterbrained perfectionism that accompanied you in even the most minute tasks to ensure that everything was symmetrical.

Nothing too extravagant, just something elegant, neutral, but that would do. The standard was just to look presentable, from the face to the rest of the body. Jeans, an oversized hoodie, nothing special.

This lack of personal distinction was undoubtedly due to the rejection of perception, the insistent stares, the embarrassing compliments that could suddenly put you in the spotlight tonight, an idea that made you feel profoundly uneasy.

You stepped back a little, checking to see if the much-desired symmetry had been achieved, and no sooner had you put down your utensil than you were asked to do the little cousins' make-up.

Tonight was an annual family reunion: Christmas, where aunts, uncles, grandparents and grandchildren got together over foie gras, salmon and dubious discussions. Where guests who have just left are criticised, where disparaging remarks are exchanged, and where the meal always ends up drifting into politics with more or less heated debates at the table.

You anticipated the evening, an anxious knot already forming in your stomach. You had a particular link with your family, of which the affection was strangely displayed if at all in a way you despised entirely. Every year was a different pain, a different bitter taste that lingered in your thoughts like poison, and you were not delighted to participate in this celebration when you would’ve preferred staying home.

Only one thing held you in place and convinced you that the night wouldn't be a constant and unrelenting hell: Matt and Frank were coming over.

This winter, it was the first time you would’ve been accompanied by them, and by anyone in fact. Knowing the rather strong opinions of your family, the simple idea of saying that you shared your life with two men in a more than platonic way had been dismissed a long time ago. A trouple? If that fell in the ears of one of your family members, you could be sure that you'd become the next freak of the night.

So you talked it over with the boys and came up with a plan to make sure you could bring them both along and not make a big deal of it: one of them would pretend to be your boyfriend, while the other would just be your friend that had nothing better to do for the celebration.

The choice of boyfriend fell on Frank, and friend on Matt.

He had asked why, and you had explained that it was obviously in no way because of favouritism or anything of the sort, but rather the simple fact that he would get more compliments behind his back if he wasn't with you than if he was. 

He'd frowned, but you'd had to explain to them how your family was sometimes built on clusters of shrill gossip, talking behind others' backs and later making remarks to their faces in tones of passive aggressiveness and wicked irony.

You also had to educate them, that no matter what was said about you tonight, not to react. They'd probably be itching to, it would be like a thread sticking out, but they were forbidden to pull on it.

You looked at the clock, seven past. You'd texted Frank to ask where they were and when they'd arrive. Eight thirty had been their reply, and you took a deep breath. An hour and a half to go.

You looked at yourself in the mirror, assuring yourself everything was alright and that you were presentable enough. You can do it, you kept telling yourself, this night knows an end.

The first complications arose sooner than you thought. 

First of all, you'd managed to find a decent seat in an armchair and not on a sofa. However, this seat was very close to the fireplace, where a blazing fire licked the brown logs with appetite. Very close, too close, close enough that it felt suffocating. 

You moved your chair back slightly as best you could, trying not to disturb the conversation that was already well underway.

You tried to take a few snacks, perhaps some cashews, crackers or cherry tomatoes might ease your boredom and distract you from the growing heat.

You pulled out your phone, hoping that Frank and Matt would get here sooner, and would've sent a message to that effect. Or perhaps was there a notification from any of your friends, a reel, a meme, anything-

"Put your phone away, we're with the family."

You looked up, your mother watching you and taking her glass in hand with a look of dissatisfaction. In a single instant, your cheeks heat up all the more as the fire in the fireplace presses against your skin, and you gulped.

"I just wanted to check if I had any news about Matt and Frank's drive," you explained simply, gently stuffing the phone into your pocket.

"They'll arrive when they arrive, but for now, be with us."

You nodded, discreetly biting your cheek as one of your only escapes for tonight went up in smoke. You would have much preferred to be able to escape a little and block out what was going on around you, even sorting out your gallery and deleting useless pictures would have been a more pleasant and less stressful activity.

But you couldn't, and you said nothing when it was your mother's turn to pick up her own phone and connect to the speaker to play her Christmas playlist. 

The children played together, which should’ve been a joy, but their overexcited screams, incessant movements and all that noise were enough to make you feel the headache setting in.

There were easily three different conversations going on around you, and your mother turned up the music in response. You waved, putting your hand in front of you as if you were lazily dribbling an invisible ball to indicate her to lower the volume, and she turned the music down a notch.

You clenched your jaw, thinking to yourself that this was a good start, even if everything else was getting harder to hold on to.

Choosing to wear a hoodie became almost a regret as the ambient heat from the fireplace worked its way up your spine to the nape of your neck, creating an unpleasant feeling. Soon enough, you had to take it all off as the first signs of nausea began to make themselves felt.

You weren't particularly comfortable with the idea, but everyone's attention was obviously diverted enough to take no notice of your actions. Except perhaps for one.

"You could have made an effort on your outfit, it's not very festive." Your mother sighed before taking a sip from her glass of champagne. "Hadn't you lost weight? It would be a shame to spoil the occasion."

You swallowed, the ground looking awfully interesting at this very moment. You knew what would have been said to you if you'd worn something more in the spirit of it, "You've got a nice body, you should wear that more often," and other remarks falling into the famous "you should insert-disobliging-action more often" category.

You should wear that more often. You should smile more often. You should come more often. But none of these requests were of the taste to be fulfilled by you tonight.

So you simply shrugged, having nothing in particular to say, and feeling your heart clench. You were stuck in this contradictory place where if you made one move slightly changing from your usual self to them, you were reprimanded on it, but if you didn’t do anything in particular, they highlighted the fact that it was disappointing you hadn’t done anything.

"Well, we're delighted to have you with us tonight!" chuckled an uncle, raising his glass to you.

"It sure makes a change from knowing she's in her cave," chuckles an aunt.

You smile, but there's no warmth behind the gesture. By cave, they mean your bedroom. Your habit of isolating yourself had brought you a certain reputation within your family, and for years now it has been a recurring joke. They laughed about it every time, but you saw it more as a broken record replaying the same snippet of music... speaking of which, your mother turned up the sound again, thinking you wouldn't notice.

"Could you turn it down please? It's really loud." you ask politely, in the most calm, composed and polite tone you could produce at the moment.

"Oh come on," your mother grumbles, rolling her eyes, "we're allowed to have fun."

She turned up the volume once more, and finally someone other than you told her it was too loud. Reluctantly, she lowered the sound slightly, but it was still not enough for you. Your hands lodge over your ears, hoping with all your heart that this would ease the strain on your eardrums.

Conversations sought to drown out the music, each member pushing their voice for any discussion. Kids were still running around, chasing one another by screaming at each other, and adjusting your eyes on anything without the certainty of getting a headache felt like mission impossible. 

Your hands on your ears helped slightly, and it was only then that your mother looked at you with a surprised expression.

"Does it really hurt?" she asked, raising her eyebrows.

"Yes," you nodded, "it really does."

Finally, she turned it down, and you exhaled as the others resumed a more appropriate though still higher volume of discussion than you'd prefer. The kids had been changed of room, making it more bearable for you to live through. 

"So, what have you been up to lately?" asks one of your grandparents, "how's work?"

Your cheeks heat up, the discussion now turned towards you, prompting you to take your glass in hand just to have something to quench your throat suddenly arid as the sahara.

"Very well, business is good." you smiled falsely, forcing your face to display the features they might normally expect to see.

"Great, and those two guests coming tonight, do you know them from work?"

How could you say that the circumstances in which you had met these two men were in a situation that included Frank and Matt falling into your flat, bloodied, and asking you for help? 

Karen, who you’d known through college, had advised them of your address, and when the first opportunity came up, they had taken the chance to make the most exceptional introduction you'd ever had in your life : stumbling at your place with cuts all around

"In a way, yes," you replied, pressing your lips into a thin line.

"One of them's her boyfriend, and the other's a lawyer," your mother informed the others, who seemed delighted by your seemingly noble company.

It's a good thing the flames in the fireplace were dying down and that it wasn't so hot anymore, because both your cheeks felt like you were resting the back of your hand on hot embers. It was a never-ending embarrassment to have such behaviour around you, saying aloud everything regarding you without you consenting to any information to be given. Wherever ridiculous actions or the slightest subject that was even a little new and out of their boredom-inducing daily lives occurred, they swarmed.

Nevertheless, the conversation drifted away to your delight, and at the mention of your loves, you couldn't stop thinking about them. You would have liked to check the time, to see if they had any problems on the way that might have delayed them, but you knew that such conduct was likely to earn you an additional remark about the use of your telephone. After all, she could find openings as easily as water in a colander.

Just then, a dance song began to play which, objectively, had nothing to do with the Christmas spirit. So everyone stood up, moving the chairs to get more room, and you helped in this cacophony of moved furniture. 

You stood to one side as everyone got to the centre of the room, their dance steps resembling a veritable collective epileptic seizure of which you had no desire to become another member.

You took the opportunity to take refuge in the bathroom, carefully closing the door behind you and sitting down on the toilet to take a deep breath. The after-effects of all these mixed sensations were beginning to make themselves known.

Your body was as taut as a bowstring, as if every muscle had contracted from a high fall, and it felt as if releasing all the tension would break you in thousands of small pieces. Your heart wasn't beating particularly fast, but it was beating hard, and you couldn't ignore it.

You took a deep breath, letting your head fall back as you closed your eyes. Your throat and chest were tight, so tight that you felt like crying right now. But you couldn't, it would be too noticeable once you got out of here, and you didn't want to give them the pleasure of having an extra subject to talk about at the end of the evening once you'd gone. It would do them too much honour, and you couldn't afford to give them any.

You were so tired, you couldn't take it any more, the fatigue coursing through your body like you'd run a marathon of shame. You breathed in again, feeling your previously tight chest slowly relax as your body was jolting a bit from the unease.

This wouldn't last forever. By the end of the evening, after dessert, you wouldn't be in this house surrounded by all these people, all these eyes, all these mouths, all this noise.

That's when your phone buzzed, and without missing a beat, you pulled it out of your pocket. On the screen was a single message from Frank that gave you tremendous reassurance:

We're here.

You bit your lip, nodding slowly. One last breath for courage and you stood up, opening the door of the bathroom. Without anyone noticing, you grabbed your hoodie and stepped outside into the cool of the night.

The sudden chill brought you unparalleled comfort, biting your cheeks hot with frustration and embarrassment. Perhaps the night would heal you, that its cool caress would apply its balm of softness to all that pressure and relieve you of your tension.

You turned your key ring to find the one for the gate a little further on, trying to walk and not sprint to it. Inserting the key almost frantically but controlling your excitement and relief at their presence, you opened the game.

And there they were, smiling at you.

"Evening sweetheart," Frank smiled when he saw you.

"Sorry we took so long," Matt apologised, pressing his lips together.

You looked behind you to make sure no one had followed you outside, closing the gate slightly so that you wouldn't be seen. You knew that even from here, your group of three could be seen as a pile of meat around which the vultures would circle, and you didn't want to risk being their next meal.

You hugged them both, relieved to have them close to you, and the suddenness and desperation in your gesture almost seemed to surprise them. They hugged you back, kissing your temple.

"Your cheeks are warm," Frank chuckled, pressing his face harder against yours, making you giggle.

"Is everything okay?" asked Matt, stroking your hair, "you're all tense."

Of course, Matt noticing every microscopic detail as usual, couldn't help but pick up on how stiff your body looked, and how the smell of stress covered your skin in the thinnest film. There was no point in lying to Matt, or pretending to divert the subject with Frank, so you sighed.

"Lots of noise, not much serenity," you replied, letting your head fall against the devil's chest.

You were trying to cherish all this a little more, because once you were back in the house, you and Matt wouldn't be able to touch each other again except perhaps to pass a plate across the table and let your fingers deliberately brush against each other.

They'd already been told by you what to expect, and even if they were prepared, they were sorry to find you like this.

"We won't stay here the whole night," Matt reassures as he wraps his arms around you, stroking your back. "Let's hope we get out of here before Frank goes so far as to take the silverware from the table and threaten anyone with the butter knife."

"You're ruining my fun, Red. Now I've got to find something more inventive," sighed the latter.

"Take the star at the top of the pine tree, it'll be sharp enough," you suggested, turning your head towards him, cheek still pressed against Matt's chest. 

"See that, that's Christmas spirit," smiled Frank.

You loosened your embrace, Matt gently kissing your lips. He savoured the moment, and so did you, because this kind of proximity with him wasn't going to happen again for several hours. 

"Ready?" asked Frank, letting his pointer finger form a hook to caress the skin of your cheek.

You looked at the lights further away from the house, hearing the music from here and already preparing in the second part of the night.

"Ready," you breathed in before reopening the gate and letting them through.

You felt your heart clench again, the unpleasant tingle of anxiety coursing through your veins in a fluid traffic that seemed impossible to dilute. You tried to breathe calmly, preparing yourself once again to face the suffocating interior of sounds, movements and remarks.

"Remember, if you need to take a break from all this and go outside, squeeze my hand three times, okay sweetheart ?" reminded Frank, placing his hand on the small of your back.

"Yeah," you swallowed, nodding softly as a tight little smile spread across your lips.

You'd agreed to pretend, in case things got desperate and you needed a break, that Frank was a smoker, and that you and Matt shared his ciggy break together.

All of this preparation had come from the fact your mother had passed an entire questioning about your boyfriend - or at least one of them - to prepare herself conventionally. You knew how she was, and such coaching with the guys was for the better.

Still, his hand on your back was reassuring, and made things easier to bear.

You opened the door, and everyone turned to you with a big "Ah" of satisfaction. Introductions were made as both took off their jackets. Frank remained friendly but guarded - as usual, typical Frank - and Matt seemed to bloom in this social environment like a freshly blossomed flower.

It didn't take long for most of your family to decide that they loved Matt. His well-timed humour, his natural charm, his eloquence, everything about him made him a man to be admired.

"Isn't there any way he could be your boyfriend instead?" said an aunt, approaching you as Matt and Frank continued to be introduced.

"He's way out of her league," sneered another, "they both are, actually."

You pressed your lips together, blowing falsely from your nose to feign amusement. You knew Matt could hear every little jab at you tonight, and if he was feeling any frustration, he was hiding it perfectly.

"Where did you get them? I want one too," said the first, making the other laugh.

"Might get the lawyer's phone number," she replied.

"Yours is very fine too," remarked the other, "how'd you manage to get him ?"

They both said these sentences as if their own husbands weren't in the room, and as if the possibility of you being in a relationship with one of them was a miracle, or just a huge stroke of luck.

"Through work," you replied mechanically and through clenched teeth before moving into the kitchen to help with the dishes.

You knew these sorts of remarks were to be brought up, on how you’d managed to surround yourself so well. Matt and Frank had long wondered how your confidence in yourself was so low, but maybe tonight would’ve been the perfect example as to why it was the case.

The transition to the table was almost seamless. Everyone sat down, the seating order meticulously adapted for everyone. Fortunately, you found yourself between Frank and Matt. You were inwardly grateful for the choice of decorations when you realised that the tablecloth was quite long, and that the reassuring hand Matt had just put on your thigh wouldn't be noticeable.

You breathed softly, the warmth of his hand anchoring you better in all of this and giving you something to focus on that was sweeter than any mean remarks.

Of course, with every new person around the table comes an interrogation to get to know them. Questions of all kinds followed for the boys, about their work, their activities, your aunts of course looking for answers as to how you and Frank had ended up together.

You'd worked it out and decided that Matt had introduced you to Frank and that, through your shared tastes in literature and other things, you'd ended up bonding.

"If books are the new way to getting to a man I've got some reading to do," joked one of the aunts, making the table laugh unanimously, "never thought you'd manage anything of the sort."

The pique directed at you made you feel as if you were swallowing a large ice cube with difficulty, but you covered your discomfort with an expert fake smile. Masking all that discomfort since the start of the evening was beginning to prove complicated, but you weren't going to use the smoking-break Joker just yet.

You could see in the corners of your eyes how Matt was wearing a stiff smile, and how Frank's jaw was tense. Gently reaching under the table, you took both their hands, turning to Frank with another smile that this time wasn't imbued with the polite mask you wore, but with sincerity.

"Let's just say I was lucky " to have found two such extraordinary people who fill my life with love on a daily basis, would you have finished.

You squeezed their hands, drawing small circles on their skins as they both smiled.

The starter was over, the main course continued as your stomach was refusing to let you eat anything, and the whole thing brought together discussions that made you uncomfortable to say the least. All sorts of unconscious or simply cruel racist, homophobic and even transphobic remarks were placed on the table. 

You remained silent, not speaking particularly. You had no desire to take part in this kind of discussion, given how horrible the venom on each other's tongues was. You just hoped it would all be over soon, looking forward to going home with Frank and Matt.

The cousins were chatting away like fascists, one talking about Napoleon, and the old days being the best, while talking about the questionable politicians he was listening to on the radio. 

The cheese arrived, and then came the little break just before dessert. They put on a film for the children, so that the adults could have a quiet chat without all the heckling.

Hearing the parents' arse jokes, you'd think they'd be fucking each other on the table if they thought it was funny. You could very well let your own sassy tongue out, say that if this aunt isn't listening to what's being said already it's because she's working out her next gossip, but you have to forgive her because she wouldn't be like this if her husband wasn't cheating on her, or maybe he's cheating on her because she's like this. 

To tell the uncles that they're less likely to die from terrorism than from alcoholism, to tell one aunt to strap the kids up tight because her husband is going to be driving as if he had an autonomous car. And that you would’ve liked to finish by saying that no matter the smiles, the village fete, all it took was a small difference for everyone to see the real faces.

But you said nothing, keeping to yourself those comments that would only serve to fuel their hatred. 

As Frank came up to grab another drink, your mother sat next to you on the sofa while the two boys came to be monopolised by aunts and uncles. A procession of rednecks near Frank discussing his familiarity with weapons and his military past, while the aunts were wiggling around Matt hoping to curry favour with the young lawyer.

"It's too hot in here," you murmured as you shifted a little from your mother, but she wasn't letting go and placed her head on your shoulder.

"But I want to be close to you," she said with a pout, the alcohol making her visibly affectionate.

You tensed, the desire to get away from it all running through your body, screaming under your skin. But there was nothing you could do, frozen there in the middle of it all, having to endure the situation as best you could.

The familial conversation drifted onto the subject of intellectuality, on the fact that your family was made up of nothing else, or at least for the most part. And you felt tiny, because they were generally right: they were all huge readers of the classics, who knew a lot about history, literature, philosophy and other human sciences. 

All these subjects were familiar to you, because you had had to learn them, to master them in the face of the global family demand for the cultivation of excellence.

Even though you were the ugly duckling of the family, that didn't stop you sharing this knowledge and they were all aware of it. You were able to inject the conversation with valid arguments and insights you'd learned on your own that were important to the topic, and whenever the occasion to say something wise came up that you grasped, they seemed more tolerable to you.

When the discussion turned to the descendants of a painter, you were asked to verify the accuracy of certain statements. So you looked it up on your phone, but barely half a minute later, your mother couldn't resist reprimanding you:

"What did I tell you on your phone? Not when we're with the family."

Irritation from all the previous events of the evening was beginning to press down on you, and it was with some irritation that you replied: 

"But I've been asked for some information."

Your voice was almost like that of a child defending themselves against someone calling them a liar, and this tone seemed to displease her when her gaze hardened.

"Don't talk to me like that, and put your phone away."

You bit the inside of your cheek so hard it felt like it was going to bleed, and said nothing as you put your phone back in your pocket while the conversation around you resumed.

You didn't meet Frank's gaze, nor did you turn to Matt, because you knew that this simple gesture would show weakness and a cry for help. However, you had made them swear not to interfere, and you remained silent for a while, trying to calm yourself down as you watched the fire ripple in the fireplace like an orange veil dancing in the wind while you fiddled with your fingers.

The tic was automatic; Matt and Frank would have preferred to have taken your hand in theirs to prevent this torment. 

What irritated you most of all was the profound injustice of the whole evening. You wouldn’t say anything, and you’d be considered too silent so people would ask you questions, but once you opened your mouth they were not satisfied with your answers. You couldn’t take your own phone, when all the aunts had their own, texting to their friends and all. Children had the right to get away in another room and watch a movie, while you had to stick there doing nothing but listening to whatever was said.

You couldn’t wait for the night to come to an end.

It was time to store the presents everywhere and pretend to the children that Santa had stopped by while they were watching the movie. Everything was placed in colourful piles, and when the children were called, they ran down the stairs and began the frantic tearing of gift wrap to an orchestra of shrieks and shredding.

All the accumulated sounds made you grit your teeth, tightening your throat and making you want to cry. You could feel the limit coming, and you needed a break to prevent you from imploding.

This time you took Frank's hand and squeezed it three times. He turned to you immediately, stroking your cheek before telling Matt. As quickly as they could without looking rushed, they put on their jackets and went out after you.

The night air calmed some part of you instantly, the contrast between all the hectic ambiance inside and the calmness of the outside felt like two extreme opposite worlds living by the only separation of a door.

To make sure that even from the outside there would be no doubt about this cover, Frank had to play along by taking out a cigarette and lighting it. He seemed irritated, and the idea of that Joker card almost seemed to play a real asset in all this to calm him down.

"How the fuck do they sleep at night?" he grumbles as he puffs out his first drag, "it's like they take every opportunity they get to pull you down."

"It's alright, let it slide." you sigh, crossing your arms over your chest.

"No it's not," he continues, "I can't believe you managed to handle their company for all these years."

"Didn't have much of a choice," you breathe.

"I know you said it was bad, I just didn't imagine it was constantly so," Matt confirmed.

"If I go back there I might actually punch them in the face," Frank grumbles before taking another drag on the cigarette.

"All that's left is the presents from the adults, then the Yule log, and then we'll be off, okay?" reassured Matt, placing his hand gently on your shoulder.

The touch of his hand brought a comforting warmth, and his words managed to reassure you. You looked at them both, thinking about how it would’ve been without them : unbearable, definitely. You had barely been able to handle it before they came, but now that they were here, you felt safe, like half of the poison that was thrown at you was not as effective.

They had changed you, made you feel loved, cherished, proud. They had been trying to break these patterns, the self depreciation, the self sabotage, the lack of self confidence. They were helping you build yourself back up from the ruins everyone else had left, and you were the most grateful to the universe to had brought them in your life.

"Thank you both, for being here," you admitted, your voice almost cracking, the coolness of the night giving you a feeling of security that was enough to relax your knotted throat.

They turned towards you, their faces softening. They knew what you were going through, what you were enduring for the night, and how complicated and unpleasant it must have been until they arrived. 

Frank took you in his arms, the smell of tobacco already permeating his clothes. Matt must not have been enjoying it at all, smelling that darkly sugary, smoky smell all around him, but whatever personal discomfort he was experiencing he didn't let it show. 

"It's the least we can do, beautiful," he replied, stroking your back.

"We just wish we could shut their mouths," Matt agreed, holding back from participating in the embrace as you’d instructed him.

"And stop this whole group of women from praising you?" sneered Frank, which made you smile.

Matt's nose scrunched up and his bottom lip curled in disgust at the remark.

"One of them wanted to feed me appetisers, and another asked me about being blind and whether I'd mind being in a relationship with someone whose looks I can't see." he said with a sigh.

"And then?" asked Frank curiously as you both turned to face the lawyer.

"I told her that I didn't need to see to know who was good-looking, and that if I chose my relationships purely on looks, I wouldn't know true friendship or love."

"All those poetic words must have pleased her," Frank punctuated with a whistle.

"Not until I told her my grandmother wore the same perfume as her."

You and Frank both laughed softly, truly impressed at how Matt was handling all this flirting and cringe from several women altogether. 

But this calm moment had to have an end, as the cigarette grew smaller and smaller by the minute. Frank broke away from your embrace to finish it and stubbed it out on the wall.

This little outing had done you a world of good. The cool night air had refreshed you, its delicate silence giving you a break from all the noise and the terrible comments from your family all the while Frank and Matt allowed you this break from constant barbs.

You returned again inside, the end of the opening of presents for the children welcoming you. And so the opening of those for the adults began, all the parcels being stored on the table in more chic and sober wrappings. The grandparents started, Frank standing behind you with one hand on your shoulder and the other holding his glass of champagne.

One by one, they all opened their presents, until it was your turn. Embarrassment gripped your body as all eyes were on you, and you dreaded the opening simply by being watched with boredom mixed with curiosity - to see how you might react and make the slightest faux pas.

You went about it slowly, wishing to unpack properly and not act like a barbarian tearing everything apart at once. Your aunt beside you imitated a yawn at the fact that you were making them wait, and everyone laughed, a tense little smile nailed to your cheeks.

What you got in the end wasn't too bad, nor too far from what you could appreciate, surprisingly. Of course, you had to force yourself to smile at most of the useless gifts that gave you absolutely no pleasure, but you thanked everyone, and the presentation of gifts moved on to the next ones.

"Didn't you get her anything?" your mother asked the boys.

"Her presents are at my place," Frank informed her.

The sentence made your heart spike up, a sudden warmth colouring your chest in pink softness as the sparkles of it brought the tingling sensation of tears at the corners of your eyes. Presents, they had gotten you presents. 

You were not going to cry, of course not, but the lump formed in your throat gave you enough of a hard time that you had to grab your drink and sip on it.

"Speaking of your place, have you looked at the traffic to get home?" questioned Matt, "I don't think I want to take too long."

"I'll have a look," he said, taking his hand off your shoulder to pick up his phone.

You wondered if Matt had had enough, if his own senses had been overwhelmed by all of this and he was pondering on going home. But then realised what they were doing : feigning traffic disruption in order to get home early and save yourself a lot of awful time.

"I think we're going to have to go," Frank nodded as he put his phone away. "Sweetheart? Ready?" he asked, bending over so that his chest pressed against your back.

"Yes," you said as you took a big breath and stood up, saying goodbye to the whole family.

You dreaded the hugs, the kisses on the cheeks or simply the fact of pressing them together and imitating the sound of what should have been a fake smooch, but with a surge of tiredness you objected to this using the excuse of " time is running out".

In no time at all, Matt and Frank had gathered up all your things and were carrying them, heading for the entrance hall to collect theirs.

In less time than it takes to say it, you were finally outside, walking up to the gate. You felt as if your lungs were being squeezed as you went along, almost expecting to feel a rope being pulled tight inside you to tie you to the house, for someone to come out and catch you or whatever. You felt almost like a gnat trying to escape from the spider's web in which it had been stuck a little too long.

You stuck the key in the lock of the gate, turned it hastily, then opened it to let them go with you, closing the big opaque metal door with that step. The pressure hadn't gone away from your body yet, every limb feeling like it was made of thick, rough foam where multiple needles had pierced you in the many crevices they'd already left and were digging even deeper. 

You looked for the car in the hope of getting to it as quickly as possible, but you let out a little squeal of surprise when your feet flew off the ground as Frank swept you up in his arms like a princess.

"Ain't no way you're gonna walk, you've had enough exhaustion for the night," he said, tightening his grip on your back and the back of your knees.

"But-" you began reflexively, although the idea of giving up this position didn't bring you any comfort.

"Ah ah," he stopped, "don't wanna hear about it." If he had his two hands free and was being childish, he would have put them over his ears, singing la la la and pretending not to hear anything.

But his hands were firmly under you, giving you all the security you could have dreamed of and the beginnings of a comfort that would last all evening until you'd sleep.

"Circus night is over," Matt huffed, taking a deep breath, "I think I've heard enough nonsense for one year."

"Lucky for you, next one's less than a week away," sneered Frank.

"I'd rather lose a second sense than inflict this on myself and our angel a second time," the demon replied as he grabbed the car keys from Frank's pocket and opened it.

He opened one of the rear doors, letting Frank gently place you in and strap you in place, placing a kiss on your forehead as he stepped aside to let Matt pass and place the few bags in the boot.

Matt sat down beside you, and you let your head fall on his shoulder. You felt the tingles of anxiety under your skin lodge in your legs and squeeze your chest, the rush to get out of here weighing heavily on your head.

Frank sat in the front seat, turning the car key and making it purr, then drove off. 

As the car rounded the corner, all the tension began to dissipate and you let the breath you'd been holding in escape from your chest. Your whole body felt heavy, your hands gloved with marble, your legs booted with lead and your head stuffed with cotton.

You felt the softness of Matt's lips as he placed a kiss on your forehead, his hand coming to rest on your thigh as you hummed under the sweetness of his comfort.

"It's all over now," he said, resting his chin on your head, "we're going to take care of you."

You snuggle up to him, your hand coming to rest on his as you breathe softly. Your fingers drew soft, formless patterns on the back of his hand, fighting the fatigue that had fallen on you like an anvil.

The moment was sweet, Matt's warmth through his clothes spreading close to you as you turned his hand onto his back to gently trace the lines from his palm up to his callused fingers. 

"I'd have to get rid of some of them," grunted Frank, who clearly hadn't yet calmed his frustration, "I'm sure they'd be much better off in an asylum."

"It's an insane asylum, not an asshole asylum," Matt remarked, "you'd have to build asshole asylums but... you can imagine the size of the buildings."

"Yeah, still, maybe I should have burnt my cigarette on one of their cars."

"What a nice Christmas present," chuckled Matt.

"I can be generous sometimes," confirmed Frank.

"Especially when you threaten people," you agreed.

"A pittance," Matt snickered, "Is that one of my sweaters by the way ?

"Yes," you sigh, "I'll have you know it's been criticised tonight."

"Really? By whom."

"I'll let you guess."

"A bit bold coming from someone dressed like Norman Bates who dresses like his mother," Frank grumbled.

You laughed softly, a sort of little venting session taking place in the car like a debriefing following a bizarre situation.

"With all those women around, Red's charm knows no bounds," laughed Frank, "you've caught the eye of one in particular it seems."

"My aunt? She's suffering from too much oestrogen. If you're interested, I can put you in touch," you grinned.

" I'd rather sleep on cotton sheets." grunts Matt as his hand grabs your thigh and squeezes a little tighter, letting a small chirp of amusement escape from between your lips.

The ride continued, and your stomach went all hollow, grumbling with displeasure at the emptiness you'd left it.

"Didn't eat much, did you ?" asked Matt softly.

"Barely touched her plate," confirmed Frank at the front.

"Didn't feel like it," you murmured.

"Is there anything you'd like when you get home?" proposed the demon, interlacing his fingers with yours.

"Something sweet," you hummed, adjusting your chin to rest it on his shoulder.

"Anything else?"

"Two pairs of arms around me," you smiled.

They both grinned, and the ride went by in a flash. You untied yourself once you'd arrived, stretching slightly as you shifted to open the door beside you, but Matt's hand from your thigh came to grab your hip and pull you back to him in a gesture that seemed immensely easy.

You turned to face him, confused for a moment, as he kissed your cheek.

"No walking, remember?" he smiled as Frank opened his car door to come towards yours.

You sigh, shaking your head slightly as you roll your eyes. They were overdoing it, but you weren't going to stop them. 

"Come here princess," Frank said as he pulled your hips towards him to take you in his arms again.

You wrapped your hands around the back of his nape, nestling your face in his neck and smelling his subtle cologne on his warm skin.

Matt took the bags and went ahead to open the door for you. The familiar smell of your real home seemed to wash all your worries from your body as you took a simple breath.

The bags were deposited in the hallway, Frank walking over to the sofa to set you down.

"Stay right there and don't move," he informed, hands on either side of you as he kissed you softly.

"What happens if I move ?" you asked, placing one of your hands on his arms.

"I'll tie you up like a pretty present," he chuckled as he kissed you again, "the most perfect present we'd ever have."

"Is that a threat or a promise?" you teased, your foreheads pressed together.

"It's a statement," he concluded.

He straightened up, and you were already missing his presence near you, but you respected his request - or rather his order - and remained seated on the sofa. Your head fell back, your body moulding itself to the shape of the couch under the effect of the evening's emotional turmoil. The tension drained away more and more, relaxing your tired muscles and making you yawn. 

It wasn't long before Matt and Frank returned with more casual outfits and packages in their hands. You straightened up, bending your knees on the sofa about to get up, but remembering the fact that walking wasn't a possibility, you explained: 

"I've got some for you too, am I allowed to go and get them?"

"For us?" said a surprised Frank, pointing at himself as if there was some mistake.

"You mean the packages under the first step of the stairs?" questioned Matt, "I thought those were packages you forgot about for the others."

"No, these are for you," you confirmed as you sat back down on your knees on the sofa.

They stood like that, one blinking repeatedly while the other kept his lips parted.

"You really didn't have to-" Matt began, but you stopped him immediately.

"Tsk tsk, if I don't have the right to stand up, you don't have the right to stop me from giving you presents."

"But-" resumed Frank.

"Ah ah," you smiled in the same tone he'd given you earlier, "don't wanna hear about it."

He parted his lips in a smile but said nothing as Matt laughed softly to the side. They approached you, Frank placing the packages on the coffee table as Matt turned away.

"I'll get them," he eventually says, heading for the top step, cracking it open and pulling out three packages to take back to the coffee table.

"The medium one is for you," you say, pushing the first one towards Frank, "and the big and small one are for you," the two boxes sliding across the smooth table towards Matt.

The packets seemed a particularly complex conundrum to them, but you urged them to open their presents.

Matt opened his and discovered a 7kg weighted blanket and an anti-stress ring that could be twirled on his finger.

"I know you sometimes ask me or Frank to lie on top of you because the weight makes you feel better, so I got you this, which should help if neither of us is ever there to give you what you want. As for the ring, I know that times at the Court can be stressful, so I thought it might help you find a point of anchorage." 

Matt seemed at a loss for words, taking the duvet between his fingers and touching the silk sheet you'd wrapped it in. Putting the ring on his index finger, which fit perfectly, he smiled to himself.

As for Frank, he removed the wrapping and his lips parted.

"I've been looking for these for months," he said, looking at the few books he'd been talking about over and over again. "How did you... ?"

You'd scoured countless bookshops, searched book repositories, researched the clearance of certain titles by libraries to find these books that had all but disappeared very quickly while the work was being republished and retranslated.

"A good girlfriend never reveals her secrets," you smiled.

The two of them placed their gifts on the table and came to embrace you, nestling their faces in the crooks of your neck. They held you close, gently kissing your skin between hushed "thank you's", dotting your neck and face with soft pecks.

"What did we do to deserve you," Frank murmured, pulling back slightly.

"I could ask the same about you both," you smiled, running your fingers through their hair.

They kissed you again, then handed you their own gift. You opened it, and it was something you'd talked about several times before, something that was very close to your heart and that they'd decided to give you. This time it was your turn to hug them, and they laughed as you showered their faces with kisses.

"What do you say to a nice bath, and then some dessert before bed?" offered Matt.

"I think that's the best idea of the evening," you confirmed, caressing his cheek and kissing his nose.

Without further ado, Frank took you in his arms like a koala, letting your legs cross behind him as you pressed your cheek against his shoulder. He led you and Matt into the bathroom, the devil bending over the tub to prepare the bath.

Frank lifted you slightly and sat you down on the wash basin counter, letting his hands fall on both your thighs and stroking them gently.

"As much as I love your makeup, we're gonna have to remove it sweetheart", he explained, kissing your cheek.

So mechanically, you grabbed your make-up remover, ready to start the process. But Frank stopped you in your tracks, gently taking the bottle in one hand and a cotton pad in the other.

He poured a small amount onto the white disc, dosing as you did regularly.

"Close your pretty eyes for me," he murmured, taking your chin between his fingers and starting to remove your make-up.

Frank had this charming habit, in the evenings when you were getting ready for bed and he wasn't out playing vigilante, of watching you remove your make-up. He knew a lot about your day by the way you went about it: slow and thoughtful was the result of a good day, faster and more jerky obviously reflected one full of frustration, and sometimes when your movements were slow and your eyes half-closed, it generally meant that the day had been very, very long.

He concentrated, pressing tenderly against your skin as he removed iridescent, matte and mascara from your eyelids, occasionally pausing to kiss your lips, making you smile and giggle softly with each peck.

You almost wanted to put lipstick on his lips and let him kiss your whole face until the red of your cheeks was indistinguishable from the colour of the lipstick.

He asked you to look up this time to clear away the mascara smears and the black marks left in their path. He was doing this with the utmost precision, and this personal attention sent tickles all the way to the back of your skull.

"Look at me?" he asked and you complied, a smirk forming on his lips. "The prettiest girl."

He came over and placed a strand of hair behind your ear before stepping aside to throw away the little cotton disc.

"I'm gonna go and check what snacks we have, Red? I'll leave you my favourite part, but only because it's christmas alright?" he informed before kissing the tip of your nose one last time and stepping out of the bathroom.

Matt, so far checking the temperature of the bath water to make sure it was correct, shook off his damp fingers and wiped them on a towel before standing up and moving between your legs.

"I'll have you stand up just for a bit," he cautioned, taking your hands and pulling you slightly towards him to get you to your feet. "Arms up."

At his request, you raised your arms. His hands pinched the bottom of your hoodie and pulled it up your body. He laid it to one side, continuing with your t-shirt, his fingers still warm from the water sliding delicately against your skin.

"So that's Frank's favourite part?" you smiled, "undressing me?

"I have to say it is," he stated as he unbuttoned your trousers and panties, sliding them to the floor where you lifted your feet to get out of them.

"And what's your favourite part?" you asked as he took off your socks and raised up to your level.

"The one that's about to happen."

He guided you to the bath and let you slide in gently. The temperature was perfect, just as you liked it, and you let out a moan of ease from between your lips until most of your body was submerged in the bath.

Matt took a stool from the bathroom and placed it beside you, taking a cup at the same time to pour water over your hair. He applied himself with great care, taking his time to make sure no drops got into your eyes.

Your muscles relaxed naturally with the heat, finally eradicating the tension in your body once and for all.

You felt Matt's fingers dip into the bath water, sliding up from the skin of your thigh and gently up your body, tracing your silhouette under the water.

"You're beautiful," he whispers as his wet fingers rose from the water to caress your cheek.

"How could you know?" you asked softly, watching as he stared into the emptiness.

"My hands don't lie to me, and I know the beauty of the mind at first sight of the heart" he smiled as he took your bottle of shampoo, pouring some into his palm before massaging your head.

To help him, you straightened up, pivoting slightly to get your back to him. His fingers snaked through your hair, massaging gently and lathering everything up slowly. He worked the back of your neck, muscles tense, letting your head go with the movement of his hands.

With your neck now leaning back, Matt smiled gently before kissing your forehead.

"That's my favourite part," he confirmed, resuming the massage.

You let your eyes close, surrendering to the gentleness of the moment and Matt's touch. He was pressing, caressing, painting with his fingers as if he were holding the most beautiful and delicate material in his hands. 

Too soon for your liking - because you would have preferred this moment to have no end - he rinsed your hair, letting the white mousse spread over your shoulders and applying it lightly to your skin. He took the sponge, soaking it in shower gel before squeezing it into a foam so that he could spread the bubbly cloud over your skin.

He took one of your arms, raising it so that he could get it straight and soap you up properly, and he kissed the length of your skin before the softness of his kisses was erased by the little soap bubbles that the sponge left in its wake. He did the same for your second arm, and your leg, and the second after that, covering your whole body with kisses and softness.

At first you thought it was unfair, because no sooner had he placed a kiss on your skin than he wiped it away with white foam. But you were soon comforted by the idea that these weren't kisses being chased away, but kisses being kept, kisses that seeped under your skin and brought you all the warmth that the bath was beginning to no longer contain.

Before the water got too cold, he gently rinsed you off and got you out of the tub, wrapping you in your bathrobe.

Frank came back into the bathroom at last, bringing clean, more comfortable clothes in his hands. They both took their time drying your hair and dressing you, whispering sweet nothings to you as they kissed your cheeks and temples.

Each kiss washed away the stress you'd been feeling, replacing bitterness with sweetness, and you relished every moment of it.

Once again they carried you in their arms to the sofa, where Frank had placed a plethora of foodstuffs of all kinds on the table, snacks and other sweet products that you might have wanted at the time.

You watched several episodes of a series that you'd been watching together lately, commenting on it and falsely - or actually - taking offence at the particularly stupid choices made by the main characters.

You didn't need any more than that. All the love in the world was with them.

They had taught you how one hand changes when you put it on top of another, that another world is possible but is present in this one, that there is always a dream asleep.

They were standing on your eyelids, and their hair was in yours, they were engulfed in your shadow. Their eyes were always open, they wouldn't let you sleep, their kisses in the light made the sun evaporate.

Back pressed against the chest of one, face hidden in the nape of the other's neck, tonight you fell asleep, fulfilled, safe and loved.

[unforth]

We are one Iowa caucus into the absolute shitshow that is going to be the US 2024 elections, and I'm already sick of seeing takes downplaying the risk that Trump and his fascist followers represent.

Look. Around 1900, my mother's grandparents immigrated to the Lower East Side of New York City. They brought with them children born in Europe (Poland? Ukraine? which country they were in depends on what year we're talking about) - we're not 100% sure they were THEIR children, even, but there were three, and they were young, and they came. But my great-grandparents had siblings, parents, cousins, uncles, aunts, huge families. And while my understanding is that an attempt was made to convince those folks to move to the US, none of them ultimately opted to.

They all kept in touch as they were able, exchanging letters and pictures, but through World War 1, through the 20s, through the Great Depression, through the worsening situation in Europe in the 1930s, my entire extended family who chose not to immigrate...continued to stay.

I think we all know how this story ends.

I have an entire family photo album of people whose names I will never know, because after every single one of them died in the Holocaust, my great-grandparents and grandparents couldn't bear to even label them. And they were PEOPLE, poor, vibrant, eager to maintain connections with their loved ones abroad. One was a Klezmer musician, and we have photos of him with all the different instruments he played. They're so real on the page, and they all ended in ashes.

And you know how that started? Fascism started with every inch allowed, with every well-intentioned moderate who tried to maintain a middle position even as the whole ground shifted right beneath their feet and even "middle" became extreme, every "no that change isn't coming fast enough, I want instant full improvement NOW" liberal who felt that doing nothing was better than accepting a slower improvement in the (truly awful!) post-World War 1 living situation in Germany.

Most of the members of my extended family also downplayed the risks. They never imagined that the worst could happen to them. They never fathomed how bad things could become.

And now I have their example always before me to know and to scream:

I KNOW HOW BAD THINGS CAN BECOME. I KNOW WHAT HAPPENED TO MY FAMILY THEN.

I WILL NOT LET THAT HAPPEN TO MY FAMILY NOW.

People look at me like I'm crazy when I say I've got our passports ready (and have had since before the 2020 election).

Look. I don't know what will happen if Trump is elected, but there's a very real possibility he will, and he's been extremely clear about saying what he'll do. He did a lot of the things he said he'd do last time. I expect he'll continue to do the things he says he'll do. And the things he say he'll do will lead to the deaths of more people than we can imagine - in the US, in Palestine, throughout the world.

Don't tell me there's a middle ground here. Don't tell me I'm over-reacting. Don't tell me the worst won't happen. Don't tell me the risk is mild. Don't tell me we're safe.

We. Are. Not. Safe.

The lives of dozens, hundreds, of members of family were lost in the 1940s amid the horrifying statistic "6,000,000 dead Jews."

I will not let my life (as a Jew), my wife's life (as a disabled woman), my son's life (as a biracial boy), my daughter's life (as a biracial trans girl), be part of the statistics that come from our a second Trump presidency.

If you won't vote like YOUR life depends on it, vote like someone ELSE'S life depends on it, because IT DOES.

And if you can't even do that much, at least shut the fuck up and stop spreading your poison around. You're wrong. The danger is real. Downplaying it now won't make your conscience feel any clearer when it actually happens, and comforting everyone else downplaying it will just make you that much more complicit.

[active-mind-15]

Oh yeah, after I read that one Akashi-centric fic called A Lesson In Human Interaction (and all the bullshit that comes with it), I am finally breaking my silence on my Nebuya headcanon that he's half Nigerian because in the fic he has a Nigerian father and now I feel validated. However, a difference between my headcanon and the author's headcanon is that instead of him being from the Yoruba tribe, I want to say that his family is Igbo. Purely because I am also Igbo and I want to project. Anyway, walk with me.

Nebuya being half-Nigerian and not living in Nigeria means that whichever parent of his is Nigerian (I'd assume the mother simply because he has a Japanese family name) would make sure he stays connected to his culture somehow. One of those ways is for sure through his name. Interracial couples especially tend to each give their kid a name that comes from their respective country. In this case, even though Nebuya has a Japanese name, his mother would give him a Nigerian one as well that she calls him by. Haven't decided what it would be, though, so I'll get back to you on that.

Another way would be through language. This would mean that Nebuya (in my opinion) would be trilingual because he would speak Japanese, Igbo, and--by extension--English, since English is the national language of Nigeria anyway and so most people speak it to some degree (effects of being colonized by the British ✊🏿😔).

The English part would be interesting to explore because Nebuya speaking English would have Akashi (who is canonically fluent in English) thinking he would understand Nebuya when he speaks it. But when Nebuya speaks with Nigerian relatives, especially cousins, he slips into Pidgin instead (a Nigerian dialect of English), leaving Akashi confused. He can speak standard English as well, but he goes back and forth between that and Pidgin English. Also, I think he would speak Pidgin more commonly with cousins but then use Igbo with older relatives like aunts, uncles, and grandparents. So Akashi, wanting to decipher what he's saying, would ask Nebuya about it and maybe Nebuya would teach him a few words/phrases in Pidgin. It would be cute to see Nebuya teach his teammates Igbo phrases as well. Imagine if the next time Nebuya called any of his Nigerian relatives he'd tell them he was teaching his teammates their language and make them try and talk to his relatives in Igbo.

Don't remember if it was ever confirmed in canon so I'll keep this as a regular headcanon, but I believe Nebuya can cook very well (like if you're gonna eat all that food every day you better know how to sustain yourself), so I would think sometimes he likes to make traditional Nigerian food. His favorite dishes are of course the ones heavy on meat, and he likes to pair them with either fried rice or jollof rice. Typically making traditional Nigerian food is done in bulk, which means he'd have a lot to store as leftovers to eat throughout the week, but he also does like to share and would save some food for his teammates to try.

I also am thinking of what Nebuya would look like in traditional Nigerian clothes like a kaftan or agbada. I've seen him in kimonos, so it would be fun to see him rock some Nigerian clothes, too. Maybe his aunt or his grandmother makes clothes for him that they send over to Japan for him to wear.

I would hope that every so often, Nebuya would take a trip to Nigeria to see family. And when he comes back, he brings gifts for his teammates. Imagine them sitting Nebuya down and asking him to tell stories from his trip, and they all get to sit there and learn more about Nebuya's culture and his family.

Anyway, I'll cut it off here, but I am obsessed with this headcanon and I just had to get it off my chest.

[emeraldhaven]

Remember Me - A SongV Fic

"You took me from all my friends. Just make sure you don’t become my enemy.”

So Mi remembers the moment she left Brooklyn like it was yesterday, a memory creeping across her mind like a freshly cut scar. Her time with the FIA may have taken her life, her humanity, but it could never take that moment from her, even if her memories were fading.

She remembers the looks on her friends faces when they laughed; when they cheered; when they cried. She remembers the exact layout of her apartment, the way the rug was threading at one end, lint covering the edges. She remembers how the sun looked over the waters of New York City as it reflected off of the glistening river; golden rays of sunlight cascading down the walls of her home.

She remembers the piercing red of the Blackwall. She remembers the cold darkness after being pulled out of a netrunning attempt, shivering and sweating, mind racing because of what she'd felt and heard and seen. She remembers the concerned looks on her friends' and lovers' faces when she told them about what she'd done; about how she'd done it.

She remembers Reed; how he showed up, offering a job she couldn't refuse. How he looked her in the eye and promised her, eyes darting around her small apartment in false hope.

"I won't. I promise."

"It's eating me, V. My memories, my experiences, my life. And I can't stop it."

Songbird doesn't remember the first time she had a birthday party. She doesn't remember the taste of real food unmarred by the metal in her head. She doesn't remember how real human flesh feels to touch exactly, electrical signals imitating every single second. She can't remember what it felt like to hug her friends, not anymore.

She doesn't remember her family - her parents, her grandparents, her cousins and aunts and uncles. Their faces are blurred mysteries, in fact, she's not even sure some of them even existed in the first place. No family dinners, or day trips to the beach, or hikes across upstate New York exist in her mind, lost to time or the Blackwall.

She wishes desperately that she could.

The FIA might treat Songbird like "family" - a cold, distorted version of one. Twisted by duty, loyalty and an unwavering faith to themselves. Does family stab each other in the back, hurting unlike anyone had ever hurt people before? Does "family" give people the right to treat her like scrap metal, to use and abuse and throw away when they don't care about her anymore?

Reed might think he's her colleague, her mentor, her friend; but she knows that at any moment, he'd throw her to the vicious wolves as soon as she made any wrong move in President Myer's eyes. Those cold, focused eyes. The eyes of someone who would rather kill than be killed.

Songbird's death will be on her hands; and she'll be annoyed to destroy yet another asset.

"Thank you, V. And I'm sorry... for everything."

Song So Mi remembers everything about V. Her eyes, sharp and forest green, a colour rarely seen in America anymore. A verdant twinkle in her eyes whenever she solves some problem, or thinks of a witty quip to call So Mi out with. Her hair, shaved on one side and long and red on the other, her cyberware continuing from those beautiful eyes through to an external neuralware cyberdeck intergration port. Her stance - one of power and confidence yet marred with the subtle yet noticeable lag of a body weary from combat and time and some other, purposefully-unnamed factor. V's jacket - an antique to be sure, but just so very V, the way the jacket speaks to her personality and ideals, the gleaming crystal blue of the collar illuminating her neckline and enticing Song's eyes up towards her jaw...

So Mi blinked, blushed and looked away over her shoulder. She hasn't felt this way in a long, long time; possibly ever. She doesn't believe that she's in any league close to V, that V wouldn't even give her a second thought; that she isn't worth it. Yet, no matter what happens or has happened, V looks her in the eye, hand on her shoulder, her cheek, her own hand and says:

"I trust you."

It's an affirmation, something barely notable in its own right - something standard and normal and supposedly frequent. But it's been a long time since anyone has actually said that to So Mi, even longer since somebody ever meant it. No, this is said with heart and character and trust from a woman so wonderous, so incredible that every situation she's involved in is seen as a spectacle - a woman who has done impossible things in impossible situations and has impossibly survived. Somebody who is worth the world but shall receive indifference from the city that tries to kill her daily. It's an affirmation - that's sure enough - but from V? It feels like a blessing.

And Song So Mi will never, ever forget her.

[moonlayl]

This...got super long and to be clear nothing I have experienced nor will ever experience will come close to the horrors that Palestinians are facing right now. I just need to say that and make that clear, but these are just things I've been wanting to say for a while now.

Just a thought that came to my head, but I remember arguing with lots of liberals before about how I don't really support the idea that people shouldn't be able to say anything they want (except obviously spreading misinformation especially if you're in certain professions), even hate speech not because I ever want to hear hate speech, but because I can't trust any government to decide what hate speech is, and I was told to give an example

I remember at the time saying "what if one day, me speaking about Palestine starts to become classified as antisemitism or terrorism?"

I was told that was silly and would "obviously never happen" (I didn't believe them and called them naive at the time)

well....looking at certain countries right now, trying to ban Palestinian flags, ban common Palestinian/muslim sayings, ban any peaceful protest in favour of Palestine, even looking at imprisoning/fining people etc.... is kind of just proving my point.

Like most of us don't feel included or part of any western communities even if we're lived here our whole lives for so many reasons and it almost always boils down to us being Arabs/muslim.

can't speak for non Arabs and non muslims, but a lot of us feel this way.

seeing how fighting for the people who need it the most (2000+ Palestinians have been killed. 800 of them being children. 45 families completely wiped out, entire bloodlines, parents, grandparents, aunts, uncles, siblings, cousins, children, nephews, nieces, grandchildren, etc....like this is actual genocide. their entire family tree has been completely wiped form existence) is being banned or branded as "terrorism", or we're losing our jobs, or we're being silenced, like it says a lot about theses countries and the governments that run them.

They tried to suspend humanitarian aid to innocent people of Gaza for the love of God!! Thank God there were 5 decent countries who voted no!

Israel gets away with every goddamn crime and ANY "condemnation" of any warcrime it commits is just talk, while they continue to aid and support it.

How am I supposed to trust these governments, and MY government to decide what's acceptable and what's not when I know that during the most critical moments that matter the most, they won't be on our side, and they'll side with oppressors because they themselves are just that? That the little I can actually do for Palestine and any other country could be completely taken away?

These are "democratic" countries by the way, or they're supposed to be, and sure we can challenge all these things but there are things even we can't do. the onslaught of propaganda shared everywhere by the same news stations that refuse to invite Palestinians (and refuse to air the few times they do) and refuse to fact check their content, or report on what's actually happening in Gaza, can't really be stopped. We can do our best to spread what's actually happening, and to correct false information, but the damages have been done.

And its getting harder and harder to hear form the people of Gaza because of the bombs, cut of electricity, cut off internet access, and also, you know, the fact that the people sharing news are being killed one by one.

There's also many social media platforms completely erasing anything about Palestine. suspending our accounts and hiding our posts. I can't believe I'm saying this but maybe it's a good thing Elon Musk took over twitter because at least I've been able to talk about Palestine as much as possible without nay censoring and I'm still able to. Palestinians are still able to share their stories and the reality yon there. And sin't that crazy? Elon musk is kind of doing something right???

And you know something else? Israel killed one of their own journalists, and those people weren't able to properly report on it. They couldn't directly say it was Israel that killed one of their own workers. Like....its crazy (and they're cowards). Israel also killed 12 UN workers.

That crime is not making as many headlines as the fake stuff did. Those "journalists" and "reporters" who repeated false information (that resulted in far too many people believing them and suddenly being okay with genocide) are still working. they still have a job and they're still out there spreading more propaganda.

this post isn't well written because I'm just putting out my thoughts and what I've witnessed but to make one thing clear, I won't ever silence my voice or allow anyone to silence my voice when it comes to something like this, and i'm not afraid of what they'll do, but isn't so fucked that I could actually lose my job and have trouble finding another one for supporting the oppressed? Like isn't that just..disgusting?

Like what's that supposed to tell me other than majority of western countries are against us? It's not exactly surprising because I've known this, but everyone being VERY open about it is kind of tough to witness ngl.

Like this is not a complicated issue. if you have any morals and you're not biased against Palestinians/arabs/muslims already, then this is a very clearcut case. Israel is an apartheid state. Israel is and has been committing genocide and ethnic cleansing for literal decades and its been doing it long before Hamas came into the picture. Israel's war crimes and treatment of Palestinians is the reason Hamas even exists in the first place. you can condemn Hamas while also recognising that Israelis have no right to that land and that nothing justifies their never ending crimes. Palestinians are demanding for their rights ot live, be citizens, have rights and freedoms, and have their land that was brutally taken from them. None of those things are unreasonable.

You know what is unreasonable? the world deciding Israel is suddenly gonna be a thing and expecting Palestinians to just be okay with it. You know what is unreasonable? Palestinians being painted as the bad guys for "not wanting to share" when they literally shouldn't have to (especially because of the obvious scams of all those "treaties" and "agreements" that all gave every benefit to Israel)

Like the whole world literally let this happen and supported it and cheered for it. Some stayed silent but are showing their real colours (which those of us who haven't been blind have already seen) now.

We've got girls crying about how "they want to kill us T-T" at a university campus because people were protesting in support of Palestine, while a six year old boy was killed in his own home for being Palestinian. In the same country.

We've got celebs talk about how scared THEY are while 800 Palestinian children have been murdered.

We've got celebs posting "pray for Israel" while using pictures of Gaza in ruins or Palestinian children looking at rockets in the sky.

It's insane.

We had a protest for Palestine the other day. People were telling us to go back to our country. They were telling Palestinians to go back to their country.

....that's....that's what they want? Like we're very much aware of how much we're not wanted here just to be clear, and Palestinians across the damn globe would do ANYTHING to be able to go live in their homeland. except they can't. Israel won't let them. That's part of what we're fighting for. Any jewish person can go get a citizenship easily in Israel (even if they've never stepped foot in the country and none of their ancestors had either) but people who were born in Palestine or who's family owns property there can't get it in at all. It's absolute insanity.

I'm not sure how to end this but on every level this has been horrific. But despite that, the propaganda, the genocide, the threats, the whole world being against us, that's not gonna stop us from fighting for the oppressed and standing up for them. It's not gonna stop us from going out into the streets and no words can explain the bravery of everyone who continues to stand with Palestine but especially to the Palestinians who continue fighting and resisting (despite everything they've been through). Continuing to use our voices, donating, protesting etc... is the absolute least we can do and its our responsibility. and I truly, from the bottom of my heart wish the absolute worst for everyone who disagree with this. Like you guys are gonna pay for it. Maybe not today maybe not for many years maybe only in the afterlife (because I do believe in it) but it's gonna happen and every Israeli supporter or zionist is gonna deserve every second of it.

If you're silent, if you try to throw the "two sides" bs, and if you try to act like Palestine and Israel are in any way equal, you're included in this.

You're part of the problem.

Silence is compliance.

And screw every government that supports Israel in any way. Screw the double standards, the hypocrisy and the absolute cruelty towards innocent Palestinians.

I can't speak for everyone else but no matter what happens moving forwards, I'm never gonna forget this and I'm never gonna forgive.

I'm gonna keep trying to do everything possible which unfortunately is not much and thats frustrating on every level but I'm gonna keep doing it. feel free to unfollow/block me, but I'm not gonna stay silent about this ever. and I'm not gonna entertain any bigot or zionists either. it's gonna be a straight up block.

my asks are open, and my page is currently full of information, this site is as well, but I'm not gonna entertain those who clearly care very little bout genocide, because if you haven't opened your eyes by now, I doubt anything I say will change that. you're welcome to go through my blog or send me a polite ask (can't promise I'll get to it right away but I'll try) but I'm not tolerating pointless arguments that are basically me just repeating that Palestinian people deserve to live in their own country with all their rights and freedoms while the other person disagrees. I prefer not to argue with those who are depraved.

[pearlescentpearl]

Rebirthed!Maedhros AU post 3

You know what time it is, folks, capping the last post again at 7 parts.

Part 15!

“What do you mean they’re blaming Uncle Arafinwë?” Russandol demands

Eyeing him tiredly, Findekáno notes the faint dark circles under his eyes, the delicate tremor in his hands, the way he flinched when he tried to hug his cousin

“They’re inconsolable, and seeking to rationalize a cause and effect,” he repeats, verbatim, what Nienna had solemnly explained to them. “The fire started on his and Aunt Eärwen’s ship. They’d never believe their own princess foolish enough to set a ship on fire, even by accident, and her children were raised as Teleri as they were Noldo. So,” Findekáno shrugs angrily

“So it must be the outsider husband’s fault,” Russandol finishes bitterly. “How do they figure that?”

Findekáno shrugs again, clenching his hands together. “The only area of the ship where fire is allowed is the kitchen.” Because Fëanárian Lamps handily replaced every candle, torch, and lantern they’d used on ships before, but Fëanáro hasn’t yet invented a fireless source of heat. “And since we Ñoldor hold that the men are the cooks...”

“I see.”

“Mind you, Olwë doesn’t believe this,” Findekáno says, dragging the conversation along in the hopes he won’t be subjected to yet another round of grieving, outraged tirade against the Teleri

He’s already sat through Aikanáro, Eldalótë, and Artanis’ reactions. Plus his parents’ reaction, Turukáno’s, his grandparents, and Fëanáro. He loves Russandol, but he’s not sitting through Fëanáro But Worse. He’s tired 

“But he’s also having difficulty believing it’s Melkor’s work. Not that we know it’s Melkor’s work, we only suspect. The Teleri are really used to being largely ignored by greater Valinor.”

“Who does believe it then?” Russandol says, evidently willing to set aside any outbursts in favor of focusing on the situation at hand, for which Findekáno loves him even more

“When I left Tirion, we still hadn’t heard back from Olwë on who started the rumors, just that his people were starting to mutter about it.”

Grandfather had been terrifying to behold, in his anger at the news. Even Fëanáro had been taken aback by the sight of his rock steady, indulgent parent so wrathful

Grandmother went silent. She wanted no one to disturb her while she embroidered the funeral shrouds for her youngest child and his two eldest sons

Findekáno isn’t foolish enough to think she isn’t just as angry

She’s just honing the blade of her temper 

“And you? How have you been holding up? You look awful.”

Russandol’s mouth twists. “I had a... protracted episode. A few days ago.” At Findekáno inquisitive look, he elaborates; “Wandered off into the deep Gardens and got stuck in my memories, for some reason. I don’t remember what set it off.”

“Ouch.”

“Yeah,” Russandol looks down. “Everything’s... off. I don’t know how to describe it.”

“You don’t have to, you just tell me what you need from me,” Findekáno says

Russandol shrugs a shoulder, but the twist of his mouth softens and some of the tension goes out of his jaw, so Findekáno will call it a victory

He needs all of them he can get these days

He’s not blind to the fact Melkor -- and they do believe it’s Melkor at work -- that the Vala went to Alqualondë in response to him trying to fortify Tirion against him

Aikanáro, now Head of the House of Arafinwë until his father or his brothers return, or Artaresto wants the headship when he’s full grown, had given him a long look when Findekáno, spurred by a deep well of guilt, tried to apologize

Findekáno told himself he wouldn’t let Melkor make him believe any evil thing the Vala did was his fault, and he holds to that

That doesn’t mean he can’t be sorry for others suffering

“Am I supposed to be blame you for protecting our people?” Aikanáro had said to him

“No, I just...” Findekáno didn’t know what he ‘just’

“We didn’t do enough,” Aikanáro said, swallowing hard. “We took the warning to Grandfather Olwë, and then we didn’t do anything. We didn’t even try to encourage him, or our uncles, to do anything. We just assumed Melkor would keep on ignoring the Teleri. After all, wasn’t that why Grandfather Finwë bade us evacuate there? But we are none us safe until we all band together and deal with the threat.”

And then Aikanáro lost the battle of wills against his tears and crawled into Findekáno’s arms until he felt strong enough to face the world again

“They’ll be alright in Mandos, won’t they?” He’d whispered

“They’ll be just fine,” Findekáno promised, kissing the crown of his spiky hair. “They‘ll be back before you know it.”

“Think they’ll back as quick as you were?” Aikanáro asked, so hopeful that he could only agree 

There is no earthly way Findekáno can explain that it wasn’t so much that he re-embodied quickly because he healed quickly, so much as he bolted past Námo’s legs like a cat spotting a cracked open door at the nearest opportunity with his dignity intact, so he doesn’t

“You do enough,” Russandol says, breaking Findekáno out of his reverie. “You’re doing far more than I can, really.”

“Hey, no, don’t do that to yourself,” Findekáno protests. “If it weren’t for you, we wouldn’t even know to be on our guards. Melkor would have caught us with our pants down--”

Russandol abruptly blanches gray, eyes wild

“Russo?” Findekáno says sharply, half lurching to his feet

Russandol clenches his eyes shut, swallows hard, and takes deep breaths through his nose. “Just a memory. From Mísrilya. It’s all--” he gestures curtly to his temple, “a bit raw, right now. Too close to the surface.”

“Do you want to--”

“No.”

“--switch to a lighter topic?” Findekáno pivots smoothly. “In fact, I insist. I came all this way to visit you. What kind of projects do have going? Are you still into woodworking? Or did you pick up any new hobbies lately? You were telling me all about how interesting the wickerwork is here just last month.”

A content Russandol is a Russandol that hops between hobbies the way bees hop between flowers; with utter abandon 

He’ll throw himself into his present joy all the way to journeyman status, accumulate a storeroom’s worth of finished projects to foist on all his friends (mostly Findekáno. it’s mostly Findekáno), then gets bored, picks a new joy, cycle repeat

His parents treat this apparent restlessness with endless indulgence, but it drives his brothers who have committed themselves to their crafts up the walls and all the way across the ceiling

Haltingly, Russandol went with the subject change, describing the paneled divider he was carving out to liven up his living space

Findekáno is gratified when he eventually stops looking like he’s going to be violently ill

“So many of the birds snatch up the wood shavings for their nests, I barely have to sweep,” Russandol jokes half-heartedly

“One less thing to worry about!” Findekáno says, injecting as much cheer as he can muster

“Yes, but I’d hoped to use those shavings!” 

“So do the birds!”

[writingonleaves]

and there are some days when i think that, somewhere, you're watching - the blue au

universe: the blue au

warnings: cancer, grief, sadness, the usual with anything to do with the blue au's premise lol

title: "chemtrails" by lizzy mcalpine

word count: 1.1k

author's note: lol hey!! there are a million other wips i should be working on but here we are! if you haven't read at least the first part of this au yet, you probs should for context. we are also manifesting here all three hughes brothers make it to the olympics. inspired by the beautiful players tribune article kevin hayes wrote for his late brother jimmy. i thought a lot about which brother would write something like this and ended up settling on quinn <3 enjoy and let me know your thoughts!

*****

The Ones We Play For 

for The Players Tribune 

by Quinn Hughes 

Written February 4, 2026

I’ll never forget the first time I put on a USA jersey for an international competition. 

It was for the 2015 World Under-17 Challenge when I had just turned 16. I didn’t think much of it at the time. The only thing I thought about was playing well, but it was an honor nonetheless. 

Every time you get the opportunity to represent your country in any way, it’s an honor. I know everyone says it, but it’s true. The whole nation is looking at you and cheering you and your teammates on. The playing of the anthem means more than ever. You look at the jersey and feel like you’re part of something bigger.

Next week, hockey at the 2026 Winter Olympics in Milano-Cortina will begin. I’ve always dreamed of being about to play at the Olympics, but now that it’s actually here, it’s surreal. 

The team is great, and I feel lucky to even be here. As I look around at my teammates, I feel confident that we can bring home a gold medal. But it’ll take hard work. That’s nothing that we don’t know though. 

I’ve been thinking a lot lately about what it means to put on the jersey and who we wear it for. Of course, I think I speak for every single person at these Olympics when we say we wear it for our country and the fans watching us, whether here in Italy or back home. 

But we’re all playing for someone in our own support group. The village that has brought each of us here.

First, my parents, who have been there since the very first day. My mom, who taught me how to skate and my dad, who taught me how to see the game. My extended family: my grandparents, aunts, uncles, cousins and family who aren’t technically family but who might as well be. Everyone in my life who’s always offered support and encouraging words, who has sat in cold rinks and watched me play. Whether they’re here in Italy or watching from various parts of the world, I’m playing for them. 

I’m also playing for my brothers, who will be on the ice with me. That’s still crazy for me to think about. We never could’ve imagined this when we were playing mini sticks in the basement as kids. Of course, we dreamed about it. But to see it come to reality? I feel very grateful. In the locker room, I look at Jack on my right and then Luke at my left. We’re playing for each other. 

But most importantly, I’m playing for Miguel Sandoval. 

I don’t talk about Miguel often, but he was one of the most important people in my life. Still is. He met my parents before I was born and automatically became a second father to me. To be honest, I don’t think I talk about him often because it still hurts to think about. 

Miguel was one of my biggest cheerleaders from the beginning. The fact that he’s not alive to see me take the ice next week is, well, it’s a lot of things. Sad is the first word that pops to mind. Unfair is another. The one who was at the rink next to my father in the stands before I even really knew how to play hockey isn’t alive to see me play in the Olympics? There’s no words to describe how devastating that is. 

He never got to see me play in any USA jersey, even though he was always confident I would put one on eventually. He died of pancreatic cancer on New Year’s Day, 2015. 

It’s been over 11 years without him, but he’s still in everything I do. A huge part of the reason I wear 43 is because of him — his birthday is April 3. I still remember his boisterous laugh and his kind eyes. He wrote Jack, Luke and I letters before he died that were specifically addressed to be given to us on our draft days. I still carry mine with me on every road trip. That’s how long and how strongly he believed in us. Somehow, he just knew that we would be drafted long before it happened. 

I have every word of that letter memorized. Sometimes, I trace over his handwriting with my thumb, and it feels like he's still with us.

During his brief battle with cancer, even when his body had almost no strength left, he always greeted us with a smile and an enthusiastic greeting. Even when he was advised not to, he made it to the games he could until his last days. To the very last day, he lived life with the biggest smile on his face.

If anyone should be here to see his “talented boys” take on the ice, it’s him. Not everyone is lucky enough to have someone like Miguel who loved them so unconditionally. I’m grateful for the time I had with him, even if I desperately wish it was more. We weren’t his sons by blood, but he treated us like family. But sometimes life is unfair, and we have to hold on to the fact that everything happens for a reason.

Here’s a reason: Miguel’s wife, Maeve, who is like a second mother to me, will be watching from Boston. Maeve is the best, always keeping it lighthearted and reminding me that life is supposed to be lived to the fullest. She has this youthful energy that’s just so infectious. She’s the one who always reminds me that hockey is supposed to be fun. I wouldn't be half the person I am today without her support.

And then their daughter, Clementine. Clem, I call her. Jack calls her Clee and Luke calls her Clemmy. Clem’s my best friend / older sister — the universal older sister, to be honest. It doesn’t matter if our last names aren’t the same. She’s been there for me ever since I could remember. Even when we were states, sometimes countries, away, I knew that if I called her, she’d always pick up. Currently on the journey to becoming a doctor, Clem is the kindest, most intelligent, most selfless and strongest woman I’ve ever met. She was the one who lost her father, but she made sure that all of us were okay. Even now, she can’t ever seem to take off the big-sister hat. But I wouldn’t have her any other way. 

Miguel, wherever you are, I can tell you a few things. First, I promise that we’re taking care of your wife and daughter as best as we can. We’re gonna try our best to get to the final rounds of this tournament so that they can fly out and watch us play. We love them and they’ll always be family. Second, whenever I feel a bit lost or need to be grounded, I think of you and your calm demeanor and bear hugs. I wish I could have just one more hug. Squeeze you one more time.

Miguel, when I put on that USA jersey and step on the ice, I will be playing for you. Jack, Luke and I will all be skating for you.

We miss you. 

We love you.

This is for you.

Yours, 

Quinn

[kairiscorner]

TANGINA KINILIG AKO SA MGA HCS NI NOIR /pos 💗 CGE PA REQUEST NG MODERN HCS

ANG SARAP MAKARINIG NIYAN PO <333 SURE THING ANON HUHU

okokok, now imagine...

he'd play "panalangin" for you two. he'd dedicate his time and energy to learning the chords and how to sing it just right in his vocal range, HE HAS A BASS VOICE, he can rizz you up so easily when he opens his mouth like.......... ginoo <;333 (fuck off miggy this ain't about you noir sings better change my mind)

he really, really respects his elders. like your parents, grandparents, uncles, aunts, and even great grandparents--just anyone who was older than him, he never fails to say, "po", "opo" or call them "ate", "kuya", "tito", "tita", "lolo", or "lola". he finds filipino culture so respectful when it comes to the elders and how endearing the "mano po culture" is. he hopes that if he has kids one day, they'll be as polite as you, so he tries his hardest to follow your example AND UPHOLDING THAT TO A TEE.

he loves entertaining the elders at family gatherings, especially as cover for you if you family asks too many questions, especially personal or uncomfy ones towards you. he'd direct the conversation in another direction, and cast you sideways glances as he reassures you whenever you need it through simple gestures, like holding your hand underneath the table, picking up the convo when it's dying out after a dry response, and getting you more water or something when you don't feel like getting up.

also, he knows it's not very polite, but he disregards politeness when he overhears or witnesses you being kinda harassed or being treated uncomfortably by a family member. you know those types, making fun of your insecurities to mask their own? yeah, no, he'll step in for you and answer them for you even if you never asked him to. he'll retort every criticism they have of you, your body, your academic life, your personality, your habits--he does not give a shit if they're "doing it out of love", if he sees you uncomfortable, he'll give you real love and get you out of there and defend you all the while.

your family thinks he's spoiling you too much... and he might be :> BUT CAN YOU BLAME HIM, HE LOVES YOU SO MUCH?????

when asked when the wedding will be, he always chokes on air.

he's very good with kids, HAVE YOU SEEN HIM WITH PENI????? if you had younger cousins, he'd entertain them. i feel like he would've been overwhelmed at first when the kids were crowded around him, yk filipino parents sending their flock of kids to ask for mano po from their elders.

"oh bless kayo kay tito peter", he sees a shitton of kids, "well guess my favorite hand's gonna fall off".

ngl when he gets called tito, it warms his heart because, he has a soft spot for kids and has this innate urge to spoil them, so when he's called tito it's like all his spoiling and love and hard work has paid off even it's just in the kid's nature to call every adult not related to them "tito" or "tita".

HE'D TELL YOU EVERY TIME AS WELL THAT HAPPENED, "mahal! i was called tito by your pamangkin (nephew/niece)!" /proceeds to spoil them with chocnut, jollibee, or whatever else.

oh yeah, he also puts off on swearing, but he can't help himself so when he gets accustomed to tagalog, there are tendencies when he uses tagalog curses BUT he doesn't go through with it. so parang: "PU...SANG GALA", "ANG GA...MO-GAMO MO."

i like to think that when he's speaking to you, it's mainly in english/taglish. but when your family members catch you guys in conversation, they'll whisper to themselves, "uy, di marunong magtagalog jowa niya, lokohin natin," and try to get him to call himself mabaho or something, but when they talk to him, HE SPEAKS IN FLAWLESS TAGALOG, HE UNDERSTANDS WHAT THEY'RE SAYING.

also... he calls you aking sinta :> HE KNOWS IT'S OLD FASHIONED, HARDLY ANYONE USES IT IN MODERN TIMES UNIRONICALLY, but he loves calling you his "sinta", bc you are his one and only :>>>

"aking sinta, mamahalin panghabang-buhay.. i'll love you forever, my dearest." HE SAYS WITH THAT CUTE SMILE, THE DIMPLES SHOWING, THE CURVES OF HIS LIPS ACCENTUATED AS HIS EYES SOFTEN UP AND GET A LITTLE SMALLER AS HIS NOSE BRUSHES OVER YOURS AAAAAAAAAAAAAA /namatai

a/n: SANA KILIGIN KA RIN DITO ANON <333

tags !! @thecoolerdor

[buckets-and-trees]

What inspired you to start writing🤔🥹

Thank you for sending the ask, Ray!

My parents are from two different states, and before my dad passed away, we lived in Texas near my dad's family. They were in Houston and we were in Dallas, but we saw each other very often, and we were on the phone with them a lot. My dad's family were all HUGE storytellers! Every time we'd get together, they'd be laughing and telling stories about the fam - immediate and extended family, depending on who was visiting.

We moved when I was eight (that was when my dad passed) to be closer to my mom's family with all my aunts, uncles, and cousins and my other grandparents so that there'd be a lot more people to help my mom and help raise me. After school, me and my cousins played a lot of make-believe games, and those would get thoroughly more intricate each day, basically turning into elaborate plays that would go on for weeks in a particular AU until we landed on some new idea or other.

Then, when I was in eighth grade, my English teacher had us write a story in class in one day - we weren't supposed to be stressed, just have fun and practice typing/learn how to be comfortable formatting in Word during our computer lab hour. I wrote a little mystery thing, and when I got it back from my teacher, she wrote a lot of notes on how good it was and encouraged me to write more.

That summer, we moved again, and because I was starting over with no friends, I was reading a ton and started writing my own version of the next Harry Potter book because I'd read and reread HP a lot and was desperately thinking about what would for sure happen next but also what COULD happen next if there were a girl character like me. It wasn't x reader fic at that point, it was a Mary Sue OC, but it got me through the summer. The next year, I had a summer sleepover with some of the cousins I'd done those elaborate plays with when we were 8 and 9, and we got high on the nostalgia and made up a new one - a royal story with all of us as princesses. I also had showed them my HP story, and they said I should actually write. So I started writing down our royal kingdom story.

Since then it's been in and out of fanfic and original fiction. There's a little more that I've shared in my Field Guide to the Forest about the college years, the fandoms I've written in, and the hiatuses I've taken, but between that and this, that's my writing journey!

[catierambles]

Blood Curse Ch.2

Pairing: TBD

“I’m sorry.” Melody said, bringing her head up from her hands. “Run that past me again? My ancestor cursed your guys’ ancestor into turning into a wolfman on the full moon?” She sounded incredulous and they didn’t blame her.

“Sounds batshit, doll, but it’s true.” Sy said. He had shown up at one point and was leaning against Walter’s desk while Walter sat on the short couch he had in his office with Melody.

“Trust me, Melody.” Walter said, “If someone did to my daughter what Albert Marshall did to that little girl, I would put a bullet in his head and call it a day. Consequences be damned.”

“Okay, then.” She said, dropping her head back in her hands.

“The man was a monster, so the girls’ momma cursed him to be monster.” Sy said, “I don’t think she expected it to get passed down, though.”

“Yeah, probably not.” Melody said, picking her head up again. “Fuck.”

“Yeah.” Sy said.

“I’m not saying I believe you guys, because it sounds pretty fucking unbelievable, but I—earlier I felt...something.” She said, “And when you came into the room, I felt it again.”

“Your blood cursed ours.” Walter said, “It feels the curse.”

“You’re takin’ it better than your relatives, though.” Sy said, “Last Cartwright witch I met tried to kill me.”

“I’m sorry, what?”

“New boot in Iraq, just outta Basic. He got transferred to my command. First patrol we ran, he shot at me. I told the brass it was an accident and pulled some strings to get’im transferred.” Sy explained briefly and she blinked at him. “Yeah. He was probably told that if he ever ran across someone like us, shoot first and ask questions later. We sorted shit before his transfer so he knows that not all of us are rabid beasts, but ya know.”

“Right.” Melody said and looked over at Walter. “You have a daughter?”

“Faye. She’s twelve.” He said, “Her mum and I are divorced and Angie has primary custody. I have her every other weekend and on school holidays. “ He shrugged, “When work allows.”

“Does she—don’t tell me your daughter...”

“Only hits the men.” Sy said, shaking his head.

“Oh thank god.” She said with a relieved sigh, her eyes closing briefly. “So, wait, that means you two are related, right? I mean, distantly. Obviously not directly, you obviously grew up in vastly different environments.”

“Second cousins.” Sy said, “We share great-grandparents. My grandma, his great-aunt, moved from the UK to the US, settled in Texas, got married and had babies. His grandpa, my great-uncle, stayed in the UK. We have another second cousin, August, whose grandma, our great aunt also moved to the US and settled in DC.”

“How the hell did you guys find each other?”

“One of them mail in family tree things.” Sy said with a shrug, “It’s how I found Walt, and a few weeks later August, who’s got some shady government job, rung us up.”

“O-okay then.” She said, “I mean, wolves pack together, right?”

“Never thought of it that way, but yeah.” Sy admitted. “Actually, hold on. Walt, can I use your phone?” Walter made a gesture and Sy went around his desk, punching in a number and putting it on speaker.

“Walker.”

“Hey, Auggie, it’s Sy.” He said, “I got a...well, we got a Cartwright witch here.”

“Are they still alive?” August asked immediately and her brows jumped slightly.

“Yeah she’s still alive, ya donkey!” Sy said indignantly.

“Hi there.” Melody chimed in.

“Why is she still alive?”

“Because we’re sitting in the middle of a goddamn police station and we ain’t fuckin’ animals.” Sy said, “Thought we should give you a heads up, bye.” He hung up the phone, almost slamming the receiver down. “Donkey.”

“He seems...nice.” Melody said and Walter snorted, laying his hand on her back and rubbing slightly. “Sy, Walter said...he said I “made it quiet”. What does that mean?” Sy explained the growling they all constantly heard and she gave a heavy blink. “Well that sounds like an aggressive form of tinnitus.”

“Ya get used to it.” He said with a shrug and she pushed up from the couch, going to him. His hands clenched at his sides at her approach, but he shook them out. Laying her hands on his chest, his jaw clenching at the contact, she closed her eyes, taking in a deep breath and letting it out slowly. All tension suddenly left his body and he pressed a hand to Walter’s desk to keep himself upright. “It’s gone. Fuck, I didn’t realize how loud it was until it stopped.” Leaning into her, he rested his head on her shoulder. “Shit.” Her hands came around to press into his back, moving over his t-shirt. “It’s so fuckin’ quiet.”

“Glad I could help.” She said, her hands still moving over his back in soothing motions and he wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her closer and burying his face in her neck. A sigh deflated his chest as he held her and one of her hands went to the back of his head, her nails moving through the dark stubble covering his scalp.

“Shit.” He sighed, holding her tighter and Walter got up from the couch, going to them. She looked at him as his hand laid between her shoulders and he leaned in, resting his forehead against hers, his eyes closing.

“So quiet.” He whispered. The growling had started to come back but it faded again as he stayed close to her, taking in deep breaths. There was no anger, none of the red hot rage that was constantly boiling just beneath the surface, threatening to break free if he didn’t maintain control. There was...peace. He never let Angie see that side of him, never laid a hand on her, or even yelled at her, but she could see it, could feel it, some primitive side of her brain reacting to his Beast. It had ended his marriage.

“Your office door is locked, right?” She asked and he nodded. “Okay, good, wouldn’t want someone to walk in and see this. It’d destroy any shred of professionalism or respect.” Walter chuckled slightly, Sy huffing a laugh against her neck.

“We ain’t makin’ ya uncomfortable, are we?” Sy asked.

“No.” She said, “Surprising, seeing as I just met you two today.”

“Uh, Lieutenant?” There was a knock on his office door. “Your cousin is here. Your other cousin.”

“What the fuck is August doing here?” Walter asked, pulling away from and Sy gave her some respectful distance too as Walter went to the door.

“I swear, if he tries to draw on you darlin’, I—”

“I’ll be fine.” She reassured him and Walter stepped aside to let him into the office. He stood a couple inches than Walter, shoulders wide and build powerful. A neat mustache covered his upper lip, offset by the heavy stubble covering his jaw. On anyone else, it would look ridiculous, something out of a 70’s adult film, but it suited him. His eyes hardened when they fell on her, the pale blue going icy, but she didn’t back down, meeting his eyes with her own. He wasn’t the first man she faced with a top notch death glare, he wouldn’t be the last.

“Easy, Walker.” Walter said but he pushed past him, heading for the desk with purpose. Sy pushed her behind him, putting himself between her and potential danger.

“Get out of the way, Derek.” He said, standing in front of him.

“Not until you take a fuckin’ breath, August.” Sy said, “She ain’t her family.”

“She’s a Cartwright.”

“Yeah, but she didn’t even know about that whole mess until an hour ago.” Sy said.

“Melody’s parents died when she was little.” Walter said, echoing what she had told him earlier, “She was adopted by another family with no connection and was ignorant of her family history until we told her.”

“Bullshit, she has their name.”

“Changed it when I turned eighteen and I dug up my adoption record.” Melody said from behind Sy, “I want nothing to do with my adoptive parents so I sure as hell don’t want to carry their name.”

“She didn’t know, Walker.” Walter said, “She didn’t know. The daughter shouldn’t be punished for the actions of the mother.”

“And the sons shouldn’t be punished for the sins of the father.” August said, his jaw clenching.

“You’re right.” Melody said, “You, all of you, had nothing to do with what happened. You had nothing to do with what your ancestor did, just like I had nothing to do with what mine did. You can hate me all you want, but I didn’t put this on you.” There was a pause where he did nothing before he gave a single nod and took a step back.

“I’m movin’, but if you try anythin’ we’re gonna have problems.” Sy said and August nodded again, watching as Sy stepped aside. They stared at each other for a moment before she extended her hand and August looked at it before placing his hand in hers.

“Nice to meet you.” She said and he nodded, shaking her hand. “Now, I can try something with you that I did with the others. I did it without realizing it to Walter, and Sy was a successful experiment, but if you’d like I can turn down the volume of the...growling. If you’d like.”

“She made it quiet, Auggie.” Sy said, “I can actually fuckin’ hear myself think now.”

“You can do that?” August asked.

“Sy said earlier it’s because my family gave you the curse, so I can control it. Kind of. I can’t...to be honest I don’t know what I’m doing or how I even can, but...but I’d be willing to try with you. It worked for Walter, it worked for Sy, but again, I won’t do it without your permission. Seeing as you have...issues with my birth family.” He just stared at her for a long moment, as if weighing his options.

“Do it.” He said.

“I think—I’m going to have to touch you. Is that okay?” She asked and he nodded again. His gaze was unwavering as she stepped in close, reaching up to lay her hands on his chest and he pulled in a sudden breath, his jaw clenching as his hands came up to hold her shoulders.

“Easy.” Sy said cautiously. Melody closed her eyes, taking in a deep breath and letting it out slowly. Whatever she felt made her brows knit together slightly.

“There’s...resistance.” She said, “I can’t—with you two it came forward on it’s own, but with him, I—I don’t know if I can—”

“Whatever,” August sniffed, “You—”

“Wait!” She said, cutting him off, her brows jumping. “There!” His shoulders suddenly slackened and his breath left him in a rush.

“It’s gone,” He said, “It’s quiet. It’s been so long I—I forgot what the quiet sounded like.”

“It’ll come back.” Walter said, “She turns down the volume, but it’ll come back. It’s only temporary.”

“Still.” August sighed, “It’s quiet. She made it quiet.”